The Last Tenant of Highfield House

Feb 26 2008 Submitted by John Worthy

THE stairs creaked with extreme age every time she climbed them but she knew almost to the inch which part of the stair treads would issue a noise if she trod on them in the right place.

She had lived there a very long time; so long that she had survived all of the other occupants of the old house on the corner of the road.

It was a barn of a place, absolutely huge and at times she had trouble remembering just where she was in it.

That was probably why she only used a few of the rooms it was a case of what was familiar to her but most thought it was because it was a difficult house to keep warm.

The house stood in a courtyard or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the house had a courtyard.

There was once a coach house in one corner and a stable for two horses but by the time she came to live there the horses had long since ceased to pull the landau that stood in the coach house, although she still remembered what the building looked like.

Well she would as it took up nearly a third of the yard. She remembered it for the cold mornings spent scrubbing the washing before she had her very first washing machine.

Part of the old coach house had been converted to a wash house, a boiler had been brick built into a corner with a small furnace beneath it to heat the water and by a window a brown flat sluice sink had been set upon two brick pylons beneath a cold water tap.

In the depths of winter it was freezing in there but that was where all of her washing was done before being fed through an old cast iron mangle. Compared with what she had now it was primitive to say the least. The memory of pegging the steaming washing to a half frozen washing line still brought a twinge of pain to her arthritic hands.

Across the yard from he old coach house stood the kitchen, she had spent hours in there creating food that was fit to eat from ingredients that were not, she came from a time of austerity when a ration book was a passport to so little food that mice hunted in packs for a slice of stale bread.

This house however had something that most did not and during those years it was exploited to the full. It was a garden so large that it could be forced to produce enough food to supplement the meager ration allotments.

At the end of the garden was an orchard that held several trees, Oh it had once been a much larger orchard than it was but when they built the adjoining row of cottages some of the land was lost yet there were still enough trees to make cider, provide cooking apples and enhance the mincemeat in late October ready for the coming Christmas.

Later additions to the fruit orchard included a damson tree and plums with a backdrop of raspberry canes. When she thought of the amount of work that it took to keep body and soul in the same dimension it seemed an exercise in futility now but in those days the wolf of hunger was a frequent visitor and it was very necessary to do whatever you had to in order to survive.

It all seemed a long time ago but in spite of the hard reality of life then she remembered them in happiness because he was there, her husband and of course her children.

Now all she had left was a small dog. Her children were making their way in the world and her husband had died these twenty years since which meant that she lived alone in the huge house.

The children kept in touch, there was at least one phone call every day and most weekends she visited one or the other for Sunday lunch but she was always careful not to outstay her welcome.

The dog was a replacement for an earlier pet, the one she had died suddenly and she always said that she would not have another but that was two years ago and she missed the company and if the truth were known she needed a reason to go for a walk every day.

It seemed pointless if there was not some purpose to it so that was why she went to the animal rescue center, at first it was just Window shopping, she went there every day to cast an eye over whatever came in but being such a frequent visitor the staff eventually found out what sort of dog she was looking for.

She was conscious of the fact that she was not getting any younger and therefore would not like to leave an animal behind so it had to be an old dog.

She could no longer handle a 'Spirited beast' so it had to be fairly placid. Obedience was a consideration too; she had no time to train a dog so it would help if it was already trained.

Slowly the staff at the center began to extract her requirements and though it was a tall order they knew that somewhere the dog she was looking for may well be seeking a new owner all they had to do was find it.

She had been going to the rescue center for nearly a month and everyone thought that her requirements were a little too perfect but one day on a visit to another center one of the staff spotted a dog that just might do.

It was by no means certain that the old lady would take to the dog, some do not but it was worth a try. The dog was a bitch, it was estimated to be around ten years old though no one knew for sure, it had belonged to another woman of advancing years who had suddenly died so the dog found itself without a home.

The staff at the center were hopeful of a match because not many people would take on a dog that old and it often ended in the dog being put to sleep.

The next time she went there it was arranged that the dog and the prospective new owner would meet by pure chance and the staff would observe and decide whether it was a match or not.

