The Ash House

by Cross, Amy

  Suddenly I realize that Becky's voice has trailed off.

  After a moment, realizing that I've been kind of zoning out again, I turn to her and immediately see a hint of concern in her eyes.

  “Are you okay, honey?” she asks, reaching out and placing a hand on my arm. “Like, for real?”

  “I'm fine,” I reply, even though my stomach is churning and I'm starting to feel a little light-headed.

  She looks at the scarf.

  “Diane, what -”

  “You know how things are,” I add, interrupting her. “Everything's fine.”

  “Sorry,” she continues, “I shouldn't go on about ghosts, should I? It's probably just me being an idiot again. Seeing you again has really reminded me of the old days.” She pauses. “You used to get so mad whenever we talked about ghosts. Do you remember?”

  Feeling a twinge of pain in my gut, I realize I need to get to a bathroom.

  “Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile that's probably not too convincing. “Of course.”

  “It was like you felt personally insulted,” she continues. “Like, you thought we were saying something mean about your mother's house. It wasn't that at all, though.”

  “I know.”

  “And then there was that time I saw...”

  Her voice trails off, and she seems lost in thought.

  I force another smile, while gripping the sides of the chair and hoping against hope that the pain will go away.

  “I saw a hand,” she continues finally. “That was the creepiest thing that ever happened. I think you'd gone inside to use the bathroom or something, and I was left alone in the yard. And I saw a little hand, like someone was in the ash house. I knew there couldn't be anyone, but I still remember the sight of that hand. It was like someone was hiding in there, except...”

  Again, her voice trails off.

  “Maybe she wasn't actually hiding,” she adds. “Whoever she was, maybe she just wanted to make it look like she was hiding, and she left her hand in view on purpose. Maybe she really wanted to be seen. But who would she do that? What possible reason -”

  “I have to go to the bathroom!” I groan, hauling myself up as the pain and nausea start pulsing in my belly. “Excuse me.”

  I almost knock the table over as I turn away, and I feel pinpricks of cold sweat all over my face as I start heading across the room. I mutter something about being back in a moment, but this latest wave of nausea has really come on fast and I don't think I can hide my discomfort much longer. It's as if every word Becky said was tightening the screws, making me feel worse and worse.

  She calls after me, asking if I'm okay, but I can barely mumble a reply.

  The whole room seems to be spinning all around me, and I think maybe some other people are starting to ask whether I'm alright. I just need to get to the bathroom so I can reset a little, but my knees feel weak and I after a moment I have to reach out and steady myself against the back of a chair.

  Except that I miss the chair completely and fall against the table, slamming into the side and then slumping to the floor as the pain in my gut gets stronger and stronger. I try to grab hold of the tablecloth, which only makes things worse as the entire cloth slides down with me. Plates and cups smash all around, but I can't get up.

  “Call an ambulance!” someone yells in the distance. “She needs help! Get a doctor!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Daniel

  “Nana, are there any ghosts here?”

  She takes a moment to finish filling her tea cup, before turning to look at me across the kitchen table. For a moment her face looks completely blank, as if she can't quite believe what she heard.

  “What in the name of all that's holy makes you ask that?” she replies.

  “I was just wondering. Are there ghosts in your house? Or outside in the yard?”

  “Of course there aren't any ghosts here,” she continues. “Daniel, I didn't know you were interested in such ridiculous things.”

  “I'm not,” I reply, “but...”

  My voice trails off as I think back to the strange little girl I met in the forest. I'm sure she was the same girl whose hand I spotted in the ash house, but I don't get why she's always so secretive. She acts like she's trying not to get seen, but at the same time I do keep seeing her.

  “Do you know a girl,” I say after a moment, “who hides her face like this?”

  I put my hands over my face and look between my fingers for a moment, before lowering my hands again and waiting for a response.

  “Whatever are you talking about?” she asks.

  “I met a girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “That's what I don't know.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “Out in the yard. And once in the forest. I think she wants to play in the ash house.”

  “Well, there certainly aren't any little girls playing at the ash house,” she mutters. “This is private property.”

  “Maybe you just never saw her.”

  “I rather think I'd notice something like that.”

  “Not always,” I point out. “You have music on loud, and sometimes you drink wine and fall asleep in your chair. So maybe you wouldn't notice.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, but then she holds back.

  “You should mind your manners when you're talking to your elders, my boy,” she says after a moment. “Nobody has played in that ash house since your mother was a child, not until you arrived anyway, and that's the plain truth. I'm out there in the yard every day, for one reason or another. Do you really think I'm so senile that I wouldn't notice somebody playing on my own property?”

  I want to tell her that yes, I do think it's possible she doesn't pay very close attention, but instead I look down at my untouched sandwich.

  “You haven't seen or heard anything, have you?” she asks cautiously, almost as if she's worried about how I might answer.

  I glance back at her and immediately see that she looks a little worried.

