The Secrets of Ghosts

by Sarah Painter

  Dream slow, he fell to the ground, gasping and red. A beached fish, his mouth working for air, eyes bulging. His mouth kept moving, as if trying to form words. His face filled Katie’s vision so she could see every wrinkle, every pore, in close-up. She could smell his breath as he gasped out two words. ‘You. Watch.’

  Katie woke up sweating and sick. The red numbers on her alarm clock said four minutes past three. She swallowed hard, the taste of vomit burning the back of her throat.

  Chapter 9

  Pagans came from far and wide; those that didn’t go to Stonehenge came to Avebury to watch the sun rise behind the stone circle on mid-summer’s day. Gwen had never expected to join them. Perhaps this was what rock bottom looked like for a Harper woman. Joining the tourists for a clichéd bit of sun celebration. As always, her thoughts immediately jumped from ‘rock bottom’ to ‘perhaps I’ll get pregnant’. Every single thought led back to that. Gwen could no longer really remember a time when it hadn’t.

  The line of cars snaked down and through the village, moving slowly as people found parking spaces in the field that had been commandeered for the purpose after the National Trust car park had filled up. The campsite was packed, too, had been fully booked since the previous solstice, in fact.

  Gwen hooked the straps of her rucksack onto her back, locked the car, and began the two-mile walk to the village. The sounds of revelry carried through the night air, albeit at a more subdued tempo. It was three in the morning and even the drum enthusiasts were beginning to get a little tired. They lit fires, partied and drummed and sang through the night, and then greeted the sun on the longest day. Gwen walked through the first camping field, picking her way as quietly as possible past closed tents. The occasional group, sitting around a glowing fire, raised hands in greeting or salute.

  Gwen didn’t feel warmth towards her fellow man. On one level, it was nice that people were keeping the old traditions, but Gwen felt empty inside. A blank coldness where happiness and fellow feeling should sit.

  After organising so carefully for Cam to stay in London, she wished he were with her. He’d be uncomfortable, of course, and was practically allergic to the sound of tribal drumming, but he’d hold her hand and everything would seem lighter.

  It didn’t help that this felt like a last chance. A final-ditch attempt. It had the air of finality to it, which, if she were counselling a friend, she would say was never going to work. You couldn’t put that kind of pressure on a situation, on yourself, and expect a miracle. But that was what she wanted. She wanted a damn miracle and she wanted it now.

  Gwen had planned to sit alone in her misery, not wanting company or to infect anybody else with the waves of negativity that she felt were uncurling from her body like black tentacles, but hadn’t banked on the popularity of the event. She found a space between a couple with Boden clothes and cute blond twin boys, and a group of dreadlocked teens with a home-made bong. She put down a folded blanket and sat on it and tried not to stare at the toddler twins with hungry eyes. Even though she had a fleece and a thick waterproof, she still felt cold. There was dew on the grass and the dampness felt as if it was coming up from the earth itself. Gwen had never felt so aware of the thin skin of life, of the miles of cold rock beneath her. She looked up at the sky and felt the perspective that she always did. The vast sky and the dead spaces between the stars.

  ‘Would you like some hot chocolate?’ The father of the twins was holding out a flask. Gwen shook her head. Forced her voice out. ‘No, thank you.’ I’m having an existential crisis. Catering is not required. ‘Thank you, though,’ she remembered to add, feeling proud of herself for managing civility when her soul was screaming to the sky.

  There was a faint glow on the horizon. The drumming increased in tempo and Gwen thought, uncharitably, that the musicians’ arms were going to get very tired indeed if they started that nonsense now. Sunrise was going to take a while. At once, Gwen felt ridiculous. What was she doing sitting in a field in the middle of the night? If all her so-called powers hadn’t helped her, all the knowledge from her great aunt Iris’s journals — and she’d been through every single one, tried every possible remedy and spell — then why on earth did she think that watching the sun rise with a load of tourists was going to help?

  After an hour, Gwen’s backside was numb and she was thinking about going home. She pictured the waves of negativity that she was projecting, probably souring the experience for all those around her. She felt toxic.