On the day that she chose to drop in to the center it was bright and sunny and the dog had been given free rein to wander where it pleased whilst the staff set about the chores that always needed to be done.

It was a noisy place with more dogs than there was attention to go around, though no one was actually watching the interaction between the two it was clear that it was a match.

Later that afternoon the old lady left with her new found companion bound for the Manse on Low Field Lane with a new leash supplied as a going away present by the center.

If the truth were told they were relieved that the old lady took the dog, as it was often the case that dogs of its age could not be placed and were therefore destroyed.

The old lady knew nothing of the dog's history, perhaps if she had she might have taken a little longer to accept the animal.

The staff at the center could only estimate the age of the dog and they put its years in excess of ten but this animal had been into an animal rescue center more than once but not at this particular center.

The first time the dog found itself homeless its owner had suddenly died and the family of an elderly mother had no place for a dog, they were against having it put to sleep and paid for its upkeep until a new owner could be found.

It took several weeks but eventually the dog was placed with a lady who lived alone and needed a companion. The woman had kept the dog until she died quite suddenly one afternoon whilst taking the dog for a walk; there was nothing unusual in her demise as the doctor maintained that her heart just gave out.

Its first owner had taken it to obedience lessons and had cared for its every need and the family knew how much she thought of the animal, which was why they were reluctant to have it destroyed but the dog had found itself homeless in a rescue center forty miles from where The Manse stood.

The second time that the dog found itself in a kennel awaiting a new owner the same scenario had replayed itself almost to the letter. The dog had been placed with another old lady looking for a companion.

This time the dog's home was to be a small house on a council housing estate; the dog became the woman's constant companion but often took itself off for long excursions without her.

It had a freedom of spirit that did not fit with being owned by anyone and was frequently seen alone.

Most knew where it lived and who it belonged to and at first anyone who saw it took it back to the old woman but as time went on there was a general acceptance that it was more than able to find its own way home.

The two of them shared that small council house until one day in late February.

The milkman had delivered her usual pint of gold toped Channel Island milk but as he put it upon the step he heard the howl of a dog that did not seem content about something.

The milkman hesitated for a moment trying to decide whether to ring the doorbell but for some reason let it pass.

As he continued along the street the path of the early milkman and the morning postman crossed, an exchange of concern about the house where the dog was howling brought both men to the door.

Both knew that she lived alone and that no one had seen her that morning, whilst the postman checked by looking through the letterbox the milkman engaged himself at the windows but both seeing no sign of the occupant decided to call the police.

A constable later found that the woman had passed away peacefully during the night and the dog was left homeless once more.

This time the dog was older and it was felt that it would be difficult if not impossible to place but whilst it was awaiting its fate the driver from the rescue center where the lady who lived in the Manse found her new companion paid a visit to the center where the dog was awaiting a vet who was late for his usual visit to the center.

The story about the dog was related and the driver thought that he might know of a place where a home could be found and so brought the dog to where the old lady from the Manse first met the dog.

So that was how the old lady from the Manse gained her companion, a small dog that had side stepped the Grim Reaper several times but had been present at the demise of all of its previous owners.

Of course the old lady knew nothing of the dog's dark past and it probably would have made no difference to her decision to take the dog even if she had as things of a strange coincidence were something in which she did not believe.

Routine settled upon the Manse and every morning saw the old lady and her dog set off for a walk, a walk intended to exercise the dog and keep the old lady fit by way of consequence.

Their walks always followed the same route and were usually within the same timeframe so it was perhaps inevitable that such a frequently seen duo would become known to the bread man, the milk man, the post man and all manner of assorted costermongers plying their trade in the locality.

By sight she knew them all and a few of them by name but everyone knew the dog's name, she had retained the name it came with though as events turned out the name Lucky did seem inappropriate.

The Manse was a rambling barn of a place, far too big for one old lady and her dog but that was where she had always lived at least that was where she had lived longer than she had lived anywhere else so it was home. There were things about the house she did not really like but because she could do nothing about them she tolerated her displeasure.

They were things that made her feel uneasy and being alone in the house conspired with her imagination to make them seem terrifying.

