Siren Spirit (8 page)

Dawn revealed an overcast sky. There was rain in the air, for sure. Emma sent a text to Lewis and pulled the covers close around her shoulders, cursing the British summer weather.

What time are you coming over today? Could use your help. Have had … inspiration.

She yawned and pressed Send, then replaced the handset on the bedside table and contemplated going back to sleep, mainly to try and memorise the scenes from her dream. But really there was no need; she would forget nothing she had seen any time soon. The image of the small iron cross, likely forged by Grace’s poor father in the midst of unimaginable grief, stuck in her mind the most.

She was still in something of a daze when Lewis turned up on her doorstep an hour later.

“What’s this all about then?”

“We’re taking a walk to the building site on the edge of town,” she said. “I need to check something.”

Lewis was sensible enough to keep his mouth shut and followed her out the door. He offered to carry her umbrella, but was less keen when it came to the shovel.

“Are you really sure about that? People talk around here, you know.”

“Yeah, well they don’t know me yet, so it’s not like I have a reputation to destroy. This way, they’ll be wary to start with and all I can do is improve.”

Lewis said nothing, but he trailed behind her as they marched up towards the development site on the edge of the village. As usual the sound of machinery and heavy plant vehicles filled the air.

Emma stopped at the crossroads and looked about her, turning exactly ninety degrees and looking left and right at each turn. Lewis stood back and watched.

I don’t care of he thinks I’m crazy, she thought. Hell, maybe I am. Today, I don’t care.

“I think it’s this corner,” she declared over the noise of the tractor in a nearby field. Out of her bag she pulled two pairs of gardening gloves. “Here you go.”

Lewis took them reluctantly. “I didn’t realise this would involve manual labour, Emma. I normally get paid for stuff like this.”

“It’ll be quicker if we both do it, and we’ll get less wet.”

He couldn’t fault her logic, so he knelt in the grassy verge next to her and started pulling away the brambles. After half an hour’s work, they had made little progress.

“You know I’m a handyman, right? I could have brought my power tools to save us both this frankly rather strenuous work.”

“Too risky. Might damage the evidence.” Emma paused and knelt up again, putting a hand to her aching back.

“Should I ask how you know about this?”

“Probably not.”

Another half an hour passed and still they had unearthed nothing. The noises from the building site seemed to have ceased. Lewis got to his knees and groaned.

“I have an idea, but I’m going to need your help this time.”

Emma looked up at him as he held out a hand. Gratefully, she took it. They were both more than a little muddy, and the damp weather was making them both tired and miserable.

Lewis walked ahead this time, and they came to a small Portakabin on the building site.

“Hi guys.” Lewis poked his head around the door, which was propped open with a breeze block. “Wonder if you could help us? My friend and I are doing a bit of detective work but the weather’s come down and we’re both freezing. You couldn’t give us a cup of hot tea, could you?”

Emma had to admire the balls of the man. Such confidence! She shrank behind the door to remain unseen, waiting for the answer. She heard someone rise to their feet.

“Aye, lad, no problems. The boss is out at the minute, otherwise he’d be sending you away. This isn’t for visiting by the public, you know, but it is awful out there. Sit yerselves down. I’ll see if we’ve got a couple of mugs.”

The steaming tea arrived just a few moments later.

“What kind of work did you say you were doing?”

Emma’s brain suddenly engaged. “Hi,” she said, poking her head around the door.

A group of three blokes sat on cheap-looking desks littered with paperwork. The walls of the cabin were covered with what appeared to be project plans and some technical drawings detailing the development plans.

“I’m actually doing a bit of family history research and, well, I’m trying to find a, erm, well, I’m looking for …”

“A body. We’re looking for a body.” The words tumbled out of Lewis’s mouth almost without his thinking, it seemed.

The workmen’s mouths fell open and they glanced at each other nervously.

A fourth man came through from a side door and held out his hand.

“Rob Thornton, site manager. A body, you say? I may well be able to help you if you’d like to come into my office?”

The workmen quickly shuffled papers and sat up straight at their desks. Clearly this was the boss who they hadn’t been expecting.

“Ah, Lewis, isn’t it? I remember you from the pub.”

The two men shook hands.

“Family history, did you say?” Rob motioned them to sit in the two chairs in front of his desk. “Seems to be all the rage these days.”

“You said you might be able to help?” Emma was eager to find out as much she could while they were there.

“Do you have a connection with the deceased?” Rob looked concerned. It was understandable, perhaps. After all, they could have been anyone. Emma looked at the floor briefly, trying to compose herself and not give anything away.

“If it is who I think it is, then yes, I believe I do.”

Rob looked out of the Portakabin window. He seemed distant.

