by Lily Morton
For a long second he stares at me and then nods, putting out one big hand for me to shake. I swallow and let his hand swallow mine, feeling the heat and the flutter of his pulse against my fingertips. “Deal,” he says happily. “Shall we pack you up?”
I shake my head. “What am I doing?”
Will nudges me. “The right thing for once.”
“He’s not a mark,” I whisper as Levi walks over to grab a bin liner from the table.
“I know,” he says. “And more importantly, so do you.”
“What are we taking?” Levi calls.
I turn to him. “You won’t need a binbag for my stuff. Will can take my sleeping bag and keep it for safekeeping.” For when I come back is the unspoken message and Levi’s face falls for a second before he looks down at the horrible mattress and round at the room. I flush, wondering if he’s judging me, but he smiles.
“Well, what about this?” he asks, lifting up the pale blue blanket on the mattress.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I need to take that.” He looks down at the soft knitted blanket, and when he sees the word ‘Blue’ embroidered by my mum, his eyes soften and he folds it up as gently as if he’s handling the coronation robes.
I unhook my suit from the wall and hand it to him and grab my backpack with my clothes in it. There’s never been any point in unpacking as the roof leaks, and the clothes would have been as wet as the woodwork within a few hours. “That’s it,” I say.
He glances around the room and his eyes light on the pile of charity-shop paperbacks on the rickety table. “What about those?”
I shake my head dismissively. “No room for them. I can’t keep books.”
I wonder whether he caught the note of sadness in my voice, because he immediately switches the suit to one hand and gathers the books up under his other arm. “There’s plenty of room in my house for books,” he says briskly and nods as if to emphasise his point. “There’s a couple of titles here that I fancy reading myself.”
Moisture pricks the back of my eyes. Who is this man?
Not giving me a chance to speak or muster an argument, he smiles at Will and then at me. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter.
Will waves Levi to walk in front of him. “Watch the stairs,” he says, and Levi nods, walking down the corridor. Muscles play down his back, drawing my gaze to slender hips and a small, tight arse. I swallow hard.
“Well, if you’d read your own tea leaves, I bet you’d never have seen this coming,” Will remarks companionably, keeping an eagle eye on where Levi is putting his feet.
“I do not read the fucking tea leaves,” I say waspishly. “You make me sound like I should have a fucking crystal ball and a stall on Blackpool Pier.”
“The sea air is very bracing,” he says solemnly.
“So is in here.” I stay him with a hand to his forearm. “You going to be okay? I hate leaving you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend.”
He smiles almost pityingly at me. “Blue, if this happened to me, I’d be off without a look back. It’s just the way we are.”
I ponder his words and then shove him. “Oh, fuck off. No, it isn’t.”
He shrugs. “I’ll be fine. I get on better with everyone in the house than you anyway.”
“That’s certainly true,” I say sourly, still feeling the pull and burn of my ribs after last night. “Don’t lose touch,” I instruct him.
He tips his fingers to his head. “I won’t,” he says serenely. “You’re still in York, not moving to Australia. I’ll meet you in the week for breakfast at Sals.”
I nod. “It’s a date.”
“Perish the thought.”
I laugh. “I want to say men would pay to date this, but only half of that statement would be true.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t need the tea leaves to see that things are changing for you, Blue. I know it the same way I know when the wind changes.”
“You should have worked at the Met Office, then.”
We pause at the kitchen door, and I’m so relieved that we haven’t seen anyone else. I don’t like my business being known, and I fucking definitely won’t have Levi’s connection with me spread around.
I hold out my arms to Will, and he lowers from his massive height so we can hug. “Take care,” I say fiercely. “You won’t have me to watch your back.”
“Considering you only reach halfway up it, that’s a lot less useful than you think.”
Levi laughs, the sound merry and warm in the dim kitchen. He offers Will his hand.
“Look after him,” Will says.
Levi nods calmly. “I will.”
