Being the son of art valuers, Harry knew the routine of getting ready for another 'art trip' with his parents, trying to cram what seemed like his entire bedroom into his little brown suitcase. After booking into the hotel, Harry and his parents made their way to the stately home to inspect the paintings.
Harry took in every detail as they walked through the rooms, each running effortlessly into the other, doors creaking along the way. His parents seemed to be drawn to all of the rooms wallpapers, commenting on how ornate they seemed but all Harry could see was grey. Everything looked grey and old to him. They eventually settled in what was the drawing room, the space still held the faint memory of its past wealthy owners and the sights this room must have seen.
Harry's parents started on their work, leaving him to entertain himself.
"Harry. Why don't you see what you can find, but make sure you don't wonder too far okay?" His mother told him with her usual sunny voice. As she spoke, she seemed to have her head tilted back to look at Harry while her hands were on the gilted frame of a nearby painting. Harry simply nodded and said a quiet "Okay." before making his way towards the furthest door to them all before pulling it open and walked into the next room. The door made an eerie creak before he closed it behind himself. The room he had entered was darker and gloomier than the last. There was nothing there apart from two crumbling fireplaces; one on each side of the room and a lone piano, its paint chipping off at its edges. For most people, being in such places like this would cause them to panic but Harry and his parents seemed to enjoy visiting such run down places, they were just filled with so much history, Harry would always imagine what it was like all those years ago.
He wondered around the room, touching each object, studying it until he had done a full circle around the room. Just as he was ready to wonder to the next room, suddenly the piano started to play a tune, its soft melodic notes filling his body with an underlying calm and yet at the same time an overwhelming fear as to what was happening. He couldn't move. He had his gaze fixed to the piano and he couldn't move. No one was there. Who was playing? All he wanted was to escape and run back to his parents. He felt frozen to the spot but somehow he did manage and he ran as fast as he could back to them in the other room. "Mummy, Daddy, the-piano-in-the-other-room-played-on-its-own. I'm scared Mummy." he cried as his parents turned to look at him, both with worry on their faces. His father couldn't move as he was up a ladder but his mother ran from her spot at the window towards Harry before wrapping her arms around him and tried to calm him down. Eventually his sobs became little hiccups as he snuggled into his mother's soft green fleece. He spent the rest of the day with them, never leaving their sides.
The next day, Harry felt a little better than he had the day before. Maybe he had dreamt it all. He knew deep down he hadn't but he tried to convince himself otherwise. When they returned to the house, Harry made sure he had brought some toys to play with so he could stay with his parents the whole day. He spent hours and hours playing with a jigsaw he had brought with him. The whole room felt peaceful and still, even the wind calmly whistled by behind the panes of glass of the windows. It wasn't until a while later that a feeling of unease came over Harry.
The room slowly became colder and he had now realised his parents had moved to another room but he felt someone else was in the room with him. It was like he was frozen once more as he dropped the jigsaw pieces onto the hard wooden floor, the faint bang sounded incredibly loud in the deadly quiet space. Harry slowly turned his body to look over to the window behind him where he could feel someone's gaze upon him. As he moved his body, his heart began to beat quicker, faster in his chest. He was expecting to see a monster but when he turned completely around, it wasn't a monster who greeted him, instead there was a little girl standing there, almost glowing in front of the window. Her hair trailed down her back in golden curls which framed her rounded, porcelain face and bright blue eyes. She wore little black plimsoles on her feet under her ivory lace dress.
Harry couldn't think, couldn't speak. His heart let out one more little flutter, relieved that there was no monster with him in the room. Eventually he got up enough courage to ask her, her name. "Alice." she replied sweetly, looking like an angel. Harry nodded before he introduced himself. "It's nice to meet you Alice, I'm Harry." he smiled softly, still feeling shaken but was calming down slowly. "Do you want to play?" Alice wondered shyly, never shifting from her current spot. Harry thought for a moment, a few questions floated through his mind like 'Who was she?', 'Where did she come from?', 'Where were her parents?', 'Did she live here?'. Finally he replied with a 'Yes'.
Days quickly passed, followed by weeks and whenever he could, he spent his time with Alice. He learned that she was on her own here in this house, her parents died sometime in the 1890's but she couldn't remember much about her life. She said she found it hard to hold on to memories when you've been like her, dead for many years. It must have been sad for her Harry thought but she seemed happy to find a new friend in Harry. Unfortunately their time together had to end. On the last day, tears welled up in Harry's eyes as he said goodbye to her in the Music Room, rain hitting the window panes with force. "Goodbye." Harry whispered a stray tear rolling down his cheek. Alice didn't reply. She sat at the piano simply looking over towards Harry as he made his way back to his parents. Just as he placed his hand on the door, his body not wanting to leave, he heard the soft voice of Alice finally replying. "Goodbye Harry." Then, without wanting to painfully draw this out any longer, Harry pushed the door open and he was gone, walking out of the house with his parents. All they thought was that Harry had an imaginary friend, they didn't think anything more.
They made their way back to the hotel to pack to go back home. Harry worried for months afterwards that he wouldn't see Alice again.
It was nearly thirty years later when he saw her again. He was now happily married with two children himself; a boy and a girl. Harry had told them all about his childhood story and his children were desperate to visit. Even his wife was keen to go, but didn't believe that what he was saying was actually true.
On a family holiday, they visited the old stately house which was now open for the general public to explore. They left it until later in the day to visit, so fewer people would be there. They all went straight to the Music Room, the piano still there but refurbished before everyone stood by the fireplace which Harry had been standing in front of that first day and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally the piano started to play and gradually Harry could see the faint outline of Alice getting more defined until she was visibly sitting at the piano. Both is wife and children could see her. "See." Harry laughed softly as he watched Alice play. His children nervously went up to her with a bit of coaxing from Harry and asked her if she wanted to play in unison, with which she stopped and replied kindly with a 'Yes'. They all played together, the children and Alice, Harry was now grown up but watching them all play caused him to feel like a little boy again. There were really four people playing in the room this day as he smiled at the memory of his time with Alice. He would treasure it forever.