Love, Life, and Death at The Grange

This is my entry for the Summer Lovin' Story Contest 2022.

I'm sorry it's another long one, but I hope you all like it.

I've been lucky enough to have two great authors help me along the road with this one, not just with Beta reading but a whole lot of support. So even if you don't like this one, or don't fancy the long read, please search out their work and support them. Big thanks to Jackie.O.Hikaru and GinnyPPC.

Other thanks to a couple of beta readers who wish to remain anonymous.

Hopefully, the story contains what is says in the title, so be warned...

Life, Love, and Death at The Grange.

Tracy lay in the single bed, curled up, wrapping herself up in the safety of her duvet. Moonlight streaked through the small window's thin curtains as they flapped in the warm summer breeze. Tracy was desperate to settle for a good night's sleep, but the excitement of the last few days' travelling wasn't going to let her settle easily.

For the umpteenth time she stirred awake after a short, unsatisfying doze as she tried to avoid over-thinking the new situation she found herself in. Running constantly run over things in her mind wouldn't change anything and it would only prolong her lack of sleep.

Despite this, her mind cast back to when her service term came up for renewal and everyone expected her to sign up for another term. But she felt she'd done it all and if she accepted further promotion, she'd get deeper in, with more training and preparation for a war or global emergency that you hoped would never come.

Her long-term partner had chosen the easy route. She'd betrayed Tracy by taking promotion and the relocation that it required, but Tracy wanted a new challenge before it became too frightening to comprehend a change. Even worse, she may long for conflict to draw her out of the rut of constant training. As scary as it seemed, like Neo, she took the red pill and got out. This short-term role seemed to be the perfect springboard to her new life as a single civilian.

She pushed her thoughts out, blanking her mind and rolled over, desperate to embrace sleep once more, whilst hoping that the next bout would be deeper and longer. Her mind was foggy with fatigue, but her body was not yet ready to give up to the sandman. Frustrated, she tried to return to her last dream that she'd already forgotten.

The echo of a door slamming somewhere in the building rang through her. In her previous military life, this wouldn't have been an issue, but tonight it disrupted her efforts to relax. Any other time she could sleep on a washing line, or in a ditch, without any problems, but tonight her mind fought against succumbing to sleep.

She felt a presence in her room that brought her to re-open her eyes and peer over the edge of the duvet, as she heard her door open. "But I locked it?".

In a dreamlike state, she searched for the interloper, but the moonlight had gone, plunging her room into darkness and her eyes peered into the unlit abyss.

A faint scent of lavender caught her nose, as a distant whisper came from the darkened door area of her room.

"This used to be my room..."

Tracy's mind stirred like cold porridge. Previously, she would have fired off a barrage of zinging insults, but the aggressive side of her refused to work tonight.

"I'm cold... You look all warm and cosy tucked up in there. Can we share... Just for a while?"

Tracy's mind swirled with confusion as she ironically struggled to shake off the fatigue that washed over her, threatening to drag her to dreamland now she wanted to be awake. Her eyelids seemed to carry lead weights as she tried to focus on the dark, shady, far corner of the room as an apparition appeared.

Still fighting to focus, she saw a woman glide out of the gloom towards her through the haze. An old-fashioned white cotton nightgown hung off her shoulders and her rounded, pert breasts with little peaks pushing out from the inside of the material, hinting at how chilly she was.

Multiple strips of material tied in bows littered her head, acting as curlers for her blond hair. Her young, pretty face, blond hair and pale skin gave Tracy a cause for concern.

"You can't be in here. Students are supposed to be your own rooms... But you're not due for days."

Tracy's limbs felt wrapped in lead as a wave of exhaustion swept over her. The woman's face pouted, and her eyes opened wide, hunting for sympathy. Tracy heard the whispering voice again, but her eyes misted over and struggled to focus enough to register any movement of her lips.

"I ain't no student. I'm a cold, poor maid, is what I am."

