Siren Spirit (7 page)

Emma cleaned away the remnants of the séance while Meredith sipped herbal tea and stared into the dying embers of the paper notes.

“I’ve never felt that before. Never had …” Meredith took another sip, as if willing herself to speak. “I’ve never experienced a spirit’s emotions before. I thought I was going to be washed away by some invisible tide of tears. It was awful. So very, very sad.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that level of sadness myself. What about you? Oh, shit.”

Emma was sat on the sofa next to her, deep in her own thoughts and reminiscing about the tragedy she had herself experienced only months before. She struggled with tears as she turned round.

“Darling, I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.”

Emma sank into her friend’s shoulder and sobbed her heart out.

Months of frustration and the stress of moving house, the agony of starting her life all over again – it all came to the surface. She wasn’t prepared to be alone, to be lonely. She thought she was breaking apart inside.

Meredith was silent, thank God. She wasn’t stupid enough to have to ask the cause of her pain. She knew very well. After some time, she began to calm down. Details of the last few weeks, preparing for the move, had come flooding back to her, things she had pushed to the back of her mind until this moment, when she could finally allow herself to reflect upon her predicament. She remembered the wedding gifts she had thrown away, the honeymoon photographs, the trinkets Paul had bought for her when they had first fallen in love. All gone, lost in a different world.

She was glad to have moved house though. The marital home held too many memories. Shadows had lurked in every corner, making her feel confined. She would never have been able to rebuild her life there. She already felt at home in this little cottage, despite it being already occupied.

Most of all, she regretted the pain her parents had had to endure too. For them, marriage break-up was one of those things that happened to other people. Her mother in particular was hurt, and she barely told a soul among her circle of friends.

Emma had a sudden longing for a sibling, someone who shared her upbringing, someone who could help her. She was grateful to have a friend like Meredith, yes, but Meredith had two brothers and a sister. She didn’t know what being an only child was like.

Meredith planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Honey, I really should go now. I said I’d visit my mother. I think Grace will be okay for tonight. I suspect she’s probably shedding her own tears in the astral plane somewhere. If you need me, call and I can escape. Don’t sit here and sob your heart out alone.”

Emma coughed. “Thank you so much. For everything.”

“Hey, thank you. This is a learning experience for me too. We have more to learn about dear Grace, but now we know who she is, perhaps you can do a little research and we can find out why she’s still here in this world. I’ll have a think about the next steps on a spiritual level. You, my lovely, need to get some rest.”

***

Emma relaxed into the indulgent, fizzing soap suds with an audible moan of pleasure.

“Oh, this feels so wonderful, Lily.”

The cat blinked from her perch on the wicker linen basket and nonchalantly licked a paw.

“Well, I guess baths aren’t really your thing, are they?”

Emma took another sip of wine and giggled.

“I think I deserve this, I really do.”

She missed her life as a married woman. Not Paul. She didn’t miss him at all, but she hated coming home to an empty house after a stressful day at work, with no one’s arms to fall into. Companionship. That was what she missed most of all.

Her mind wandered back to Lewis. Perhaps her hot neighbour would fill the gap in her life? The night they had spent together had been hasty, she knew, but she didn’t regret it one little bit. In fact, it had made her feel so wonderful again, after the heartbreak of Paul. She did regret the fact that he lived next door though. How was she going to face him again after that?

***

The doorbell rang just as dusk was settling on the village. Even before she got to the door, Emma knew it was Lewis.

She hesitated a little before letting him in, studying his face for clues as to whether he was disappointed in her.

“I’m really sorry.” It was all she could say.

They sat down on the sofa and she took his hand and stroked it.

“I’m so not ready for a relationship right now,” she said eventually.

“Me neither.
”
Lewis looked relieved.

“Something has happened which has made me question some things and also brought back a lot of painful memories and emotions.”

She took a deep breath. Lewis sat in silence, patiently waiting for her to continue. After a long pause, she decided just to tell him everything.

She started with the ring, the perfume and the seduction. She left out most of the details, except that it had felt like a human, not some kind of ethereal being from another dimension, and definitely not dead.

