by Dan Scottow
She looked at Mylo, and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.
‘She said it was an accident, she stumbled or something.’
‘Well, there you go then. You know she’s unsteady on her feet.’
Diana smiled to herself.
‘But don’t you see? She’d have to have fallen and leaned right over the worktop, and even further to the back of the sill. It’s not possible! We had literally just had a conversation about how special it was to me and why.’
‘Okay. Well don’t worry about it. We can get you another one.’
‘But it won’t be that one. It was your grandmother’s. You can’t simply replace it. Besides, you told me you loved me for the first time when you gave it to me. That’s what it represents.’
Mylo sighed.
‘Rose, you’re being silly. It’s only a vase.’
‘No, Mylo! It’s not. It’s not even about the vase. It’s everything. I can’t do this anymore. I’m telling you she is so jealous. She’s lusting after you… and I think she actually believes she might have a chance with you. She’s deluded!’
Mylo frowned, glancing towards the door.
‘Shh… she’ll hear you.’
‘I don’t care. You must notice the way she drools over you whenever you’re around here.’
‘Oh, dear God, not this again, please.’
‘It’s true. She broke it on purpose because she knew it was important to me. She’s a bitter old witch. I hate her, and I hate living here.’
‘There’s not much we can do about it, though, is there?’
‘Can’t I come and stay with you? Please?’
‘We can talk about it,’ he said softly, and a wave of panic washed through Diana.
Mylo guided her to his boat. As Rose busied herself at the stern, he glanced up towards the house.
Diana stood staring at them.
She smiled, waving her fingers flirtatiously at him. He looked away, shaking his head.
Diana remembers the day well. The thought of Rose leaving had terrified her… not because she wanted Rose to stay, but she knew her not being there would mean seeing less of Mylo. And she simply couldn’t bear the thought of that. She knew she would have to smooth things over, convince the girl to stay. But fortunately, events over the few weeks that followed the incident would mean that Diana wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.
At the time, she’d taken a great deal of pleasure in seeing how much breaking the vase had hurt Rose and wiped the smug smile from her face. But now, the memory of it terrifies her. There’s no way Lucy can have known. Which means one thing. Diana’s suspicions are correct.
Rose is back.
And she wants to hurt Diana.
She sits on the edge of her bed, wringing her hands, as she stares vacantly out of the window. Rose’s ghost will have to go. Diana had hoped that sanding away the stain from the foot of the stairs would cleanse her house of all traces of that toxic girl and the bitter memories she left behind.
But she can see it will take more. Much more.
And she knows what she must do.
46
Diana
She hasn’t left her room much since the incident with the Ouija board. It’s been almost a week. Partly because she’s felt so unwell; hasn’t had the energy, but mostly through fear. She’s terrified. The confirmation that Rose is haunting her has filled her with a new sense of dread… she knows it’s crazy hiding herself away, because, after all, a ghost can get at her anywhere it likes… but she simply feels safer in her room. She’s heard Lucy pottering around, cleaning, tidying. Seeing to Richard. The girl has knocked on the bedroom door a few times, called through to make sure Diana is all right. Left plates of food outside. Some of it has been eaten, some taken away untouched.
The anti-sickness tablets are helping, but the headaches… they won’t ease up. Her limbs are throbbing. Each time she attempts to stand from her bed, she feels like she’s on a rollercoaster. She knows she should speak to a doctor, but she’s terrified. What if they commit me, she thinks.
The sleeping pills don’t seem to be working at all anymore. She’s waking most nights, at least once, which is unlike her. She used to put her head on the pillow and be out until the following morning. Now she’s lucky if she gets a couple of hours. She can’t face a trip into town to find new ones.
Opening her door, she waits, listening. The house is silent. She hears footsteps from above. Taking her chance, she hobbles quickly to the bathroom, slipping inside. She hasn’t showered for days.