She stood at the end of the bed, looking sorry for herself. Tracy was used to sharing warmth when out on manoeuvres or on patrol. Once wet, and freezing cold, any heat source will do when you can't build a fire, whether a male or female body. Tracy remained trapped by the fog of a dream like state. Her body's desire for sleep and her mind unable to reason otherwise in her exhausted state, Tracy invited the stranger in by pulling back the duvet.

The pale figure beamed with a smile of glee and stepped up to the side of the bed. She poised at the edge of the bed and her hands reached to her neck. As she pulled at the lacing around her neck, Tracy tried to tell her it was fine. There was no need her to strip, just because Tracy was naked. But she had no power over her voice.

Deft white fingers widened the neck enough for the night dress to fall from her shoulders. The interloper stood with a look of triumph on her face, as her china white body was unveiled by the falling garment. She raised her one foot, pointing downwards, to bring the knee across the other and hooked her one arm on her hip to mimic a model's pose. Her thigh barely hiding a bushy mattress hinting at her treasures tightly trapped between her legs.

She paused long enough for Tracy to admire her twenty-something youthful body, and her small, pert breasts pointing skyward. Before Tracy's eyes could run over the vision a second time, she slipped into bed and an icy shiver ran through Tracy as the pale stranger joined her. She instinctively rubbed her new bed partner's arms, legs and torso, to warm her up, as she and her colleagues had done out in the field many times before.

A calmness washed over Tracy as the pair huddled together with Tracy wrapped around the cold stranger's body, spooning her. As Tracy's lead-lined eyelids finally gave up to sleep with her last waking moment registering a cold hand moving hers, from her torso, to her breast and pressing it tightly onto the cold, soft mound, with a button hard nipple pressing into her palm.

Tracy's body clock woke her at six. After her initial stretch, she flicked the duvet back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The sun streamed through the curtains, allowing her to survey her new bedroom. Last night, her large unpacked sports bags on the floor had made the room seem even smaller, but this morning they were gone.

Tracy had to look twice to check the void where her bags had been. Searching the room, she saw her bags, now empty and stowed tidily away on the top of the wardrobe. She checked the chest of drawers to find that rather than the cavernous empty drawers; they were now filled with her clothes, neatly folded.

Socks, smalls, and bras were in a small one, with T-shirts and jumpers in another. All her outdoor and running gear were in a separate drawer, all just as she liked. She dashed to the wardrobe, opening it to find her jeans, dresses, slacks and her coat all hung up. Inside, at the base, were her shoes, boots, and trainers.

On the small writing desk were all her books, papers, and pens. Her phone sat on the bedside table, where she'd left it last night. Someone had even neatly folded her discarded clothes from yesterday on the chair, with her jacket hooked on the back.

She slumped onto the bed, dumbfounded. She couldn't remember putting anything away yesterday. As she searched her mind back, she half-remembered a dream from last night, where another staff member came in, as she was cold, lost, and shared her bed for the night.

"But that was just a dream. Wasn't it?"

Tracy shook off what seemed a distant half-forgotten dream and prepared herself for a morning run. She dug her running gear out and changed into her running kit.

As she pulled her sports bra over her bare chest into place, she could have sworn she heard a giggle behind her. She swung around to find the culprit, but the small room was devoid of anyone else. Not seeing a source of the giggle, she shrugged it off as nerves and started stretching.

Tracy liked to run without music, allowing herself to clear her mind of the detritus of life. Neither did she bother with step-counting apps or watches. After years of military training, she had her own internal step counter, knowing exactly how many steps to the mile she could run over whatever terrain she met.

Once ready, she left her room, noting that it remained locked from the inside, confirming it must have been a dream. The hallway contained narrow stairs with several adjoining rooms, which she tiptoed down for them to widen on the next flight down. The last flight was wider still and more grandiose as they led into the grand entrance hall.

She stepped out of the front door, large enough to drive a London bus through, and into the early morning chill. She took in her surroundings as she did a few warm-up star jumps between two stone pillars that supported the stone portico that protected the entrance.

The Grange building was impressive, larger than other grand houses in the area, even if you discounted its surrounding farm buildings. The Grange's large, rectangular block, front facade, made from yellow Jurassic limestone, synonymous with the Cotswolds, screamed stronghold to the world. Each of its grand sash windows had large rectangular cills, jambs, and headers. Small gargoyles gazed down on anyone who approached, looking down from the stone parapet wall that hid the roof above.

