by Sarah Dalton
“M-mum, you’re s-scaring me,” I manage to stutter.
She pushes me into my room. “Stay in there! You disgust me! Filthy girl. Naked, filthy girl.”
I cover my body with my duvet. “But, I was showering—”
“Flaunting it, more like,” she says.
Lacey stands between me and Mum. “Mary, just say the word and I’ll reveal myself to her. I will, and I’ll do something… I’ll, I dunno, give her a good talking to.”
“No, don’t do anything,” I mutter.
“What was that?” Mum snaps. She observes the room as though she’s disorientated, examining every corner. She starts to work her jaw, grinding her teeth. Her breath is deep and husky, like a growl. There’s a clear yellow tinge to her skin, waxy and wrong. “What was…? Why am I…?” Her fists clench and unclench. She shakes her head. The fog over her eyes seems to dissipate. “I never meant to.” Her breathing gradually fades to normal and she stops grinding her teeth. “I should put the kettle on.”
Then, wearing an expression resembling a blow-up doll, Mum reverses out of my room and into the hall. I let myself exhale, with my shoulders sagging forward.
Lacey hurries over to me. “What was that? Has she ever been abusive before?”
I shake my head, rubbing the marks on my arm. “Never. She never even spanked me before. She… she doesn’t even shout. It’s always been like sulking with her. I was always afraid to piss her off because then she’d go into an epic ignoring contest.” I realise that I’m rambling and my chin is wobbling. Under my duvet is my naked body. I’ve never felt so ashamed of it. “That wasn’t… I don’t know. Something is wrong with this house.”
“Mary?”
“Yeah?”
“I hate to say this, but I think you need to go and see Emmaline before you do anything else.”
She’s right. And I hate it. I hate the thought of entering Emmaline’s house again. I’ve never completely lost control in that way before. I never want to be possessed by a spirit ever again, and stepping into that house takes me closer to the spirit that took control of me. “Do you think the spirits will be there?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “I hope not.”
Lacey leaves me to get ready. The door closes with a click and the empty room seems to swallow me whole. My fingers tremble as I put on my underwear. It takes two attempts to get into the right leg of my jeans. The bruise on my arm is red and angry. My bra sticks to my wet body. When I pull the t-shirt over my head, my chest rises high and falls low as I try to calm my breathing.
It’s only when I turn on my hair dryer that I let it out.
It’s been a while since I cried. I think the last time was when Lacey died. I’m not much of a crier, but when I do, it’s ugly. It swells my eyes and reddens my nose. I can’t stop it this time. It’s like a tidal wave.
Looking at Mum was like looking at another person. She reminded me of Little Amy in Nettleby, when she was in her full vengeful guise. Perhaps I’m still afraid of her and I don’t want to admit it to myself. I’ve never let myself react to the events in Nettleby. I’ve never talked about it, not even with Lacey. I just let the nightmares eat away at me. I let the sight of Igor’s body on the moors haunt me.
My hair is dry. It’s so hot that my hands burn when I smooth out the kinks. Heat. Fire. It’s all I ever know. Will this story turn into the same? Will I burn to death in another great fire? The image of Emmaline’s disfigured face pops into my mind, a reminder of what I could be: living alone in the woods, surrounded by spirits, my only friends those who are obsessed with death, ghosts… shadow seekers, shadow gawkers…
I push the heel of my hand into my eye socket. This has to stop. I need to clear my head, clear my thinking. I can’t keep getting muddled like… like I did in the shower with the humming. Could the humming have been the first time the Ravenswood ghost has tried to contact me? What does it want?
I don’t want to go downstairs. Don’t make me go downstairs. That’s where she is. What if she isn’t her? It’s my mum. My mum. Not her. Please not her. Don’t take her. Don’t possess her.
Tears threaten again. I pick up my pillow and roar into it. Screaming out the frustration and the pain.
Not her.
She’s supposed to look after me. I’d rather that it possess me instead.
