Remembering the icy fingers that had grazed her hand the night before, she reflexively clenched her fist. The camera still had film in it. Tara bit her lip, picked it up, and jogged downstairs.
“Good morning, May! Can I take a walk before breakfast?”
“Of course, my dear.” May looked worlds away from the slack-jawed figure that had walked through the house the night before. She wore her familiar apron over a floral-print dress and had pinned her hair up. “Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes, all right?”
“Thank you!” Tara jogged down the porch then swivelled, trying to think of the best place to take her pictures. She had limited film and didn’t want to waste it.
The vegetable garden again. May said George Folcroft had loved gardening; he might haunt there.
Faint mist created an ethereal glow over the area, though it was nowhere near as bad as it had been the day before. Tara stopped beside the recently planted ground, aimed her camera to capture as much of the area as possible, and took her picture. She then paced backwards until she was nearly at the trees and took another photograph of the house. With both pictures developing in her pocket, she chewed over her options of what else to capture.
What about the gravestones?
She turned to face the woods, equal parts uncertain and excited. Dew clung to the leaves and weedy grass spaced between the tree, and some kind of bird warbled farther away.
I should have time. It’s not that far—it was a shorter walk than to the lake. I’ll be quick.
She hung the camera’s strap around her neck and paced around the clearing’s edge until she found the pathway she and Kyle had taken the day before. Bird chatter surrounded her as she followed the twisting dirt track deeper into the woods. When she thought she was close, Tara had to slow down and scour the side of the road to make sure she didn’t miss the grave markers.
They waited in the little hollow between pine trees, and she stopped to examine the two rough rocks with names chiselled into the front. Tara, worried she might not be alone, bowed her head respectfully before stepping back and focussing her camera. She got as much of the area in her frame as possible then took the picture. The black square whirred out of the camera, and she tucked it into her pocket.
It’s weird. May talked about loving family so much and burying Peter’s parents on the property to keep them close, but these gravestones look like they haven’t been visited in a decade.
Weedy grass grew over the graves, and lichen clung to the rocks. The trail had an aura of neglect, too—nature was gradually encroaching over the path.
Underbrush crackled behind her. Tara squinted into the woods, searching for motion. Just a bird. She repeated the phrase to herself as though saying it enough would make it true. “Just a bird, just a bird.”
The noise was too loud for any bird she’d ever seen, though. Something heavy was moving towards her, crushing leaves under its feet and snapping branches. Tara clutched her camera close to her chest, wishing she’d brought Peter’s gun. A splash of blue moved between the trees, then a familiar figure stepped onto the path.
“Kyle?” Tara pressed a hand to her thundering heart as tension bled out of her. “What are you doing here?”
He still wore his pyjamas. His hair was tangled and his eyes unfocussed as he shambled towards Tara, then past her, continuing down the path.
“Kyle?” She jogged after him. “Kyle, you’re scaring me. Say something.”
His face was emotionless, the muscles all slack. It reminded Tara horribly of how May had looked when sleepwalking the night before. Fear flooded her mouth with a sickening metallic tang, and she grabbed Kyle’s shoulder to stop him. He twitched, then his eyes widened. He blinked first at Tara then at the forest, as shock and confusion transformed his face. “What…? Where are we?”
“In the forest.” Tara tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. “You were walking around like a zombie. What happened?”
“I…” He turned in a semicircle, stared at his surroundings, then looked down at his pyjamas in horror. “I don’t know. I needed to go to the lake.”
“Were you sleepwalking?”
“I don’t know!” His voice grew tighter and higher.
Tara exhaled and pulled Kyle into a quick hug before turning him in the right direction. “C’mon. Careful where you step. There’s probably thorns around here and everything.”
They walked slowly. By the time they stepped back into the clearing, the mist had vanished and the sun had started to warm the crisp air. May must have seen them from the kitchen window, because she ran out of the house as they neared it. “Kyle, what are you doing out in your pyjamas? And no shoes! Are your feet hurt?”
He shrugged and mumbled an incoherent excuse.
May sighed deeply and cupped his cheek. “Be more careful, dear. I’d be heartbroken if you were hurt. Now quick, go upstairs and change for breakfast. I’ll keep yours warm for you.”
Tara started on her food while Kyle jogged up the stairs. May fussed about the kitchen, and Peter sipped his coffee. Neither was paying attention to Tara, so she pulled the photos out of her pocket.
The picture of the gravestones showed nothing she hadn’t seen with her own eyes. She set it aside, thinking it would make a great addition to the blog saga she was constructing in her mind. The second picture showed the garden. At first, Tara was disheartened that it was empty, too, then she saw the smudge at the edge of the photo.
It had barely been captured, but she was sure she could make out a man’s shoulder and half of his face. She held it inches from her nose as she tried to make out more details. She saw a collar, a shadow that might have been whiskers, and an orb of light where his eyes should have been.
Tara tried to keep her breathing steady as she set the picture aside. The final photo showed the house. It looked strange in the Polaroid’s warped colours, as though it had come out of a different world. It took Tara a moment to find the anomaly. A woman stood in one of the upstairs bedrooms, her silhouette visible behind the curtains.
