Siren Spirit (6 page)

It was well after dark when Emma returned home. The moon was shining into the bedroom when Emma reached the top of the stairs. The single stem remained in the vase and she carefully placed the ring next to it on the table. She undressed quietly and got into bed, naked as a baby. The rain had done nothing to kill the summer balminess; it was to be another humid night.

The soft lunar rays brought her comfort as she lay under a single sheet. Her thoughts turned to the revelations she had heard at Anthony and Claire’s house.

Grace.

Again, Emma shivered at the name. There was something about it that made her uneasy. Was that the name of her ghost? What had happened to her?

Almost before the questions had formed in her head, a faint scent filled the room and she felt herself drift into a dreamlike state.

Another shiver woke her, some time later; the scent was stronger now. How long had she been asleep? She refrained from opening her eyes but, in truth, she knew what she would see when she opened them.

The shimmering apparition was less opaque this time, although some transparency remained. The forlorn expression was gone too, replaced by bright, smiling eyes; this time, the ghost looked happy and vibrant. She wore the same shift, but this time it was completely open at the front, right to the waist. It swung open as she moved towards the bed, to reveal ample breasts, to which the phantom paid no heed whatsoever.

Emma was much less fearful this time, though she couldn’t think why. She sat up to get a better look. This girl did not mean to harm her, but she did seem to want to be near her. Emma stared open-mouthed at the girl’s breasts, then back at her face. There was something else going on too. She began to feel aroused. And she liked it.

Despite the chill in the room, Emma felt hot. Perspiration began to accumulate on her back and between her legs. Her breath quickened and she became aware of her own bosom heaving as she breathed deeper and deeper. It almost came as a relief when the ghost placed a hand upon hers, as if asking to sit on the bed. Emma expected the touch to be cold, but the skin was warm, like a living human being.

“Grace?” Her whisper cut the air like a sliver of glass.

Her visitor nodded slightly then held a finger to her lips, requesting silence as she shuffled up the bed right next to where Emma sat. The urge to pull her knees up to her chest was overwhelming, but Emma resisted. All she could think about was how it would feel to kiss this beautiful girl, this glowing, slightly transparent figure sitting next to her on the bed.

As if the girl had read her thoughts, she leaned in closer, almost touching her face and then paused, as though gauging Emma’s reaction. Emma nodded a little, hoping to be understood.

There was no holding back then. Lips touched lips, gently at first, then more forceful. There was a yearning in this kiss; Emma could feel it. She briefly wondered whether the ghost had kissed many other girls, or whether she had waited all this time for someone who would be receptive. Maybe that was why the previous tenants had not stayed at the cottage for long – they had been frightened of her.

Emma felt a hand on her waist and opened her eyes just as the kiss broke off. The second hand reached up and stroked her face. She stared into the eyes of the girl and saw pure unadulterated lust. She was breathless with intoxication.

Emma had often wondered what it would be like to kiss a girl. Never in her wildest fantasies had she ever thought it would be quite like this.

She lifted her hand and placed it on the ghost’s arm, stroking it. It felt just like another woman.

Grace. I can call her that now, Emma thought, after what we have just shared.

As she watched her hand stroking, her eyes drifted upwards towards the shimmering face to find it was no longer transparent at all. Sat beside her now was a figure that was to all intents and purposes a living, breathing human being. The bewildered expression on her face drew a smile from Grace and just the slightest whisper: “You see with your emotion, Emma. Your desire feeds me.”

The stroking became stronger, and Emma’s hand rose up Grace’s arm, catching the edge of the shift and sliding underneath towards her shoulder. Grace pulled back a little. Had she gone too far?

She stood and, in one swift movement, pulled the shift over her head and threw it onto the floor in a heap.

Emma gasped at her beauty. How many people have ever seen a naked ghost, she wondered? Grace turned back the sheet that covered Emma and sat back down. Her gaze was appraising but not judgemental. A finger traced a line from her lips down her chin and neck, between her breasts and down her stomach. Then it paused, before gliding softly between her legs.

Emma’s heart thundered with anticipation. There was an ache deep within her and she longed to open her legs and reveal the wetness she knew would have gathered. The kissing resumed, more passionate this time, and Emma reached out to touch the breasts she had been staring at for some moments.

Grace moved across the bed to lie next to her, keeping a hand between Emma’s legs and teasing them further apart. Her carefully placed fingers seemed to know every inch of her, reaching exactly the right spot. Emma was moaning and writhing in the sweet bliss of arousal. Her climax washed over her, bringing release and a sense of calm and peace.