Every floorboard creaks. Every time, my heart goes wild. Flutter-flutter-flutter-boom-boom. My heart is sick to death of the scares and the danger. How much more can it take?
Lacey appears next to me. Her hand hovers over my arm and the coolness is comforting. “I’m here with you,” she says.
I inhale, and it’s a little better. Lacey makes me a little better. We walk down the stairs in the same motion, side by side. At least one of the people in my life is as they were before. She seems more akin to the Lacey I first met than she has in a long time.
Out from the kitchen comes the sound of rattling pots. The sound of someone washing the dishes and cleaning up. But along with it… muttering. Rambling. Muted words spoken so fast that I can’t grasp a single one. Until Mum says, “Yes.”
“M-mum,” I say. I tiptoe towards the kitchen door. “Are you all right?”
More mumbling, followed by a shhh-shhhh.
“Are you all right, Mum?” I ask.
I put a hand against the door and ease it open. She stands by the sink, her back to me, staring out of the window. In the reflection of the window I see her smile. It’s a relaxed, easy smile, but it doesn’t meet her eyes. Her eyes are cold.
“What is it, dear?” she asks. She continues scrubbing a plate. It seems clean to me.
“I’m just checking you’re all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She says it too quickly for it to be a regular reply. There isn’t the same tone of anger as there was upstairs in the bathroom, but it isn’t exactly relaxed either.
“No reason,” I say, trying not to provoke her further. “I think I might go for a walk. Is that all right?”
“Fine,” she says. She continues to stare at me in the reflection of the kitchen window and a chill passes over my skin.
I back out of the room and rush through the house to the front door. I pull on the nearest pair of shoes and push my keys into the pocket of my jeans. I already have money and my phone in the other pocket. Lacey is with me still.
“Are we going to Emmaline?” she asks.
I unlock the door, my fingers still shaking so badly that it takes two attempts. When the front door is shut behind me, I lean against it and let out a sigh. On the way down the drive, I turn to the house.
My heart leaps up into my throat.
She’s there.
Mum.
Smiling.
Waving.
Her eyes dark, like smoke.
And next to her.
Next to her.
Is.
A.
Shadow.
May 30th 1847
The worst has happened. It makes me feel sick to write it. How could anyone do such a thing? I don’t understand why. Why? Why? Why?
We found him strung up on the frame of the swing, rocking back and forth in the wind. The blood had spilled down onto the seat. When I tried to get him down, I ended up with blood all over my dress. That’s when Bess came running out of the house, her hair unravelling in the wind.
I’m aware of the bad people in this world. Mama and Papa don’t talk about them much because I’m young. I’m not stupid, though. I see the headlines of the papers they bring into the house. I know all about murders and things that are worse. But I never thought anyone could hurt a creature so innocent. Not a puppy. Not Bailey.
Bess held me while I tried to get the sobs out. It took a long time to stop crying. In that time, Mama had the gardener come and clear him away.
I’ll never forget his glassy eyes and the way he hung there, upside down. The bastard had tied the rope around his hind legs and left him. He had a red gash over his neck. His ears hung
down, floppy and lifeless.
When I came out of Bess’s skirt, he was gone and the gardener had a sponge to clean the mess. I rubbed my eyes and turned around, not wanting to see the blood anymore.
That’s when I saw Lottie and Miss Stevens standing behind the wall around the front garden. The sun lit them up, making Lottie’s hair glow, and their shadows thin. Miss Stevens had her arm around Lottie’s shoulder. Lottie stared at me. There wasn’t one tear. She didn’t even frown. She just smiled.
Liza
Chapter Thirteen
“A cup of tea?”
I try to avoid staring at Emmaline’s scars as she pours hot water into the teapot.
“Please.” I can’t stop fiddling with the sleeves of my jumper, anxious to be away from her house. Emmaline has an old-fashioned style, with dark wallpaper and clashing patterns. Her furniture is dark and cumbersome; antique dressers and display cabinets compete for space in the small rooms.