Ghosts. Tara’s heart thundered. She peeked at May and Peter, wondering if she should say something.
Kyle came thudding down the stairs. He skidded into the kitchen and took his seat at Tara’s side. She nudged the photos towards him and indicated to the relevant places. His face scrunched up, and for a second, Tara thought that maybe she shouldn’t have shown him. Then he whispered, “Ask them.”
“Here we are.” May set a plate before Kyle and nudged the fork towards him. “You must be hungry after tramping all through the woods.”
“May?” Tara waited for the older woman to settle into her seat then pushed the photographs towards her. “We want to talk about the ghosts.”
15
Spectres
Tara laid out the photographs in a neat line before May. The woman glanced over them and smiled. “I’m so glad to see you like the camera.”
“Look here.” Tara pointed to the smudges and the white-clad figure in the window. “Do you see them?”
May’s expression was perfectly serene as she met Tara’s eyes. “Yes, my dear.”
“Well… what are they?”
“What do you think they are?”
Tara was quiet for a moment, and May’s smile twitched wider. Tara licked her lips and glanced at Kyle, who nodded for her to continue. “They’re ghosts.”
“You’re right, darling.” May lifted her cup and sipped the tea.
May’s calmness was unnerving. Tara squeezed her hands into fists below the table. “Yesterday, you made it sound like there might be ghosts. But now you’re talking like you’ve known all along.”
May drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as she looked towards the ceiling. For a moment, Tara could hear only the quiet ticking clock in the hallway and a cricket outside the window. Then May said, “One of the hardest parts about welcoming you into our home was knowing how much to tell you. Peter and I talked it over for hours. We wanted you to know the
truth… but on the other hand, you were—are—only children.”
Tara tightened her fists. The palms were sweaty, but she kept her face neutral as she watched her grandmother. She didn’t need to look at him to know that Peter was examining her over the top of his coffee mug.
“In the end, we decided on a compromise. If you were curious enough to uncover it on your own, we’d be open about it. If not, we wouldn’t say anything.” May smiled. “You’re both so clever. I’m glad you found out. I didn’t like keeping secrets.”
“So… so…” Tara struggled to find the right words. “There are ghosts here. And you see them… a lot?”
“Not too often. Perhaps every couple of days. More often, if you’re looking for them.”
“Oh.” She turned to Kyle. His eyes were huge and his face pale, but the set to his lip told her he wanted answers just as much as she did. “How many are there?”
“A few. Your great-grandma and great-grandpa. Peter’s sister and brother.”
Peter shifted forward. “I told you I go to the lake sometimes to talk to Anna. I don’t often see her, but I can feel her.”
“This is insane,” Kyle muttered. He dragged his fingers through his hair. “Why can we see them? I’ve never heard people talk about ghosts like this before. I’ve never seen a ghost before.”
“Oh, poor dear.” May reached out to touch him, but Kyle shied away. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Truthfully, I don’t know why they linger here. We have always cared deeply about family; perhaps they didn’t want to leave us after death? It might be something in the ground. It might be something in the family genes. I couldn’t tell you.”
Tara squeezed her hands together. “And you’re just… happy to let it happen? Haven’t you thought about calling a priest or something?”
May laughed. “Of course not. They’re friendly, Tara. They’re not like the ghosts in scary campfire stories. They watch over us. It’s a comfort—it helps us to not feel as alone.”
A thought occurred, and Tara frowned. “When we saw people walking outside the house at night… The man who was all bent and the people during the storm…”
“Those were your great-grandparents, yes. Forgive us for lying. We only wanted to protect you.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes crinkling with a fond smile. “If you find things in your room moved, they’re usually responsible for that, too. They like to help like that.”
We’re living in a haunted house. Tara looked down at her lap, where she still squeezed her hands together to keep them from shaking. May kept promising the spirits were friendly, but Tara couldn’t feel easy. She imagined the ghosts watching her as she slept, and horror made a shiver course up her spine.
It’s normal for May and Peter. They’ve lived like this for decades—they don’t see anything wrong with it.
She looked towards Kyle and saw her same worry reflected back in his eyes. It was easy to say “don’t be afraid.” Following that advice was impossible.
“If I’m not mistaken, I think Peter might have finished clearing the driveway,” May said.
Peter released a gruff laugh. “Yes. We’re no longer trapped, thank goodness.”
“In that case, now might be a good time to go into town.” May stood and picked up their plates. Tara hadn’t eaten much, but she didn’t object—her appetite was thoroughly gone.
She knew May and Peter had deliberately changed the subject, but she didn’t mind. The promise of access to a phone and a chance to get away from the house’s heavy atmosphere were tantalising. Tara was glad to drop the topic of ghosts for the short term.
The siblings retrieved their jackets then waited by the door as May put on her hat and took the key ring off the metal hook by the kitchen. Kyle brought an armful of books with him. Tara ended up holding onto a stack of them so that they didn’t fall off the seat when the Jeep went over ruts and bumps. When May asked why he’d brought them, he said he wanted to return them to the library.
