Until he knew more, he couldn’t tell them anything.
John placed a jug of orange squash in the centre of the table, passed glasses around, and then sat silent again, his green eyes looking down. Slight jowls had developed on his face over the past few years, and his dull, ashen hair was much greyer than it used to be.
The twins shared very few features with their dad. Their brown eyes and dark hair had come from their mother. Nick had always seen his mother’s face in the twins’ faces, and his own. He considered how difficult it must be for his dad to see the resemblances every day …
‘How’s work?’ Tom asked Nick.
John looked up suddenly.
‘It’s okay,’ answered Nick. ‘Halloween was good. I just wish I had more hours or better pay …’ He gave a drubbed laugh.
‘Do you need some money?’ John interrupted.
‘No, Dad, I was just saying. It was easier when I had a full-time job.’
‘Have you got enough to pay your bills?’
‘I can manage,’ he said defensively.
‘I’ll see what I’ve got in my wallet …’ John began fumbling in his trouser pocket.
‘No, Dad, stop it,’ Nick said firmly, gesturing for his father to stop. ‘I don’t need it.’
John ignored him, pulled notes from his wallet, and handed them across the table. Tom and Tommy shuffled awkwardly, keeping out of it.
Nick pushed his dad’s hand away. ‘I said stop it!’ His body buzzed; he wanted to get up and move about.
‘I don’t mind, Nicolas. We’ve got plenty. I can give you more if you need it.’
‘I said no.’
‘I want you to have it. Just take it, please.’ He extended his note-filled hand again.
Nick’s blood boiled. He pushed the hand away. ‘You’re the reason I moved out in the first place, the reason I don’t have any money. If you weren’t so weird about Mum, I would have moved out later when I was ready to.’ He saw a snippet of pain run across his dad’s face, but continued anyway, ‘You haven’t even moved back into your old bedroom. The office is too small for you to sleep in!’ he bawled, pointing up towards the ceiling.
‘Nick, you’re outta line,’ Tommy’s deep voice interrupted.
Nick stopped and caught his breath. Tommy looked mad, and Tom just looked upset.
Bringing his hands to his forehead, Nick closed his eyes and fell quiet for a moment. ‘Sorry … Sorry, Dad.’ He stood up and moved away from the table. ‘I’m going to leave now. Thank you for dinner.’
John nodded and gently mumbled, ‘That’s okay. I’ll see you soon.’
His dad’s submissive reaction annoyed him more, but he walked down the hallway and grabbed his jacket. Tom came up behind him. ‘Can I still come to yours soon to speak to you?’ he asked in a hushed voice.
‘Yeah,’ said Nick.
‘Thank you.’
Having left the house, he sulked as he walked to the car. Knowing better than to drive distressed, he thumped the steering wheel and let out an angry wail. It helped. Although now his throat was raw and tasted bloody.
He drove around the corner, and once he arrived home he ran a shower and washed himself, scrubbing hard to rinse away the shame. His dad hadn’t deserved his stupid outburst of anger, but it annoyed Nick how out of touch his dad was when it came to their relationship.
Nick needed a strong dad who could move on from the past. He needed a role model. If John had set an example, proving to his sons that it was possible to move on from their mother’s disappearance, then maybe Nick would have learnt that too and would never have fallen into depression.
It’s not your money I want, Dad—it’s having you back the way you once were.
The shower left him alert, but all he wanted was to go to sleep and for Monday to arrive. Why didn’t I suggest visiting Grendel Manor tomorrow? he thought, realising he had no plans for Sunday.
He’d forgotten it was Bonfire Night; the fireworks and his thoughts kept him up for a long stretch. But sleep won in the end.
Chapter Ten
WHY WOULD ANYONE like me?
Juliet stopped typing and closed the laptop lid. She was on the sixth assignment out of ten. ‘Deficiencies and Disorders’ was the topic. Sundays were the days she allowed for her diet and nutrition home-study course, which she had whizzed through so far. But today she struggled.
Don’t say that, Juliet, you’re way prettier than most girls and you’re intelligent.
