Ghostly Games

by K. E. O'Connor

  I tried the handle, expecting it to be locked as it was yesterday, but it turned in my hand, and the door swung open. I took a tentative step inside and discovered toys on the floor, and a half-finished drawing with crayons scattered around it in the center of a large red rug. It looked as if the children had just left, and I’d missed them by a few seconds.

  I felt a lump in my throat as I took in the scene. It was so tragic what had happened to Michael and Mirabel. But why were they still here? If their deaths were due to an illness, they should have crossed over peacefully. What reason would they have to remain in the family home?

  I walked slowly around the room, going in a circle. I inspected a few toys; a brightly colored unicorn with a glittery horn, a chocolate brown teddy bear with a striking red bow tie, and a small plastic train that lay on its side on the floor.

  A faint sound of children’s laughter echoed through the room. It was a noise I wasn’t used to hearing. I’d never been able to hear any of the ghosts I’d met before. Maybe these children were different.

  “Can you hear me?” I said quietly. “Is that Michael and Mirabel?”

  The laughter stopped, but then began again, and drifted round the room.

  “If that is you, can you show yourself to me?” I asked. “I’m a friend of your mom and dad’s. Your mom is so sad that you’ve gone, but she wants to know you're happy.”

  The laughter died away, and just as I was about to turn towards the door, the sound of sobbing began. It was a sorrowful child’s cry, and it sounded so lonely and miserable that my heart broke a little.

  “You don’t have to be frightened of me. I’ve seen ghosts before.”

  The crying only intensified, and I shook as the temperature in the room dropped.

  Flipper leaned against my leg and looked up at me, as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

  “Please, I only want to help,” I said. “You sound so sad. I want to be your friend and make sure everything is okay.”

  The crying quietened, and I took that as a sign the ghost was listening to me.

  “I can hear you,” I said. “If that’s Mirabel or Michael, take your time. Draw on the energy in this room. Take some of my energy if you need to. It will make it easier for me to see you.” I wasn’t sure if they understood what I meant by that. The adult ghosts I’d met in the past knew how to make their forms brighter and stronger, but I didn’t know if the ghosts of children would automatically know what to do without guidance from an adult.

  The sound of swift footsteps made me spin around. I expected to see the middle-aged female ghost in front of me. Instead, I saw Francis, and she was not happy.

  Chapter 8

  “What are you doing in here?” Francis glared at me as she stalked into the nursery.

  “I heard a noise and came to investigate.” I looked around swiftly for any signs of the children’s ghosts, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  “This room is locked for a good reason,” said Francis. “It’s out of bounds to anyone but the immediate family. How did you get in here?”

  “The door was open,” I said. “Maybe Jasmine or Chris unlocked it.”

  “They don’t come in here anymore,” said Francis. “There’s no reason for them to. There’s no reason for anyone to be in here.”

  The teddy bear with the bright red bow tie flipped off the chest of drawers and landed on his face.

  Francis stared at the bear and then looked back at me. “What noises did you hear?”

  “Laughter and running feet,” I said. “Have you heard anything like that in the house?”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard anyone laughing here,” said Francis. “But no, I’ve not heard any of that. You must be mistaken.”

  The plastic train I had inspected rammed into my foot.

  “Stop your dog from messing with the things in here,” said Francis. “They aren’t his toys to play with.”

  I looked down at Flipper, who had remained glued to my leg ever since we entered the room. “He didn’t touch the train or the teddy bear.”

  “He must have,” said Francis.

  “You saw he wasn’t anywhere near them,” I said.

  “Then it was a draft moving things,” said Francis. “The windows in here need replacing.”

  I looked at the windows. They were no more than a few years old. “It could be that.”

  “There’s no other explanation if your dog didn’t do it.” Francis gestured to the door. “You should go.”

  I remained where I was. Francis would have useful information about the children that I wanted to hear. “Jasmine told me about Michael and Mirabel.”

  Francis wrapped her arms around her middle, and the frown on her face deepened. “Did she now? Well, it was bound to come out sooner or later. What of it?”

  “She told me they died, and she doesn’t think they’re at peace,” I said. “What do you think?”

  “Of course they’re at peace.” Francis’s gaze flitted around the nursery. “They were just babies. They were innocent and didn’t know what was going on. I don’t think they suffered. It was quick.”

  “Their deaths were tragic,” I said. “Jasmine also told me that you used to look after them as their nanny.”

  Francis raised her chin. “I’m an excellent nanny. The best there is. It’s all I’ve known, how to look after children.”

  “Do you have any of your own?”

  “I was not blessed with my own,” said Francis. “That’s why I decided to go into this career. I love children. They make the world brighter.”

  I looked down at Flipper. I felt the same way about him. “How long were you a nanny here?”

  “I was employed just before the children were born.” Francis dropped her hands to her sides. “They were such fragile little things. Born two months early and tiny as they come. But they were such good babies. They slept through the night almost straightaway. Of course, I should have realized then that something wasn’t right. But the Bellamys were so thrilled to have their children, and we were all enchanted by them. We didn’t want to think anything was wrong.”

