Nine Letters Long (7 page)

It passes down her throat and into her chest, dissolving the weight that burdens her lungs. In – out, in – out; at last the air flows freely. In – out, in – out. The thoughts that lingered above her are now absorbed with each breath she takes. Message received. Now Evie understands. Caz is here. But she is hiding.

Victoria calls to the spirit world again. ‘If you would, commune with us, dear Caz. Feel free to move among us. You are safe within our circle.'

They wait. Nothing.

‘This is ridiculous.' Nora's teeth are clenched. ‘Ridiculous using this board. Don't waste my time. I won't be going until I speak to my Caz!'

‘Nora, please,' Victoria says. ‘You must be quiet.'

‘Hhhmph.'

‘All help me circle the board with the needle,' Victoria commands. ‘This may be needed to start things off.'

Around and around the board their fingers move the planchette. ‘Beloved Caz, you are safe with us. Your mother is here. She wishes to hear you. To know you are at peace.' Victoria nods to Nora.

‘Come, my darling,' Nora croons. ‘Come.
Nu int'eleg
.
Nu int'eleg. Why will you not speak to Mamma.'

Above Nora's head, only Evie hears the words whispered, ‘No Mamma. No Mamma.'

‘Come.
Nu int'eleg
,' Nora continues. ‘Mamma cannot go on unless you speak to me. Please, my darling. Speak to me.'

The words hover around Nora's chair. ‘Never again. Never again,' it murmurs. ‘Never again. Unforgivable. Unforgivable Mamma. Never again.'

 

Evie is still sitting at the table when her parents arrive to take her home. Victoria shakes her head. ‘It didn't go too well,' she tells them. ‘Nora's very good at the dramatic exits and entrances, but she'll be back.'

Robin rushes to where her daughter is sitting. ‘Evie!' She turns to Victoria and Nick. ‘I knew this wasn't a good idea. How could we let her do this?'

‘Please, Robin, let me explain.'

‘What on earth could you say to make this better?' She puts her hands on Evie's shoulders. ‘Let's get you out of here. Come on, Nick.'

‘Mum, it's not Victoria's fault,' Evie sighs. ‘It just wasn't going to work. It never was.'

‘If you ask me, the whole idea was pretty bloody awful!'

‘Well, it doesn't matter any more,' Evie tells her. ‘Nora Cuza thinks I'm the biggest fake in the world. I don't have anything to tell her.'

‘You mean, that's it?'

‘Yep.' Evie lies for the second time. ‘It ended up being … nothing.'

As Evie leaves the flat, her eyes connect with Victoria's. She knows.

 

‘Alex is on the phone,' Robin calls. ‘Evie?'

‘I'll take it in your room.' Evie lies on her parents' bed and picks up the receiver on her father's bedside table. ‘You can hang up now, Mum.'

‘Hey, I thought you were coming to the movies last night.' Alex says. ‘What happened?'

‘I got a really bad headache.' That's not exactly a lie, Evie thinks. By the time she got back from Victoria's, her head was thumping. ‘Was it a good night? Who went?'

‘Me and Zac. Um, Seb, Roxy –'

‘Roxy went?'

‘Yeah. She's great.'

Evie rolls her eyes.

‘You'd really like her,' Alex tells her. ‘I reckon there might be a bit of chemistry between her and Seb, you know.'

‘Oh?'

‘Well, she seemed pretty hot for Seb.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Would you believe she asked if you and Seb were an item?' Alex chuckles. ‘I said you'd die if people thought you were going out with him.'

‘No I wouldn't,' Evie says a bit too quickly. ‘I mean … I mean, Seb's a great guy. There's nothing wrong with him.'

‘Well, don't worry. I assured Roxy there was absolutely nothing going on with you and Seb.' Alex crunches away at something as she speaks. ‘Don't you think Roxy and Seb would make a cute couple? I do. Hey, Zac and I could go on double dates with them! We've just got to find someone for you, Evie.'

‘I'll … be okay. Thanks anyway.' Evie picks up the pencil on her father's bedside table and starts doodling on some paper. ‘So, what are you up to today, Al?'

‘I'm going to see Zac and Seb play soccer at one o'clock.' Alex is talking with her mouth full. Evie holds the phone away with each crunch.

‘What are you eating?'

‘A carrot,' Alex mumbles. ‘I'm on a diet. Zac said I was a little bit too cuddly.'

‘That's a bit harsh!'

‘Oh, he didn't mean it like that,' Alex says in defence. ‘He said I was just a bit too cuddly, not fat! Anyway, you want to come and watch the game?'

‘I've still got a bit of a headache.' This time it is a lie. Evie actually feels quite peaceful. ‘Thanks anyway.'

‘Whatever,' Alex sighs. ‘Roxy's coming, so at least I'll have someone to talk to. Zac gets so serious before a game.'

Evie draws a square within a square, then joins the lines together, making it a cube. ‘He's psyching up, I guess.'

‘You should see him in his soccer shorts. He looks so hot. God, I want to run on the field and … and rip his clothes off.'

‘That'd go down well.' Evie draws cube after cube, each one the same as the last. ‘I'm sure Zac'd appreciate it – not.'

‘I think afterwards we'll go to that new gelato bar for coffee. It's just across from the Penis Abuser.'

Evie swallows. ‘Really?'

‘Luckily it's a Sunday. That means …'

Evie presses hard on the pencil as Alex prattles on.

‘… the Penis College is closed so Zac can't be distracted by the babes walking in and out. He'll only be able to look at me …'

Evie begins to slash vertical lines through each cube.

‘… only that weird-looking skinny chick hangs out there on a Sunday; she is a complete case …'

Line after line after line, each one darker than the last. Evie can't stop it.

‘… I mean she's hardly going to …'

‘Ouch!' Evie yelps.

‘What?'

‘Nothing.' Evie shakes her hand. ‘I just broke my dad's pencil.'

‘Is that all?' Alex scoffs. ‘The thing about Zac is that …'

Evie doesn't want this conversation. Usually it'd be fine. Usually she'd be able to tell Alex what was going on in her other life. Now she can't. Alex is caught up in a different life. A new life. A life Evie hoped she could have. A life she has had to put on hold – again.

‘Roxy,' Alex prattles on, ‘you know how their family is really old friends with Zac's. Well, Roxy was telling me the cutest story about Zac when he was little –'

‘Alex, my mum needs to use the phone.' Another lie. ‘I've got to go. I'll see you tomorrow.'

‘Hang on! Have we got art first? I'm just too scrambled in the head at the moment. Blame it on love.'

Evie ignores her. ‘Art's second period,' she replies.

‘Okay. Hope your headache gets better.'

‘Oh? Yeah, yeah, thanks. Bye.'

Evie lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling horrible. Alex has been her lifeline. Alex has been the one Evie could tell anything too. Alex accepting her was something she had always been sure of. Once, they'd been bound together – two misfits happy to have found one another. But now Alex wants more. Evie wants it too, but for her it's not as simple.

‘How's Alex?' Robin wanders in with a pile of clean washing. ‘Help me fold this, will you?'

‘All right.' Evie sighs, searching for a sock's other half.

‘What is it?'

‘Oh, she's just, you know, got a boyfriend, all that stuff. And … I guess I couldn't be further from that.'

‘Give it time, love.'

‘It's more than that.' Evie picks up the undies and bras. ‘Where's this sock's mate? I can't find it.'

‘It's hiding there somewhere,' her mum replies, stacking her husband's T-shirts onto a shelf. ‘I don't know what it is with socks. Where do they go?'

Evie gives up. She lies back on the pillows, wishing for what she can't have. A photo of her dad and grandma sits on the bedside table. She holds it up and studies her grandmother's face. How she wishes she was alive. Alive to guide her through the uncertainties and protect her from the things that frighten her. But the one person Evie longs to speak to is silent.

The paper she was scribbling on hangs off the edge of the table. She puts the photo back and picks it up. Cubes, lots of them, stacked on top of each other and covered in dark vertical lines. Evie studies them, trying to work out what they remind her of. The cubes stare back, almost like they're trying to speak.

Cages – that's it. The pictures of the circus bears locked in cages. That's what her drawing reminds her of. Things that are kept for someone else's pleasure. Trapped, scared, powerless with no voice. If they were freed, unlocked from their prison, think of the things they could tell you.

Then another thought hits her. A more sobering one. Again, Evie looks at it. ‘No!' She crumples the sketch in her hand. It couldn't mean anything. It's just a drawing. ‘No! No way!'

 

A breeze drifts through Evie's bedroom. It lifts the blind, then gently lets it go. With each fall, the wooden slats brush the ledge. Tap, tap, tap. The breeze carries a perfume, too. Clean and sweet, fresh like a florist's in the morning. Evie's nostrils start to twitch as the fragrance fills the room, stirring her from her slumber.

With eyes wide open, she stares into the darkness. The breeze has settled, leaving only its perfume behind. She sniffs the air. There's no mistaking it. Evie understands. Caz's presence is imminent. That means it's time.

She turns on the lamp and carries her chair to the cupboard. Her hand digs around in the top shelf until it touches the
wood, cold and smooth against her palm. Carefully, she slides it to the edge – her grandmother's ouija board.

The hinges moan as she lifts the board out of its box. The painted Egyptian figures stand poised upon the honey-coloured timber. They are ready, always. Evie rubs the planchette on her pyjama sleeve and places it in the centre of the board.

On her desk, she searches for a pencil and some paper. It's then she sees them sitting on the window ledge – two white candles. She swallows hard and her fingers tremble as she picks them up.

There's a lighter in the drawer, left over from one of Alex's visits. The sulphur sizzles as the gas springs to life and the flame stands tall. Evie tries to steady her hand, as one by one she lights the candles. Then, turning off the lamp, she sits quietly on the floor, the paper and pencil resting in her lap.

In – out, in – out, she focuses on her breath while, for the first time ever, she consciously calls to the self that makes her special.

‘I … I ask for good will – for all at this calling.' Her voice shakes as she chooses each word. ‘I ask for protection and guidance. Please … keep me safe.'

Evie places her index finger on the planchette. ‘I request to speak to those in the … spirit world.' She swallows. ‘Um, I make this request with the greatest respect.'

‘Please, I ask Caz to join me. If she can. I will keep her messages safe. I promise.' The window pane rattles as the breeze re-enters the room, this time lifting the blind to its full height. It bellows then falls, hitting the window ledge with a crack.

‘Okay,' Evie squeaks. ‘Um, um. Caz? Um, are –' Evie takes a deep breath. ‘Caz, you're here?'

Under her finger, the planchette slides to the word ‘YES'.

‘Thank you. Thank you.' Evie's other hand touches her throat. ‘Is there something you need to tell me? You can talk to me. You can trust me.'

The pointer circumnavigates the letters as if searching for the right one.

A to M sit along the top row of the board. For a second, it settles there before moving to the L, then O, O. Evie spells ‘L-O-O-K-T-H-E-D-O-O-R'.

‘
Lock the door
, you mean.' Evie corrects.

The planchette turns anti-clockwise, spinning over to the ‘NO'.

‘No?'

It then moves downwards, circling around the S, sliding back and pointing directly to it.

‘S,' