Chapter 1 THE OFFER

I didn’t believe in the supernatural.  I loved a horror movie as much as the next person, maybe more.  Now, as I look back at the events that led to me going from a total sceptic, to a Believer I cannot understand where the years went . My experiences and what I saw others go through, terrifying as they were, have never and will never leave me.  They were totally unexpected.

Back in 1984 I started a job as the assistant caretaker at one of those old three floored Victorian schools in East London.    I had been the youngest store Manager in the history of HMV, the record shop, having been asked to run the large store on the high street of Stratford when I was a 17 year old Saturday boy in 1976.  I went on to run what was known as The Battleship!  This was the four floor main store next to Bond Street Station on Oxford Street.  I eventually left there after I had turned 22 and travelled quite a bit through Europe working as a podium presenter for various Timeshare companies on the Costa del Sol.  When I got back after about 18 months I decided to start my own Management and Sales Training Company.  I was holding the occasional sales training workshop teaching salespeople to sell better in car showrooms, door to door and publishing companies, but getting the bookings was becoming difficult.  It was pre-internet and Social Media.  I needed to earn more money while I did that and I knew  I needed to do something to supplement my income.  A friend of mine, Colin, was a school caretaker and he suggested to me over a few drinks one lunchtime in the Spread Eagle pub around the corner from my home in West Ham that I should consider a vacancy that had arisen.

 

Colin was an ex-boxer, but had spent more time on the canvas than Leonardo Da Vinci.  He had a very badly broken nose to prove it too.  I think it had been broken three times and was almost flat to the point it was wider than it was long.  It seemed that whatever position he sat in, he was always in profile.  He was a very kind hearted guy and was already, at the age of 32, married to his childhood girlfriend and had four kids.  He was very conscientious at his job and had made a lot of friends in the council in the last six years as a caretaker.  Caretakers get a house as part of the deal.    He had a lovely three bedroom Victorian house a short walking distance from the school he worked in. Colin, as they say, knew what side his bread was buttered.

“It’s not like you need to do anything, Dave, it’s easy.  Unless you are a Caretaker like me when it’s a lot of responsibility” he told me.  Somehow I found it hard to believe.

“So what does it involve?” I asked.

“You go in at six in the morning and unlock, you let the cleaners in, they clean the offices and classrooms, and anything they need you get for them.”

I was still getting over the 6am start!  I sometimes got home at 6am…I didn’t fancy going straight to work 

“They leave at eight thirty and you leave when the Caretaker and the day assistant get there.  Then you come back at four o’clock and wait until the cleaners have done their dusting and emptied the bins , you lock up and leave at six o’clock.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s’ it.” He told me.

I took a sip of my beer.

“AND!” he said, “You can make additional money doing lettings.” 

I didn’t ask what they were but it fitted my time frame, it didn’t sound like hard work, I could make extra money on top and it fitted all my requirements…it seemed too good to be true.  It was.

“Do I need to fill in an application and be interviewed?”

Colin winked.

“I know the guy that’s recruiting.  You will need to be interviewed but if you want the job it’s yours.  He trusts me.”

I turned it over in my mind for a while but realised I had already made my decision.

“OK, let’s do it.  Thanks”

“Don’t thank me, it’s your round!”

I picked up the two glasses and walked to the bar.  I was pleased that the next stage was sorted.  I had money coming in and the freedom to pursue my goal of putting a band together..  What more could I want for now?

"What can I get you?" the barman asked.

I asked for two pints of bitter and looked around.  There were a couple of guys next to me talking.

"I told you," the older one said, "It's not the dead that can hurt you, it's the living!"

They laughed.  It was a phrase I had heard many times growing up and I believed it. 

My belief would be shattered soon when I discovered it was completely wrong.