  “You mustn't let your mind play tricks on you,” she continues. “You've been through a lot lately, and you might be finding it difficult to focus. You need to keep a focused mind and concentrate on more important matters, such as catching up on any schoolwork you've missed. Those books we ordered should arrive soon, and then I expect to see some serious revision.”

  “Did Mummy ever see ghosts here?”

  She sighs.

  “Did she?” I continue. “Did she ever say anything about a little girl?”

  “Your mother...”

  Her voice trails off for a moment, and then she sighs again. Then she sets her cutlery down, as if she feels she can't talk and eat at the same time. After a few seconds, I notice that her hands are trembling slightly.

  “I'm not making things up,” I tell her. “I did see a little girl, and she was covering her face with her hands, and I've seen her three times now. Sort of, anyway. She always runs away, but then she always comes back again.”

  “Have you been listening to silly stories?” she asks. “Daniel, people talk about things without really considering the meaning behind their words. That ash house out there is just a little pile of stones left over from a long time ago. That's all. If I'd known there'd be so much fuss, I'd have had the bloody thing torn down by now. I don't know why I didn't do that when your mother was young. You mustn't let people get their silly stories into your head, or you'll end up simple-minded.”

  “But did something happen in the ash house?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why -”

  “Can we drop the subject, please?” she continues, clearly annoyed. “You must -”

  Before she can finish, the phone starts ringing and she immediately gets to her feet. It's almost as if she's relieved of a chance to get away from the table, and I hear her muttering something under her breath as she goes through to the hallway and answers. Nana's funny; she seems quite scatter-brained, but at the same t
ime she's also very on edge, as if she's constantly nervous. And there are definitely things she doesn't want to talk about.

  “Speaking,” she says as she answers the phone, as I take a bite from my sandwich.

  I sit chewing for a moment, before suddenly feeling the hair on the back of my neck start standing up. For a moment I look around, convinced that something is wrong, before finally I look through to the hallway.

  “When?” Nana barks, clearly panicked by whatever she's heard from the caller. “Where?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Diane

  “I'm okay, I'm fine,” I say as Mum continues to hug me tight in the hospital room. “It was just a dizzy spell brought on by a slight change in my pill routine, that's all.”

  “When they called from the hospital,” she sobs, “I thought the absolute worst. I thought... Well, you know...”

  “You thought I'd keeled over? Fallen off my perch?”

  She pulls back and places her hands on my cheeks. There are tears in her eyes, and I can't help wondering if this is how she'll look when I really do die. Maybe this whole incident has been a sneak preview.

  “You have to start looking after yourself,” she continues. “Diane, you gave us such a fright. They barely told me anything at first, and when I got here we had to wait an age before a doctor would even come and see us. You have no idea what it was like out in that corridor, waiting and waiting.”

  “Hey Danny,” I say, determinedly looking past her and reaching out to my son. “Sorry to get you guys racing in here. As you can see, I'm totally okay. I just took a bit of a tumble in a coffee shop.”

  “Did you come in an ambulance?” he asks plaintively, clearly worried.

  “I did, but that doesn't mean anything bad.” I pause for a moment, trying to think of something to say that might make him feel better, but I can already feel tears welling in my eyes. “I owe you big time for the inconvenience,” I continue. “When we get home, you can have anything you want for dinner, okay? Even pizza. Even ice cream!”

  I wait for him to accept the offer, but he's simply staring at me with a blank expression. I think I've scared the life out of him, and maybe I've made him face something he's been trying to ignore. He's been gradually disappearing into himself since we arrived at my mother's house, and now he seems to have taken an extra big leap back.

  After a moment, he looks down at his hands, as if he doesn't even want to look me in the eye anymore.

  “Daniel,” Mum says, taking her purse from her coat pocket and handing it to him. “Be a good boy and go down to the cafeteria. Fetch me a cup of tea.”

  He doesn't need to be asked twice. As if he's relieved at the chance to leave, he takes the purse and hurries out of the room.

  “He was very quiet in the taxi on the way over,” Mum continues after a moment. “Diane, I know you're trying to protect the poor boy, but -”

  Before she can finish, I burst into tears. I try to stop myself, but it's as if something just erupted from deep in my body. Putting my hands over my face, I lean forward and start sobbing.

  Mum immediately puts her arms around me, but my whole body is shaking and for a minute or two I can't get myself under control. Tears are streaming down my face, no matter how hard I try to hold back and tell myself that I'm fine. Even Mum's hand stroking the back of my head does nothing to make me feel better. By the time I've managed to get myself even slightly under control, I feel like a complete idiot. At first I don't even know why I'm crying, but a moment later I remember the darkness.

  The silence.

  “It's okay,” Mum whispers, kissing the top of my head. “Let it out, darling. Just let it out.”

  “There was nothing there,” I whimper, thinking back to the moment after I fell and landed against the table in the restaurant.

  “What do you mean?”

  I place my hands on her shoulders and gently push her back, until I can see her face.

  “There was nothing there, Mum,” I continue, as fresh tears roll down my cheeks. “For a moment, I thought it was over. I thought I was going to die there and then on the floor of that restaurant, and I swear to God I could feel the emptiness waiting for me. I could feel a void of nothingness and cold, and I knew -”

  “You don't want to go upsetting yourself.”