Despite this stoic facade, there was something about the Grange that attracted Tracy when she first received the job application. It was as if the house was watching and waiting for her. Nothing sinister, more comforting, like your grandmother welcoming you back home. After reading the job description, she checked out the Grange's web site, showing the building and grounds were just the icing on the cake for Tracy.

Tracy set off running in front of the more modern extensions of nineteen-seventy's buildings, which ran either side of the lawn that spread out in front of the house. She enjoyed the warm of the of the sun on her and her feet crunching on the driveway feeling relaxed as she realised that her run today was special, acting as a symbol for her first real day as a civilian, striding out in the civilian landscape, far removed from her previous life.

Now up to speed, she crossed the car park and followed the drive towards the large arched gateway. Like many grand houses, the archway incorporated a small gatehouse bridging across the gate. She could see curtains and furnishings through the twee, diamond-shaped leaded windows, confirming someone lived in the small house. Cotswold stone also clad the gatehouse but with more fragile detailing, crooked stone walls, slate roof and window boxes full of colourful flowers.

As she ran following the road up the hill towards the village, her mind cleared and she remembered the head mistress's embarrassment when she allocated the bedroom to her, high in the attic of this historic manor house. Whilst she'd proudly boasted of the history behind the Grange and buildings, she blushed with shame as she announced the attic rooms had once been servant's quarters.

Little did she know that for Tracy the room was a palace, having been used to sharing dormitories in the army. It was bliss to have some privacy after all those years of shared space. This new temporary role is to be her first footstep into her new civilian life. Her time in the military was done, and she yearned for new challenges.

When her careers advisor had recommended the role, Tracy knew that her extracurricular activities in the military, and her being a trained medic, made her a perfect candidate for the short-term role. They held interviews over Microsoft Teams and, after setting out some example training programs, she received confirmation of their acceptance of her to the position.

Her superiors fast tracked her application to leave, as her agreed length of service was up and before she knew it, she'd packed everything she owned into two sports bags or sent to her parents for storage. It took several days to travel by bus and train, from her base in Germany back to the UK. She had a few days in London with friends before catching public transport to the Grange yesterday.

During term time, the Grange is a private college serving the children of local affluent families. It has its own working farm that prepares them to take over their family's farms. Over the summer holidays, to boost its income, it opens its doors to adult foreign students, looking to experience rural English life and a myriad of outdoor activities, whilst also catching up on their academic skills.

Over this time, they needed someone who could manage all their outdoor activities. It was this role that Tracy had applied for. After commanding troops at various levels, in training and in war zones, how hard could it be?

This year, the tired, main buildings are being renovated over the summer holidays, which only left the boarding houses for the foreign students and the main Grange accommodation for staff. She had five days to settle in, build the various teams up and prepare activity timetables with the cooperation of external outdoor centres, before the first students arrived.

Tracey's run took her past rows of quaint Cotswold stone cottages with small gardens and tubs full of multicoloured flowers, spoiled by modern cars and vans parked in front of them, blocking the pavements. She noted the large village pub that promised home-cooked pub grub and a quiz night, but soon left it all behind as she continued on as the road narrowed through low hedge-rowed fields.

Tracy's legs felt free and light as they pounded the narrow country roads, mile after mile, enjoying the wildflowers hiding in the low, crumbling stone walls on either side. She'd only glanced at the local area on Google maps once, but had a good idea of where she was. Later, she only had a short stint along the main road and a turn up to the side road to the village to return to the Grange.

Various vans were now parked in the car park and the tradespeople were heading to the cordoned off newer college buildings to start their day. Tracy's stomach rumbled as she did her warm-down stretches at the grand entrance. She wondered if she could find her way through the maze of rooms and corridors to the cafeteria to blag a cup of tea before a shower and breakfast.

Taking her thought as a challenge, she stepped into the huge hallway to bump into the headmistress, striding across the black and white chequered tiled floor. She looked middle-aged, tall and with a slim build. Her long blond hair swung sideways to match her stride and the swing of her blue, light cotton dress.