“Aren’t they any good?” May asked.
“No, they were fine. I’ve finished them, that’s all.”
Tara stared at him then scoffed. “I don’t believe that. Some of these are huge! How did you get through them?”
He sent her a sly glance. “By turning the pages.”
“Smart aleck.”
May only laughed. She seemed in a good mood. Tara wished she could feel the same way as she leaned against her window and watched the trees flash by.
Ghosts. They’re real. I’ve seen them. It was still hard to believe. Her mind instantly went to how she would structure a blog series about it—but she knew her friends would think she was either joking or trying to prank them.
Maybe this is why Mum left. She hated seeing the spirits everywhere.
The trees were replaced by small houses and stores as May turned into the town. She found a parking space in front of the greengrocer’s and stepped out of the car. “The payphone’s just up here,” she said as she took her purse out of her bag and shook out a handful of coins. “Do you remember the number?”
“Yes, thank you so much.” Tara took the coins and jogged towards the bright-red payphone tucked off the side of the street. She held the receiver between her shoulder and ear as she dialled the number then started feeding coins into the slot. They dropped straight into the return tray.
She frowned. Am I doing something wrong? There weren’t any instructions posted. She tried pressing on the hook then put another coin into the slot. It fell straight back out.
“Phone doesn’t work,” someone shouted, and Tara jumped. She turned to see a plump man poking his head out of the barbershop next to her. He shrugged. “Broke this morning. Bad timing after the storm and all—a lot of people have been trying to use it.”
“Oh.” Tara hung up the receiver, feeling the anticipation that fluttered in her stomach shrivel into stress. “Is someone going to fix it?”
“Hell if I know. They probably will if enough people complain.” He shrugged again. “Sorry.”
Tara collected the coins and turned back to the Jeep. May waited with Kyle at her side. The crushed look on Kyle’s face told her they’d heard the barber.
“I’m sorry, my dear,” May said as she took the coins back. “We’ll get our home phone reconnected as soon as possible.”
“Thanks.” Tara knew her smile wasn’t quite natural but didn’t know how to fix it.
“Would you like to use the computer? We can stay in town for a while if you like. We could even have lunch here.”
“I’d like that.”
May beamed as she led them to the library. She waited while Kyle passed his books over the counter then said, “If you need me, I’ll be in the greengrocer’s. Otherwise, I’ll come back in an hour.”
“See you then.”
They split up—May back onto the main street, Kyle into the shelves to search for books he hadn’t yet read, and Tara towards the back of the building, where the ancient computer promised an hour of escape from her reality.
The machine hadn’t been turned on that morning, and she had to wait while it booted up. As she watched the loading screen’s circle rotate for what felt like an eternity, she realised she wasn’t excited. Normally, she craved getting on the computer first thing every morning and again when she got home from school; it was like an itch that wouldn’t go away until it was scratched. As the internet browser opened and she began typing in the URL, she found she didn’t really care about reading her comments or seeing what her friends had posted. For the first time since she’d started it, her blog felt hollow.
This better not be what growing up feels like, because it sucks. She logged into her account. The post she’d made the last time they were at town was short, and it had only four replies—three wishing her good luck and one asking for an update. She created a new post and titled it Stuff’s Getting Weird.
Super-quick update. I’m pretty sure my grandparents are keeping secrets. The room next to mine is locke
d, and they won’t tell me why. I found my Mum’s old journal, and it talks about ghosts. My brother’s freaking out, which is freaking me out. If I mysteriously go missing, please know that you’re all my BFFs and I want my comic collection donated to alexis.the.great. Peace.
The last part had been intended as a joke, but it felt too close to home. Tara pulled a face as she pressed the publish button. She leaned back in her chair and began scrolling through the updates that had been posted since she’d last been on. There were a lot of them, but they weren’t grabbing her interest like they normally did.
I wonder if I could call the hospital from this computer? Tara searched the installed programs for Skype but didn’t find it. Based on the browser speed, downloading it would take more than the hour she had. Even if she could get it installed, the call quality would be abysmal.
She looked up the hospital’s website. They had their phone numbers listed, but no public e-mail address or contact form. Tara chewed on her lip.
A thought had been growing since Kyle had shared his theory the day before. Tara felt ridiculous for even considering it, but the niggling curiosity refused to go away. She gave the unappealing blog posts a final glance then opened the browser history.
It hadn’t been cleared in a long time. Someone had searched for how payphones worked the day before. They probably encountered the broken machine down the street. Tara found the links to her blogs from two days previously. She kept scrolling back, passing cooking archives, Wikipedia links, and an assortment of inappropriate sites from someone who didn’t know how to use private browsing. Even farther back were searches for how big plesiosaurs grew, cat flu symptoms, the age of the world’s oldest man—someone settling a bet, Tara suspected—and a site about car mechanics.
The Folcroft Ghosts Page 8
