I must still have a choice. Nicolas had a choice; he saved me.
With Kim’s drink prepared, she was about to leave the kitchen, when a chill at her back and a twitch in the air alerted her of what was coming. Before even turning, she sensed a wistful void behind her. Her body tensed. She closed her eyes, reminding herself of the promise she’d made last night. I’ll do my best to help where I can.
The spirit she found in her kitchen was roughly twenty years old, or at least had been when he died. He stared longingly with blue eyes. His skin was pale, his hair light and curly, and his face characterised by a large nose and nearly black eyebrows.
With only a slight quickening of her heartbeat, Juliet asked, ‘Can I help you?’ She kept her voice steady and calm.
‘Don’t trust Ryan,’ he said with a speed that made her jump.
‘Why?’
‘Don’t trust him. Tell Kim she can’t trust him.’
‘What has he done?’
‘I’m Harry. Kim knows me. Tell her not to trust him.’
‘Yes, you’ve said that a few times now. Why can’t she trust him?’ She tried not to raise her voice and alarm Kim in the living room.
‘Ryan’s not who he says he is.’
‘Wait, your name’s Harry? You’re one of Kim’s ex-boyfriends?’
And he was gone.
Juliet huffed, composed herself, then returned to the living room with Kim’s drink. After a moment’s thought she suggested they go in the hot tub. It was now dark outside and the tub’s lights would look nice. They both changed into their swimsuits, and Juliet tied up her hair.
She lowered herself in, delighting in the perfect contrast of the night’s cold air and the hot tub’s warm embrace. But it seemed every simple pleasure was overshadowed by something the past couple of weeks. She sighed. Negative, useless thinking. Stop.
Once they were settled and casually sipping their drinks, Juliet asked, ‘Whatever happened to your ex? Was his name Harry?’
‘Harry Cracknel?’ said Kim, surprised.
‘Yeah.’
‘Uurrrghh, that nob-head … I hate him still today! He really broke my heart. It was just before I got with Ryan, about four years ago. I’d been seeing Harry for a few months and we were both head over heels for each other. At least, I thought we were, and then one day he just calls it off. He tells me he never wants to see me again and that he never liked me anyway. Well actually, he said a lot worse things than that.’
‘Oh,’ was all a bewildered Juliet could say.
‘I haven’t heard from him since. He vanished off the face of the earth, it seems! He’s probably using some other poor woman right now, only to break her heart too.’
‘Probably …’ mumbled Juliet, frowning.
‘Why’d you ask, anyway?’
‘It was just on my mind.’ It upset her, lying to Kim, but she wasn’t ready to tell anyone about her ability. ‘How did you meet Ryan then?’
‘You know Natasha and Becky from school? Well, I went with them into Amiton town one night and met Ryan in a club. He was with his mates and he got my number off of Natasha. I didn’t give it to him because I was still with Harry at that point. But Ryan seemed to really like me. He kept texting me and stuff, and then a few days later Harry went and dumped me. I’m glad Natasha gave Ryan my number, because he was there to comfort me after I got dumped, then he asked me out a couple of weeks after and we’ve been together since, as you know.’
‘You’ve never told me any of this before,’ said Juliet.
‘Oh. Well, I didn’t see you that much around the time, and once I was with Ryan I didn’t want to talk about Harry anymore.’
Juliet changed the subject after that, but secretly brooded over the idea that a spirit could be as malicious in afterlife as it was in life. Harry’s spirit may have visited to cause Kim more grief. But then, it was mysterious that Kim was under the impression Harry had simply vanished. He was dead, obviously, and someone vanishing didn’t just go unnoticed in most cases.
When it was natural to return to the conversation, Juliet asked if anyone had heard from Harry since. Kim replied that Harry didn’t grow up on Lansin Island, so not many people knew him here. She reckoned he must have moved back to wherever he came from, without telling anyone.
Evening grew upon them. A few early fireworks caught Juliet off guard, causing a startle and some laughs. Shortly after, the doorbell rang loud enough for them to hear from the garden.
‘That must be Ryan,’ said Kim.