She notices that Lucy has cleaned the mirrored doors of the cabinet. She curses to herself. She should have told her to leave them. She prefers them that way. Glancing up, her eyes linger. Her hair is a mess. She hardly recognises herself; she avoids seeing herself at the best of times. Can’t face the monster that returns her gaze.
‘Who are you?’ she whispers.
‘I’m you, of course,’ her reflection replies, flashing a mouthful of razor-sharp fangs as it grins back at her.
The phone rings, startling her. Panicked, she quickly returns to her room, but she’s sure she can hear her reflection cackling from the bathroom. She pushes her door closed just in time. She hears Lucy skipping down the stairs and a muffled conversation ensues. Probably Val checking up on her. Chasing her for work. Her paintbrushes remain untouched since the discovery of the ruined canvas. There’s a knock, bare knuckles on wood.
The sound is deafening, it echoes round the room. Diana’s head whips about, following it, as it bounces from wall to wall, high up in the corners. She can almost see it.
‘Diana, it’s me. May I come in?’
‘Go away!’ she screams, as she limps back towards the bed, sitting on the edge. The door swings open, Lucy is standing in the hallway. She holds a small plate with a sandwich on it, and a glass of milk.
‘I said go away! How dare you come in here without my permission. Who do you think you are?’
The girl ignores her, holding up the plate of food.
‘I brought you some lunch.’
‘Not hungry.’
Lucy walks to the dresser, placing the offering on top.
‘I’ll leave it here for you in case you change your mind. You should keep your energy levels up.’
Diana purses her lips. The girl stands in the doorway, wringing her hands, as if she wants to say something but is afraid.
‘What do you want?’ Diana spits.
‘That was Mylo on the phone.’
Diana perks up instantly. Her fingers shoot up to her messy plait, fiddling with some loose strands.
‘Oh?’ She throws the braid over her shoulder, so it falls down her back.
‘He was inviting me out tomorrow with him and some of his friends. I wondered if it might be possible to take the day off.’
Diana’s face changes. A look of childish wonder is replaced with something else. Something… darker.
‘Do what you like,’ she hisses mulishly.
‘If it’s a problem, I won’t. I know I’m contracted for seven days, so…’
‘Why would it be a problem? Take the day off. Take a week off for all I care. I’m sick of you bothering me. Trying to poison me with your food. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.’
She points a bony finger towards Lucy, who frowns, but ignores the accusation.
‘Will you be all right seeing to Richard for the day? I’ll get him up and ready in the morning and shouldn’t be home too late. If you would be able to give him some lunch? I’ll leave some soup in the fridge, it will only need heating up.’
Diana looks slowly up at the girl.
‘He is my husband. I should think I’m capable of feeding him.’
Lucy rolls her eyes, sighing. She goes to leave but turns to face Diana again.
‘Do you speak Latin, Diana?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Latin. Have you studied it?’
Diana looks confused for a momen
t.
‘At school, yes. A long time ago, but I can’t remember much.’
Lucy looks as if she’s mulling this over, nodding slowly. She chews the corner of her mouth.
‘The words, from the Ouija board last week. They were Latin. Alea iacta est. I did some research online when I got a signal out on my walk a few days ago.’
Diana raises an eyebrow questioningly.
‘And?’
‘It means the die is cast.’
She leaves, closing the door behind her.
Diana sits motionless on the bed. A chill hits her, making her shiver. Something tumbles on her dresser, smashing on the floorboards below. Heaving herself up, fighting the wave of dizziness, she crosses the room excruciatingly slowly. It’s as much as she can manage after all the rushing to the bathroom and back.
A picture frame lies shattered on the floor. She kicks it free from the splintered glass. Crouching down to pick it up, she shakes off the last few fragments. It’s a photograph from the previous summer. She’s in the garden with Richard beside her in his chair. She’s kneeling next to him. Rose is behind them, arms draped around both of their shoulders, laughing. She was always so wonderful at smiling on cue.