“Rob? You okay?” Lewis seemed just as keen as Emma to get him to divulge information.

After another pause and a heavy sigh, Rob put his mug of tea down on the desk and leaned forward. “I haven’t told this to any of the lads. They would never believe me anyway. It all started the day the diggers arrived. We had marked out the verge, right by the crossroads as the main focus of the first phase. We can’t really start building the houses until there’s a road structure of sorts, you see.” Another pause. “So the digger started up and it was all going well until a few hours later. I was in here, I remember, making a tea, when I heard all this commotion outside. So, I grabbed my hard hat and went to see what was going on.”

His voice reduced to a whisper, as if he didn’t want to give the thought credibility by putting it into words. “And … there it was.”

Emma could see the man trembling as he picked up his mug again, only to peer inside at the emptiness. He slammed it down on the table. Whatever had happened to this man had left him shocked and unstable.

“Would you mind if I got a fresh cup of tea? It’s been a long day.”

Lewis and Emma exchanged glances after Rob left for the makeshift kitchen. Whatever was on his mind, Emma really wanted him to blurt it all out so she could get out of there as quickly as possible. The whole place felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Rob returned, sat down, took a large gulp from the fresh mug and smiled at her. She saw a vulnerability in him.

“Please, Rob, just tell us what you know.
”
She tried to sound pleading, hoping it would help.

His face crumpled. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if hoping that when he opened them, Emma and Lewis would no longer be there. When he looked back at Emma, he swallowed hard and bit his lip. “It haunts me.”

His whisper echoed in Emma’s mind. Her head snapped around to face Lewis and they stared at each other in disbelief. A dozen questions swam in her mind, but from what she had seen and heard so far, getting more from Rob would not be easy. “Me too,” she whispered. “If it’s the same ghost.”

Her eyes lifted to Rob’s, uncertain of his reaction. How much should she tell him?

“Really?”

The distance between them had shrunk such that Emma could make out the aroma of stale sweat and earth on him. She nodded in response, then watched as a weak smile crossed his face.

“Then I’m not going mad? Oh, thank God for that. You have no idea what this means to me.”

Rob checked his mobile phone then turned back to face Emma.

“So she’s a relative of yours, then?” he asked.

“Oh, no. It turns out she used to live in the cottage where I moved to just a couple weeks ago.”

“It’s a she, then?” Rob raised his eyebrows.

“Well, yes. Can’t you tell?”

Perhaps it wasn’t the same ghost after all. Maybe the village was full of unsettled spirits.

“It’s not obvious, no.”

He hung back then, and Emma sensed she needed an explanation for the strangeness she now felt. “What do you see when the ghost appears, Rob?”

“It’s always the same, like some horror movie, to be honest. But, essentially, it’s exactly as I found her. A skeleton, with the neck broken. One of the arms is reaching out towards me. It’s as if it wants to strangle me.” He paused again, and took another gulp of tea. “There’s a laugh too, it laughs at me. It sounds like a lunatic. Then I wake up."

He began to tremble again, so Emma placed a hand on his arm. After a couple more deep breaths, he composed himself. “So what do you see?” he asked.

Emma smiled and turned to Lewis, who nodded in encouragement. She would have to be careful here. Revealing too much could appear anything but genuine.

She recalled Grace’s sad, forlorn face the first time she saw her, then the arousal, lust and passion of subsequent occasions. “She’s really quite beautiful to me. I suppose I see her as though she’s not really dead.” She thought for a moment. “Did you say you found her?”

“The diggers uncovered what was left of a coffin and some human remains. The wood was mostly rotted away, so the bones were visible. It was quite a shallow grave, see. I haven’t slept much since then.”

Emma jumped out of the chair and leapt to hug a stunned Rob. “Oh, but this is wonderful! Don’t you see? What happened to the coffin? Where is she?”

“How the hell should I know? The coroner’s office came to collect the remains and they spent a whole day on site, looking for ‘evidence’, or so they said. All I know is that my project is now way behind schedule. Look, if you’re that bothered, I can give you the name of the guy at the council who I spoke to. He might know.”

“Rob, thank you so much! You’ve made my day. No, in fact, my entire week.”

As she ran out of the room, closely followed by Lewis, she turned and beamed an enormous smile back at Rob. “You know, this might even resolve your crazy dreams too.”

***

Emma stood in front of the full-length mirror with a frustrated expression on her face. She had flung her third and final pair of jeans onto the floor. It was ridiculous. How many people got upset when they lost weight? She should be jumping for joy, but the simple fact was that none of her jeans now fitted her. She hated wearing skirts and therefore owned none, which left only her work trousers. Luckily, she found a pair that still fit her. She was sliding them over her hips when the doorbell rang. Lewis was early.