When she opened her eyes, Grace was holding out a finger for her to taste. She licked slowly, savouring her own muskiness. It seemed a natural next step to reach out towards Grace and slide her hand down between her legs. The first sensation was of heat; the second was the soft hair, which parted easily to reveal the moist inner lips.

Emma looked up into Grace’s face, about to apologise for her clumsiness, but Grace put a finger to her lips and then said, “Do what you feel.” The whisper was barely audible, and her head tipped back in ecstasy.

It seemed Emma was doing the right thing. Grace was squirming around, her chest heaving as if breathless in the throes of passion. Her body twisted and contorted, hips bucking wildly, but Emma continued stroking. Grace held still for a moment then, and a breathless sigh escaped her lips. She relaxed in a heap and gazed longingly up at Emma.

Neither said anything for a few moments, but remained bathed in the light of the moon, which was dropping in the sky behind the trees. Grace leaned over and cradled Emma’s face in her hands. In the moonlight, Emma thought she could make out tears glistening in Grace’s eyes and a satisfied smile.

The kiss this time held an emotional connection. There was passion, but the overriding emotion was gratitude. They held hands for a while, staring into each other’s souls, until Emma found the most peaceful and restful sleep she had had in some time.

Sunday, 5 September

The most beautiful ring I ever saw sits in a box in Pa’s room. Or at least it used to until today. Pa told me some years ago of its existence. He made it for Mama, but she died before it was finished, so she never wore it. He has kept it there until now.

So it sprang to my mind just the other day that it would make a perfect gift for my Suzanne, and she could wear it as a token of my affection.

She was a little nervous at first, but when I told her she could wear it on her right hand instead, she smiled and told me she would be proud to have it. I was never so happy as when I placed it on her finger. I know we can never be married but her acceptance of Mama’s ring is good enough for me to feel that we are forever in each other’s hearts..

Thursday, 9 September

Today I feel so dreadful. Suzanne has hurt me more than I have the words to describe.

We were sat over in the fields again, in the shade of our favourite tree, and she started talking about Lucy’s forthcoming wedding to James and how she will be looked after for the rest of her days.

I can see why she worries about such things. Her being orphaned and such, she has no parents to support her. But I had a mind that she could move into our home, with Pa and me. I know he will have a little money set aside for me, the way he goes on about marriage.

But no, she says she is adamant that she wants a husband and that our love cannot endure. A child’s play is what she called it, and it hurt me to the core. I was stunned, I was, sitting there and staring at her. She knows the way I think about men, that I could never be with a man. I thought she was the same way, too.

She says she loves me but she wants to have a life with means, and of course, that means a man. Truly, I am not that concerned with means, and we would be happy, I know we would, but she will have none of it. I know Pa would provide for all of us, if necessary. But if it’s not what she wants, then I cannot help her.

Truly, I do not know what I am to do.

Monday, 4 October

Pa has taken on a new apprentice today. His name is Tom. He looked at me in a certain way, though, which made me feel uneasy. I do hope he’s not got anything improper on his mind. I don’t want anything of that, not with him.

I wonder sometimes if there’s something wrong with me. Lucy is still chattering on about James. I am sick to death of it. But, for me, I’ve never felt anything like she does for any of the boys. Pa often asks me if there is anyone I like, but in all sincerity, I cannot tell him that a single boy shines out from the rest.

Poor, dear Pa. He loves me so, I know. I do wish he’d leave me be.

Wednesday, 24 November

Pa has been off to the inn again this afternoon. I am unhappy that he is neglecting the forge. Young Tom has not been started long, and is perhaps not confident enough that he can take on so much just yet.

I do hope Father has not turned to drink. I smell nothing on his clothes or breath, only that stale tobacco used by some of the men who drink there. I wonder to myself why he should spend so much time there if he does not drink. What can there be to do?

Suzanne was not at home when I called upon her yesterday. I want to make up for what happened between us the other week. I feel sure I can persuade her to continue our affair, and that no man will ever make her so happy, not like I can. Surely she can see that.

Wednesday, 1 December

Words cannot express the loneliness I feel at this moment. I am utterly undone and I know of no way this situation can be resolved.

My beautiful, smiling Suzanne is to be married to none other than my own Pa. I have been betrayed by them both, and I am left with no soul in whom to confide my feelings.

There I was, preparing a supper for Pa and me, when he walked into the cottage with her on his arm. It seems he has had her in mind for some considerable time since. But of course how could he have known of us? Suzanne has asked me never to speak a word of our love, to swear on my life that we were always just friends.

But what sort of life shall I have now? My sweetheart, my Pa and I, all living under the same roof, but with them being married to one another? I cannot bear it, and I will not!