“We’re not eloping,” I say, peeling the board back a bit and wriggling through. “But if my father does come after Levi with a shotgun, please don’t tell him where we went.”
Will’s laughter follows us out until it’s cut off by the board being pulled closed. I shiver. It’s like the stone to a tomb being rolled over.
“Do you want him to come and stay too?” Levi asks.
“He wouldn’t come. He hates feeling obligated to anyone,” I say and then shake my head in disbelief. “Are you set on moving the whole squat in?”
He shrugs. “Just the one you care about.”
“Why?”
The question is bald, but he considers it seriously. “I’m not sure,” he finally admits.
I laugh quietly. “You’re as mad as I am.”
“What a scary thought.” He looks at me until I break the gaze and stare up at the house.
“Alright?” Levi asks quietly.
I turn to him, analysing that question as if he’d asked me something important. “As I ever am,” I say slowly and follow his wide-shouldered shadow out of the garden.
When we get to the house, I stop dead, feeling a cold chill run down my back. The building is dark and seems to stoop over me.
Levi comes to a stop next to me. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I search the windows one by one, but there’s no one there. Levi shifts position, and I look at him. “No, it’s fine,” I say slowly. “Just felt for a second like someone was watching me.”
He glances up at the house, his eyes wild.
I thread my arm through his. “I can’t see anything.” I glance around at the damp night. “Let’s go in,” I say on a shudder.
His expression immediately shifts into concern, and within seconds, he’s whisked me into the house and is in the kitchen shouting about turning the heating up.
I look around warily. There’s no sign of the woman I saw earlier. In fact, there’s no sign of anything. The house is as quiet as the—
I stop that thought straightaway.
Levi comes out of the kitchen. “You alright?” he asks again. I wonder fleetingly how bad I must look for him to be so concerned. I nod, and he smiles. “Do you fancy a shower?”
“Oh my God,” I groan. “I would like that more than I’d like to shag Josh Hartnett.”
He laughs. “That much, eh?”
Ten minutes later finds me standing under the hard spray of the shower in the bathroom, hot water beating down on my shoulders as the steam eases my chest. As someone who’s lived in a place with no running water for a year and had to wash in pub bathrooms, I’ve never appreciated a shower more.
Eventually, I switch it off before I use up all of his hot water and possibly the whole street’s too. His towels are as soft as silk and smell of fabric softener and not mould, and I swallow when I see the blue mark on the towel from my hair. Shit.
I dress quickly in the pair of boxer shorts and T-shirt that Levi had lent me. He’d put my entire wardrobe in the washer saying he needed to make a load up. I’d waited to feel shame, but somehow it didn’t come. Levi’s kind, warm smile doesn’t allow embarrassment. It’s the sort of smile that says, I think you might be my friend and you’d do the same for me.
And the funny thing is I would do the sam
e. And that’s never been said about me before.
When did that happen? I gaze at my reflection in the mirror.
I don’t help people. Taking on extra weight is the quickest way to slow yourself down. Apart from Will, I don’t make ties, and I’m ready to move at a minute’s notice. So why do I feel this connection with someone who is a virtual stranger to me?
I take a breath, inhaling the woodsy scent of Levi that lies under the fabric softener on his T-shirt. I force away unfamiliar feelings and start to clean my teeth meticulously. No matter my circumstances, I’ve always looked after my teeth. Probably because I couldn’t afford to have any of them taken out.
Eventually done, I gather up the stained towel and go looking for my landlord.
I find him in the second bedroom at the back of the house. He’s putting sheets onto the bed, and I watch for a second.
“Thank you,” I say.
He jumps, turning around. “Fuck!” he says. “You startled me.”
“Bit jumpy.”
“You will be too.” He looks suddenly worried. “Probably more. I didn’t really think this through. Are you going to be okay here with your gifts?”
“Gifts?” I query, astounded.
