by Sarah Dalton
This one appeared as a woman, with a tattered dress billowing in the wind. Her eyes were sunken, and wild curly hair cascaded all around her. She might have been beautiful once, but now her skin hangs from her bones like melted plastic. I screw my eyes shut, wanting to forget, but I’m met with more images I’d like to discard from my memory.
They’ve never frightened me before. Sometimes they are a comfort. But there is something about seeing one of them here… It picks at that scab of a memory, something I saw as a child…
“What does it mean?” Lila asks.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“All right, I have a dustpan and brush,” Izzy’s voice sounds from the hallway. “I’ll get that cleaned up in a jiffy.” She strides into the kitchen. “Don’t move a muscle.” She bends down and begins clearing the mess. Lila backs up and stalks the kitchen, swinging her arms as though listening to her own music.
“Did something startle you?” Izzy asks. Her voice is laboured with the effort of crouching.
“I think it was a bird, or something,” I reply.
“This place does that to you sometimes,” she says. “I often see weird things late at night in my room.”
I spin around. “What kind of things?”
“Whoa, Mary, be careful.” She stands up. The dustpan is filled with glass, and there’s a malty scent of beer in the air. “You almost stepped on the glass.”
But I’m not hearing her anymore. I follow her as she tips the bottle into the bin. The distant memory claws at my skull, desperate to be released.
“What do you see in your room?”
She shrugs. “Shadows, I think. It’s just my mind playing tricks. I thought I saw someone standing in the corner of the room.”
My blood runs cold. My mouth goes dry. “Have you seen anything else like that?” I insist.
“Yeah, actually. When I was sat out on the porch, Bentley started barking and growling again like you saw earlier. His hackles were raised, and it was strange because it was just me and him out there. I think it was kinda late. I had a glass of wine on the go, I was relaxing after a long shift at the hospital. Anyway, like I said, Bentley seemed really upset about something. Then the door started rattling, as though someone on the other side was trying to open it, which is stupid, because why would someone be inside the house and trying to get out? Then, a few moments later, I thought I saw a shadow rushing across the fields.” She gestures towards the window. When we’re closer, she points to the field between her back garden and the cliffs. “Right across there. It had me going for a second. I thought it was someone coming towards the house. It was just my eyes playing tricks on me. It’s amazing what a long shift will do to your head.”
A shadow.
My heart hammers against my chest.
* * *
For the rest of the evening, I help Izzy make brownies while Lila sits and watches us on the stool by the breakfast bar. It reminds me of many other visits to the cottage. Izzy and I would cook or do the washing up, while a barefoot Lila listened to her iPod and danced around the room.
There were times when Mum would tut about Lila’s laziness, and in those times, Izzy reminded Mum how Lila looked after herself on the nights when Izzy worked. That soon shut Mum up.
Evening slips away and soon the stars are twinkling. The weather forecast was right, it is a clear night. But as we make our way out onto the fields by the cliffs, we feel the cold nip of the sea air, and Izzy hurries back for extra blankets. When she’s gone, I rush to my car and quickly open the boot. I have a small holdall there, which is empty except for one item.
A knife.
I don’t hear Lila approach from behind. “What’s that?”
The sound of her voice causes me to start, and I end up half brandishing it towards her.
Lila isn’t scared. “It’s fancy. I like the carvings.”
“It’s my Athame,” I say. “It’s for sending ghosts to the otherworld.”
“Ooh,” she says, leaning closer. “That’s so cool. So you think there’s a ghost here?”
“I do,” I say. I swallow, thinking of a shadow.
“Do you think it will be dangerous?” she asks.
“I… I don’t know yet,” I reply.
When I hear the cottage door open, I tuck the sheathed knife into my waistband and pull my jumper over it to hide the shape. Then I hurry back into the fields.
“I was going to bring Bentley out, too, but he doesn’t want to come.” Izzy dumps a cooler box down on the ground, with the blankets on top. I open the deck chairs and Izzy sets to work on a small log fire.