‘Okay. I’ll go answer. You get dressed and ready.’ Juliet climbed out of the tub, wrapped a towel around herself, and scurried indoors. On full alert and ready to detect any suspicious behaviour, she answered the door.
‘Where’s Kim?’ Ryan asked curtly.
‘We’ve been in the hot tub; she’s just getting changed.’
‘Right.’
He didn’t appear bothered that Juliet was wet and half naked. At least he’s not a pervert, she thought, or I’m just not his type. Anyway, she didn’t suspect he was unfaithful in that area. But she wasn’t about to stop scrutinising. ‘Do you want to wait inside?’ she asked, shivering as the cold entered her home.
‘No.’ He was repeatedly tapping one of his feet and chewing his bottom lip.
‘Are you alright?’
‘I just want to get back to Etherby. Kim wants to see some fireworks.’ Etherby was the small town Ryan and Kim lived in. It was a rough area with too many low-income households crammed into one place. A common saying on Lansin Island was, ‘You don’t mess with Etherby Boys.’ Chanton was firmly on the other end of the spectrum. In general, people from Etherby looked at those in Chanton with jealous contempt.
‘She’ll just be a moment, I’m sure.’ Juliet nodded, attempting to calm him. He still fidgeted.
His copper-red hair was illuminated by the porch light above. Juliet couldn’t find anything attractive about him and had never understood Kim’s interest in the man. But it made more sense to her now; the reason Kim had fallen for him was because of the timely comforting he offered after Harry dumped her.
Ryan had ginger stubble on his chin, and his hair was so short and coarse that it looked like stubble, too. His face was covered in blemishes of a variety, and his teeth were crooked. He was in his early thirties, almost ten years older than Kim, but Juliet didn’t think the age gap mattered much.
Kim appeared and hugged Juliet. ‘I’ve missed this. We should see each other more often.’
Juliet replied, ‘That would be nice.’
Ryan had already started walking to his car without acknowledging his girlfriend. Something about his slouched posture and miserable attitude unsettled Juliet. ‘Kim. Before you go, if there are any problems with you and Ryan, you are welcome to stay here. Just call me, okay?’ Juliet smiled warmly, maybe desperately.
‘Don’t worry. Like I said, he’s just stressed. Sorry if he was rude to you.’ Kim walked to the car. As she opened the door, she shouted, ‘Love you lots!’
‘Love you too.’
Kim closed herself in, then fastened her seatbelt and waved. Ryan didn’t look back at all, but simply drove off into the dark.
A pang took Juliet in the heart when she thought, What if I missed something? What if Ryan plans to kill her? Surely Harry would have specified?
With slow breaths, she brushed off her worries as over-the-top negative thinking. Kim will be fine. She promised herself she would call Kim soon to check up on her. It was all she could do without arousing suspicion.
Before retiring to bed, she made plans for Sunday and thought about the visit to Grendel Manor the day after tomorrow. Whatever was in store for her and Nicolas, she was glad to finally feel more like her confident self—at least if another spirit were to appear, she wouldn’t greet it with a scream like she had the first time.
Her life was different now, and she’d accepted it would never be the same again. She was unsure if she was excited about it, dreading it, or bot
h. Whatever the case, Monday was approaching, and she found herself itching to unravel the mystery of Samantha Crystan.
Chapter Nine
LEAVING THE CROW on Friday, Nick waded towards his car, eyes fixed to the ground. He didn’t look up once, and his head ached as he tried to find answers.
What does Grendel Manor have to do with my mum’s disappearance? At the thought of his mother, his heart twanged, but then he felt normal again. Well, more like numb than normal.
He climbed into his car. It took a few attempts to get the thing started, and then he drove to the petrol station and fuelled ten pounds’ worth. When the cashier asked for the money, Nick found himself searching a practically empty wallet and then remembered he’d broken into his only note to buy the orange juice at The Crow. Going a bit further into overdraft won’t hurt much. He used his card.
It was cold throughout the house when he arrived home. He hugged his arms and waited for a ready-made chicken tikka masala to microwave, then ate as much as he could before holing up in bed for warmth.
