by Amy Cross
I like this smell.
Turning, I see a wall full of old portraits. I bet the people in the pictures all lived here once, a long time ago.
“Becky,” Mum says suddenly, snapping her fingers. “Stop gawping like an idiot and get over here.”
“There are ghosts,” Nathan says, his voice filled with awe as I head back over to join them. “There's probably, like, a headless knight and a -”
Mum clips him around the back of the head.
“Ow!” he gasps, stepping forward.
“Enough of that!” she hisses, taking a drag from another cigarette as Dad struggles in with all the suitcases and backpacks.
“I'll help!” I tell her, but I only manage a few steps toward the door before Mum grabs my arm and pulls me back.
“He can manage,” she tells me. “It's one of the few things he's good at, sweetheart.”
“Mum,” Nathan continues, turning to her, “there are ghosts here, aren't there? There have to be!”
Sighing, she reaches out to clip his ear again, but this time he ducks out of the way and keeps his distance.
“For fuck's sake,” Mum hisses, “don't talk about things like that! You'll only set your aunt off again.”
“Does Aunt Emily believe in ghosts?” I ask.
Mum glances at me, and I can immediately see from the look in her eyes that she doesn't like the question. In fact, she doesn't seem to like any questions at all. Even by her usual standards, Mum seems especially annoyed today.
“I'm sorry if the place is a little dusty!” Aunt Emily calls out suddenly, from the next room. “I've had the windows open all morning to air the house out, but there hasn't been much of a breeze!”
“God forbid she might fork out for a cleaner,” Mum sighs, taking another deep puff on her cigarette before glancing down at me. “She could afford it, you know. She was left more than enough money to pay for someone to come and tidy the place up before we arrive, but does she? Does she hell. I'm not saying it's disrespectful, but...” She rolls her eyes. “Don't touch anything,” she adds. “And don't break anything!”
“Barbara?” Aunt Emily continues as she comes back through. “What kind of tea should I put on?”
“Christ,” Mum mutters, heading through to the next room to join her, “tea's tea. It's all the bloody same.”
“But Barbara, we have -”
“Yorkshire!” Mum yells. “Just put bloody Yorkshire tea on!”
Emily runs after her, still fussing about different types of tea, and I can hear Mum in the distance already complaining about something else.
Left alone in the hallway, Nathan and I still can't help staring around at the large, slightly gloomy hallway. Nathan's two years younger than me, so he usually runs around a lot like a little baby, but even he seems amazed by the sheer size of the house. Looking over my shoulder, I see Dad struggling to haul a couple more suitcases from the car, and I feel a little sorry for him but I figure Mum'll only get mad if I go to help. Instead, I make my way to the foot of the stairs and look up, trying to imagine what it's like up there. When we reached the driveway, I saw that Auercliff is huge, which means there must be lots and lots of rooms, which means it must be hard for Aunt Emily to live in the entire place. There must be parts of the house she almost never goes to. Places to explore.
Without even thinking about it, I make my way up the first couple of steps.
“Becky!” Nathan hisses. “Stop!”
Turning to him, I can't help smiling when I see the fear in his eyes.
“We're not allowed upstairs!” he whines.
“We're going to sleep upstairs,” I point out. “Aunt Emily isn't going to make us sleep on the sofas, dummy.”
“But you might upset someone!” Hurrying over, he grabs my hand and tries to pull me back down, although I quickly slip free from his clammy grip. “Becky!”
“Are you scared?” I ask.
“No!”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm not scared, I just don't want to get into trouble!”
“With who?” I continue. “Mum and Dad? Or...” I pause, smiling as I see the fear growing in his expression. “Are you worried about making the ghosts angry?”
“Do you think there are ghosts here?” he replies, clearly enthralled by the idea.
“Dad!” I call out, as Dad lugs the final suitcases through the front door. “How old is this house?”
“Oh, hundreds of years,” he replies breathlessly, forcing a little smile as he turns and pushes the big old wooden door shut. “Three, four hundred, something like that. No, more. Six hundred maybe.”
“Has anyone ever died here?” I ask.
He frowns. “Well... I suppose it's possible.”
I turn to Nathan and see the fear in his eyes. “Did you hear that?” I ask. “People have died at Auercliff, and you know what that means! There have to be ghosts! If people have died here, there can't not be!”
“You don't know that,” Nathan replies cautiously.
“It's true, isn't it?” I continue, turning to Dad. “If a house is old enough, and if people have died there, there'll always be ghosts.”
“I'm not sure it works quite like that.”
“It does,” I add, turning to Nathan. “It makes sense. Houses are sticky, they keep the souls of the people who die there, and then those people haunt the house forever. If you don't believe me, wait until tonight!” I turn and look up at the wall of portraits. “I bet all these people died here, every single one of them. And they're probably all still kicking about somewhere, haunting the place.”
“Dad,” Nathan whines, “tell her she's being stupid!”
“Better be careful where you die,” I continue, “because then you'll be stuck there forever, haunting it.”
“That's not true!” Nathan says firmly, but I can tell I'm upsetting him. In fact, I think he might even be close to tears.
