The Secrets of Ghosts

by Sarah Painter

  ‘Katie. Can I talk to you?’ Max was there. Of course he was.

  ‘No,’ Katie said. She walked past him and ducked into the large porch. Through the glass panels of the front door, she could see Anna step behind Reception. She could open the door and ask her to phone the police. Max was a thief and a liar and, maybe, a killer.

  ‘Please.’ He reached out as she walked past and she turned, feeling fury thump through her body.

  ‘This is not a rom com. This is not the bit when we stand in the rain and you make a speech and make everything all right.’

  ‘Laura.’ Max swallowed. ‘It was an accident. I was driving. It was dark and the road was really wet and we were arguing. It was three years ago and I’ve felt terrible ever since. When Barton said he had a message for me, from Laura, it hit me hard. I didn’t believe him but I wanted to believe him — you know that feeling when—’

  ‘You lied to me.’ Katie held onto her pendant, feeling the reassuring shape of the bone die, the sharp point of the silver feather.

  ‘I didn’t.’ Max shook his head. ‘I have never lied to you.’

  Katie opened her mouth in amazement. The man had nerve; she had to hand it to him.

  ‘Never,’ Max said. ‘I told you I crashed that wedding when we first met. I told you I hustled poker. I told you I was brought up to con. That I was a grifter. You just didn’t believe me.’

  ‘I believe you now.’

  ‘I have never lied. I might not have given you every single detail, but—’

  ‘Laura is a pretty big detail.’

  ‘I know,’ Max said. ‘But I told you I wanted to prove Barton was a fraud and that was the truth. I told you I didn’t agree with what he did and that was also true. I told you there was a personal reason I was turning over a new leaf. All true.’

  Katie felt wet on her face. She wiped the tears away with the heels of her hands. Part of her knew that this was true, that what he was saying made sense, but she felt as if an empty cavern had opened up inside her. She was hollowed out. ‘I told you,’ Katie said. ‘I told you what happened to me. I trusted you.’

  ‘I know.’ Max looked stricken. ‘But you can trust me. I swear, you can trust me.’

  Katie wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Stay away from me.’

  Max’s face crumpled and Katie couldn’t stand that, either. ‘Just for a bit. I just need—’

  ‘Whatever you want.’ Max’s voice was dull.

  Katie pushed through the front door, letting it swing shut behind her.

  Chapter 28

  Across town in End House, Gwen lay in Cam’s arms and waited for her breathing to return to normal. Cam stretched against her, curling one arm to bring her closer. Ever since the solstice she’d felt lighter. She hadn’t cursed Katie, so maybe she hadn’t cursed herself either. She wasn’t at peace with the idea of not having children, never would be, but the dark lens that had clouded her vision over the last few months had finally lifted. And there was Cam. Sweet, loving, steady, funny, Cam. He’d just been patiently loving her, the way he always had, waiting for her to come back to him.

  ‘I’m so lucky,’ she said. She felt she could see clearly again. Maybe even start to see the joy in life again.

  ‘Yes,’ Cam said, kissing her.

  ‘I don’t think we should ever leave this bed,’ Gwen said, kissing him back.

  ‘I agree.’ His stomach gurgled. ‘Although we should’ve packed a picnic.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll raid the kitchen and then we’ll never get out of bed again. Ever.’

  ‘Does that mean you’ll never get dressed? Because I’m in favour of that.’

  ‘Never ever.’

  ‘And I don’t have to go to the office?’

  ‘Nope.’

  He smiled into her mouth. ‘And we’ll just make love?’

  ‘All the time,’ Gwen said, snuggling closer.

  ‘And cuddle.’

  She smiled back. ‘And sleep.’

  ‘And do the crossword on Sundays.’

  ‘Do you think the paper boy can be persuaded to deliver to the bedroom—?’ Gwen stopped. ‘What’s that?’ The wind had been howling with the storm that had finally broken, but the noise that she’d thought was branches being knocked against the windows sounded more like someone thumping on the back door. She sat up and retrieved her bra from the foot of the bed, then went searching for her discarded sundress.

  Cam sat up. ‘What happened to not getting out of bed?’