She talks and works at the same time. “My mother used to believe that a cup of tea could cure everything. She had lots of female friends, did Mummy. They came to her for afternoon tea every Thursday. They would eat little sandwiches and a Battenburg. Of course, it was never the tea that solved anything. It was the comfort, and the talking. Now, here’s your tea. Drink it, then talk to me. What happened?”
I take the cup and saucer from her. It’s so delicate in my fingers, completely different from the bulky mugs I usually drink from. When I sip, it’s not too hot, not too cold and not too milky.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asks.
I nod.
“I learned from the best, you see. And those are Yorkshire tea bags. Never make tea with anything else. It won’t be the same.”
I slurp a little more. Emmaline waits patiently for me to start to talk. I’m down to the last dregs of the cup before I say anything.
“Mum doesn’t seem right. Ever since the séance, she hasn’t been herself. She loses her temper, and she’s… I don’t know, different. She looks sick, and her eyes…” I can’t finish my words, so I finish my tea instead. My empty stomach gurgles as the warm liquid hits its lining.
Emmaline lets out a sigh. “I was drawn to you two. I saw a part of myself, perhaps. But I think you might not have been ready.”
“When she says two, does she mean you and your mum?” Lacey asks.
I repeat the question to Emmaline.
The older woman nods, as though a suspicion has been proved true. “I meant you and your mother. Now, who could you mean when you say two?”
“You may as well tell her,” Lacey says. “She believes in ghosts anyway.”
“My friend Lacey,” I say. “She’s with me now.”
Emmaline lets out a little gasp when Lacey shows herself. “Oh my. All these years and I’m still surprised. Hello, dear. You must be Mary’s friend. My, you’re a confident spirit, aren’t you? Why, you seem as alive as… well, Mary and myself, I suppose. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“Did you put a ghost inside my mate’s mum? Because she’s gone mental and I’m worried.”
Emmaline sips her tea before she answers. “Not intentionally, dear. I hadn’t realised that the two of them weren’t strong enough for the séance. I hadn’t realised that they were so touched by the dark. Especially you, Mary. It emanates from you. It’s your aura.”
I cringe at the thought. My aura is death. Wherever I go I will attract the dark and the spirits, the creepy shadows, the people obsessed with them. I’ll never be able to live a normal life.
“Have you thought that it could be the house?” Emmaline says. “Why do you think I live here? I want to be part of the energy.”
“Then why didn’t you buy the house?” I ask.
“It’s too much. When I get close, a lightning bolt shoots down my arm. It’s the power, girl. The power transcends. Perhaps in my youth I could have coped with it, but not now.”
“Why didn’t I feel it?” I ask.
“You did! But you ignored it. The house made you ignore it. Don’t you think?”
“The house seduced me?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Hold on a minute,” Lacey interrupts. “I’m a ghost and I should be able to tell when there are other dead things around me. Why didn’t I pick up on anything?”
Emmaline shrugs. “Some spirits hide themselves. There’s a place, isn’t there? A place that resembles limbo, where you can hide.”
Lacey shudders. “Yes, there is.” Her eyes widen and she swallows hard. I look away. I hate to think of Lacey in that place. She avoids it as much as she can, but sometimes she can’t stop herself from going. It’s a place she doesn’t like to talk about. Sometimes when she returns, she doesn’t seem quite herself for a while, as though it’s claimed a tiny part of her.
“Is it possible that Mum has been possessed by the same ghost that possessed me at the séance?” I ask.
Emmaline taps the table with her fingertips. “It could be. But it might not be. There is plenty of lingering evil in that house. Have you heard the stories?”
I shake my head. “No, but I have a diary left by a girl in 1847. Her name was Liza.”
“Interesting. Have you read it all?” she asks.
“Not yet.”
“Then I won’t spoil it for you.” Emmaline stands up slowly. Her lips pinch together as though in pain. “Damn arthritis. My knees seize up if I don’t walk enough. That’s why I’m usually in the woods around here.”