  Then she saw a familiar figure picking her way through the mosaic of seated bodies. She was wearing a tiny flared skirt over leggings and a giant hoodie that Gwen remembered her having when she was still just a kid. Her dark hair was back in a ponytail and, despite the early hour, her trademark eyeliner was perfectly in place. Gwen felt her insides squeeze. She stood up and waved so that Katie would find her.

  ‘Hey, honeybunch,’ Gwen said, hugging Katie. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  Katie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just had a feeling.’ They sat down, squeezing onto the blanket together. ‘And I couldn’t sleep.’

  Gwen looked at her niece’s profile, pale and sharp in the gathering light. ‘Are you still having nightmares?’

  Katie nodded quickly. ‘It’s getting boring, now.’

  Gwen felt the Harper intuition tickling at the back of her mind. Katie was holding back. She ignored the feeling. People were entitled to their secrets, after all.

  ‘So, what’s this all about?’ Katie gestured, taking in the field and the crowd and the standing stones of Avebury.

  ‘Solstice. Longest day, turn of the year. You know—’

  ‘Yeah,’ Katie said quickly. ‘It’s just you always said it didn’t matter whether you paid attention to the solstice or not, because it happened anyway. You said that was the point.’

  Gwen was surprised, as she always was, to hear her own words parroted back. She’d slipped into Iris’s old role in Pendleford, dispensing advice and remedies and mediating disputes, but she still found it weird how much Katie listened to her. It was a huge responsibility.

  ‘I’m not doing brilliantly well at the moment,’ Gwen said, picking her words carefully.

  ‘Are you ill?’ Katie said quickly, her voice panicky.

  ‘No, nothing like that. It’s complicated.’

  ‘Are you and Cam all right?’

  Gwen nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Her throat had closed up.

  Katie looked at her. ‘Something’s missing? Something you can’t find.’

  Gwen blinked back tears. ‘Bloody intuition.’

  ‘Sorry. Christ. Sorry. I’m being like Gran, aren’t I? Insensitive.’

  That broke the spell. ‘You are nothing like your gran, honeybunch. I promise you that.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  Gwen shook her head. ‘Some time. Not now.’

  ‘Okay.’ Katie turned her face to the rising sun. ‘I’m here when you’re ready.’

  Gwen patted her knee. ‘So, what’s up with the bad dreams? Do you want me to try and get rid of them for you?’

  ‘They’re the least of my problems.’

  ‘What’s going on? You haven’t spoken to that ghost again?’

  Katie’s mouth twitched. ‘A couple of times.’

  ‘No.’ Gwen didn’t mean the word to come out like that. So harsh. So stark.

  Katie looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. ‘Why are you so against my gift? You, of all people—’

  ‘It’s no gift. And it’s my fault.’ Gwen felt the tears build again, behind her eyes as if they’d never left. She couldn’t start crying. She didn’t think she’d be able to stop. She didn’t know what she was upset about any more. Everything just seemed so bleak and so frightening.

  ‘I don’t want to argue with you,’ Katie said. ‘Please. Let’s just watch the sunrise.’

  Gwen took a deep shuddering breath, forced the wave of darkness back down inside herself. She’d felt so sure, ever
since saving Katie’s life, and making End House her home. Things had been so sure and so good and so right. Now she couldn’t even remember how that felt. It was like imagining another person, another life.

  As the sun rose Gwen tilted her face towards it. She felt Katie’s hand take hers and squeeze it. The feel of Katie’s hand anchored her, pulled her back from the darkness, and she squeezed it back. Together they watched the light from the sun spill over the horizon.

  *

  Katie watched the sun rise, its warmth flowing over the landscape and into the people sitting on the ground, welcoming it. She looked at Gwen’s profile and hoped it would help with whatever was upsetting her so much.

  When Katie had woken up, the bad taste from her Oliver Cole nightmare stale in her mouth, she’d felt the compulsion to drive here. It was the kind of intuition that Gwen had said was her birthright and, thank goodness, it seemed to be coming back. ‘I wish you could be happy for me,’ Katie said. ‘All I’ve ever wanted is to be like you.’

  Gwen blinked. ‘I’m just worried.’

  ‘I know. But it isn’t helping,’ Katie said. ‘I need information. I need help. And I don’t know why you keep denying what is happening to me. I thought you’d be proud of me—’ Katie hadn’t realised she was going to say those words until they were out of her mouth but she felt a peculiar ripping feeling, as if something had torn in half. She wrapped her arms around her body.

  Gwen was looking at her with something close to horror. ‘But I am proud of you. I’m always proud of you. How can you—?’

  ‘But you keep saying this isn’t a good thing, that it’s a curse or something. It’s like you think I’ve done something wrong. Like you’re ashamed of me.’

  ‘No,’ Gwen said. ‘I’m worried that I’ve done something wrong. I feel like I’ve messed everything up.’

  ‘What have you messed up? What’s wrong?’ Gwen did everything right and lived the perfect life. Gwen was Katie’s blueprint for adulthood, her roadmap to the future.

  Gwen squeezed her hand. ‘Nothing. I’m being daft.’ She glanced at the sky and seemed to gather herself. ‘And I’m not ashamed of you. That’s crazy talk.’

  ‘You can talk to me, you know. I’m not a kid any more.’

  ‘Protecting you is a hard habit to break,’ Gwen said. ‘But, I’ll try. Deal?’

  ‘Deal,’ Katie said, suddenly not sure she liked the turn of the conversation. She wanted Gwen to respect her, see her as an adult and an equal, but could use all the protection she could get. She turned her face to the morning sun and tried to feel strong.

  *

  Thursday night meant film night and Katie was expecting Anna, popcorn and a DVD or three. She wasn’t expecting Anna to be looking shifty and to be accompanied by a tall, brown-haired con man. Anna started speaking the moment Katie opened the door, as if anticipating an objection. ‘Max was at a loose end tonight and I said I couldn’t let him hang about Pendleford on his own, so I invited him to film night. Hope that’s okay?’

  ‘These are for you.’ Max stepped forward and thrust a bunch of flowers that had clearly been collected from gardens on the way over and a bottle of red that was, suspiciously, the same type as the house wine they served in The Grange.

  ‘I’m sure Max only agreed to be polite,’ Katie said. ‘I’m sure there’s all kinds of trouble he’d rather be getting into.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Max said. ‘I’m thrilled to be here.’ He flashed a wide grin at her and moved through the door so she was forced to step aside or risk him brushing against her.

  ‘You won’t like the film,’ Katie called after him. Then she turned back, ready to question Anna, but she’d kicked off her shoes and was making a beeline for the living room. ‘You can run,’ she muttered under her breath.

  In the living room, she grabbed Anna by the arm. ‘Excuse us,’ she said to Max and towed Anna into the kitchenette. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Giving you a little push,’ Anna said, lifting her chin. ‘I know you like him, so don’t try to deny it.’

  ‘That’s not the point.’ Katie dumped the flowers on the draining board. ‘I don’t need to be set up.’

  ‘Really?’ Anna said. ‘Remind me, how long is it since you went out with anyone?’

  ‘By choice,’ Katie said. ‘My choice.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Anna picked up the flowers and began snipping the ends of their stems. ‘And how much of this choice is based on fear?’

  ‘You can talk. You’re having an imaginary relationship with that cricket player.’

  ‘I didn’t say I had it sorted. Which is all the more reason for you to grab this opportunity. I’m living proof that they don’t come along every day.’ She took a pint glass down from the shelf over the counter and half filled it with water. She put the flowers in and put it on the window sill.

  ‘It’ll be fun,’ Anna said. ‘Remember fun?’ And she picked up the bottle of red wine and walked back into the living room.

  Katie put popcorn into bowls and poured herself a Diet Coke. She liked to keep a clear head at the best of times and it seemed particularly important at that moment. She was delaying walking into the living room, could hear the rumble of Max’s voice, punctuated by Anna’s laugh, and every sound made her anxiety go up a notch. She wasn’t cut out for this. She was cut out for safe. For dates at the cinema with a boy who was as predictable as he was sweet. Not for Max sprawled on her sofa with his long legs and his sarcasm. The timer on the oven went off and she hauled the chocolate orange muffins she’d put in earlier.

