The Old Waterhouse

Over the Health, there was an ancient crumbling Waterhouse where the entire estate's water system was managed. (Believe me, we thought it was a miracle how anything that old and manky could keep, and pump out any water) But it did. 

It was made with bricks, with a black slate roof and iron doors (although at the time of this incident, it was just a shadow of its former self), and didn't have any doors; the windows were all smashed in by generations of kids throwing rocks and stones at them.

It was there that my Mama and her siblings were kids who played over the Heath, and they all told us that. spooked them and their mates as it did us.

It was a really hot day one Summer, in the School holidays.  The older. The boys were at home for some reason, and all the younger Cousins (me included) were being little brats, so the boys said they would take us all blackberry picking to keep us quiet.

Mama agreed gratefully (the boys were really responsible and mature at sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen). They babysat for us, younger kids all the time, so we all knew the rules of staying close to the boys, and doing what they told us, and so, a half-hour later, everyone had their fruit buckets, and we were off.

There were five of us, younger kids; we were all really excited as blackberry picking was a great family favorite activity, and our Gran's blackberry pies were the best.

Gran's house led directly onto the back of the Heath. There was a fence with a gap at the end.  One of my older cousins passed me through to the other than lifted my tiny wheelchair over the fence; the other kids were through in seconds, and we were away again.

On our way to our destination, the older boys told us spooky stories, as they always did ( half because they liked scaring us, and half because we all used to beg them to. There was nothing more terrifying than a story from my cousins, H or B. They were masters and so believable. We loved it!)

We all stopped talking when we came to the Waterhouse:  Nobody ever dared to speak around or near the Waterhouse, not even the older boys. For something so mundane, it always looked (and still does) so eerie.

There was a second fence to get through before we reached our beloved blackberry field, but this time, as we squeezed through the gap of the fence, we were all more somber as we remembered the old wife's tale/urban legend that we all knew about the Waterhouse.

The story goes: 

Once, in the early 1960s, there was a gang of bank robbers who were local to the area and were really nasty pieces of work.

Their expertise was terrorizing bank customers and staff alike before grabbing and shooting anything that moved.

They did several jobs without getting caught, but they really messed up a particular job, and a sweet 19-year-old trainee bank clerk was shot dead, and five more people were seriously injured. 

One of the gang was also shot dead, along with the nastiest member of the gang being seriously wounded in the crossfire.  

It is said that the remaining gang members escaped with just a few hundred and made their way over to the Heath and hid out in the Waterhouse; it was newish at that time and was a perfect hideaway for the murderers. 

There was a lot of contention and stress between the remaining gang, months, although it was never proven how, the bodies of all three of the remaining gang members were discovered rotting away in the Waterhouse six months later. 

A few years after the weird stuff and creepy noises started occurring near and around the Waterhouse. 

Mysterious "hairy" figures were glimpsed moving stealthily amongst the pipes and wires, a dank, moldy, rotten smell like aging river weeds was always smelt around the area of the Waterhouse, and eerie wails and menacing murmurs could be heard day and night. 

In the late '70s, there was a spate of mysterious deaths of homeless people who would shelter over the Heath, not too far from the Waterhouse.

There was nothing to ever link the deaths to the Waterhouse, but the locals soon started giving the Waterhouse and the surrounding area a wide berth because of the creepy history and dark reputation, and that left the Waterhouse abandoned and in disrepair.

That's what we knew of the Waterhouse's dark history.  That is why we were so wary and anxious to get away from it as quickly as possible.

When we were all through the gap in the fence, further away from the Waterhouse, we, the younger Cousins, built up enough courage to glance over at the building of ill repute, before being rounded up by the older boys. A put me in my wheelchair again, and we set off to the blackberry field.

We soon arrived at the field, where some other local kids we knew were already there, and we spent a nice afternoon picking and eating the juicy, sweet blackberries and splashing in the river. And soon the sun was getting low, and it was time for home.

Our journey home was much like the one there; we were still bantering, laughing, and the older boys were still winding us up slightly, but, being as it was getting late, we were feeling wearier and slightly subdued.

When we reached the fence before the Waterhouse, the air felt slightly too close (like before a thunderstorm).

The youngest of the three older boys got me out of my wheelchair so that B could lift it over the fence; the other kids were already on the other side of the fence with H and B.

A suddenly said to his brother in a low guarded voice. "Something moved at the back of there, Bruv!"  B just looked at him sideways (out of the boys, A was the most likely one to pull a stunt or wind anyone up for a laugh), but A was straight-faced.

A said, "I'm going to have a look!" Passing me through to B and squeezing past us all.

"Wait up, A...We've got t..." Having put me in my wheelchair, B had moved forward towards his brother when we all heard A shriek out in horror and disgust, and the two boys moved back quickly.

H, having already taken me out of my wheelchair again had told everyone to "RUN" And we did, B picking up my tiny wheelchair folding it up while running, A grabbing the other two kids hands and following B and H running with me on his shoulders holding my other Cousin's hands, we ran and ran, A kept saying  "Don't look back! Don't look back!" I did, but saw nothing.

We didn't stop till we got to the fence, which leads back to the road on the estate, and we could actually see civilization again. 

We were all completely exhausted (especially the older boys).

Before we slipped through the fence to the road B, holding himself up by the railings, he asked.  "What did you see, A?!" 

"Y..yellow eyes, h.h.hairy face! "  All of us younger kids began to panic and scream, and H had to calm us all down. He said that we were safe and it would be alright, but we all wanted to get as far away from the Waterhouse as possible.

When we got home, we all looked bedraggled and slightly nervous.

Mama and my Auntie noticed this and asked the boys what was wrong. He just said that we just got spooked by an old, drunk man in the bushes looking for golf balls to sell, and as that was quite commonplace over the Heat,h Mama and my Auntie just gave us kids a pep talk and hugged us.

We never did tell my Mama or my Auntie the truth about the "yellow eyes and hairy face" or find out what it actually was, but us kids didn't go near the Waterhouse for a long time after..