  “Jasmine told me about the hole in their hearts,” I said.

  “My own heart broke when I found out their diagnoses,” said Francis. “I’d have given anything to make them better, and the family tried everything they could to find a solution. They spent months going from doctor to doctor, looking for a glimmer of hope that they could save their little ones. It was such a shock when it finally happened. Did you know I found them?”

  “Yes, I did,” I said. “That must have been horrible for you.”

  Francis nodded. “I thought they were asleep at first. They always crawled into bed with each other. I’d pretend to tell them off about it, but I couldn’t see any harm in them sleeping together. After all, they grew together; it was natural for them to want to stay close to each other.”

  “But there was nothing that could be done to save them,” I said. “It sounds like the doctors explored all avenues to make the twins well.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier,” said Francis. “After their death, I offered to leave, but Mrs. Bellamy wouldn’t hear of it. And I’m glad I’m still here. I was with those children for years, and they’re hard to let go.”

  “You know it wasn’t your fault,” I said.

  Francis glared at me, but then her shoulders sagged. “I do know that. But who would want to employ a nanny whose last charges died in her care? I loved those children dearly, and feel guilt every day because I wasn’t here to save them when they needed me the most.” She raised a hand. “And before you say anything, I understand there was nothing I could have done. It was their time to go.”

  I studied Francis in silence for a few seconds. Her grief over the loss of the children seemed genuine. So why did I get a sense that all was not right? She would have spent a lot of time with them. Could she have had anything to do with their deaths? Was that the reason they weren’t at re
st?

  “If you do want to move to another position, I’m sure the family will understand,” I said. “Do you enjoy being a cook?” From the awful food Francis served last night, I got the impression she didn’t take much care in the kitchen.

  “It’s a job,” said Francis, “and I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful I have someplace to be. One day, I will be ready to move on, but not yet.”

  “There must be more children who need looking after,” I said. “You seemed happy just now when you were talking about your work as a nanny.”

  “I was happy,” said Francis. “But things are different now. My place is here.”

  It was a curious thing to say. Why would Francis stay somewhere full of sad memories? Could her guilt be forcing her to remain here as she struggled through it, trying to justify why she hurt the children?

  “Do you think the Bellamys will have any more children?” I asked. Maybe that was the reason Francis wanted to stay.

  “That’s not for me to say,” said Francis. “But I know Mr. Bellamy is keen to do something to help them both move on with their lives. But Mrs. Bellamy clearly isn’t ready to consider having more children. She barely eats, and when she does sleep, I think she has nightmares. And I’ve heard her crying at night. She’s too lost in her grief to think about another baby.”

  “More children would bring happiness into the household,” I said. The faint sound of laughter drifted across the room, and I saw Francis’s eyes widen. She’d heard it too.

  “I really couldn’t comment on that.” Francis backed towards the door. “Best you don’t interfere. No good will come of it.”

  “I’m not interfering,” I said. “I’m helping Jasmine. She needs some assistance during this difficult time.”

  “She may,” said Francis, “but you poking your nose into her sad past is not going to help her.”

  “I didn’t intend to do that,” I said. “I wasn't snooping by looking in the nursery. And Jasmine volunteered the information about the children's deaths to me. I want to help Jasmine and Chris get some closure on such a tragedy.”

  Children’s laughter echoed through the walls and Francis gasped. “You must excuse me. I’m not feeling well.” She turned and dashed out of the room, leaving me with children’s laughter drifting around me.

  “What was that all about?” I looked down at Flipper. “Any ideas?”

  He pawed the ground at my feet and whined.

  “Yes, I’m sensing them too.” I looked around the room for any visible sign of the children.

  Flipper paced in a circle several times and pointed his nose into one corner.

  “You can show yourself,” I said. “I’m only here to help.”

  The image of a tall, thin middle-aged male ghost, emerged in the corner where Flipper was focused. The ghost had a flat cap pulled low over his eyes and several days of stubble on his weak looking chin. His clothes were worn looking, and I could see dirt on his hands.

  “Hello, I’m Lorna,” I said. “Can you hear me?”

  The male ghost gave me a single nod.

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?” I asked. “Have you been watching over the family that now lives in this house?”

  He shook his head and jabbed a finger at the open door Francis had dashed through.

  “Are you unhappy with Francis?”

  The ghost took several rapid steps towards me, pausing when Flipper growled and his hackles rose.

  “Stay calm,” I said to both of them as I rested a hand on Flipper’s back.

  The ghost jabbed another finger at the open door before vanishing. A second later, a cold wind whipped through the room, scooping toys up and dashing them against the walls. Plastic blocks, dolls, and soft toys flew in front of my eyes as the ghost’s energy swirled around me, creating a whirlwind of color.

  I was smacked on the side of the head with a fast moving plastic brick. “Ouch! You can pack that in.” I rubbed the side of my head, knowing there would be a bruise there later.

  Another plastic brick whizzed past, only an inch away from my nose. It was time to leave. Death by a plastic toy was not the way I wanted to go. I grabbed hold of Flipper, and we hurried out of the room, before I shut the door swiftly behind us.

