by Alex Bell
“Well, it wasn’t me. Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer.”
“Did you see that girl standing on the table? I thought I saw her outline there in the dark.”
Jay stared at me. “Are you actually trying to scare me right now? Because it’s not going to work, you know. I’m not that gullible.”
I glanced back through the windows of the café. There’d been no time to tidy up before the ambulance arrived and the place had been shut up as it was, with tables and chairs and broken crockery everywhere. A couple of the tables looked fairly normal, with plates of untouched food still on them, which was almost weirder.
I shivered and turned away, not wanting to look too closely in case I saw the girl among the empty tables.
“Look,” Jay said. “It all got a bit mad when the lights went out because of the waitress who hurt herself and started screaming. If it hadn’t been for that, none of this would be any big deal. It was just a freak accident, that’s all.”
My mum pulled into the car park then, waving at me through the window.
“We could give you a lift,” I said.
Jay’s house wasn’t very far away and he always cycled home, but I couldn’t stop thinking of that final question he had asked the Ouija board: When will I die?
“No thanks,” Jay said. “I’ll cycle back.”
I hesitated. “Jay…”
“You’re not still worrying about that app, are you? Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he said. Then he grinned. “But just promise me one thing. If I do come to some appalling, grisly end tonight, I hope I can rely on you to tell the world it was a ghost that did me in.”
For once I didn’t smile. “Don’t,” I said. “Don’t joke about it.”
Jay laughed and put his arm around my shoulders in a friendly squeeze. “I think you really would miss me,” he said.
Behind us, Mum honked her car horn to tell me to hurry up. Jay gave her a wave and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”
“All right. See you tomorrow.”
I turned and started to walk across the car park but had only gone a few steps when I stopped and turned back. “Hey, Jay?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you do me a favour?”
“What is it?”
“Would you take the towpath tonight? Please?”
Jay usually cycled back home using the shortest route, which meant several busy roads. He did it all the time and nothing ever happened to him. I knew I was being silly. But if he went the other way, via the towpath, it would mean he’d miss all the major traffic and would only add five minutes to his journey.
I was afraid that he’d refuse, or make a joke of it, or tease me again. But instead he just nodded.
“All right, Sophie. I’ll take the towpath.” Then he grinned, blew me a mock kiss and said, “Anything for you.”
I got into the front seat of Mum’s car and waved at Jay as we drove past, keeping my eyes on him until the car turned the corner and I lost him from sight.
I didn’t really want to talk to Mum about what had happened at the café so when we got home I went straight upstairs and had a bath. Before going to bed I sent Jay a text to say goodnight. It wasn’t something I’d normally do, but I just wanted to reassure myself that he’d got home OK. He sent me a one-word answer: Goodbye.
I guessed he’d meant to say goodnight but that his autocorrect had changed it and he hadn’t noticed. He’d replied, though, so at least I knew he was home. I got into bed and went to sleep.
I didn’t remember until the next day that when Jay had shown me his phone at the café, it had been broken.
My dreams were filled with Ouija boards and burning hair and little girls holding my hand in the dark. And Jay inside a coffin. I tossed and turned all night. It was so bad that it was a relief to wake up, and I got out of bed in the morning without Mum having to drag me for a change.
With the sun shining in through the windows, the events of the night before started to seem less terrible. So the lights had gone out and someone had hurt themselves. It was horrible for that poor waitress but it had just been an accident, plain and simple. In the light of day, there didn’t seem to be anything that strange about it.
I dressed quickly, for once actually looking forward to school. Jay would be outside soon and we’d walk there together, like we always did.
As I got ready I was vaguely aware of the phone ringing downstairs and the sound of Mum’s voice as she answered it, but I didn’t really pay it too much attention. By the time I went downstairs for breakfast, Mum was just hanging up.
“Who was that?” I asked.
She didn’t answer straight away, and when I looked at her and saw her face I knew instantly that something was very wrong.
“What is it?” I said. “Who was that on the phone?”
“Sophie,” Mum said, her voice all strained and weird-sounding. “I don’t… I don’t know how to tell you this… Sweetheart, you need to brace yourself—”
“Mum, what? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jay. That was his dad on the phone. Something’s happened. He… He never made it home last night.”
“Yes, he did,” I said at once. “He texted me.”
But at that very second I remembered that Jay’s phone was broken. I pulled my mobile out of my pocket and started scrolling through, looking for his text, but it wasn’t there.
“I don’t understand. He sent me a text last night. I saw it.”
“Sophie, he didn’t send you a text. Oh, sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry, but… On the way home he had an accident. They think… They think that perhaps the brakes on his bike failed. He went into the canal. By the time they pulled him out it was too late.”
“What do you mean too late?” I said, clenching my hands so tight that I felt my nails tear the skin of my palms. “Jay’s a strong swimmer. He won almost all the swimming contests at school last year. If he’d fallen into the canal, he would have just swum to the side and climbed out.”
But Mum was shaking her head. “They think he must have hit his head when he fell in. Sophie, he drowned.”