It seemed like his thoughts and feelings were out of reach, but he didn’t exactly want to think or feel right now. Eventually, thoughts did come to him, of when his mum had disappeared: Monday, the third of February, 2003. At first, Nick and his family hadn’t grieved, because they’d been waiting for her return. His dad’s birthday wasn’t celebrated that year; how could they make merry two weeks after something like that? As a family, they’d been more focused on finding her.
To begin with, Nick’s dad didn’t tell Nick or his brothers about the money their mother had taken. Then, when he did tell them, Nick wasn’t sure how to feel. He’d wanted to hope she was coming home, and he wasn’t ready to believe she was dead, so all he could do was assume she’d taken the money to start a new life elsewhere.
It made sense now that she had somehow died. Nick couldn’t remember her acting strangely before her disappearance—she’d been the loving mother he’d always known her to be, with no apparent reasons for wanting a new life.
He shoved away the memories, hating that he’d spent most of the last eight, almost nine, years resenting his mum for leaving. But there were still things he needed to know. Why did she take the money out? What happened to her car? And at what point between her disappearance and now did she die?
For a while, he lay awake with a mixture of guilt for the woman who’d fallen and sadness at knowing his mum was truly dead. When he fell asleep, he slept like a rock.
He arrived at his dad’s house in the evening the next day. He knocked and Tommy answered.
‘Alright?’ Tommy asked, his large frame blocking the doorway.
‘Yeah, thanks. Where’s Dad?’
‘He’s makin’ us food.’ Tommy nodded towards the kitchen, then moved out of the way.
It was warm inside as he walked in, so he took off his jacket and hung it in the hallway. It had been a few months since his last visit, but everything looked the same as before.
The house was spotless.
He eyed the furniture that used to be so familiar to him, sighing as he remembered a life of no bills, no mortgage, no washing up, no ironing, and no food shopping. And in that moment, he missed living with his family and having everything so easy. He envisioned going back to it …
… and then brought himself back down to earth.
He found his dad, John Crystan, in the kitchen, laying out plates on the worktop. Whatever John was cooking smelt remarkable—a warm and commingled aroma that engaged the senses.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Hello, Nicolas.’ John awkwardly wiped his hands on a tea towel, then gave his son a hug. After releasing him, he moved away with his eyes aimed down at the floor. His back was arched, and without looking up he said, ‘You look well,’ and then shuffled to the oven and adjusted some knobs.
‘Thanks. You too. I’m going to say hi to Tom. Is he upstairs?’
‘Errh, yes, in his room.’ John half turned towards him, didn’t quite make eye contact.
Nick headed towards the stairs, glancing at shelves and tabletops on the way. His dad would alternate between having pictures of Samantha out on display and putting all of them in storage—all or nothing, as if he couldn’t find a peaceful middle ground, as if one minute he believed his wife was about to return and the next he didn’t. For fear of upsetting their father, Nick and his brothers never questioned this behaviour.
Today the photos were out. Nick stopped to look at one of his mum and dad by a lake, both grinning—especially John, who held an enormous tench in his hands. He used to love fishing. He used to love a lot of things …
Nick smiled regretfully to himself before running up the stairs in a well-practised manner. He knocked on Tom’s door. Tom and Tommy used to share a bedroom and bunk bed before Nick moved out, but they were a lot younger then. Now they had separate rooms.
When Tom appeared, he smiled at the sight of his older brother and automatically hugged him. Nick found himself wondering why Tommy never greeted him with an embrace. I suppose he’s too coooool for that.
Tom didn’t have his twin’s muscular frame, but the two of them looked almost identical in every other respect. Nick thought his brothers were more handsome than him and could see why women swooned over them. ‘You coming downstairs, Tom?’
‘Yeah. Is food ready?’
‘Almost, I think. Dad didn’t say. You been alright?’
‘Yeah. Halloween was good. I didn’t get to go to The Burning Grounds this year though.’ Tom pulled a disappointed face. ‘But I can go any time …’
Nick hadn’t been to The Burning Grounds for a while now, but Tom loved it and tried to go every year on Halloween. But to preserve the site, a limited number of people were allowed entrance per day, meaning only the early birds would get in on a day like Halloween.
‘Did you do anything else instead?’ Nick asked.
