Unexpected tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she became lost in the photograph and her memories. Harry and his crew. All looking at the camera, all smiling. Forever smiling. She had rescued it from the fake airfield, taken it home and framed it. It was all she had of Harry. The bravest man she had ever met.
She wiped her eyes. Remembered what he had said about living in the present, about being there for the people who need you now.
‘Come on, you. Time to go.’ She took Edward’s hand and they left the house, walking off down the street.
The living room was left empty.
Almost empty.
A figure stepped forward from shadow to sunlight and stared at the framed photograph. At the smiling faces.
Other figures stepped forward too. Small, emaciated figures, their bodies showing the manner of their deaths, their eyes empty. Their mouths opened and they began their whispered, hushed singing once more.
‘Jennet Humfrye lost her baby … Died on Sunday, seen on Monday … Who will die next? It must be YOU …’
The ghost choir dispersed. The tall, dark figure stared at the photograph until the glass cracked. Her bone-white face reflected back at her in dozens of jagged slivers.
She melted slowly back into the shadows.
And waited.
The Woman in Black Page 17