  ‘Those smell amazing,’ Anna said when she carried them through. She snagged a muffin from the plate. ‘You should move in with me.’

  ‘They’re just muffins. Anyone can make muffins. They’re like fairy cakes or flapjack. Impossible to get wrong. My aunt Gwen is the real cook,’ Katie said. ‘I bet you can bake muffins.’

  ‘Nope,’ Anna said cheerfully. ‘I have other talents.’

  Max unscrewed the top from the wine. ‘Glasses?’

  Katie pointed to the kitchen doorway. ‘Help yourself.’

  Anna had taken the armchair, which left the sofa for Max and Katie. ‘Move,’ Katie whispered. Anna shook her head, smiling.

  Max came back through a moment later with a Winnie the Pooh plastic tumbler, a shot glass and a mug.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Katie said quickly, holding up her Diet Coke.

  Max sloshed wine into the plastic tumbler and took a healthy swallow. ‘Okay, I’m ready to be bored senseless.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ Anna said and pressed play on the DVD.

  ‘I’m kidding,’ Max said, leaning back and stretching one arm along the back of the sofa.

  ‘I’m very cultured,’ he said, over the sound of the opening titles. A moment later, he said, ‘Subtitles?’ in a disgusted tone of voice.

  Katie kept her eyes fixed on the screen and tried not to think about Max sitting a few inches to her left. She didn’t want to lean back in case she touched his arm. It might look as if she wanted him to put his arm around her, as if this were a date.

  When Max leaned forward to get a handful of popcorn and offer her the bowl, he moved his arm and didn’t put it back again. Katie sank back against the sofa cushions and tried to concentrate on the film. She loved Amélie with a passion and had been looking forward to showing Anna. Now, she wished it were something a little less romantic. Why couldn’t this have been the night they watched Platoon?

  After Amélie had finished, Katie clicked off the television and turned to Anna. ‘See? Greatest film ever. Well, in the last twenty years, anyway.’

  ‘I prefer Hitch,’ Anna said. ‘But I did like it.’

  ‘I’m going to ignore that,’ Katie said, hoping that Anna was teasing her.

  ‘What shall we do now?’ Max said, stretching his arms above his head. Katie tried not to stare at the way his muscles flexed. It was ridiculous. She’d seen men before. Seen muscles, seen arms, seen flat chests and nice jaw lines and
all that. Why was this particular mix of them making her feel so off balance? He smiled at her in a way that suggested he’d noticed her looking.

  She got up quickly and went to refill her glass.

  In the kitchen she took a moment to regain her equilibrium. Max joked around as if he were Mr Easy-Going, but he had a focused intensity she found alarmingly attractive. He had a way of looking at things as if he was calculating the odds of every single possibility. Katie felt as if she’d met hundreds of guys who were good at having a laugh. Guys like Stuart who were friendly and fun and would move furniture for you if you asked them nicely. At first, Katie had loved Stuart’s relaxed attitude to life, but she’d felt as if she had to keep cracking jokes to remind him of her existence. Max never gave the impression that he’d forgotten about her. It was flattering. And probably an act. She wasn’t going to be naive and get sucked in by the first charming guy she met.

  She smoothed down her skirt. She was going to keep her head and keep her distance. Not let things get too personal. And he was here to see Greg Barton’s show. After that, he’d be on his way. She was perfectly safe, as long as she kept her head.

  ‘So,’ Max said, when she finally picked up the courage to walk back in. ‘Anna tells me you’re a witch. Is that for real?’

  Katie almost dropped her glass. ‘What?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Anna said, waving her wine glass, her face flushed. ‘Jo told him and I just confirmed it.’

  ‘Jo told you I was a, what?’ Katie had practised her look of innocent confusion, adding increments of outrage until she had just the right blend of ‘what the fuck?’. It was hard, trying to work out how a normal person would react to that kind of statement. She suspected most people would just laugh, but she’d never been able to pull that off. Fake laughter was really hard.

  Anna was sitting forward. ‘Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s a big secret. Everyone in town knows. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

  Katie took a sip of her drink to buy time.