One source of concern was 'The lady in white'. She refused point blank to admit that there were such things as ghosts but if this was not a ghost then it was as near as anything could come, she had only ever seen it twice in all the time that she had lived there but it was a phenomena that once seen it was never forgotten.

She had not seen it for many years but she still had the feeling that she shared the house with something though she could never bring herself to give it the credence of a name or description, to her it was simply 'The woman in White'.

It always appeared in or around the same place, at the top of an almost vertical winding staircase topped by a short landing before the staircase continued up to the attic in the roof.

The specter had never done her any harm and as far as she knew it was not a malevolent spirit but all the same she resented its presence.

Somehow the dog seemed to redress the balance, now there were two of them and only one of 'It' and though the dog seemed apprehensive around that staircase together they acquired a certain bravery.

The other cause for concern that the old woman could do nothing about was the wind, there were places in that house that once the wind outside reached a level of ferocity whistled and creaked as each gust applied the force of nature to the one hundred and fifty year old Manse.

What made it worse was the line of poplar trees that formed the edge of her huge garden. They were a portent of the strength of the wind outside as they were visibly bent distorted by the power of the wind.

The house had stood against the elements for one and a half centuries and in all of the time she had lived there it had not lost so much as one slate from its roof though the wind had done its level best to wrench them from the rafters.

Yet she still feared that one day the wind would be stronger than the house. The view from her bedroom window did not help, from that window she had the perfect view of the straight line of poplars and when the wind became forceful she would sit in a chair by the window in terror as she watched the trees bend to the will of the wind, it was irrational she knew that but whenever there was a storm there she sat willing the trees to resist the force.

The dog also showed a distinct uneasiness when the wind howled around the house a trait she found sympathy with but perhaps the animal sensed her fear of the wind and reacted accordingly. The wind never did cause any damage to the Manse but the old lady has found an ally in her mistrust of it.

The woman and her dog were rarely seen apart except for the days when she went shopping, on those days the dog stayed at home whilst she collected the 'rations'.

Most would call the goods she collected groceries or food but she was of an age that remembered having a ration book during the war, a time when the strictures of supply dictated that each person was only allowed a certain amount of food and that was governed by a ration stamp book.

From that point on no one went to the grocers or the butchers or even the bakers, they collected the rations although the act of shopping was identical in every way the nature of it changed forever and even fifty years on from the war she still collected the rations every Friday.

It had been some months since she had taken the dog in and most people in the locality had become accustomed to seeing her taking the dog for its walk.

She was as most people are a creature of habit and if she missed doing something that people expected her to do then it was noticed.

One of the things that she did daily was to pick up a morning newspaper, it was more habit than desire but on her return she would acquaint herself with everything that had been reported since the day before, if nothing else she could hold forth on that which had appeared in the newspaper and for someone of her years she was remarkably well informed but there was another reason for the newspaper.

It was the crossword, she tried to keep her agility of mind honed by completing a crossword every day, of course there were days when the compilers were particularly obtuse but most days she managed to complete nearly all of the clues.

She usually had a phone call around mid morning from one of her children and the other often dropped by to spend his lunchtime there but that day was not to be like any other in fact that day saw an irrevocable change at the Manse.

No one had seen her that morning her usual route with the dog remained unwalked and she had not collected the daily paper from the shop.

Her milk stood on the step of the great house and an envelope protruding from the letter betrayed the postman's visit.

Inside the house it was still, nothing had stirred that day save a dog that needed feeding. There was a vacancy in the air, a quietness that was not there yesterday, everything was in its place the table in the living room stood laid for one expected for breakfast but the cereal dish lay unused and the familiarity of the radio was absent.

A telephone began to ring but remained unanswered, it stopped and then rang again more desperately crying out through the morning air to be answered but no one lifted the receiver.

It stopped, the silence reigned supreme once more for a few minutes then in a last ditch attempt it resumed its raking call throughout the house but still no one answered.

There was something wrong; the caller knew that. She was always near the phone at this time of day she expected a call from one of her children and she would not miss that.

One sibling phoned the other to express concern that something was wrong, out of character and not as it should be.