She put the laptop away, flopped onto the sofa, and lay on her back, eyes closed. As she tried to relax, she kept having thoughts of Nicolas. He was definitely attractive—tall, dark, and handsome. Those boxes were ticked. But he came across almost immature, maybe a few years younger than her.
Her ex had been older, and that was the only real attraction she’d had to him. Although she felt guilty for thinking it, she didn’t like the idea of having to support someone less mature. It doesn’t matter anyway. I just want to help Samantha Crystan. I’m not interested in getting to know him.
With some fidgeting, she turned over and tried to take a nap. Maybe she’d wake up refreshed and ready to take her study seriously. She liked to excel at everything she took on, and even though this course was a giant step down level-wise, she wished to continuously educate herself rather than stagnate.
After her parents had moved to Marbella, she’d taken on a business studies degree with specialisms in catering and hospitality through distance learning, attending part-time classes at Amiton College for the practical elements. At eighteen, she’d balanced full-time study with running Chanton Hillview and adapting to living alone. Within three years she had completed her degree, achieving a first-class honours. Her parents didn’t attend the graduation ceremony, but Kim did, at least.
The sofa cushions grew warm with her body heat. She began to drift off, then an idea leapt into her head. How had she not thought of it before? With her ability, she could try to contact the spirit of her grandmother.
She sat back up and faced forwards. ‘Gran?’ she called out.
Nothing happened.
‘Gran, I miss you,’ she said more forcefully. ‘I’d like to see you again.’
Not a movement. She lumped back down on the sofa, frustrated. Why had other spirits appeared to her, but now she couldn’t summon one of her choice? If her soul really was in the Otherworld, as Tamara had said, then wasn’t it with her grandmother’s? Tamara had mentioned a Spiritworld too. Are souls and spirits separate?
For the first time, she positively wanted to know more about her ability. Are souls eternal? Do I see people’s souls or is a spirit something else, like a leftover of someone’s life? Pondering spiritually, the paranormal, or anything related was not something she’d done much of before. You live, you die—that was all she’d believed prior to the incident. Now she was beginning to realise a spiritual side existed.
I don’t want to think about it now.
Cosy, wrapped in a slumber, her mind drifted to images of Nicolas at The Crow. His hazel eyes were captivating, but it was hard to appreciate them with the dead woman sitting a few tables away. Juliet removed Rowena from her dozy dream and imagined Nicolas’s face again.
She sprung up suddenly, opened her eyes. What is wrong with me? This was ridiculous. Her cheeks flamed, embarrassed. At school, she’d pitied other girls who’d laboured to function without their boyfriends, who’d fallen head over heels at first sight. She recalled one girl who talked nonstop about her ‘soul mate,’ as if her mind were a nidus of glorified images about a boy: He makes me complete; I’d do anything for him; I can’t live without him; He’s the one.
Those girls were pathetic.
But now Juliet couldn’t stop thinking about a guy she hardly knew. Maybe I can feel that way about someone? She laughed aloud but was too contrary to feel pleasant. Am I infatuated? I’ve never felt this way before.
‘He saved you.’
Juliet yelped. She was so deep in thought that the sud
den voice frightened her. Turning her head, she found Rowena Howard standing behind the sofa.
‘Don’t feel guilty,’ Rowena said in a wispy voice.
‘How do you know what I’m feeling?’ It hurt to talk after shrieking so loud. She braced herself; the spirit might have come for revenge. Could spirits harm the living?
‘I see things differently now. Or maybe not now.’ Rowena’s spirit wore a wrinkled dark green velvet robe, which covered her legs and feet. She wore a silver chain necklace with a circular gemstone that rested between her breasts, a crescent moon on each side, facing opposite directions. Juliet assumed the gemstone was meant to represent a full moon.
After wondering why spirits were clothed at all, Juliet thought, Do they appear in the clothes they died in or do they choose their own? ‘How did you die?’ she asked.