‘Yeah. You know me; I like going places and thinking. I usually sit and listen to my iPod, and look at the platforms the witches were burnt on, but I walked around Eradon Lake instead.’
The Burning Grounds was near another tourist attraction located in the centre of the island: Eradon Lake, which islanders of the past had used as a fresh water supply. From the hills in the north above Chanton, Aberfin River flowed into Eradon Lake, sourcing two other rivers: Nova River, which passed Etherby and the village of Beade to the south, and Lynn River, which flowed through Amiton. Both went out to the Celtic Sea.
‘I’m sure you’ll go to The Burning Grounds another time. I might come with you actually. I haven’t been in ages.’
‘Awesome. I’m hungry. Let’s go downstairs.’ Tom nodded towards the door. He wore a baggy black hoody and skinny jeans, creating a top-heavy effect that suited his slim frame.
Why doesn’t he talk to me about his personal matter now? thought Nick, then for the first time it occurred to him: Maybe he knows something about Mum’s disappearance too. He couldn’t imagine how Tom would know anything, though, and he had said he didn’t want to discuss the personal matter at their dad’s house. I’ll have to wait.
Nick started for the stairs. Then he stopped and opened a door first. When he peeked inside, he huffed at the sight of piled-up boxes, a dusty computer desk, and various junk crammed into the room. He turned to Tom and asked, ‘Dad still hasn’t moved back into this room?’
‘You know what he’s like.’ Tom gave an understanding shrug.
After shaking his head in resignation and then plodding back down the steps, Nick settled at the dining table with Tom and Tommy. One of the chairs was an odd one out at the table that usually dined for three.
John brought the food and set it down. As they all began eating, Nick asked his brothers how college was going. Tommy bragged about how much he loved it, but Tom wasn’t so enthusiastic.
‘Are you still dating Sophie? Was it Sophie?’ Nick asked Tommy.
‘Sophie? Yuh mean Stacey?’ He rumbled a laugh.
‘Yeah. Stacey.�
�
‘Nah. I ain’t seen her for weeks. I’m with Chloe now,’ Tommy said proudly. ‘But I got with Jade and Kerry after Stacey anyway.’ He threw the names out there as if Nick knew these random women. ‘Stacey don’t talk to me no more. She got with my mate to get back at me. Yuh know Brendan?’
‘Oh yeah.’ He nodded along.
‘Yeah, well, he’s a twat; they hooked up the week I dumped her.’ Tommy’s eyebrows came together as an angry twosome. ‘But I don’t care anyway. Chloe’s way better than her. And I got with Jade that week and she’s mates with Stacey.’ Full of himself, he smiled.
‘I can’t keep up with your personal life, Tommy, but at least I don’t feel so bad about forgetting Stacey’s name now.’ Nick laughed, and Tom snickered.
‘Shut up,’ Tommy retaliated. ‘Just ’cause you two ain’t gettin’ any!’
Nick felt awkward at the use of the term ‘getting any’ in front of his dad, and Tom seemed embarrassed, too. ‘I’m not looking,’ said Nick.
‘And I’m staying single for a while,’ was Tom’s excuse.
Tommy laughed to himself. ‘Whatever.’
After that, Tom talked about films he wanted to lend to Nick, but Tommy seemed uninterested. Nick found himself impressed by how much Tom had changed over the years. The twins used to be so alike. Maybe having separate bedrooms had given Tom freedom to be himself. Whatever the case, Nick was pleased and found it much easier to relate to him these days.
For most of the meal, John was quiet, with his head down, offering little input and disappointing Nick. Once the food was gone, Nick sat heavy and stuffed; he hadn’t eaten so much in a long time. The lingering smell was coaxingly sweet before, but now it repelled his glutted belly.
While John took the empty plates away, Nick’s frustration over his dad’s reticent behaviour grew, mixed with guilt over knowing more about his mum’s fate than the rest of his family did. He yearned to say, She’s dead, Dad, so you can stop waiting for her to come back. But they would ask how he knew. I saw the future and saved a woman who now sees ghosts, and then Mum appeared to her. Hmmm … not a good idea.
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 126