Soon both children were at the house apprehensive of what they would find, expecting but not accepting that which befalls everyone eventually.

As they smashed their way into the back of the Manse the only greeting was from the dog yet both knew that she was in the house but not there at the same time.

Above the winding stair of the old house they found the old lady on her bed, the curtains were still closed and a shaft of sunlight picked out the face of a mother that had not made it through the night.

Perhaps it was shock or perhaps it was disbelief in the face of the obvious or maybe it was in the way they had been raised but neither seemed immediately affected by the sight.

The mind of each of them turned on the practicalities of what must be done. It was as though a door somewhere had swung shut unexpected but inevitable.

There was so much to do and it seemed that there was not enough time to do it in. It was almost a week before the cause of death was determined though if the dog could have spoken it may well have predicted the outcome of the post-mortem because the cause was given as heart failure.

The coincidence was becoming the norm though at the outset no one would have connected the presence of a small dog with such recurring events.

The final arrangements took a while to organize, it was as well that they did for apart from her immediate family and friends there were contacts to be made abroad.

Some of her family lived on the other side of the world though they were not blood family but family by marriage. Whenever they came to England they always came to stay at the Manse though if the truth were known she had sometimes wished that they had not. Their visits left everyone at the Manse speaking a peculiar mix of native English interlaced with a New World drawl but that was the nature of the beast.

The day of the funeral was bright and sunny and not the sort of day that anyone could accept that it was the sort of day to attend such an occasion.

At the Manse after the somber events of the service there was very little sadness. The reason being that whenever the question arose of how the old lady died an account was given of her last days.

On Sunday she was out at lunch with one of her children and the visit took in a call on her granddaughter and her great granddaughter.

On the following day it was shopping with her daughter and the point was made that she was bright and happy. She had spoken to most of her immediate family at some time or other whether by phone or in person within the previous two days of the event.

She had retired for the night and failed to wake up. It was sudden, there was no long illness or pain in fact it was the way that most who heard the account wished for themselves.

The aftermath of the funeral was more like a garden party than a wake and for the most part that was where it took place, in her garden except that for the first time she was the only one who was not there but maybe she was.

The Manse was quiet in the days afterward a quietness that marked the end of an era, she had lived there a long time and it would take some time for the people around the locality to accept that no one lived there any more.

Even when the house was being cleared people stopped to inquire if the old lady was moving although by then it was common knowledge that she had died.

A few asked what happened to her dog, it was like they were partners of some kind that had become inseparable though she had only taken the dog a few months before

The dog was taken from the Manse on the day that the old lady was found by the eldest of her children. At that time details of its past were sketchy and it was only later that its rather dubious history became known.

It now lives in a cottage not far from where the old lady and the dog first met but several miles from the Manse where there are field and woods. One curious trait however singles the dog out from other dogs, it does not like to be left alone.

The Manse on Low Field Lane knew nothing of time, it had stood there long before any of the houses that were now its near neighbours, it was there before the road which now passes its door was built.

It had a presence of its own and an aura of a great house but now it stood empty. The blue brick courtyard was never walked upon again and the grass and chickweed took root in the earth between the blue blocks, no one mowed its lawns and the trees in the garden turned wild.

The poplars still bend under the force of the wind, it still has all of its slates on the roof, and the house is one that small children rush past without a glance in its direction.

Yet on dark days just before twilight when the wind is in the right direction some have said that the old lady still lives there because they have seen her in the window dressed in white and sitting by the window watching the wind blowing through the trees in the garden of The Manse on Low Field Lane.

JP.

Many stories have a basis upon fact and this story is no exception.

The house is Highfield House,the oldest residence in Hall Green, Birmingham. It is currently under threat of demolition. The old Lady's name was Eileen and she lived in that house until 2006.

The dog was called "Lucky" and still is. I take it for a walk most mornings though some mornings it has to be bribed into enthusiasm with a "Bonio".

The point of the story? To raise the awareness that a house which has been a feature of Hall Green longer than Hall green has been a Birmingham suburb is not lost under the irrevocable swathe of the bulldozer blade.

Support to save this unique example of early Victorian architecture and its cedar tree would be welcome