Glimpse (26 page)

There was a soft but frantic sensation in my chest, like flowers unfurling. ‘But you might not get a choice,’ I said.

‘I’ve decided my own destiny thus far—’ he held my gaze ‘—and I intend to continue.’ He smiled then, wide, and held out his arm.

I took it, and we turned together into the fields. I tried to calm the fluttering in my chest – he was Bess’s – but it was impossible.

I was wobbling over a precipice. I knew that if I fell for him, I really would fall; the end result could only be destruction. But it was too late. I was already mesmerized by the thrill of the free fall.

We parted outside the inn. Neither one of us attempted to rush our goodbye. The sky hung heavy with late-afternoon dusk, giving his features a brooding edge I knew well from our night-time meetings.

We talked about all the places we’d go together, on days just like this; both places Bess might be and places that just sounded like fun. I could have planned every weekend for months. We parted, agreeing to meet again tonight if the rain held off.

I ran into the inn. I was met with a celebratory, muffled piano jingle from the end of the hallway.

‘Dad!’ I shrieked. I ran to the dining room without pausing to take off my shoes, and threw my arms around his neck.

Dad grinned, and ran his fingers from the top of the piano keys to the bottom. ‘I got the job.’

‘I knew it!’ I felt giddy, as if I’d spent the day on a bouncy castle. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘They acknowledged that the seven-year hole in my CV was not ideal—’ he ran his fingers back up the piano keys ‘— but my overall experience far outweighed that of the other two people interviewing for the job. This helped.’ He tugged at his Ripe Banana Studios T-shirt. ‘I worked with some big names in my time.’

I hugged tighter around his neck. ‘I am so proud of you.’ And I was. I barely had the words to tell him how much. ‘When do you start?’

‘Three weeks on Monday.’

‘So you’ll be getting the bus?’

‘Yes, but not your one, don’t worry.’ He smiled. ‘I thought I’d give it a few weeks, and then book some refresher driving lessons, just to see how I get on.’ He didn’t look at me, but his cheeks were pink with pride.

I stood up straight, and did a little dance behind Dad’s back. Then I beamed upwards and said a silent thank you, as though it was the sun shining on me and not the dusty glow of the cobwebbed chandeliers.

‘I think you deserve a celebratory coffee,’ I said.

‘That would be lovely, Liz.’

I took a hot chocolate up to my bedroom, which was dark with the impending storm outside. I turned on the light, dumped my satchel on the bed, and drifted to the window. The rain started just as I got there, small spatters streaking across the window, but I really didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, the sky was sunshine and rainbows.

Dad was moving on with his life. He hadn’t got over Mum, but he’d loosened his grip on his grief, and it had let him move forwards. It was all I’d ever wanted for him.

I’d seen a lot of that today. Philip had let go of his guilt, and he’d literally moved on. And Zachary seemed to be doing the same. He hadn’t given up on Bess, but he was finding ways to move his life forwards.

And me . . .?

I turned and looked at my Normality List. ‘No nightmares’. ‘No Glimpses’. I hadn’t achieved either, just like I hadn’t remembered Mum or anything else about my past. And though I did have a friend now, though I wasn’t bullied in school, I certainly hadn’t become ‘normal’.

But thinking about Dad and Philip and Zachary, the way they’d managed to move on without rewriting their pasts, made me wonder if it was time for me to do the same. To just . . . let my issues go. Accept I was always going to see Glimpses, and have amnesia, and then let my new life truly begin.

I folded my Normality List and slotted it into the bin. Then I lay back on my bed and removed my locket from the neck of my dress. I popped it open and looked at the photo of me and Mum. I imagined letting her go, like Philip had done with Zachary. I was never getting her back, not really, not even if I remembered her. Maybe it was time to set her memory free completely.

One more try, I promised. One more big push to replace the mother of my nightmares who hated me with some real memories of her loving me, and then, perhaps, I would let her go.

‘So what do you think?’ Susie’s mum watched me through eyes rimmed with glittery green eyeshadow. ‘Do courgette cakes make the school menu or not?’

I rubbed cake crumbs off my fingers, careful not to drop them on Marmalade, who was perched on my lap. ‘They’re actually pretty good. They taste like carrot cake.’

She smiled, and narrowed her eyes at Susie. ‘I told you they were nice.’