“Becky, be nice to your brother,” Dad says as he steps past us, heading through to the room where Mum and Aunt Emily can already be heard disagreeing over something. “Auercliff isn't haunted, it's just a nice old house. Try to play nicely with each other, okay? Whatever you do, don't upset your mother.”
“Are you scared of ghosts?” I ask Nathan, keeping my voice down so we won't be overheard.
“No!”
“Then we'll go exploring tonight, after everyone else is asleep.”
“I don't want to!”
“Because you're scared?”
“Because it's stupid!”
Smiling, I turn and look up the stairs again, and Nathan does the same. Dust is drifting through the air, but I'm looking at the empty space at the top of the stairs, in front of the large window. For a moment, I almost expect to see something walking past, although I suppose ghosts are a little more shy than that. If I was a ghost and I'd been dead for a long time, I'd definitely hide for a while, instead of jumping out right away. I mean, ghosts are still people, with the same fears and thoughts as the rest of us. They're just dead, that's the only difference. I guess they don't suddenly become mean, unless they were mean when they were alive.
Suddenly there's a faint creaking sound from somewhere upstairs, as if a door opened slightly.
Nathan gasps and steps back.
I can't hide a faint smile.
“That's one of them,” I whisper, even though I know it really might have just been a door. I turn to Nathan. “It knows we're here. It'll come out tonight for sure!”
Chapter Twelve
“Aunt Emily, can I ask you a question?”
Turning to me, she shields her eyes from the sun as she smiles.
“Hello there, sweetie,” she says as I make my way across the patio and over to the garden furniture where the adults have been having tea. “Of course you can. Why don't you sit down with me?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see that Mum and Dad are still arguing about something in the kitchen. I've been waiting for them to go away, and now's my cha
nce to get Aunt Emily all on her own. Even Nathan is busy playing on the lawn, which means no-one's going to interrupt me. I love my family, but sometimes they can be a little nosy. Mum, in particular, is always demanding that I tell her what I've been doing, who I've been talking to, and what I might have heard. Sometimes I think she's completely paranoid, and she's definitely seemed keen for me to avoid talking to my aunt.
“So what kind of things do you like doing?” Aunt Emily asks as I sit on the wicker chair next to hers. “It's been so long since the last time I saw you, Rebecca. You were just a baby. Do you know what you want to be when you grow up yet?”
“I want to be a train driver or a doctor,” I tell her.
“So you want to help people?” She reaches out and tousles my hair. “That's very good of you, Becky. Or do you prefer to be called Rebecca?”
“I don't mind,” I reply, before pausing for a moment. “Aunt Emily, do you know if anyone has ever died in your house?”
She pauses, and I can see from the look in her eyes that she doesn't really like the question. Still, I really, really want to know.
“It's just,” I continue, “Nathan and I were talking about ghosts, and Nathan thinks there aren't any here, but I think there probably are. I'm right, aren't I? People have died here, they must have. After all, the house is about a million years old, and there's no way a house can be that old without things happening in it.”
“There have been...” Her voice trails off for a moment. “A lot of people have lived at Auercliff over the years,” she says finally, “and when lots of people live at a house, inevitably some of them die. We can't hide from the truth, Becky.”
“How many died here?”
“I honestly don't know.”
“But they've stayed as ghosts, haven't they?”
“I...” She pauses again. “I don't know, sweetie. Not everyone believes in ghosts.”
“I do.”
“Is that right?”
I nod.
“Have you seen one before?”
I pause, before shaking my head.
“Then why do -”
“They have to be real,” I continue, interrupting her. “If they weren't, then when people die, they'd just disappear, and that can't be true. People can't just stop existing, the whole idea is just too horrible and scary. So when their bodies die, their minds have to go somewhere else, and it makes sense that they stick around the last place they were when they still had their bodies. It's just basic common sense, really.”
“It is, is it?” she replies with a smile.
I check over my shoulder, to make sure Mum and Dad still aren't nearby, and then I scooch closer to Aunt Emily. “I want to die on a roller-coaster,” I tell her.
She frowns. “You do?”
I nod. “That way, I'll end up haunting the funfair, and then I can go on rides all the time. I'll even be good and make sure I don't scare anyone. I mean, I wouldn't want to ruin someone's day out. But dying on a roller-coaster would be the best, because then you'd get to be there forever and ever, doing loop-the-loops all the time.” I pause, trying to think of exactly how it might happen. “Maybe my head would get chopped off by something,” I suggest. “You know, like a low-hanging bar over the track, something like that. I wouldn't want it to be a big crash, because then other people might get hurt too. And I don't want it to happen any time soon, because I like being alive, but eventually when I'm much older, I think a roller-coaster would be the best way to go. Plus, it'd be gory!”
“You've really got it all figured out, haven't you?”
“I wouldn't say that,” I reply, scrunching my nose up a little, “but I think about things a lot. It's good to be prepared, isn't it?”
“Follow me,” Aunt Emily says suddenly, getting to her feet. She holds out a hand for me. “Come on, it's okay. I just want to show you something.” She waits for me to go with her. “I promise your mother won't be angry, if that's what you're worried about. I just think you're the kind of girl who'll appreciate this.”