It could not possibly be true. And yet, it was.
Jay was gone.
Chapter Two
And yet on many a wintry night,
Young swains were gathered there.
For her father kept a social board,
And she was very fair.
I spent the next few days curled up in a ball under the covers of my bed, trying not to move, or breathe, or think, or fall asleep and dream about what had happened.
They think that perhaps the brakes on his bike failed…
I knew that Jay’s old bike had been falling apart. That was why he’d been saving up for a new one. I tried to remember whether he’d said anything specifically about the brakes not working, but everything was a jumbled-up mess inside my head and I couldn’t think straight. I just kept coming back to Jay standing there with his bike in the car park…
All right, Sophie. I’ll take the towpath…
I didn’t sleep that first night. I couldn’t stop thinking about the Ouija board, or the girl I thought I’d seen in the café, or the cold fingers that had curled into my hand when it all went dark. Or Jay, lying on some undertaker’s slab somewhere, all by himself.
The next day, in a kind of daze, I started reading about Ouija boards online, going through pages and pages of sites, squinting at the screen with raw and bloodshot eyes, and the more I read, the worse I felt. When I looked up the app itself, it was only to find that it had been taken off sale. There was a one-sentence explanation from the manufacturers stating that the app had been withdrawn due to complaints received from customers.
There were so many warnings about Ouija boards – people had been hurt using them, and others had died. One girl called Beth had posted a message on a forum saying: Never, ever, ever use one of these things. They’re not safe, and they’re definitely not fun, and I just want to warn everyone so tha
t no one else loses their best friend like I did.
I shivered, wishing I had read her warning before Jay had downloaded that stupid app.
One of the sites said that if the planchette did a figure of eight, it meant that an evil spirit was in control of the board. I thought back and tried to remember whether it had done that or not, but it was hard to remember properly.
But there were two things I found out that disturbed me more than the rest. The first was the discovery that there were three questions you must never ask a Ouija board:
Never ask about God.
Never ask where the gold is buried.
Never ask when you’re going to die.
And the second discovery – the one that made me feel worst of all – was a warning printed in bold text that said you must never, ever allow a planchette to count down through the numbers because a spirit could get out of the board that way.
But our planchette had counted down through the numbers. When it had got to zero, that was when the waitress in the kitchen had started screaming…
I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence, that what had happened to Jay was nothing to do with Ouija boards or spirits or anything like that, but it didn’t help because even if Jay’s death had been an accident caused by his failing brakes, it was still my fault. I’d asked him to take the towpath. I had asked him to do that.
Anything for you…
The week passed in a blur of misery. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Whenever I’d been unhappy before, it had always been Jay who would cheer me up. I kept expecting him to text me again, or walk through the door. And whenever I was upstairs, alone by myself, I couldn’t shake the sensation that there was someone there in the room with me, someone I couldn’t see.
It was like there were hidden eyes staring and staring at me until my skin itched and my neck burned. I tried going downstairs, hoping that the feeling might go away if Mum was nearby, but it didn’t make any difference.
One day I was sitting in front of the TV, still wearing my pyjamas because getting dressed seemed like too much effort, when I could’ve sworn I felt icy-cold fingers brush against my face. I leaped to my feet, spilling the bowl of popcorn Mum had just brought me.
“Rebecca?” I said, staring around the room. “Are you there?”
But the room was empty.
Mum came in a moment later to see what all the fuss was about. “What’s going on in here?” she asked.
“Mum.” I swallowed hard and tried to sound normal. “Did you ever mess about with a Ouija board when you were younger?”
“What a strange question,” Mum replied, bending down to gather up the popcorn. “Not that I can remember. Why?”
“It’s just that … Jay and I were playing with one the night that … the night that he died.”
“But where did you find one?” Mum asked, looking up at me.
“It wasn’t an actual board – it was an app Jay downloaded on to his phone.”
“Oh, one of those phone game things?”
“It wasn’t a game, Mum, it… It said that Jay was going to die that night.”
Mum stood up and came towards me. “Oh, Sophie, you’re not going to let that upset you, are you? An app can’t tell you when you’re going to die.”
“But it wasn’t just an app, Mum, it was a Ouija board. I’ve read that they’re supposed to be dangerous, that sometimes an evil spirit can—”
“Darling, what happened to Jay has got nothing to do with anything either one of you did that night.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “Listen, why don’t I call the school and see if you could go and have a talk with the counsellor there? It might make you feel better to speak to a professional about it.”
I was shaking my head before she’d even finished the sentence. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“All right,” Mum said, holding up her hands and backing off. “It was just a suggestion.”
I knew that nothing I said was going to convince her, and yet my cheek still felt cold, as if icy fingers really had stroked my skin. I’d felt weirdly different ever since that night, but the feeling wasn’t something I could explain, to Mum or to anyone.