‘Okay, okay, I surrender.’ Susie held up her hands. ‘Courgette cake is nice. But seriously – change the name, Mum. No one at school’s going to eat a cake if they know it’s been anywhere near a courgette.’

I smiled and shuffled to the edge of the sofa, forcing Marmalade to ooze off my lap. ‘I should really be heading off. Thanks so much for the cake and hot chocolate, Ms Boyd.’

‘You’re very welcome.’ Susie’s mum bounced out of her chair. ‘Give me a moment and I’ll wrap some cakes for you to take with you.’ She headed out of the living room.

I turned to Susie and exhaled some of my nerves. I’d been keeping them under control for the last hour since I’d got to her house, but now I was really about to head to Meg’s, my jitters were resurfacing.

‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘I needed this.’

‘Hey, what are ghost-hunting sidekicks for? Hope Meg’s less crazy with you this time.’

‘Me too.’ I widened my eyes to show how much I meant it. Susie didn’t know the half of how weird Meg had been with me. ‘If you hear screaming, come and rescue me, will you?’ I joked.

‘I’ll grab Matt and we’ll be over in a jiffy.’

I was hoping my visit with Meg today would be third time lucky. As far as remembering my mother was concerned, Meg really was the only one who could help me. I’d let her refuse to answer my questions last time; this time would be different.

I waved goodbye to Susie and her mum as I stepped out of their house, a foil package of warm cakes in my hand.

I arrived at Meg’s and rapped on the door with authority, my head held high as I waited for her to answer.

‘You again.’ Meg sounded so surprised, she forgot to sound crabby. She made a quick recovery. ‘I told you not to come back.’

‘I know.’ I held her narrow-eyed, watery gaze. ‘And I promise, this is really the last time you’ll see me.’ I held out the foil package. ‘Ms Boyd sent you some cakes. And I’d like to pay you for a final reading.’

Meg frowned at me. I stepped forwards anyway, pretending she’d already opened the door to me. If what I had planned was to work, I had to be decisive.

To my surprise, Meg stepped mutely aside to let me through.

Keeping my steps confident, I pushed past her and headed down the now-familiar narrow hallway. ‘I’ll put the cakes in here.’ I deposited the foil package on Meg’s coffee table, then swallowed my nerves and grabbed the bowl of bones from the bookcase.

Meg appeared in the doorway just in time to see me turning around with the bowl. Her confusion shifted quickly to alarm. ‘What are you doing? Put that down!’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Sanders—’ I pushed gently past her, back into the hallway ‘—but I need to speak to you in private today. I’ll put your bowl somewhere safe. I’ll be back soon.’

Steeling myself, I marched towards the front door.

Meg’s, ‘But . . . but . . . wait!’ followed me into the street.

I held the bowl in front of me, trying not to look at its contents, as I turned right out of Meg’s front garden. Guilt pinched me – I wouldn’t have dared to do this if Meg hadn’t been so old and frail – but I ignored it. Removing Ann’s bones from Meg’s house was the only way I could think of getting Meg to speak openly with me.

I headed down the street away from Susie’s house, away from the centre of the village. My heart beat like a kid throwing a tantrum.

I kept my focus on my skin as I speed-walked through residential street after residential street. It took only five minutes for me to feel the first prickling. I braced myself. Here we go . . .

‘What do you think you’re doing, Elizabeth?’ Ann’s voice next to my ear was cold, but the anger bubbling beneath it was just as scary as her screams on Thursday night.

Ann swerved out from behind me and danced in front of me, making me gasp, despite myself. She made a single, futile swipe at the bowl, as if she couldn’t help but try. It felt like being attacked by dead leaves. She bared her teeth in frustration.

I didn’t let myself swerve off my path. I kept my gaze straight ahead; I had no idea who could be watching me from their windows.

‘You believe you’re so clever, don’t you,’ Ann said, ‘with your skin and your bones and your heartbeat.’ She was a couple of inches shorter than me, and had to tilt her head back to snarl in my ear. ‘So clever to be alive. So superior to me.’

‘I don’t think anything like that,’ I said, trying not to move my lips too obviously in case anyone was watching. ‘But since we’re talking about it – yes, I think I’d be cleverer than to stay on earth for a boy who doesn’t even like me.’

Ann laughed. ‘You believe I stay for him? Zachary will be the jewel in my crown, true. But he is not the only reason I haunt here.’

‘So what are you trying to prove? Why attack me? Why stop me talking to Meg?’