He nods seriously. “Yes, gifts. Might not seem like they are at times, but there’s always a reason for things, Blue.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’m not sure these gifts will get me on Britain’s Got Talent.” I fidget in his clothes. “Thank you for doing my washing too,” I say awkwardly.
He smiles at me as he pushes a pillow into the case. “I put your blanket on a delicate wash, or it might have shrunk.”
My chest gets tight at the thought of him carefully handling my mum’s blanket. “That’s so good of you,” I say hoarsely.
He shrugs and goes back to making the bed.
“Erm, while you’ve been doing all those nice things for me, I sort of fucked your towel up,” I say gruffly, showing him the offending item. “It’s my hair dye. It gets on everything like towels and…” I pause, watching him. “And bed linen.”
He grins. “It’s a bit like a dog peeing on things to mark territory.”
“Oh, so I’m a dog now.”
He starts to laugh. “A skinny, scrappy one.”
His chuckle is infectious. I manage not to laugh but can’t stop my smile.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says, nodding at the towel. “Everything washes clean in the end.”
“Does it?”
He nods serenely. “Oh, yes. Some things just take more effort.”
I pull my gaze from his and pace around the room as he finishes the bed. “So, this is the brother’s bedroom?” I finally say.
He joins me at the window that looks down onto the garden. “I’d put you somewhere else, but the small bedroom at the front hasn’t got a bed, and it’s full of boxes.” He pauses. “You could always sleep in my studio upstairs. That’s got a nice feeling to it, and the sofa’s really comfortable.”
“It’s got a nice feeling because it was hers. Her sewing room,” I say dreamily, and then start.
“How did you know that?” he asks, looking unnerved.
“I don’t know how,” I say apologetically. “I just know things sometimes.” I pause. “But mostly when I don’t need to know them. I’m also not sure I’m right with that, anyway. Why would a murderess’s room be cosy and safe? It doesn’t make sense.” I look around. “The house is very quiet at the moment,” I say slowly.
“Isn’t that good?”
“Sometimes.” This doesn’t feel like one of those times though. The house actually feels like it’s waiting, gearing up for something. But I don’t say that. Instead, I shrug and pat his arm. “I’ll be fine in here. Don’t worry. I know he died violently, but he was blameless, so hopefully he’s moved on.”
He looks undecided, but finally he nods and leaves me, shutting the door with a quiet click. The bed beckons, and I slide under the heavy duvet, pulling the sheets over me, inhaling the scent of lavender and feeling the softness settle over me, burying me in a sweet-smelling cavern.
I can’t resist the groan of happiness and stretch out, feeling the sheets warm around my body. Sleep tugs at me with the promise that I can fully go under now that he’s nearby and will watch out for me. I open my eyes sleepily and that’s when I see it.
A small bookcase stands at the side of the bed with my books neatly lined up in it. A note is pinned to it and I reach over and grab it. He’s written in an elegant slashing script, “Plenty of room here for some more,” and underneath he’s drawn a tiny cartoon figure of me curled up in a big chair and reading. I smile widely, feeling my cheeks hurt as I run my finger down the figure with wild blue hair and a frown of concentration on its small face. It’s rough and has obviously been drawn in a hurry, but his talent is obvious, as is his humour.
I set the note on the bedside table and turn on my side to look at it. I blink slowly and then again even slower, and the last thing I see before I slide into sleep is that drawing. I think I’m smiling as I go under.
Chapter 7
Blue
I come awake with a horrible jerk when the covers are pulled off me.
“What the fuck?” I mumble, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “If this is your idea of a joke, Levi, then…” I switch on the light.
I’m on my own in the room. On my own with the covers thrown on the floor.
“Okay,” I say slowly. I look around. It’s freezing in here. So cold that I can see my breaths in front of my face. “Where are you?” I whisper.
I climb out of bed, stand up cautiously and inhale, catching the burning scent that signals spirits are near. The atmosphere is energized with anticipation, like when a storm is about to break. My hair raises with the static.