I tried to tell myself it was just grief and guilt making me think strange things. After all, even if we had made contact with Rebecca, and even if she had escaped from the board, why would she have hurt Jay? He’d never done anything to her, he’d never even met her. But when I started to read about ghosts online I kept coming across the theory that if someone died under suspicious circumstances then they would become a vengeful spirit who wouldn’t care who they hurt, and would just go on hurting people until they got justice. And I still didn’t know how Rebecca had died.
I tried asking Mum later that day, but she just muttered something about an accident, and wouldn’t say any more.
Promise me one thing, Jay had said. If anything happens to me, you’ll tell the world it was a ghost … you’ll tell the world…
Of course, he’d been joking, he hadn’t meant any of it, and yet … somehow, the crazy thought lodged itself in my brain that I owed it to Jay to at least find out whether a spirit had had anything to do with his death. And if Rebecca had been involved, well … I couldn’t let her get away with it, I had to do something.
So when Dad came and told me that he and Mum were going to cancel their anniversary trip and stay at home with me instead, I said I didn’t want them to, I still wanted to go and visit my uncle and cousins in Skye. Mum and Dad had been saving like mad for their trip to San Francisco and I knew they would lose the money if they cancelled their flights. I told them everything they wanted to hear. “Being here will just remind me of what happened,” I said. “I’ll feel better somewhere else.”
That wasn’t true – all I wanted to do was cry in my room – but I must have been a better actress than I’d thought because, a week later, I was standing in the airport with my suitcase, waving goodbye to Mum and Dad.
First there was the flight to Glasgow, then I had to catch a train to Mallaig and then, finally, get the ferry to Skye. It was an insane place to get to, which was why I’d only met my cousins, Cameron, Piper and Rebecca, once, when they came to stay seven years ago. Cameron was some kind of musical prodigy, and they’d come down especially so that he could play the piano for an important music teacher in London. And I’d never even met my cousin Lilias – Aunt Laura had been pregnant with her when I’d last seen the family.
I felt a bit nervous about seeing Cameron, Piper and Lilias. It was too late to turn back now, though.
It had taken all day to get to Skye, and it was raining by the time I caught the ferry at Mallaig. It had been stiflingly hot the last couple of weeks so the rain was almost a relief, a fine summer drizzle that misted the air and clung to the ferry windows in big fat droplets, making it hard to see the island. I got my camera out of my bag, thinking that I might snap a photo as we approached, but really I think I just wanted to hold it and feel its familiar weight in my hands. It was my most prized possession.
The island emerged all of a sudden, huddled there in the water, starkly defined against the grey sky by jagged mountains that looked like they’d slice your hands open if you tried to climb them. What was I thinking, coming here like this? I could imagine what Jay would say.
“What’s this?” he’d gasp in an exaggerated tone of mock surprise. “Ghost hunting? You know you won’t last five minutes, right?”
It was probably true. I must have been mad to come here. What did I think I was going to be able to do? Track down Rebecca’s vengeful spirit and somehow banish it to the other side?
“You ought to be flattered,” I said to Jay inside my head. “You die and I go crazy. What a compliment.”
I didn’t know whether it was thinking about Jay, or the choppiness of the sea, but I suddenly felt queasy, and I was glad when we pulled into the harbour at 6pm. It was pouring down outside and the ferry speakers crackled into life as one of the staff ma
de an announcement in a broad Scottish accent.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see, Skye is living up to its Gaelic name today, the Island of Mist, so could the foot passengers please mind their step on the gangplank as it can get quite slippery out there. Welcome to the Sleat Peninsula, everyone, and enjoy your time on the island.”
The gangplank led on to a sloped metal walkway that rose up out of the sea on stilts. The moment I stepped on to it, the wind whipped my hair on to my face, and I could taste salt on my lips. By the time I reached the car park I was thoroughly soaked.
I stared around, wondering where Uncle James would be. I couldn’t see him anywhere and, for a horrible moment, I was afraid he hadn’t come. Maybe he’d forgotten or got the times mixed up. I felt a twist of panic and dumped my case on the wet tarmac so I could take my phone from my pocket.
The hand that clapped down on my shoulder from behind made me jump and I whirled round to see my uncle standing there with an umbrella. Tall and dark-haired, he looked nothing like Mum, but then they were stepsiblings rather than blood ones.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I wasn’t sure it was you to begin with. You’ve grown up since I saw you last.”
“It’s… It’s been a long time,” I said, not sure what else to say.
“Yes, it has,” Uncle James replied. “A long time. A very long time.” He was looking at me, but his expression was distant and I wondered if he was remembering the last time we’d met, when Rebecca had still been alive. Then he shook his head and seemed to see me again. “You’re soaked,” he said. “Let’s get you into the car.”
I got into the front seat and shivered, wishing we were already at the house so that I could change into some dry clothes.
“I hope you had a good journey, anyway?” Uncle James said, as he got in. “It’s a long way to come on your own and this weather doesn’t help. We don’t have the best summers in Skye, I’m afraid.”
“Is it always this foggy?” I asked. The fog seemed to be coming in off the sea in waves.