The daylight apparition staring back at her when she opened the door wore a weak smile.

“Can we talk?” Lewis’s voice was almost a whisper.

“How can I ever go on, Reverend?”

“Now, Joe, you’re a good man. You mustn’t talk like this.”

Reverend Harrison placed a calming hand on the man’s shoulder but it did little to lighten his heavy heart. His only daughter had gone, by her own hand, and it was his fault. If only he had had the courage to sit down with her and talk properly, instead of choosing to ignore her predicament.

His wife’s face came to his mind. Poor, dear Anna. How would she have dealt with this? Since Anna’s death, Grace had grown into her image and he had found it so hard to have a relationship with his daughter, so alike were they. Now, because of his stubbornness, he had lost them both. Curses on him!

“Whatever shall I do, Reverend?”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways, Joe. You know that. You’re a good, pious man. He knows you have the strength for this. Pray with me.”

“I don’t know if I can. I have lost the will for such things.”

“Well, then kneel here with me now, and I’ll do the praying for us both.”

Joe looked at the bowed head of the local vicar and sighed. He slipped to his knees and bowed his head, but his heart wasn’t in it. Reverend Harrison had been so helpful, sitting with him every night by the fire, listening to his troubled soul or just sitting in silence. It brought him some comfort. For a man so used to solitude, he had recently found he didn’t want to be alone.

***

Some days later, Joe was shuffling back from the forge to make himself lunch. Recent events had aged him and he looked much older than his fifty-two years. Hunched over the dining table with his meagre bread and soup, he almost didn’t see the Reverend come into the house, much less the petite creature who followed him.

Her long raven-coloured hair framed a beautiful but grief-stricken face.

“Joe, I’ve brought someone to see you.”

“I have no interest in talking to her!”

There was an uncomfortable silence, which Reverend Harrison broke with a cough. “Now then, Joe. That’s not a Christian way to treat another human being. Remember, Suzanne is also grieving.” He turned to the girl and encouraged her to speak. “She has something she would like to say, I think, don’t you, girl?”

“Mr Richardson, sir?” She shuffled over towards the wooden table where Joe sat. He sat up and folded his arms, his disdain for her obvious in his expression. “I have come to tell you that Tom and I are to be married and we shall be leaving Fosbury for Oxfordshire. Under the circumstances, I didn’t think you would want me staying in the village, so I think it’s for the best.”

Joe remained silent.

“She speaks sense, Joe. You must see that,” the Reverend said gently. “It will be a quiet ceremony, one which I shall conduct myself, and they will be gone by the end of the month. Then we can try and put this whole sorry business behind us.”

Joe nodded slowly. Reverend Harrison ushered the girl out the door, her part having been fulfilled, and took a seat next to Joe at the table. Neither man said anything for a few moments.

“Is there more soup, Joe?”

Another nod.

“I’ll help myself then, shall I?”

“Aye.”

Lunch continued in silence, and Joe stood to collect the empty bowls when they’d finished. Reverend Harrison was about to take his leave when Joe called him back.

“Reverend, will you call again tomorrow evening? Perhaps you would bring Tom and Suzanne with you. I may have something for them.”

The vicar raised an eyebrow. “Of course, Joe. Yes, I will. Take care.”

***

The following evening, Tom, Suzanne and the Reverend sat in parlour of the small cottage. Joe stood on the hearth, trying to find the right words. Anna would have had the eloquence to deliver this much better than he. “I don’t want to keep you folks long, so I’ll not tarry.” He coughed. He had started now, so he had to get it over with. “I want to thank you, Suzanne, for coming to see me yesterday. That was a brave thing. I agree that it would be for the best if you leave the village.”

He turned to Tom, until lately his young apprentice. “Tom, I have a friend near where you are moving to, a farrier by the name of Archie Wilson. He’ll see you right.

“Suzanne, Grace loved you very much, I see that now. The best thing I can do for her is make sure that you are provided for. I have a little money put aside. It was meant as a wedding gift for Grace, of course. She would want you to be happy, and I mean to see that you start your married life with some means. It’s not much, but it’s what she would have wanted.”

He took a deep breath and swallowed his ale in one gulp, as if it gave him fortitude. “That’s all I had to say.”

A somewhat stunned Reverend Harrison got to his feet. He joined his friend by the hearth and shook his hand. “Grace would be so proud of you, Joe,” he said. “She is smiling down on you now, I know it.”

Joe nodded and turned away. They must not see how hard that had been for him to say those words; they must not see the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes.

He had to admit to himself, though, that it felt much better to be kind in the face of tragedy. He had spent much too long ruminating of late, thinking of the past. It was his own stupid fault he was alone now. Best not to make things worse.