When we’re settled on our chairs, Izzy passes me an open beer.
The ownership of the field by Izzy’s garden is one of grand speculation. She told us long ago that an Irish traveller bought the field as an investment. But when he wanted to sell it, the people who lived nearby refused to buy the property from him because they all believed he was a thief who had stolen the land, and a horse thief to boot. Apparently, my Granddad was the only person who defended the man, and in recompense, he gave the field to Granddad.
Lila told me that Mum spent so much time in the field that she’d earned squatter’s rights to it, and that she legally owned it.
I suspect that neither is true. Whoever owns the field, they’ve never complained about the many fires started on it at night.
There have been camping nights, and then as we got older, there were raves, too. Aged sixteen, Lila invited her entire school via Facebook, and Izzy came home at 6am to find the field filled with drunken teenagers and empty cups, while I desperately ran around dragging a bin bag, trying to clean up.
She just sighed and walked away.
It makes me wonder if Izzy was right to be that sort of mother. I guess I just thought she gave up trying to tame Lila, that she knew some sort of stubborn Quirke streak had been passed down to her daughter and it was futile to try and quell it. Maybe she thought that letting Lila rebel would eventually calm that streak. I don’t know. Maybe she got it wrong.
“Mum wanted me to stay at home and watch the comet there,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. “Did I cause a problem between the two of you?”
“No, I don’t think so. But I felt a bit bad leaving her there.”
“Su is a stubborn one.” Izzy raises her eyebrows and sips on her beer.
“Don’t you think it’s time for the two of you to talk?” I say.
Izzy starts to peel the label from her bottle. “You sound so mature, Mary. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown as a person. An actual, mature, grown-up person. You might be the first Quirke girl to make it as a grown-up.” She lets out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know. We’re such children, aren’t we? There’s a lot of pain there. You can’t stir up that pain without a good reason. I’m not sure I have a good reason yet.”
I turn away from Izzy, back to the sea. My heart almost stops. There she is. The woman with the melted skin. This time I keep hold of my bottle, but my stomach lurches at the sight of her disfigurement. I look away and then back. She’s gone.
What is she warning me about?
Lila stands up and stretches her legs. She wanders towards the cliffs, letting her hands run through the long grass.
“It’s so dark tonight,” she says. “Hardly any moon. Don’t you think it’s a good night to look at the stars? I do. I can’t wait to see the comet.” Lila stops stock still and gasps. She clutches her throat with both hands.
I’m on my feet in an instant.
“What’s happening?” Izzy asks. She follows me as I make my way out to Lila.
“Something is here,” I say.
Lila hurries towards me. “We’re not alone. I… I felt it. It’s in the dark somewhere.” Her eyes are wide and bright. The moonlight highlights her skin so that it sheens iridescent. She’s as bright as a flame in the darkness.
“What’s here? I don’t understand,” Izzy says.
My hand
rests over the slight bulge by my waistband, where I know the knife is nestled against my skin.
“You said you’ve been seeing shadows,” I reply. “Well I think they might be more than that.”
Izzy’s mouth hangs open. “What are you talking about? You’re not talking about ghosts are you? Because that… that’s…” She trails away and stares out into the distance. Her expression is one of a person who has figured out the answer to a puzzle, but who fears the outcome of that puzzle. She covers her mouth with her hand. “No.”
“Now you know why Mum sent me to the psychiatric hospital,” I say, my voice coming across as bitter, something that surprises me.
Lila moves closer to me, and a faint rub of static electricity comes from her proximity. “Mary, I know it sounds weird, but I can sense the presence of… something. Is it… is it really a ghost?”
I take in a long breath, drawing comfort from the salty sea air. “All I know is that I can see and hear ghosts when other people can’t. Sometimes, I sense them, too. Aunty Iz, since I arrived here, I’ve felt as though something wasn’t quite right.” I shoot a glance in Lila’s direction. “There is definitely a presence here that should have moved on by now.”