Mylo kneels at the back, gazing lovingly at his girlfriend. He had used a self-timer on his mobile phone; had taken a few attempts to get it right. They’d had a barbecue in the garden. Mylo and Rose did the food.
It was a good day.
It strikes her how much healthier she looked then. She’s even wearing make-up.
She smells cigarette smoke once more, so strong she spins around. It’s like it’s in the room with her.
A strange tickling sensation prickles her skin, as if a spider is scurrying over it. She brushes her hand quickly, eyes shooting downwards. Nothing there.
Glancing about, she places the picture face down on the dresser, kicking the glass underneath. She hears Lucy’s footsteps skipping up the stairs, and exits her room, heading to the lounge, pulling her diary from the dresser. She shuffles through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for. Picking up the phone, she dials the number, tapping the page lightly with her fingertip as it rings.
A woman’s voice answers.
‘Hello?’
‘Annette, it’s Diana Davenport here, at Willow Cottage. I think I need your help…’
47
Lucy
The sun is burning hot already. Lucy sits at the end of the jetty, waiting. She tugs the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. Her jeans are prickly in the heat. Wet patches are beginning to form at the backs of her knees.
Glancing back to the cottage, she sees Diana at the kitchen window, staring out towards her. She’s hardly left her room in a week; only comes out when she thinks Lucy isn’t around. She made a phone call shortly after the incident with the Ouija board; Lucy has no idea who she called, but it wasn’t a long conversation. She’s sure she heard her mention a vase. Aside from that, she’s been holed up in her bedroom. She’s made a few comments about cleansing the house, whatever that means, when Lucy has taken her food, or been checking she’s alive.
She smiles, hearing the hum before Mylo is visible. He whizzes up on his dinghy, wearing fluorescent-pink swim shorts and a black vest, making her feel entirely overdressed. His eyes linger a second too long on her attire, but he doesn’t say anything; he’s too polite. He leaves the outboard running as he helps her in. She wobbles, losing her balance and for a sickening moment, thinks she’s going to fall over into the water, but he steadies her. He lowers her down, so she’s perched on the edge.
‘Is she still watching?’ she says.
Mylo glances behind her, nodding.
‘I suppose I should be happy. It’s the first time she’s been out of her room in about a week. I’m actually amazed she let me take the day off. Although…’
He raises his eyebrows.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she says. ‘Just go.’
They pull away, leaving Willow Cottage in their wake.
‘So where are we off to?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
‘I hate surprises.’
‘Rose always hated surprises too,’ he says flatly. His eyes flick towards her. He forces a smile, but there’s sadness hidden within it.
He takes them further along the loch than Lucy has been. Past his shop and apartment. They ride for close to half an hour, and eventually she sees they are heading in the direction of a yacht, anchored in the shallows near to the shore. An expanse of impossibly white sand behind it runs for miles, totally deserted. Adjacent to the beach, a grassy hill rises high into the sky. Scatterings of wild parsnip and willow weed paint the landscape yellow and pink. Lucy smiles as she takes it all in.
Echoes of music and laughter resonate from the yacht. As they approach, Lucy sees someone stand up on deck. Long tanned legs. Barely-there white crocheted halterneck bikini. She waves frantically.
‘Yoo-hoo!’ she sings as they draw nearer.
‘Hello, Cassie!’ Lucy shouts.
The dinghy slows to a stop at the rear of the boat, and Cassie leans overboard, helping Lucy up a metal ladder onto the deck. Mylo cuts the engine, climbing up to join them.
Molly lounges towards the front of the yacht, while the guys sit with their legs dangling over the edge, sipping from bottles of beer. A cheesy pop record bellows out from some Bluetooth speakers.
Molly jumps up, barefoot, walking along the side of the boat to greet them. She wears a one-piece bathing costume, wide navy-and-white stripes. More modest than Cassie, but just as pretty. Lucy hadn’t noticed it before, because she was so in awe of the other girls, but Molly really is quite beautiful too. Lucy wonders how Rose would have felt about her fiancé being friends with so many good-looking women.