  “Mum -”

  “Quiet, sweetheart. Don't stress.”

  “There was nothing!” I hiss, filled with panic as fresh tears stream down my face. “There was no bright light. Nobody was waiting for me. There was just nothing on the other side. It was the end.”

  “You can't be sure of that.”

  “Are there ghosts in your house, Mum?”

  “What?”

  “People have said they've heard and see things there,” I continue desperately, “but I don't know whether I can trust them. You're the most level-headed person I know, so I'm asking you to be honest with me. In all the years you've lived there, have you ever seen or heard anything that makes you think there are ghosts there? Please, just tell me the truth. If there's anything you've been holding back, anything you've not wanted to admit, anything you're scared to admit even to yourself, please, you have to tell me!”

  She hesitates for a moment, and there are tears in her eyes too.

  “No,” she says finally. “Sweetheart. Diane. No, I've never seen or heard anything.”

  Settling back against the pillow, I realize that she's right. All that talk of ghosts was just a distraction, a life-long way to avoid facing the inevitable. When life ends, there's nothing on the other side, nothing coming after. In a way, the sudden loss of hope is something of a relief. At least now I can start preparing, and I can't fool myself into thinking that I might somehow be able to come back and watch over Daniel. When I die, I'm gone forever.

  “The Lord will provide for you,” Mum says after a moment.

  I turn to her.

  “You know he will,” she continues, stroking the side of my face. “The Lord loves you, Diane.”

  “You know I don't believe in that stuff.”

  “But I do,” she replies, “and you never know, maybe your silly old mother's right for once. Sure, you didn't feel anything earlier, but you weren't actually dying earlier. You just fell and lost consciousness, and now you're over-analyzing the whole thing.”

  “There's nothing, Mum,” I reply, bristling at her attempt to give me renewed hope. Hope hurts too much. “There's nothing on the other side. When I die, I'll be gone forever. And I'll never see Danny again. I just have to accept that now.”

  “Speaking of Daniel,” she replies, with tears in her eyes, “I think perhaps you need to talk to him, Diane. You need to help him prepare for what's going to happen. Because one day, maybe quite soon, he's going to have to deal with you not being around anymore.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Daniel

  Kneeling in front of the dresser, I pull the bottom drawer open and see Mum's sweaters all neatly folded in a row. After a moment I reach in and lift one out, and then I hold it against my face and take a deep, deep breath.

  It's her.

  I recognize the smell, and for a moment when I close my eyes it's as if she's here with me. I could almost believe that I'm hugging her, and that she's hugging me, and that she's still alive.

  As I lower the sweater, however, I'm forced to face the cold, hard truth. She's been dead for a month now, and she's never coming back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Diane

  “Hey honey,” I say, stroking Daniel's head as he rests next to me on the hospital bed. “You know there's no need to be scared, don't you? Nana's going to take real good care of you.”

  “Can't you take care of me?”

  I take a deep breath, still struggling to hold back tears.

  “Nana's going to do that from now on,” I manage to say finally, which is about as close as I can get right now to explaining exactly what's going to happen. “When I'm gone -”

  He immediat
ely hugs me tight, pressing his face against my chest. It's an instinctive move, and I instinctively hug him back.

  “I know, I know,” I whisper, feeling my bottom lip starting to tremble as he clings to me. He's sobbing, I can tell that from the way his shoulders are shaking, and I don't know how to make him feel better. “But Nana's going to do a real good job. I mean, you'll have to put up with her cooking, but I don't see why you should get out that easy. I had to put up with it when I was your age, so you'll just have to be brave. You can be brave, can't you?”

  I wait, hoping against hope that he might laugh, but after a moment I realize I can feel his tears soaking through the front of my hospital gown.

  “I'm still here right now,” I point out, as the first tear runs down my cheek. “I've got to stay in hospital for a few days, but then I'll be coming back to Nana's house, and then...”

  My voice trails off as I realize that I can't run away, not now. I don't know how I'm going to manage all of this, but I do know that I'll have to go home, at least for a while. Running away and leaving a letter behind would be the easy route, and now – for better or for worse – I'm going to have to stick around.

  “You're going to be my big brave boy,” I continue. “It won't be easy, but I know you've got it in you. Your father was brave, and I can be brave at times, so it's a part of your DNA. And you're the bravest boy I've ever met in my life, so even thought it's going to be hard, I know that -”

  “Will you come back?” he blurts out suddenly, with his face still buried in my chest.

  “What do you mean?”

  “After you're gone. Will you come back?”

  I pause, and for a moment I think back to how it felt when I was on the floor in the restaurant. I remember feeling my mind falling away, and I remember a brief moment of despair as I realized there was nothing on the other side. And then I remember waking up here in the hospital, drowsy and confused. It's as if I skated against the void and then by some miracle I bounced back, but I know I won't be that lucky again. Next time I'll sink all the way until I'm gone. There'll be nothing left of me.