She told him about what had happened with Meredith and her breakdown afterwards. She mentioned how Grace’s story had given her a chance to focus on someone else and not get too bogged down in herself.

Lewis listened carefully, staring at her. She couldn’t tell if he believed her or not, but she considered that to be his problem, not hers.

“Well, I think you’re right about not wanting a relationship,” he said eventually. “There’s way too much other stuff going on here.”

He took a sip of coffee and breathed a deep sigh.

“Friends?”

Emma beamed with delight.

“Yes, I’d like that, of course!”

“In which case, it’s high time I was heading home. You go back to work in a few days, yes? So, let’s try and get to the bottom of this mystery before then. That is, if you’d like me to help?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Emma smiled in genuine gratitude. It had been easier than she had expected, but something didn’t feel quite right. Her head knew she’d made the right decision, but what of her heart? It seemed to be remaining tight-lipped on the matter for now. She would just have to work it out herself.

***

Lewis seems such a nice guy, she thought. But the timing is all wrong. I’m not ready for this.

She pictured his face – the rugged good looks of someone old enough to have gained some maturity, but young enough to still have plenty of vitality. Then there was that little sparkle in his eye, which she was becoming increasingly fond of and found strangely reassuring.

One thing was nagging at her though. She cast her mind back to the telephone argument she had overheard. Who was the ‘Annabelle’ he was shouting at? An ex-girlfriend, perhaps? If so, were things really over between them?

She was also touched that he was taking time out to help her with the mystery of Grace. A thought crossed her mind: did it mean he had an ulterior motive? She pushed the idea away. That was how you became bitter and twisted, having thoughts like that. She’d seen it happen with some of her friends’ mothers. Couple gets divorced; man finds another partner with relative ease; woman spends the rest of her life turning into a grumpy old woman and develops a biting cynicism to the point where she becomes unlovable.

In a moment of clarity, Emma realised that was actually her deepest fear. She wanted to be loved. She did not want to transform into one of those contemptuous and scornful women she knew.

There wasn’t time for all this reflection just now, though. The sun was setting and she was painfully aware that Grace’s mystery remained unresolved.

Inside the old village library there was a hint of mustiness in the air. A wry smile came to Emma’s lips as she recalled her first impressions of Anthony’s antique shop. How appropriate that his wife’s place of work should invoke similar sensations.

“Hey, Claire.”

“Oh, Emma, how lovely to see you!” Claire looked genuinely delighted as she carried a pile of hardback books to a nearby trolley. “Were you looking for something to help you in your project, perhaps?”

“Well, yes, I have some more information about the girl. About Grace.”

Claire placed the pile of books on the trolley and locked the barrier behind her.

“You’re lucky, it’s not that busy today. Tell me what you’ve found.”

“Well, my source isn’t that reliable, but I’d like to check out what I’ve learned nonetheless.” Emma bit her lip. “You may remember I said my house is haunted?”

“I do, my dear, but I did wonder whether it was the stress of moving that brought it on. Are you saying there’s more to it than that?”

“Well, a friend of mine is a medium and we held a séance thing to contact her. It’s definitely that Grace you mentioned. It turns out she was due to be married but couldn’t go through with it because she was in love with a woman. Her family didn’t approve and, well, she committed suicide.”

“I see.” Claire looked at her for a moment. Emma wondered if she’d said too much.

“Well, it would explain the scandal my grandmother went on about, and why I struggled to find out much during my own investigations. But then, I wasn’t researching her specifically. Nevertheless, it is a clue, as you say, regardless of its dubious source, and therefore, it needs to be verified. Come with me.”

She led them towards the back of the library and into a smaller room, with desks and lamps provided for research purposes.

“I’d really like to help but I’m on my own today. Normally there are two of us, you see. Let me show you the local history section, and in the meantime I have a registrar friend who may be able to offer some guidance so I shall call them and come back to you.”

After a couple of hours, Emma was nearing the limit of her patience when she found a small footnote in one volume quite by accident. She would have missed it had the photograph of the cottage not grabbed her attention like a firm but invisible grip on her shoulder.