Whatever is to become of me?

I shall never love another. My heart belongs to one, and one alone. For sure, I shall die an old maid or I shall die from grief.

Saturday, 5 December

It is to be on Friday in two weeks’ time, this wedding.

I am trying so hard to keep my feelings hidden from Pa. I think him contented. He has asked me to press his Sunday shirt on Thursday evening, in good time for his big day.

I feel as though to do so would be to help him into this marriage and I fear I cannot do it.

Suzanne has spoken with me. She does not love him, I know it! She told me as much herself.

I hope Mama cannot look down upon us from heaven above and see what Pa is doing. I know he wants a companion, but he does not need my Suzanne for that. For sure, what else am I here for, but to keep him company?

Tuesday, 14 December

I saw Lucy today. She can see my despair but I dare not tell her the cause. The entire village would know in no time at all, and I could not shame Pa so.

She tried in vain to coax a smile from my face but I stared back at her.

“Your eyes are empty, Grace,” she said. “Why must you be so sad when your Pa is so happy?”

I know not how long this melancholy will continue. Perhaps it will be always. Pa talks of gathering holly branches for decorating the cottage door this year. I am in no mood for Christmas.

I cannot think beyond the end of each day, wishing it were my last.

Emma’s eyelids fluttered in the glare of the morning sunlight, which shone through the open curtains and bathed her in a glow of vitality. It could all have been a dream but for the slight indentation in the bed next to her and the fresh stem of lily of the valley flowers on the pillow. The events of the night before played over and over in her mind until nothing but confusion reigned.

Without a second thought, she picked up her phone and dialled the only person she knew who could be of any help.

“Darling! How are you? How’s the new house?”

Emma rarely saw Meredith these days. It was a far cry from their university days, propping up some bar or other almost every night.

“Well, I’m good, thanks. And the house is lovely, but that’s kind of why I’m calling. I could really do with some help. It’s, er … well, it’s haunted.”

“Oh, wow! Fantastic! okay, what’s been happening?”

Emma sat up in bed and organised her thoughts.

“It starts with a chill in the air and then there’s a smell, like perfume.”

“What does it smell like?” She could hear Meredith scribbling notes at the other end of the line.

“Lily of the valley. I’d know it anywhere. A sprig of the flowers was left as well. I think the fragrance is linked to an old perfume bottle that was here when I moved in. I polished it and put it on the table in the hall upstairs because it’s pretty. Oh, and I found a ring, too. It seems to have been hers.”

Meredith’s voice quickened at the other end of the line. She was clearly very excited. “Oh, you have awoken something, I think. It may have been a personal tie to the spirit and it’s tying you to her. I’m presuming it’s a woman, with a scent like that. Have you seen anything?”

“Oh, it’s better than that. Yes, I’ve seen her. The first time she looked sad and forlorn. I was terrified. But then, last night …” Emma took a deep breath. Meredith was a very open-minded person, but a tiny flicker of doubt in Emma’s mind was refusing to extinguish itself.

“Yes, go on …”

“Well, she came into the room and, Meredith, I don’t know how to say this. You’re the only person I can tell. She seduced me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath down the phone. “Right, sit tight. I’m coming straight over. Give me a couple of hours.”

The cute little MG sports car pulled up on the road at the bottom of the steps. Yet another summer shower had just passed overhead, and as Emma opened the door to welcome her friend, the raindrops sparkled like jewels on the rockery flowers.

“Wow, what a charming little place, Darling! Just the perfect little hideaway for you right now.”

Meredith was wearing one of her “spiritual” outfits. The heavy crushed velvet seemed out of place for the season, but it suited her perfectly as she sashayed through the front door. “Oh, yes,” she said, as Emma closed the door behind her, “I can feel sadness here. Yes, we have some work to do to free this poor soul. Anyway, be a love and put the kettle on while I set up. Then you can tell me all about your lesbian romp, you crazy minx.”

Emma heaved a sigh of relief. Meredith had such confidence. She was a woman who had a solution for everything, regardless of the problem. Sometimes, it would be unconventional, but as long as there was tea involved, nothing seemed insurmountable.

When she returned to the living room with steaming mugs, Emma could see her coffee table had been transformed into a kind of altar with a single lit candle placed on top of a black cloth, printed in the centre of which was a pentagram. Small pieces of paper sat in a row on the cloth, labelled “Yes”, “No”, “Maybe” and “Not Advisable”.

“So, you still do all this spiritual stuff?” Emma asked.

