All of a
sudden she realised she had stopped breathing and as she did, she coughed. The
glow died and the voice stopped.
Jessie
couldn’t move. She clung to the door frame, not sure now of what she had seen
and heard. Gradually she could feel her legs again and raced back into her
room, pulling the door firmly shut behind her.
She stood for
a moment, shaking, as the cold wrapped itself around her and then she dived
into bed, pulling the doona up and over her head and rubbing her hands up and
down her arms.
What did it
mean? The light, and the voice? What was it?
Who
was it? And how did it
get there?
Did Nanna
know
about this?
Jessie assumed
not, as Nanna wouldn’t be able to hear anything at night. And if I tell her
Jessie thought, she won’t believe me. Would anyone?
Did I really
see the portrait glowing? And did a lady really speak? Jessie tossed from side
to side in the bed, her thoughts spinning like a merry-go-round until she fell
into an unsettled sleep.
As sunlight
streamed in through her bedroom window, Jessie opened her eyes. Nanna had
opened the blinds and was now standing beside the bed.
‘This country
air must be having a wonderful effect on you, love – you’ve slept in. Do you
want some breakfast? Don’t forget you told Harmony you’d be over this morning.’
‘Can I stay in
just a bit longer, please?’
‘Of course you
can – I’ll be out in the garden, you just get up when you feel like it. There’s
cereal on the table, and bread. Just pop a couple of slices into the toaster.’
When Nanna
left, Jessie rolled over on her stomach and buried her face in the pillow to
keep out the light.
I must have
dreamed it, she thought. I must have dreamed that light in the hall and that
lady’s voice. What else could it be?
And why am I
so
tired
this morning? Jessie tried to go back to sleep, but the room
was full of light now so she dressed and walked down to the kitchen. As she
passed the portrait in the hall, she looked up.
‘Did you
really
speak last night?’ she whispered to her great-grandmother, ‘or did I dream it?’
Fleur was painting again in the garden when
Jessie arrived, this time on her own. Now that she knew the way it only took a
few minutes to walk over from Nanna’s.
‘As you can see,
painting is a messy business,’ Fleur said, her arms and face marred with
streaks of green and yellow.’
‘Is it hard to
get the paint off?’ Jessie asked.
‘Well, not
really. You see I put a lot of sunscreen on when I’m outside and the paint just
doesn’t seem to stick.’
‘It’s nice out
here the garden. Do you always paint flowers?’
Fleur smiled.
‘Not always Jessie. But I do love bright colours, as you’ve probably noticed.
And different kinds of flowers lend themselves to so many exciting textures.’
‘I wish I
could paint,’ said Jessie.
‘It’s taken me
many years to reach this stage in my painting, but anyone can do it, if they
have the desire … and the passion.’
Jessie nodded.
‘Harmony’s out
the back,’ Fleur smiled, as she turned back to the easel, ‘you can find your
way, can’t you?’
Harmony was emailing her dad when Jessie
arrived. She looked up, ‘Hi,’ she said, ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Yeah, that’d be great.’ Jessie always felt
thirsty after her walk over from Nanna’s.
As Harmony left the room, Jessie glanced at
the message she hadn’t yet completed. In it Harmony had told her dad how much
she was missing him and that she was always so bored at mum’s. Jessie almost
turned away until she read the last sentence; …
mum introduced me to her
neighbour’s granddaughter, Jessie. She’s a lot younger than me, but she does
know a bit about computers. We’re getting on okay and at least it’s a break
from mum.
What a horrible thing to say about Fleur,
Jessie thought, as a frown slowly spread across her face.
Harmony placed their drinks on the table and
said, ‘I just need to finish this, okay?’
‘Sure.’
Harmony typed a few more sentences and then
sent the email. ‘So, what are you going to show me today?’ she asked.
Jessie had planned to invite Harmony to join
her on Facebook but now she wasn’t sure whether she wanted Harmony as a friend.
Instead she showed her how to play a hidden object computer game. Harmony
seemed a bit happier when they finished and Jessie wondered if she should
mention to her about the voices.
I have to tell someone, she thought, but
Harmony will probably just laugh at me. Oh well, what does it matter? We’re not
going to be friends anyway.
‘Can I tell you something? Jessie said.
‘Sure.’
Jessie hesitated.
‘What is it?’
‘You probably won’t believe me.’
Harmony frowned. ‘Try me.’
‘Well, for the past couple of nights I’ve
been hearing voices, late at night. They wake me up.’
‘What sorts of voices?’
‘Well, first there was a lady’s voice. I
thought Nanna was having a bad dream, or that she was talking in her sleep but
I checked her room and she was okay. Then I heard a man’s voice. And then I got
worried that there was someone outside.’
‘What did your Nanna say?’
‘First she said I was probably dreaming, but
then she told me that sometimes in the country you can hear voices from a long
way away. She thought maybe it was someone talking up on the road.’
‘Mmm. You don’t think so, do you?’
‘No. I think it’s something else.’
‘How come?’
‘I saw something last night. Something …
strange.’
‘Like what?’ Harmony raised her eyebrows.
‘There’s a painting, well it’s a portrait,
in my Nanna’s hallway. And last night there was a strange light coming out of
it.’
‘Cool.’
‘What do you think it was?’
‘Mum says that some of the old houses around
here are haunted. Maybe there’s a ghost in your Nanna’s house.’
‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Of course,’ Harmony replied, ‘Don’t you?’
‘I’ve never really thought about it.’
‘Well, they’re everywhere. You just have to
be sensitive to them.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘You just have to be aware they’re there. I
did a project on it at summer school.’
‘What’s summer school?’
‘I went there when my parents split up. They
do … different things than school, like drawing, and music. And there was this
class on the paranormal – ghosts - that I went to.’
‘Do ghosts only haunt houses?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, do they ever haunt anything … inside
houses?’
Now Harmony looked confused. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, like this portrait for instance?
Nanna brought it down from the loft and put it up in the hall. Last night it
wasn’t just glowing though; I’m pretty sure those voices I heard were actually
coming out of the portrait.’
Harmony’s eyes opened wide and her mouth
dropped open.
‘You have a haunted portrait? That’s so
cool
!’
‘Really?’
‘Does your Nanna know about this?’
‘Nanna wears hearing aids, and …’
‘Yeah, I noticed.’
Jessie smiled as she continued, ‘Well she
takes them out at night so she doesn’t hear anything.’
‘Wow. What a blast!’
‘But what am I going to do about it?’
‘Why would you need to do anything about
it?’
‘Well, they’re keeping me awake at night.’
‘Mmm,’ Harmony said, her mouth twisted in
thought. ‘I don’t know what you
can
do about it. Ghosts pretty well have
a mind of their own.’
After
sandwiches and an apple Harmony walked Jessie back to Nanna’s. While Jessie had
played with the computer Harmony had repainted her nails, a very dark shade of
brown. Her eyes were so dark, Jessie wondered now long it took her to apply her
makeup every morning, and how many bottles of nail polish she owned.
‘Are you going
to do anything? About the portrait I mean?’ Harmony asked.
‘I’m going to
listen really well tonight. I want to hear what they’re saying.’
‘Are you sure
you want to?’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, not all
ghosts are good you know.’ Harmony raised an eyebrow and her eyes seemed to
become even darker. ‘Some are downright evil.’
Jessie
flinched.
‘Well,’
Harmony said brightly, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow I guess.’
Evil? Jessie
couldn’t imagine her great-grandparents were evil, but the thought worried her
anyway.
Later that
night as she lay in bed, she heard the woman’s voice again. She slipped out of
bed and tiptoed across to the door. Remembering that last night the voices had
stopped as soon as she coughed she had purposely left her door wide open so
there would be no risk of her making any noise as she went out into the hall.
The lady was
speaking as she rounded the corner, one slow step, and then another. Jessie could
see the portrait glowing. Then the lady stopped talking.
Jessie moaned
inwardly. She hadn’t made a noise at all, she was sure of it. Why had the woman
stopped?
But then the
man spoke. Jessie backed herself up against the wall, stood perfectly still and
listened.
‘Mother, it was an
accident.’
‘My son, you must
report what happened to the constable.’
‘They will send me to
prison.’
‘Harold, you must
speak the truth - for the sake of your father.’
Jessie crept a
little further down the wall, her bare feet soundless on the timber floor.
There was a pause and she held her breath, not wanting the voices to stop. The
conversation continued.
‘Father?’
Harold asked desperately, ‘If it had not been for father, this tragedy would
not have happened. Can you not see that mother? Can you not understand
how much I love Gwyn? I must have her. I must.’
‘Harold,
you cannot,’
his mother replied sternly
, ‘She is engaged to your brother.’
‘Can
Frederick love her the way I do?’
Harold pleaded
, ‘I adore her, mother.’
‘Harold!
You must not speak this way. She belongs to Frederick.’
‘What must
I do then mother? How shall I live without her?’
What were they
talking about? Jessie wondered as she moved a little further down the wall.
She was now
only a metre from the portrait. The conversation paused again. She knew
Frederick was her grandfather and Harold was his brother, but who was Gwyn?
‘You must
go away my son. Leave this place.’
‘And leave
you too?’
Harold
cried
.
Finally Jessie
was almost opposite the portrait. She looked up. The woman, her
great-grandmother, was speaking and as she did, Harold turned away.
Great-grandmother moved her hands to gently rest them on Harold’s shoulders.
They
moved
!
Jessie thought, flinging her hand over her mouth to stop herself from
screaming. They actually moved!
Chills were
running up and down her body and her legs were trembling.
‘It is the
honourable thing to do. Your father would have wanted it.’
great-grandmother said.
At that point
Harold broke down and cried. Jessie was so close to the portrait she could see
the pain in Harold’s eyes.
The people in
the portrait were moving, and speaking. The hand over her mouth started to
shake and her heart was beating so fast she thought it would explode right out
of her chest.
Part of her so
badly wanted to run back to the safety of her room but the other part wanted to
stay, to hear the rest of what her ancestors had to say. Before she could
decide though, Harold spoke again.
‘Mother, I
am doomed - am I not?’
he was pleading,
‘How can I live with myself?
Father is gone and Gwyn, … oh, Gwyn, the love of my life!’
‘My son,’
his mother was saying,
‘My son. You must leave this place, you must leave tonight. I love you Harold,
I always will. But you must go. For all our sakes.’
The light
diminished, and the voices stopped. Jessie’s legs refused to move until she
slapped her hands against her thighs. Her feet were like frozen blocks of ice
as she walked quickly back to her room and got into bed.