“Is it hostile?” Izzy asks, moving her hand from her mouth. Her fingers tremble, and she tucks her hands beneath her armpits.
“I…” I begin.
The night air drops in temperature, and a shiver runs up my spine. Izzy hugs her body tighter, and the wind whips up her hair. I’ve been here before, in this instant. It’s the moment before the bogeyman appears out the cupboard, the quiet second before the masked serial killer finds the girl hiding in the wardrobe. By now I should be able to quiet the stirrings of unease that begin with the hair raising on the backs of my arms, and grow until every muscle is clenched and my stomach is twisted into knots.
The gate to the field knocks against the fence post and all three of us spin on our heels, expecting to find the monster behind us. We’re greeted by the solitary bumping of the gate against the fence. Lila lets out a nervous laugh.
But my senses are heightened, and I’m aware of some change behind me. I reach for the Athame, and turn slowly around. My heart beats so fast I can feel it in my teeth. My breath is loud and ragged.
What are you? I think. What do you want?
The shadow is dark, so dark I cannot make out any features. I had expected to see it right behind me, close enough to breathe down my neck. Instead, it is twenty feet away down the field, and my brandishing of the Athame is pointless.
Most ghosts appear to me as a person. Some still have the wounds they died with. Some seem to be able to change into a different version of themselves, one that is more frightening than what they really are. I don’t have the answers why, but I think it might have to do with how much humanity is left in them.
But I have never seen a ghost so dark and so featureless before. It makes me question whether I really am seeing the last remains of a human, or if this is something else. I don’t believe in evil, but if I did, I might think of it as dark and lacking as this.
It’s as though all the light has been absorbed into this one lump of coal.
“That’s it! That’s the shadow I saw,” Izzy says.
Lila is quiet, her eyes are wide open, and she is so still I wonder whether she is breathing.
“You stay here,” I say to them both, as I step forward towards the shadow.
I’d intended my voice to convey some sort of confidence, to reassure those around me. But as I walk on with wobbling legs, I wonder whether that was the case.
“My name is Mary Hades,” I say. “I can see the dead, and I know you’re here. If you have unfinished business with this world, I can help. You might want to tell me your story. I know most ghosts just want to be heard. I can do that for you, if you like. You can show it to me.” The shadow remains still, unmoving and untouched by the wind. I approach it as I would a spooked horse. “I can help you move on from this world. You will find peace.”
You can’t know that.
I stop moving. My hand grips the handle of the Athame. The sound of the shadow’s voice is so distorted that I feel the blood drain away from my face. That voice was not human.
“You’re right,” I say. I’m shivering all over now, and my teeth chatter. “I don’t know that. But it has to be better than being stuck here, right? It has to be better than this.”
No.
“You need to leave,” I say firmly. “It’s not right for you to stay, not like this.” My palms sweat, and my knees tremble. The scab of a memory loosens and I find myself saying, “I know you. When I was a little girl, you used to stand in the corner of my room. Whenever I stayed here, you were there. Why?”
I like to watch.
I take a step backwards, sickened right down to my stomach. I have to force myself into focussing on keeping the knife in my hand. I can’t lose it now. I must get rid of this creature.
When the shadow moves, I start and my muscles tighten in response. It rushes towards me, so fast and stilted that I hardly have a chance to move. I know that ghosts can hurt me. Some are powerful enough to strangle, or throw or bludgeon. When the shadow comes closer to me, I feel the power emitting from it. It’s old power. This person must have been dead a long time.
I lift the Athame and carve a symbol in the air. The shadow is momentarily caught off guard and staggers backwards. It lets out a hiss, like a cornered cat.
“I won’t let you hurt anyone,” I say. With shaking arms, I turn to the right and carve another symbol in the air. The knife strokes sparkle in the night sky, illuminating the symbols in the circle of protection.