Taking her hand, I let her lead me along the side of the house, until we reach the corner and she crouches down.
“See that?” she asks, pointing at one of the bricks.
I nod.
“This corner of the house was built before the rest of it,” she continues, “back in the year 1450. That's almost six hundred years in the past. Can you believe it?”
Staring at the brick, I try to imagine someone putting it in place all those years ago. Aunt Emily's right, it is hard to believe that people were doing things so far in the past, and I can't help thinking that a lot of people must have lived in the house since then, and each one of them was a potential ghost. Reaching down, I run my fingers against the brick, trying to think of all the things that it must have seen and heard over the years. If it could talk, I bet it'd have lots to say.
After a moment, hearing a faint sniffing sound, I turn and see that Aunt Emily's crying.
“I didn't mean to upset you,” I tell her, startled. Looking back toward the kitchen door, I realize Mum might come out at any moment and tell me off. Suddenly, I feel like I'm panicking.
“It's okay,” Aunt Emily says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I'm not crying because I'm sad, I'm crying because I'm happy. This is a beautiful moment. We're reconnecting with the spirits of the past, Becky. We're communing with the soul of Auercliff itself.” She smiles, despite the tears running down her face. “Don't you ever cry because you're happy?”
I pause, before shaking my head.
“You will one day,” she continues. “I promise. That's part of growing up and...”
She stares at me for a moment, before placing a hand on the side of my face. The way she's staring at me, it's almost as if she's seen something in my eyes, something that has really caught her attention. I wait, not wanting to interrupt her, but I really don't understand what's wrong with her. Mum always says that Aunt Emily is a little weird, and for the first time I'm starting to think that might be true.
“You look so...” Her voice trails off.
“So what?” I ask cautiously.
“I...” She tilts her head slightly, the way a dog does when it's trying to understand something. Her lips are trembling, as if she can't quite get the words out. “I just...” She pauses. “Maybe there's someone you should meet,” she continues finally. “I think you'd get on very well.”
“Who?” I ask.
She sighs. “It's difficult to explain. I think I should just -”
“You two!” Mum barks suddenly. “What are you up to?”
Startled, I turn and see that she's making her way toward us. I should come up with an excuse, but instead my mind goes completely blank.
“Did you get your aunt all emotional?” Mum asks, grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet. “Well, it's not hard to do, but still...” She sighs. “Emily, what's going on here? Are you trying to teach my daughter to form a spiritual connection with the house's brickwork? Trust me, Becky's not the hippy type. She's got far too many braincells for that.”
“I was just talking about the history of Auercliff,” Emily replies as she gets up, wiping tears from her cheeks. “There's so much history all around us, it's in the air we breathe and it's -”
“Lovely,” Mum says with a loud, exaggerated sigh. “And here was me, thinking the only thing in the air we breathe around here is dust. I mean, Jesus Christ, Emily... Would it kill you to get a little old lady in to dust the place?” She turns and starts leading me back toward the garden furniture, where Dad is setting out some bowls on one of the tables. “What did I tell you about talking to your aunt?” she hisses. “She's mad as a fruitcake, Becky, and the last thing we want is to set her off. Trust me, if you let her, she'll spend the whole weekend talking about ghosts, fairies, spirits and the healing power of bells and crystals.”
“But -”
“But nothing!” she adds as we reach the table. Grabbing a cigarette from the ashtray, she takes a drag and t
hen exhales slowly.
I step back, hating the smoke in my face.
“Your aunt isn't well,” she continues. “She's sick.”
I feel a thud of shock in my chest. “Is she dying?”
She shakes her head, but for a moment she seems lost in thought. “Of course not,” she adds finally, “don't be stupid, she's just... It's something in her mind, Becky.” She taps the side of her head. “In here, you understand? She might say things that sound silly, and that's because she's sick. Also, if you ask her too many questions, you might make it worse. You don't want to be responsible for your aunt's health deteriorating, do you?”
“What does deteriorating mean?”
“It means going down the fucking pan,” she snaps. “Alright? If you ask her too many questions, you could make her very sick, Becky. She might even die.”
“I don't want her to die!” I stammer.
“Then leave her alone a little. You're a little girl. You can't understand, but leave your aunt alone.” She eyes with with suspicion for a moment. “Got it?”
I nod.
“She'll be fine if you stop bothering her,” she continues. “Besides, it wouldn't be good for you, either. The last thing I need is for you to get infected by some of her wilder ideas. It's a sign of weakness, you know. Mental, emotional and intellectual weakness. Do you want to be weak, Becky?”
I shake my head.
“Good,” she mutters. “No daughter of mine is going to end up as a hippy. Besides, you can't afford it. Your aunt's extremely lucky, she inherited lots of money when your uncle died, so if she wants to drift around all day in a haze, no-one can stop her.” She pauses for a moment. “It's alright for some. She should try living in the real fucking world for five minutes.” She stubs her cigarette out. “And you didn't hear Mummy using that naughty word, okay? That's a word for grown-ups.”
She glances over at the house, and watches Dad for a moment through the window.