  Gwen hurried downstairs as thunder rolled around the house.

  Hannah Ash was standing on the back step, drenched. Her blue shirt was sodden and stuck to her body and her headscarf had slipped. ‘Is Katie here?’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Gwen stood back to let Hannah into the kitchen.

  ‘I was doing some research. In the family archive.’

  Gwen bit down the urge to hurry Hannah, didn’t want to interrupt and have her start at the beginning again. She was one of those people who had a certain number of words in their head and they had to get every single one out, no matter what.

  ‘When I have a message like I had for Katie I don’t usually think about it again. You know what it’s like. But there’s something about your niece—’

  Gwen dug her fingernails into her palm. She could hear the door upstairs, Cam’s footsteps on the landing.

  ‘Well, I think I was wrong. I don’t think she’s a doorway.’

  ‘What is she, then?’

  ‘I think she’s doing it. Bringing them to life.’

  ‘Ghosts?’

  ‘The light is Katie’s life force and she’s like a running tap. They’re all drinking the water, so to speak, getting nice and strong.’ Hannah shook her head. ‘No. Tap isn’t right. They don’t run out.’

  ‘Katie will run out? Her energy will run out?’

  ‘I think it’s possible. If she doesn’t stop dishing it out, I’m worried what will happen.’

  Gwen was already at the phone in the hallway, but the electricity was out and it didn’t work. She used her mobile but the landline at The Grange was dead and Katie’s phone went straight to voicemail. She hesitated, wondering which was quicker, walking or driving to The Grange, then sat down and pulled on her trainers.

  ‘What is it?’ Cam was in the doorway, fully dressed.

  ‘Katie,’ Gwen said. ‘We need to tell her not to let the ghosts touch her.’ She looked to Hannah for confirmation.

  Hannah nodded. ‘If they touch her, they can drain her that much quicker.’

  Cam nodded and began lacing his walking boots. ‘The paths are going to be rivers by now.’ He grabbed waterproofs and they headed out into the pounding rain.

  *

  Katie walked, zombie like, into the library. She wanted to be alone, but she didn’t know where to go to avoid Henry and Violet; they could follow her anywhere. Barton and Patrick were sitting in the wingback armchairs and Henry was in his favourite position by the fire. ‘I’m sorry, dear girl,’ he began and Katie held up a hand.

  ‘Don’t.’

  The rain was sheeting down outside, now, and the windows were a blur of cascading water. There was a crack of lightning, followed closely by a deep rumble of thunder and the lights went out. ‘Well, this is atmospheric,’ Barton said.

  ‘I’ll find some candles,’ Patrick said, getting up. ‘How many guests do we have in at the moment?’ Katie knew that Anna had stashed wind-up lanterns around the hotel last winter, that there was one behind the desk in Reception, so she went to fetch it.

  Patrick followed her. ‘Have you reconsidered my proposal? I would be very grateful—’

  ‘No,’ Katie said. ‘The answer will always be no.’

  Zofia was taking the main staircase. She had a carrier bag with a round object in it, which she tried to hide behind her back.

  ‘That’s mine,’ Katie said.

  ‘This is very bad,’ Zofia said. ‘These people—’ she gestured around ‘—they will an
noy the spirits. Who knows what will happen?’

  ‘Oh, that’s perfect,’ Patrick said. ‘The frightened maid. How do you feel about your photo going on the hotel website, Sophia?’

  ‘Her name is Zofia. She’s Polish,’ Katie said, irritation with Patrick breaking through her sadness and confusion. Irritation felt good, so she went with it. ‘And I told you to leave her alone.’

  Patrick shook his head. ‘You’re so short-sighted.’

  There was a bang from upstairs and a voice called, ‘Hello? My television’s stopped working.’

  ‘Better check on the MOPs,’ Katie said, sweetly. ‘And cross your fingers the freezer doesn’t defrost.’

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Patrick said, and hurried away.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Katie said to Zofia. ‘I’m going to help them. You’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of. They’re just like us. Only—’

  ‘No.’ Zofia was backing away. ‘You’re a fool if you think that.’