The air surrounding the spirit vibrated noticeably faster. It shimmered and twitched. ‘I was standing by the wall in the upper grounds, looking out at the view from up there. I thought I heard sounds, like metal crunching, but there was nothing. Then I sensed an invisible force approaching me fast. It threw me over the edge.’ Rowena walked casually around the downstairs living room. She stroked her ghostly hands across the furniture, which seemed to glow with her touch.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Juliet shook her head. ‘I was meant to die. Not you.’
‘It’s okay. Now my body is dead, I’m not so sure the deities I worshipped were real.’ The spirit’s laugh had a ringing echo to it.
Juliet, with her limited knowledge on religions, figured Rowena had been a Pagan of some form in life and could have worshipped many gods. ‘You’re happy that you’re dead?’
‘Does it matter? I can’t do anything about it. I spent my life constantly wanting more, never being content with what I had. Now I see things clearly.’
‘Why did you mention Nicolas saving me?’
‘Because you two belong together. I see that.’
‘I barely know him.’ Juliet wasn’t one for instant romance. She didn’t believe in soul mates; she believed in freedom of choice.
‘You don’t trust in a reason for your being saved?’ Rowena asked in a rhetorical manner.
‘Things don’t happen for a reason. They just happen. The only things that make a difference are hard work and determination. If you want to do well, that is.’
Rowena didn’t reply, but smiled and gave a genial shrug.
Compressing her lips, Juliet looked down in thought. Then she said, ‘What did you mean when you said, I see that? How could you know?’
‘I’d say … windows, overlapping. Fragments, reflections. I was adopted. I didn’t even know.’
‘You’re talking gibberish.’ Juliet frowned. ‘Where are you? Are you in the Otherworld? Do you know where my soul is?’
‘I don’t know where I am,’ she replied apathetically.
‘What about my soul?’
‘I’ve never seen a soul.’ She shrugged again. ‘Juliet, I’m ready to move on.’
‘Move on? What do you mean? Move on to where?’
‘I don’t know.’
An unknowable panic came over Juliet. She’d hoped for clearer answers, a better understanding, but this spirit didn’t appear to know much at all. Apparently she could see things clearly now, yet she didn’t know where she was or where she was going.
‘Can I do anything for you?’ asked Juliet. ‘Pass a message on to your family or something?’ Anything to lighten this guilt ...
‘Everything is as it should be.’
The spirit of Rowena began to come apart at the edges. She dissipated, particles floating in every direction. The tiny pieces absorbed into the furniture, the floor, the ceiling, becoming a part of everything. Or did they pass through it all and disappear? Move on to another reality?
Juliet squirmed as the fragments tingled through, against, and into her skin. The room zinged with a potent energy as Rowena fell away into wavering bits of a spirit body. Surfaces gleamed, and Juliet thought she could hear the gentle tinkling of bells, calling for Rowena.
Eventually there was nothing left, yet Juliet sensed a strange closeness to the spirit, like they were one, part of the same nothingness and a piece of everything.
Rowena had smiled the whole time she dispersed. There was no way of telling how long it took; time hadn’t mattered. Juliet came close to tears at the beauty of it, comforted by the knowledge that spirits could move on, that they weren’t forever stuck in some kind of limbo world.
But even the magic of the moment hadn’t convinced her of Rowena’s words. You two belong together. How could she know that?
Chapter Eleven
THE HOUSE CHORES that should have been done throughout the week were perfect for passing the time on Sunday. As Nick cleaned the house he thought about Juliet. As he ironed his clothes he thought about his ability to see the future and if he would ever gain control of it. As he washed the dishes he thought of how unreasonable he’d been the night before.
The best way to make it up to his dad would be to find out the truth about his mum’s death. He tried to bring forth what little he knew about Grendel Manor based on the stories people told. Apparently just one man lived there. Some thought the place was haunted. There were tales of people going there but having no recollection of it, and also one account of a keen businessman who, after visiting the manor, closed down his business and gave his money away to strangers in the streets. The finer details were unknown to Nick … but it was only gossip. Far-fetched gossip.
The mystery surrounding Grendel Manor didn’t instil much faith in him, but there was no way he would back out now.