  Whatever was going on in this house, it was more than the restless ghosts of Mirabel and Michael making their presence felt. There were other ghosts here, and they were not happy.

  Chapter 9

  “I feel bad for not going to dinner with Jasmine and Chris tonight,” I said as Helen placed a delicious smelling plate of shepherd’s pie in front of me.

  “Don’t feel that way,” said Helen. “I told them I had an upset stomach, and you were going to keep me company. I just couldn’t face another dreadful meal served by Francis. And we wouldn’t have been able to talk about everything you discovered today if we were having dinner with the family.”

  As soon as I’d finished work for the day, I’d found Helen and told her everything I’d discovered; the deaths of the children, the surprising discovery of two ghosts in the household, and Francis’s role as the children’s nanny.

  “At least we know now why Francis’s cooking is so terrible.” I sprinkled black pepper on the top of the shepherd’s pie. “Nannies don’t get much training in being good cooks.”

  Helen sat at the table opposite me. “No wonder this place has such a sad feel about it. Two dead children, grieving parents, a guilt-ridden nanny, and two mysterious adult ghosts.”

  “It was so sad hearing Jasmine talk about the children,” I said.

  Helen watched me as she chewed on a large piece of asparagus. “What’s on your mind?”

  I placed my fork down. “I’m worried that the children’s ghosts are here for a reason. What if their deaths weren’t because of the problem with their hearts?”

  The asparagus fell off Helen’s fork. “Somebody killed them?”

  “It would make sense why they’re still here,” I said.

  “They could be here because they don’t want to leave their family,” said Helen. “Or maybe they’re too small to realize what’s happened to them and want to stay at home. Please don’t say something bad happened to them.”

  “But what if that’s not the case?” I asked. “What if Michael and Mirabel were murdered?”

  “That’s awful,” said Helen. “Who would want to do that?”

  “I wondered about Francis,” I said. “She was nervous when she caught me in the nursery. And I know she heard the same laughter as me. The children could be haunting her because she mistreated them. And there was a ghost moving toys in the room when we were both in there. Francis tried to explain it by saying it was Flipper’s doing. But she knows something is not right in the house. Could her guilt be forcing her to stay?”

  “It’s possible,” said Helen. “Could the children be pestering Francis in an attempt to get revenge? Would they do that?”

  “They were only six years old when they died,” I said. “They may not understand what’s going on. But if they sense something is wrong, it could be the reason they’re still here.”

  “And if it is, then we need to help them get the justice they deserve,” said Helen. “Those poor innocent babies being harmed is not acceptable.”

  Usually, I resisted Helen’s enthusiasm to help every ghost we stumbled across. But this time, I was right with her. If anything bad had happened to these children, I would not rest until I’d figured out what it was. “I can’t work out what the other two ghosts are doing here, though, and why the children didn’t appear to me when I asked them to.”

  “It was a middle-aged woman and a man of about the same age?” asked Helen. “Do you think they could have been husband and wife? Maybe they were former occupants of the house, and the children's ghosts being active here has stirred them up.”

  “They may be reacting to the deaths of the children,” I said, “but neither of them are happy. The woman refused to speak to me and disappeared after a few s
econds. The man wasn’t much better, although he did seem angry at Francis. He ended up just causing a mess in the nursery.” I touched the tender spot on my head where the plastic brick had hit me.

  “Maybe they want to see justice done as well,” said Helen. “They could have witnessed the deaths of the children. And if it wasn’t a natural death, they could be out for revenge as well.”

  I tucked into my delicious shepherd’s pie as I thought through the options. “Their clothing suggested they hadn’t died recently. They looked like farm workers, or in some sort of domestic service.”

  “That fits with this house,” said Helen. “It was built hundreds of years ago.”

  “The female ghost was pointing out the sounds the children were making,” I said. “Maybe she was trying to let me know she saw something bad.”

  “This ghost needs to stop disappearing on you if she is trying to help,” said Helen.

  I nodded. “That would make things easier.”

  “And what are you going to do about Jasmine?” asked Helen. “Sounds like she’s keen on uncovering the truth about her children’s ghosts.”

  “For now, I’m going to focus on the memorial event she wants organized for them,” I said. “I can’t reveal to her what I’ve seen. Jasmine is open-minded, but she might think I’m being dishonest if I say I can see ghosts. It’s not something I put on my CV. If I did, it would only attract the men in lab coats, and an armful of medication to keep me quiet.”

  “But Jasmine believes in ghosts,” said Helen. “Maybe she’d benefit from knowing the truth.”

  “It’s too much of a risk,” I said. “Jasmine might think she believes in ghosts, but remember how freaked out you were when I heard from your dead aunt? You didn’t speak to me for a week.”

  “Only because what she revealed to you was so embarrassing,” said Helen. “Nobody should ever know that I weed in a teapot when I was a child.”

  “At least no one boiled the kettle and tried to drink the contents,” I laughed. “But it took you a lot to believe, and you’ve been around me ever since I began to see ghosts. I can’t go and tell a virtual stranger about my ability, especially not when that person pays my wages and is neck deep in grief.”