‘This is… spectacular,’ Lucy breathes.
The guys wave, but don’t get up. Mylo strolls over, and the macho fist-bumping ritual begins.
‘I’m so glad you could make it. We weren’t entirely sure she would give you the day off. She never let Rose take time off,’ Cassie gushes.
Molly looks away, the smile falling briefly from her face.
‘I don’t know why you’d want to work for her anyway,’ Cassie continues. ‘She’s… oh, I don’t know. I can’t stand her.’
Molly tuts.
‘There’s this concept that people whose daddies own luxury yachts struggle to understand, Lucy. It’s called working, Cassie. Us normal folk have to do it for money. Barbaric really.’
‘Cow! I work!’
Lucy raises her eyebrows.
‘I do!’
‘I’m not sure having your nails done counts as a job,’ Molly retorts, smiling again. ‘Where’s Sadiya?’
Cassie rolls her eyes. ‘I left her a few messages, but the bitch is ghosting me! Probably for the best. Boats are not her thing. Can’t swim.’
She shrugs, offering Lucy a drink, and she notices her fluorescent-pink nail lacquer has been replaced with an equally bright turquoise. Professional job. Perfect. She glances at her own chewed nails, then tries to pull her sweater down over her fingers.
‘Actually, I think I’ll give it a miss today…’
The girls look at each other but say nothing.
‘You must be roasting. Please tell me you brought something else to wear?’
Lucy shakes her head.
‘I’m fine though.’
‘You can’t swim in that. There’s tons of bikinis down below. They should fit you. Go and have a root around.’
‘Not really much of a swimmer.’
‘Oh what-ever!’ She saunters to the edge of the boat, and without warning jumps overboard, splashing into the water below. Then a couple of the others do the same. Mylo pulls off his vest, and she sees that although he is slim, he’s toned. He has a paunch, and a line of dark hair runs up from beneath the waistband of his trunks, to his belly button.
‘Coming in?’ he asks.
‘I thought you said it was too cold?’ A note of panic tinges Lucy’s voice.
He looks over the edge.
‘We’re only anchored in about two metres, if that. It’s so shallow it’s a little warmer here. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still bloody freezing, but it’s more bearable. They won’t be in long.’
Lucy shakes her head.
‘Fancy going ashore?’
‘Don’t let me stop you if you want to swim. I don’t mind watching.’
‘It’s fine. Honestly. Shall we?’ He motions towards the beach.
She nods. They descend to the dinghy, rowing the short journey. He secures it to a tree, and they walk along the sand. His fingers brush against hers lightly as they stroll. She smiles but doesn’t look at him. They cross to the meadow beyond and climb the hill. By the time they get to the top, Lucy is drenched. She collapses down onto the grass, Mylo plonks himself down next to her. They sit staring out at the view. She can see for miles.
‘You’re not a swimmer, I take it. That’s the second time you dodged it.’
Lucy picks a daisy from beside her, twiddling it between her finger and thumb nervously. She shakes her head. Using her thumbnail, she splits near the end of the stalk, making a slit. Taking another, she does the same again, threading it through the hole to begin a chain.
‘It’s fine. It’s not for everyone. Like I said, it’s pretty icy in there.’
‘It’s not that I don’t like it… I…’ She lets out a long sigh. ‘I had an accident when I was a kid. There was a fire. I’ve got… scars. I don’t really like showing my body. Especially around strangers.’
Mylo reaches up a hand, squeezing her shoulder.
‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’
‘It’s cool. I’m a bit… shy about it, I suppose.’
‘I understand.’
Cassie screams dramatically as someone dunks her head under the water. Although they are far away, the sound seems closer. Mylo shoots Lucy a sideways glance.
‘So what’s going on with Diana?’
Lucy rolls her eyes.