I turned a corner, not far now. Last night I’d marked the distance Zachary could move from his body and guessed that I needed to take Ann’s bones the equivalent distance from Meg’s house now, to make sure she wouldn’t be able to follow me back.

Ann stayed by my side. ‘I’ll prove to you what I can do, Elizabeth. Oh, I will. You wait. I’m cleverer than you credit.’

I couldn’t get a handle on her; she veered so quickly between displays of pure lunacy and apparent coherence. All I knew was that I’d be stupid to underestimate her power.

At the end of the street, I looked around for a place to hide the bones. I couldn’t wait to get rid of them.

Ann regarded me with a deeply unimpressed expression. I ignored her. I found a tree on the street corner with a nettle patch at its base, and used the tip of my shoe to push the bowl between the nettles and out of sight.

Then I turned and ran, my long dress flapping around my legs.

Ann ran alongside me, screeching and careening. I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely crazed or just trying to disturb me, but I was relieved when we reached the road before Meg’s and Ann finally lagged behind me, unable to follow.

‘I’ll be waiting for you at the inn tonight, Elizabeth!’ she called, her hands cupped around her mouth, her voice sweet as though she was inviting me to a party. ‘Don’t be late.’

On Meg’s street, I slowed to catch my breath and wait for the tingling on my skin to fade. Ann’s words made me uneasy, but I forced myself to push them to the back of my mind. I had more pressing concerns.

I knocked on Meg’s door, for the second time in twenty minutes. For a moment, I thought she might not let me back in – that my theft had been a step too far – but then the door opened a fraction, and I saw Meg’s eye at the gap. She seemed more concerned than angry.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Sanders,’ I said, meaning it. ‘I know that was bad of me. But I’m desperate. I need answers.’

The door creaked wider, then all the way open. ‘Do you know the trouble you’re going to get me into?’ Meg demanded. But it wasn’t a ‘no’.

I took the open door as a good sign and stepped inside. Meg shut the door behind us.

‘Ann knows I took the bones,’ I said. ‘She can’t blame you.’

‘I don’t know about that.’ Extra wrinkles formed around Meg’s lips. She gestured down the hallway towards the living room. ‘Well, hurry up. I’ll give you a minute, no more. And as far as Ann’s concerned, I haven’t spoken to you at all – I sent you straight back to get the bowl, understood?’

I nodded enthusiastically, and took a seat on the sofa as Meg took her usual spot in her armchair. Her eyes darted to where the bowl of bones should be, and she sagged.

I leapt straight into my questions. ‘Is Bess still haunting?’

Meg started. ‘Good God, girl, you don’t beat about the bush.’

‘Is she?’

‘Yes.’

Excitement, tempered by a touch of selfish disappointment that I couldn’t suppress, flared through me. ‘Where is she?’

‘That—’ Meg fixed me with her gaze, her expression grim ‘—you really will have to find out on your own. I absolutely cannot help you with that.’

‘Because of Ann?’

Meg hesitated, then gave a single nod. ‘Because of Ann.’

‘But she doesn’t have to know you told me.’

‘Oh, she would know.’ Meg raised her sparse eyebrows.

I changed tack. ‘So, Ann knows where Bess is?’

Meg hesitated again, nodded again. ‘She does, but you didn’t learn that from me.’

I nodded. I tried to imagine telling Zachary.

‘Is that it?’ Meg asked. She cast a nervous glance at the door.

‘No.’ I shifted closer to the edge of the sofa. I’d done my part for Zachary, now I needed to focus on myself. ‘I need to know about my mother.’

Meg sighed, and started to shake her head.

‘Please Mrs Sanders. I remember nothing about her.’ I fumbled with my locket, unclasped it and opened it, and thrust it into Meg’s hand. ‘Look. This is her. Just give me something.’ I hesitated, then: ‘If you can’t tell me anything else, at least tell me if she still loves me.’

Meg looked down at the locket for a long moment. Then she snapped it shut and slid to the edge of her chair. She handed the necklace back to me, and folded my fingers around it with hers. Her skin was dry and papery.

‘Your mother loves you,’ she said, her voice low and sympathetic.

Relief flooded through me. I focused on our linked hands.
My mother loves me
.

‘But the woman in that photo,’ Meg said, her voice even more sympathetic than before, ‘doesn’t.’

I jerked my hand away from Meg’s. ‘What?’

Meg shrugged. ‘You asked me. I answered.’