It read: The last blacksmith to inhabit Horseshoe Cottage, Joe Richardson, left around 1786. It was rumoured that he was unable to continue the business after the tragic death of his daughter, Grace, and he lived out his days in solitude.

“Cracking impression of a Venus Flytrap,” said a voice behind her
.
“I thought I might find you here.”

Emma jumped and quickly closed her gaping mouth.

Lewis stood looking down at her and smiled. God, those eyes would be the death of her.

“Look at this.” She turned the book for him to read as he sat down at the desk.

“Oh, cool. This is your place.”

“Yes. Read what it says.”

Lewis scanned the piece. “Oh. I see.”

Luckily, the front desk was quiet.

“Oh! How sad,” Claire said. “Sounds like she did come to an untimely end after all. Poor girl.” She thought for a moment, then added, “My own family members are buried in the churchyard not far from your house. The church has been there several hundred years, so it contains some very old headstones. Although, of course, if she did indeed commit suicide, she’s unlikely to be there.”

Emma looked puzzled.

“You see, in those days suicide victims weren’t buried in consecrated ground. She would have been laid to rest elsewhere. Some churchyards left a corner for such poor souls, but not all of them. It is possible you may never find her, to be honest.”

Emma was in a daze. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she may never find Grace’s remains. Would the ghost haunt her for ever?

“Sometimes, suicide victims were buried at a crossroads outside the village,” Claire went on. “The idea was that if or when their spirit rose, they would be confused and be unsure of the correct way home. The churchyard was the hub of the village.”

Emma nodded slowly, trying to take it all in.

“I’m sorry, Emma.You must be prepared for that.” Claire’s nose squirmed slightly before she continued, “And, of course, there are all these ridiculous housing developments which seem to be shooting up all over the place. They’ll be dredging up all sorts of things, no doubt. Young married people can’t afford to come and live here. The whole place will be an early graveyard before long.”

A customer came to the desk and the conversation ceased. Emma retreated with Lewis in tow. Claire had been hugely helpful and had given her a useful perspective on the situation.

Once back at the cottage, Emma’s spine prickled. Despite the enjoying her tryst with Grace, she didn’t want to be haunted by her soul for ever. She wanted to put her to rest, somehow.

Emma turned to Lewis and found he was just about to open his mouth too.

“You first,” he said.

Well, I’m at a loss where to go next, to be honest. Like Claire said, what if I never find Grace? What then? If Claire is correct and she was buried alone, I thought the best way would be to find her and put her back into the churchyard. How can I do that if we don’t find any remains?”

“I don’t know, Em. You’re the one with the link to her. Why don’t you ask?”

Emma thought for a moment. She had the distinct impression that he wasn’t telling her everything, but chose to keep the feeling to herself.

“Sure, no problem. I’ll try the church. Just in case.”

She saw him out of the door and made her own way towards the village church.

As expected, the records brought up no one by the name of Grace Richardson. The vicar had helpfully told her that he had a good record of everyone who lay there and that her name was not among them, and would not have been if indeed she had taken her own life. Her father, however, was laid to rest there, and his headstone remained in good condition, perhaps because it was sheltered from the weather by a huge oak tree. Reverend Dickinson could offer them no information about where else in the village a person might be buried.

“I need to start thinking about work again in a couple of days,
”
she thought, after the door had closed. “It would be really nice if everything was done and dusted by then.”

That night, she reminisced over the erotic encounter with Grace and admitted to herself she would in fact be disappointed if it didn’t happen again. With her heart pounding and her fingers trembling as she undressed, Emma got into bed naked and waited.

She must have dozed eventually, despite her nervous excitement, for she woke with a start some time later.

She recognised a chill in the air and the now-familiar floral fragrance. It was little surprise when her eyelids opened that the first thing she saw was Grace’s spirit, still shimmering, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at her.

Emma sat up slowly, fearing that if she moved too quickly, the beautiful apparition would disappear.

“H-h-hello,” she whispered.