“But what do you think I should do?” I ask. “How am I going to get the ghost out of Mum? Do I need a priest?”
“No, no priest. Just get her to me when you can.”
“I have an Athamé. Will that help?”
She turns to me in surprise. “Really? Well, you are prepared.”
“We’ve sent ghosts to the otherworld,” I say. “I can draw the symbols.”
“Well,” Emmaline replies. “This is different, and dangerous. It’s very draining. I don’t want some unpractised girl trying it out. Don’t do anything until you’ve brought her to me. You need to get her out of Ravenswood as soon as you can. I would help you, but I think I’m too weak. It would consume me. You must be careful not to let it consume you too.”
“Is that it? Is that all I can do?”
“For now,” she says with a nod.
Lacey and I stand up to leave. Emmaline shuffles around the table and takes my face in her hands.
“You can ask me, my dear. You can ask about my scars. I don’t mind. It was a house fire set by my brother. He was an unpleasant fellow. You probably met him at my séance. I like to commune with him every now and then, to remind myself that he’s dead and I am alive.” She smiles, and her thin lips part to reveal yellow teeth.
With a squirming stomach I pull out of Emmaline’s hands and turn towards the door. She might be helping us, but I can’t shift the unease I feel about her. Part of me believes she isn’t completely “good”.
*
I’ve never seen woods so alive. There were plenty of places to walk around my old house, and it wasn’t too far from the countryside. I often went for a wander between the trees, but they always seemed so still and quiet. Here the wind rustles through the leaves, bringing the trees to life. Birds flutter their wings above our heads. There’s the pitter-patter of debris falling to the soft ground as autumn gradually pushes summer away. Already the reds and oranges are appearing amongst the faded greens. On any other day I would find it beautiful. Not today.
“I wish she’d shown us how to defend ourselves,” Lacey says. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy setting foot back in that house.”
I feel the same way. For the last five minutes, I’ve been on the phone to Dad, but I don’t know how to describe what’s happening. As a man of science, there’s no damn way he’d believe me if I told him Mum was possessed by an angry spirit. No way. But I did say that we miss him a lot and that it’s hard to adjust to the new house. Maybe he’ll tal
k to Mum, and maybe he’ll hear in her whatever it is that’s making her so different.
I want more time to pass, but unfortunately it doesn’t slow down for our convenience. It isn’t long before we’re face to face with Ravenswood once again.
“Are you all right?” Lacey asks. “Do you want to wait out here first?”
“The weird thing is, even though I’m aware that there’s an evil presence in the house, I’m still drawn to it. I want to go in there and I want to go to my room and open—”
“—the music box.”
“Yes.”
“Then go. Open the box, read Liza’s story. There must be something in that story that’ll help us with your mum,” Lacey says. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“What about the spirit?”
“The one inside your mum? I dunno. It hasn’t indicated that it’s seen me. If it was going to hurt me, I think it would have done it already.”
“You could be more vulnerable than me. Remember when you fought Amy, she got very close to really hurting you.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t.” Lacey flashes me a half-grin, one corner of her mouth twisted up. “She didn’t hurt me at all. I’m still here, energy and electricity and left-over brain stuff. I might be an echo of what I once was, but I’m sure as hell not letting even that slip away.”
I reach out and hover my hand over hers. “I’m so glad you’re still here. I was scared at first. I thought if you stayed on the mortal plane that you might end up like Amy. It’s early days yet, but you’re so together and strong. I don’t worry anymore. You’re my rock.”
“Yeah, well, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had. I’m not about to let anything happen to you.”
Lacey’s face is a dull colour against the rest of the world. The sunlight doesn’t find her anymore. She’s a two-dimensional shape in a three-dimensional world. And yet there’s more life in her than in anyone I know. She understands when to fight, she’s prepared to sacrifice herself, she’s brave and she’s bright, brighter than stars or comets or suns. She’s my best friend and we will face this together.