"Tracy, you're up early?"

Tracy couldn't quite get used to being called by her first name, after years of being called private, trooper, corporal, then later sergeant Blackwood, sarge or even Ma'am.

"Catching the early worm for a run."

"I saw you leave over an hour ago. That's more than a quick jog around the block. Come on, superwoman let's see if we can grab a cup of tea."

"Oh, please."

"I hope you slept okay. I feel a little guilty about putting you all up in the attic. In one of the cupboard sized rooms, but the college badly needs the improvements and, at long last, we have the funding."

Tracy was about to tell her about her odd dream and the giggle she'd heard, but thought better of it. It was probably better not to give Debbie, her new boss, any sign that she may have imagined things that are just bumps in the night, inside an old house.

"Oh, it's fine Debbie. It's palatial compared to some of my shared quarters they allocated to me back at the various bases I've been to."

Debbie led Tracy through some corridors and into a newer part of the college. The corridor led to a small cafeteria, where a largish, grey-haired woman, wearing a dress with an apron, had her sleeves rolled up, showing powerful arms that were used to hard work, was busy getting breakfast ready.

"Julie, this is Tracy, our medic and head of activities over the summer. Tracy, this is Julie, our cook and cleaner for the summer. She's an absolute rock here at the Grange. There is absolutely nothing she doesn't know about the college, its history, or the local area. I don't know where I'd be without her help over the years."

Julie turned and blushed as she reached out to shake Tracy's hand.

"Nice to meet you, Tracy. It looks like you've already started this morning. The kettle is already on Debbie. Two teas?"

"Please, Julie."

Debbie went to a table with crockery stacked up and pulled two mugs and spoons out, taking them to a table near a window that overlooked the front of the house.

"Damn and blast them. If I have to tell them one more time about their vans."

Debbie exclaimed, seeing a van cut across the lawns at the front of the house. Her face turned red as she turned and stormed out.

Julie brought over two mugs of tea, offering one to Tracy, but sat down with her, to sip at the second mug.

"Don't worry, she'll be gone for ages now. She lives for the college and will oversee the contractors until she's confident that they are doing exactly as she instructed. We've a little while before anyone else arrives. How are you settling in?"

"Fine, I didn't get in until late yesterday."

"With the work going on, they've struggled to fit in all our summer workers. Where did they manage to squeeze you into?"

"In one of the attic rooms, the one at the gable end."

Julie's eyes focussed on Tracy.

"And you slept, okay?"

"Yes, why?"

"Mm, nothing... Nothing woke you. Bumps in the night? Things going missing?"

"No..."

Tracy's mind ran over the visit in the night, unable to decide whether it was a dream, then her things being unpacked, the door still locked from the inside this morning and the giggle she heard.

"I'm sorry, but your eyes say different... Is Molly behaving herself?"

"Molly?"

"The story is that she was a maid in the early eighteen hundreds. No one really knows, but she is the most prolific of our resident ghosts. Most of her misadventures focus on that room, so we assume it was hers... So, what happened?"

"You mean there is more than one?"

Julie nodded, not giving anything away, sitting expectantly for Tracy to answer her question. Tracy initially didn't want to say anything, but there was something about this woman that she knew she could trust and she obviously already knew that something could happen. Tracy outlined her night, omitting Molly's nakedness, as that seemed to be something more personal, for her eyes only. And up until she found her clothes tidied away this morning and the giggle.

"Oh, she likes you... What did she look like?"

"It's hard to say. I was tired and struggled to stay awake. I thought I was dreaming. I remember her being a pretty blond and short... So, you've never seen her?"

"I've never seen her, but I talk to her and sometimes she answers with knocks on timbers. She'd let you know if she doesn't like you by stealing your socks or pens or, in my case, cleaning cloths and utensils. She'll often move things around, to tidy or straighten things. Although I've never known her to put so many things away in one go. She's put in an appearance now and then, more mischievous than to cause harm. She certainly enjoys giving people she dislikes a fright."