I jump as the door opens so forcefully it slams into the wall. I look wildly at it, prepared for anything, but there’s nothing there. Just an empty doorway with darkness beyond it and the door swaying gently with the force of movement.
I breathe out slowly. Even before she appears, I know it’s going to happen. I can’t describe the feeling. It’s like I’ve watched this scene before, and I’m anticipating the actions.
She looks the same as when I saw her outside the kitchen while Levi and Fay were at the Ouija board. A stout woman with her brown hair piled up in a bun. Dressed in a violet-patterned long dress, she has a sweet-looking face. Spirits usually appear to me as they died, but this one shows no signs of injury. But she does show signs of agitation again.
She disappears and suddenly reappears closer to me. And then closer again, flickering like frames of a movie. That creepy shit never fails to freak me out. It’s like watching a shark preparing to attack you.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
She startles, like a glitch in a tape, and I wonder whether she can hear me. I brace, preparing for her answer, but as usual, I get nothing. Instead, she moves her hands in an agitated shooing motion, gesturing at me and then the door.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
I jerk as in my head I hear a soft, cultured voice say, “Rosalind.”
So, it is the sister. I want to marvel at the fact that I actually heard a spirit speak, but the increasingly urgent feel to this encounter, plus the fact that she slit someone’s throat, recalls me to the present. However, it doesn’t stop me trying again. “Rosalind, do you need my help?”
What can only be described as a what the fuck look crosses her face, and at that point the light goes out and a door somewhere downstairs slams. I whirl to face the doorway, aware in my peripheral vision of Rosalind still gesturing. She’s a faint glimmer in the moonlight. Then comes the sound of slow, heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. There’s something about the deliberateness that chills my blood and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I look wildly at Rosalind, and for some reason she appears almost worried. At that point she flickers like someone is draining her battery. She makes a
last ferocious gesture and half winks out. Still the footsteps come.
Suddenly, I’ve had enough. I’ve seen shit and done shit that would turn most people’s hair white, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified as tonight in this bedroom.
I dash to the door, the scent of lily of the valley almost choking.
I hesitate at the entrance. The darkness in the hallway is like a sentient being, the shadows seeming to boil and roil. For a wild second I consider slamming the door and going back to bed and hiding under the covers, if only so I don’t have to go into this darkness.
Then there’s a sound like the rustle of clothing and everything goes quiet. A waiting quiet. My slow, panting breaths echo on the air, and then suddenly a deep chuckle sounds from nearby.
“Fuck!” I shout, almost levitating off the ground.
It’s the motivation I needed to run through the darkness. I expect something to grab me and drag me back, but within seconds I’m bursting into Levi’s room and slamming the door shut.
For a long second all I can hear are my breaths sawing in and out. I yelp loudly when there’s a sudden heavy bang on the door. The sound seems almost petulant.
The lamp switches on, and I want to cry with the happiness of having light. Levi sits up, the covers falling to his waist. I’m about to have a heart attack, but I can’t help appreciating his body. He’s all wide shoulders and smooth chest, glowing in the lamplight like golden syrup. His hair has a ruffle like a cockatoo. His bleary eyes quickly clear.
“What is it?” he says hoarsely. “What’s happening?”
“Erm.” There’s another bang on the door, and I’m ashamed to say that I squawk like a chicken. “Fuck!” I gasp.
He jumps out of bed and comes to me. “Who is that? What’s making that noise?”
“Ah, that would be the ten-million-pound question.”
Levi stares at me, and I conjure the strength to explain. “Well, I woke up when the lady of the house, who incidentally is a murderess, ripped the covers off me and basically herded me like a sheep over to this room to get out of the way of whoever was coming up the stairs. Someone or something that she was scared of. Someone or something, and I need to repeat this quite strongly, that a known coldblooded murderess is frightened of.”