“Oh yes, honey. It’s proved invaluable in helping people. Now then, do you have an object I can use? That ring you found, perhaps? Oh, and bring the perfume bottle too, just in case.”

Meredith sat cross-legged and barefoot in front of the table and took a chain from a small velvet drawstring purse strapped to her waist. Hanging from the chain was a large polished crystal in a vibrant shade of purple, held in a three-pointed clasp at the top.

“I’m going to do a pendulum ritual,” Meredith declared. “It’s gentler than using a Ouija board and should keep away undesirable spirits. We want to talk to your spirit, not just anyone who wants to join in the fun.”

Emma knelt opposite her friend. She took a deep breath to try and calm her racing heart, but it proved futile. Until lately, she had been sceptical about the existence of the supernatural, but then she had met the beautiful Grace, and now she believed anything was possible.

“We’re going to ask a series of questions, the answers to which are written on the pieces of paper. The direction in which the pendulum swings will give us the answer. You ready?”

Emma nodded.

Meredith held the chain over the pieces of paper and the ring between her fingers. The perfume bottle sat next to the candle.

“Are you the spirit who haunts this house?”

Time appeared to slow as they stared unblinking at the crystal hovering over the piece of paper with “Yes” written on it. Ever so slowly, it began to move in a clockwise direction.

Emma’s throat dried up. “What does that mean?” she managed to croak.

“Clockwise is an affirmative response. In the Northern hemisphere anyway.”

Emma went silent once more.

Meredith drew a deep breath and continued. “Did you used to live in this house?”

The pendulum swung again in the same direction. Emma felt her body crawl with a layer of perspiration. In just a few short days, her entire world had turned upside down and now she was communicating with a ghost, through a friend who was a medium. No one would have believed her except Meredith.

“Did you die in this house?”

Once again, the pendulum swung in a clockwise direction. Meredith met Emma’s gaze for a moment.

“The next few bits might not be so nice,” Meredith warned. “But you won’t come to any harm, I promise.”

Emma tried to feel reassured.

“Did you die as a result of illness?”

This time the pendulum remained still over the “Yes” paper, so Meredith held it over “No”. It jerked a little then swung in a clockwise direction.

“So,” – Emma hesitated a little – “she didn’t die of an illness?”

“It would appear not.”

Meredith concentrated on the pendulum again.

“Did you die at someone else’s hand?”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. Again the answer was no.

“Did you take your own life?”

This time the answer was yes. A chilly breeze filled the room. The ring, which Emma had placed on the table, began to twitch. The perfume bottle wobbled slightly, then became still again. The candle flickered but remained lit. Emma’s eyes were glued to the scene before her. She could hear her heartbeat in her head like a bass drum. Meredith met her eyes again.

“Are you OK for me to continue?”

Emma thought for a moment and nodded again.

“I have to know what happened, so I can help her, right?”

Meredith smiled at her, tilting her head sympathetically. She paused before continuing. “The ring on the table. Did it belong to you?”

Yes
.

“Was it a wedding ring?”

No.

Another cold draught blew through the room. The candle went out and both girls shivered.

“I feel angry suddenly,” Meredith said. “Well, it’s kind of a mixture between anger and sadness. She’s trying to make me feel her own feelings. She’s haunting by emotion. Heartbreak, that’s it. Her heart was broken. I suspect that’s why she chose you, because of your break-up. She knew you’d understand.”

“Did your husband love someone else?”

No.

“Did you love someone else?”

Yes.

“Emma, you said the ring was likely to have been unworn. It was not a wedding ring, but it was given out of love.” Meredith looked up at the ceiling. “Am I correct?”

Yes.

“Was the man you loved already married to someone else?”

No.

“Oh, of course!” Realisation dawned on Meredith’s face. “Were you in love with a woman?”

Yes.

Meredith breathed deeply. “I think we’re getting somewhere.” She shifted position so she sat cross-legged on the floor by the table. Emma did the same, aware that her legs were becoming uncomfortable.

“You were betrothed to a man against your will?”

Yes.

“Did your family find out about your lover?”

Yes
.

“They didn’t like it, did they?”

No
.

“Oh!” Meredith suddenly burst into tears and clutched at her breast.

“Are you okay?”

Tears rolled down Meredith’s cheeks. “She’s so sad!” she sobbed. “They must have been very much in love but couldn’t be together. Em, I’m so sorry, I have to stop. This is exhausting.”

“Sure, no worries.”

“We need to burn the papers. Best to light  your fire and throw them on.”

“Can I ask one final question?” Emma stared at the ceiling this time, wondering if she could be heard too. “Is your name Grace?”

Yes.