“What are you doing?” Lila calls to me.
“I’m trapping the ghost,” I reply.
The shadow swipes an arm at me as I draw the third symbol in the air. Claw marks appear on an invisible barrier. I’ve seen ghosts tear flesh before. A shudder ripples through me. That could have been me.
The fourth symbol goes into place, completing the circle of protection that traps the spirit. Izzy rushes to my side.
“What is happening, Mary?” she asks.
“This ghost has been in your cottage,” I reply. “I’m sending it on with my Athame.”
“You can do that?” Lila says. “You can force ghosts to move on?”
“How do you do it?” Izzy asks.
“I have to stab the ghost in the heart.”
Lila gasps and covers her mouth. “It’s so barbaric.”
“They don’t feel it,” I add.
Don’t send me away, says the shadow.
Izzy steps back in horror at the sound of its voice.
“It’s not safe for you to stay here,” I say. “This is your time, now.”
As I plunge the knife through the barrier and into the shadow’s heart, it lets out one long hiss. But as the shadow begins to fade into the otherworld, a man appears. That man is tall, well-built and has a scar running across his face. His clothes are from another time, long ago. Simple and shapeless. The expression on his face causes me to back away, falling into Izzy.
“He was a bad man,” Izzy says. “I saw it in him when he left. Thank you for sending him away from my house.”
I wipe nervous sweat from my palms and return the Athame to its sheath. It’s then that I turn to Lila and my eyes fill with tears.
“Shall we go back to stargazing now?” Izzy asks.
Lila and I don’t break eye contact. We’re both swimming in our unshed tears. My throat is raw with held-back sobs.
“Izzy,” I say, keeping my voice very measured and calm. “There’s something else.”
“No.” Lila rushes towards me. “Don’t, please don’t.”
“She’s still here, Izzy.”
“No,” Lila says, her voice almost a scream as she lets the tears come. “Please, no, I don’t want to go.”
Izzy staggers back.
“Lila,” I say. “You can’t stay here. Not like this. Not with
out a purpose. What are you staying for?”
When Izzy speaks, it is barely louder than a whisper, and it wobbles with grief. “Wh-what sort of joke is this? My daughter is dead.”
“Mum, no!”
“Izzy, Lila’s ghost is still here. I need to help her move on.”
My aunt, my fragile, wounded aunt, grips my arm so tightly that her fingernails dig into my skin. She bends over me and sobs onto my shoulders, almost completely collapsed against my back.
“No, no, I can’t say goodbye again.”
“Mum.” Lila reaches for her, but her fingers disappear into Izzy’s arm. Izzy jumps back, sensing the electric shock of a ghostly touch. “Can I at least watch the comet with you? And you can tell the story again. Please, Mary.”
I want to push the hair out of Lila’s eyes and pull my cousin—no, my sister—into a comforting hug. But I can’t do any of those things.
“Of course you can,” I say, my chin wobbling as I speak.
“What did she say?” Izzy asks.
“She wants to see the comet, and she wants to hear the story one last time,” I tell her.
Izzy only nods, and I suspect that she cannot control herself enough to say anything more. The three of us walk with our heads lowered, back to the smouldering campfire and the two deck chairs set out under the stars. I lift up my blanket and climb underneath, desperate for warmth. Lila sits on the grass at her mother’s feet. She rests her cheek on her knee and gazes up at her mother as Izzy begins to tell the story we have heard so many times before.
“I knew about the comet. It had been on the news. The science teacher at school was insistent that we should go outside and watch it, because we might never find a night perfect enough for stargazing again. He was my favourite teacher, and I think if it had been anyone else I might not have bothered. So, even though I was nine months pregnant, I slipped out of my room, and I came out here to go walking. I walked all along the fields, across there, following the cliff line in the dark. I had no fear, because I have walked these fields for so long that I know them like the back of my hand. And somehow, I knew then, that when you came it would not be like other births. It would be more. It would be special.”