Another thing on his mind was whether or not he could trust Juliet. She could have lied … She could be up to anything. And if she had told the truth, then were there other people with her ability?
Nick’s world felt larger all of a sudden. There could be people with all kinds of powers: telekinesis, telepathy, pyrokinesis, sixth sense, psychic healing, astral projection. Or even other beings, not entirely human.
Whatever could be out there, Nick really wanted to trust Juliet. He thought she was beautiful, and there was something different about her … Aside from her ability, of course.
It had been ages since he’d liked anyone. He’d dated someone for a few weeks about a year ago, but had never really clicked with her. And the only long-term relationship he’d ever had was awful, mostly.
He’d been seventeen at the time, and her name was Kerra Evans. They were together on and off for almost two years. He had never trusted her and was afraid he wasn’t good enough, that she’d leave him for someone else, or simply because she was bored of him. His insecurities led to multiple arguments.
Later in the relationship, Kerra cheated on him with one of his best friends at the time, Alex Campbell, but Nick stayed with her, believing he deserved as much. He didn’t want to lose her. Then a few months down the line, she cheated again. They argued and she told him he had pushed her away, that she had wanted to love him but he’d never let her.
They decided to split up, leaving Nick feeling down for a long while. He also hated being at home around his dad. When both things became too much, he moved out. But even living away didn’t help. Eventually enough was enough, and he sought professional help.
Now he hardly got depressed anymore, but he kept his appointments with Caroline because he enjoyed the self-development side of it. And things are different now, he thought. I’m different now.
On Monday morning he drove to Chanton. His Vauxhall Corsa made unpleasant sounds, inspiring little confidence in its driver. It took almost twenty minutes to get there, but he found Juliet waiting at the spot they’d agreed upon. She wore black wedge boots, navy skinny jeans, and a thick black jumper. She looked good, making Nick self-conscious about his own outfit—a thin, hooded black jacket he’d had for years, a plain blue Primark tee-shirt, dark jeans, and black winklepickers.
After pulling over, he rolled down the w
indow and waved to get Juliet’s attention. She spotted him, then hastened towards the car and got in the passenger’s side.
‘Hi,’ said Nick, but before Juliet could reply there was a loud clunk—a crow landed on the bonnet. Juliet yelped and pulled her hands up to her heart. The crow looked through the windshield, cawed at them, then flew out of sight.
‘Well, that’s a good start to the day,’ Nick said morbidly.
Juliet laughed, which brought a smile to Nick’s face. They caught each other’s eyes, and then Juliet looked ahead at the road. ‘Are we ready to go?’ she asked, staring out of the window as if they were already moving.
‘I’m ready if you are.’
‘I’m ready.’
Nick didn’t speak for a while and neither did Juliet, who was sat with her hands together on top of her knees—which were brought together, too. She looked as if she didn’t want to touch anything. Or maybe she felt uncomfortable. Nick had cleaned the vehicle that morning so his passenger wouldn’t drown in rubbish or suffocate in the stale musk of an unclean car.
‘Are you a Wiccan?’ Juliet asked out of nowhere.
‘No, are you?’
‘No.’
Nick fell silent, unsure if she was trying to make conversation. Then he asked, ‘Why?’
‘You work in a crystal shop. I thought maybe you were into that kind of thing.’
‘I know a few people who are. My manager and another colleague are in a coven together. Most Wiccans I know are really nice.’
‘I don’t properly know any, and I don’t believe in magic or psychic—’ She stopped herself. ‘Or at least I didn’t believe in anything like that before. I don’t know what to believe now.’ She kept her eyes fixed out the windows, even when Nick turned and tried to catch them.
‘I looked into becoming a Wiccan before,’ said Nick. ‘It seems like a nice religion; they are accepting of other people’s beliefs, and it’s all earth-based. Some people think it’s all devil worship and casting spells on people, but it’s really not like that.’ He stopped talking and focused on the road. If he was correct, Grendel Manor was somewhere to the northwest of the island, and they’d just come from Chanton in the northeast.
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