Grace leaned forward and stroked her cheek. Emma reached out to hold her hand. She longed to know more about Grace’s story, but didn’t want to scare her away.

“I have thought about you,” Emma said. “I went to learn about you and found out about your father.”

Grace’s head fell and she started to cry. Emma was overwhelmed by an intense wave of melancholy and she recalled Meredith’s emotional state during the séance.

“You communicate with emotion?” Emma said.

All of a sudden, Grace’s face sparkled with animation. She nodded and a huge grin crossed her face. Emma felt her own heart lift with joy. Still holding Grace’s hand, she brought it to her lips to kiss.

“I really want to help you but I need more clues. What is it you’re searching for?”

Grace put a finger to Emma’s lips to hush her, then replaced it with her own lips. Emma inhaled deeply, as if to drink in the all-consuming passion she felt the spirit was transmitting through her tongue as it delved deeper inside her mouth.

Once again, Emma lay back and allowed herself to be seduced, caressed, stroked and pleasured to orgasm, her soul surrendering to the blissful release. When the tide of emotion subsided, she started to kiss Grace again but the ghost turned away, much to Emma’s surprise. Instead, Grace lay down next to her and held her, gently stroking her head until she fell fast asleep.

***

It was still dark when Emma woke and she was groggy. She was being shaken, quite roughly, by the arm.

“Get up, Emma!”

Grace, perfectly formed like any ordinary human being and speaking in full voice, was standing next to her bed. “Hurry!” she said. “We haven’t got long!”

Emma mumbled something and then she was dressed and standing on her own front doorstep. The cold shook her fully awake soon enough.

“What on earth am I doing here?”

“It’s alright,” Grace replied. “You’re asleep and dreaming. It’s the only way I can show you. Hurry up.”

Grace skipped ahead and Emma followed. It occurred to Emma that something felt different about the village. She was relieved for the moonlight, at least, although it was slipping towards the horizon. They arrived at a small building at the back of the cottage where there was a glow from inside and the sound of men’s voices could be heard. Emma realised she couldn’t remember putting her feet on the ground.

Grace took Emma by the hand and they peeked around the door frame to look inside. Emma could not believe the scene in front of her. Grace – beautiful, sensual, captivating Grace – was hanging from a noose in the centre of the room. A fire raged in one corner and Emma realised this must have been the forge. A man in a loose white shirt and a leather apron was turned away from the body and staring into the fire. An older man and another, much younger, man were in the process of cutting the rope.

Emma threw her hand to her mouth to cover her gasp.

“That’s how I did it,” came a whisper from beside her. “Come on, no time to lose!”

Wide-eyed and speechless with fright, Emma allowed Grace to grab her hand again, and they ran up the road to the heart of the village, to the old inn. Emma turned to look back but the glow from the building had gone.

“Time is different here,” Grace explained.

Grace kept running, and Emma kept up behind her, not wishing to get left behind or miss anything. They stopped outside what appeared to be the inn. A colourful sign hung above the door. There was some commotion inside. A young woman was sitting at a table, sobbing and wearing what appeared to be a nightgown. A group of people were on the other side of the room, apparently chatting amongst themselves and not wishing to be heard by the sorrowful girl.

A man strode over to her. “You can’t be getting all upset like this, Suzanne. Grace was your friend, of course, but folks will think this is too much, under the circumstances.”

Emma looked at Grace, who had gone silent.

“Is that her?”

Grace nodded, then took her hand and off they went again, leaving the village a travelling until there were no more buildings, just trees and fields.

“Nearly there!” Grace said. She stopped at a crossroads. “Here we are.”

She walked over to a hedgerow and pulled back a few branches. The full moon appeared from behind a cloud and shone directly onto the spot. There, among the gorse and blackberry bushes, was an iron cross.

“This is where I am. You have to find me. I have to be with my Pa. I have to tell him how sorry I am.”

The moon shone brighter still, it seemed, and Emma could make out the tears welling up in Grace’s eyes. She moved towards her for an embrace, but Grace pulled away again.

“It’s time to go now. Close your eyes and I’ll take you home.”