  ‘Please, Zofia. I promise it’ll be fine. Trust me.’

  ‘You need to use this,’ Zofia said, flashing the carrier bag. ‘My grandmother emailed me. All you have to do is hold it close and, as long as the spirit isn’t anchored to anything else, they’ll be drawn into the trap.’

  Katie hesitated. What if reuniting Violet with her true love meant that she was no longer anchored here by the mystery of her death, or whatever was holding her? What if she got accidentally trapped in the witch’s ball? ‘Keep that away from me,’ she told Zofia. ‘Violet’s my friend—’

  ‘It is time?’ Violet appeared in the doorway, just next to Zofia, who shivered and moved away.

  Henry floated in the doorway to the library. ‘Is she here? Is it time?’

  The naked need on his face made up Katie’s mind. Why not now? Why make them wait? The afterlife was like this life — you never knew what was going to happen, how much time you really had. Why should Henry and Violet wait another moment for their happiness? Someone should get to be happy.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. Katie led the way into the library, letting Henry go ahead of her. It seemed rude to just walk through him. And a bit creepy.

  Barton was still wedged in his armchair and Katie ignored him to focus on Violet.

  She was so close to Henry it was odd to think they couldn’t see each other. But then, most people couldn’t see either of them.

  ‘Did it just get cold in here?’ Barton said, sitting forward.

  ‘That’ll be the ghosts,’ Katie said. The irritation that she’d felt with Patrick ignited into full-blown fury in front of Barton’s ignorance. ‘You know. The sort you’re supposed to be so attuned to.’

  ‘Katie?’ Violet said. ‘Why are you shouting?’

  ‘I’m not.’ Katie made a supreme effort to focus. This wasn’t about Barton lying to Max. Or even about her and Max.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Katie said to Violet. ‘Anything could happen. You might pass over—’

  ‘I’m ready,’ Violet said. ‘Besides, it’ll be a change.’ She smiled bravely at Katie. ‘And I want to see him again, my dear Henry. If there’s a possibility I could see him again, it’s worth any risk.’

  ‘Okay,’ Katie said. There had been a part of her that hadn’t been sure she was doing the right thing. She didn’t trust Henry, her instincts told her that, but if Violet loved him, and that was her business, then she was doing a good thing. Reuniting the lost lovers. She was like the apothecary in Romeo and Juliet. Okay, that was a bad example.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Henry said. He looked hungry.

  ‘Yes,’ Katie said. She fixed Henry with her very best witchy look. ‘I will hold you both for a couple of seconds, then you have to get out again. I’m trusting you.’

  Henry nodded, impatient now. ‘As you said before. I remember.’

  Violet was bouncing up and down, so excited that she was forgetting to balance properly on the floor and her feet were floating a couple of inches above it. She looked so young.

  Zofia grabbed Katie’s hand. ‘I don’t like this.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Katie said, with more confidence than she felt.

  ‘May we begin?’ Henry floated closer to Katie, looking more ghost-like than he had for a while. Which was good, Katie told herself; it would be really weird for a completely solid-looking person to step inside her.

  She was just wondering how it was going to work and whether she needed to reach out and pull him in or whether she should take hold of each of their hands at the same time, when Henry darted forward. In one moment he was directly in front of her, his chest uncomfortably close to her face, and the next moment, she was filled with ice.

  ‘Are we starting, yet?’ Violet said. Her voice seemed to be coming from very far away.

  Katie opened her mouth to answer but found she couldn’t. She tried to move, to raise a hand, to nod, even blink. Nothing. Panic rushed through her. She felt her heart trying to race, trying to beat faster, but it couldn’t. It was beating slowly. She could hear it in her head, as if she were underwater.

  Max opened the door to the library and, seeing Barton, made to walk out again. She wanted to call out to him, but couldn’t.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I know you don’t want to speak to me.’

  Katie wanted to shake her head, to ask him to stay, but she was too cold.

  Max was standing next to Violet and she saw what a handsome couple they made. With that random thought, a flare of white-hot jealousy ignited in the front of her mind. Violet looked beautiful. Beautiful and as virginal as the day he’d seen her last. It was perfect. Joy was there now; a wild joy and a need to touch her, to speak to her, to be with her. To be with her the way he couldn’t before. There had been people standing in their way before. People clouding Violet’s mind, stopping her from seeing him. Well, she’d seen him now.

  Katie realised that Henry was in the front of her mind. She was tucked somewhere at the back. As if she’d been pushed out of the service entrance in a restaurant and was hanging out by the bins. She wanted to giggle. That was a silly thought. Bins. Restaurants. Food. By God, she was hungry. Or was that Henry? She had to concentrate. If only it weren’t so bloody cold.

  ‘Hold my hand,’ Katie said. She could feel her mouth and tongue moving to form the words, but it wasn’t by her own volition. Then her arm was lifting, with great effort, like moving a branch of a tree.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Max was frowning at her. ‘Katie?’

  Her arm was stretching out to Violet, but at once she wanted to snatch it back. She wanted to warn Violet. This didn’t seem like such a good idea after all. Although, it had been her idea. She needed to stay calm; it would be over soon. It was just the cold and the horrible pushed-out-of-her-own-head feeling. No need to panic.

  Violet’s hand was in hers. Henry clasped it tightly, gazed into her gentle brown eyes, and, finally, finally, pulled her to him.

  Katie saw Violet’s eyes widen. First in surprise and then fear and then they disappeared. Katie’s corner, round the back of the restaurant, by the bins, shrank. She knew Violet was there, too. Somewhere tucked away but she couldn’t see her.

  ‘—thou art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done—’

  Violet’s voice. Terrified. Crying. Reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

  Something was wrong.

  ‘Katie? Speak to me? Are you sick? Has something happened?’ Max’s voice was there, but Katie had her eyes closed. She couldn’t see. Henry had the eyes. Her eyes.

  Katie stamped hard on her own panic, tried to think clearly. She remembered something: she and Max had worked out a system. A sign she could give him if things went wrong. The problem was, Katie wasn’t in control of her body in order to give it. She hadn’t thought of that.

  Henry was thinking; she could hear him. He thought, I regret this, truly.

  They walked out of the hallway and into the sheeting rain. Katie knew that they were heading for the pond, before Henry turned
that way. She could hear Violet praying; she knew that Henry was walking to the pond to drown her.

  ‘Why?’ she asked him, silently.

  ‘You’re the door but in order for me to be with Violet, I need you to die.’

  ‘You knew that all along.’

  ‘Since we’re sharing one mind, there’s little point in my denying it.’

  Katie struggled, but she couldn’t stop her legs from moving. She watched the pond get closer and hoped that Max would do something. Surely, he’d know something was wrong.

  Her body spun around, a flash of pain on her arm. Max had it in a grip, was facing them. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘Just needed some fresh air,’ Henry said in Katie’s voice. ‘I feel a bit light-headed.’

  ‘In the rain?’ Max looked concerned. Not concerned enough, though.

  ‘Help!’ Katie shouted with her mind. She tried to force her eyes to convey anguish, to telegraph ‘help me, I’m possessed’ with her facial expression.

  Henry sat on the low wall bordering the pond. He leaned down and Katie, fired with pure terror, put everything she could into stopping her body. It continued smoothly down, her face an inch above the surface.

  ‘Oh, fuck,’ Max said, his hair plastered against his head.

  ‘—forgive us our trespasses—’ said Violet.

  ‘Don’t struggle,’ Henry said. He plunged them into the water. Shocking and cold. Katie felt it shoot up her nose and down her throat. ‘Violent death. You’ll probably hang around. Be an unquiet spirit. You’ll live for ever.’

  ‘I’ll be dead for ever,’ Katie said. ‘Violet, stop praying. Help me. Stop Henry.’

  ‘He’s not Henry. He’s a bad man,’ Violet said, her voice little-girl and frightened. Katie felt despair. Violet was too far gone, too frightened. She couldn’t stop Henry; she couldn’t move her body. He was too strong.

  Her body was jerked backwards. Air on her face. She tried to cough out the water, felt her body’s natural instincts override Henry’s determination and a waterfall spewed out of her mouth.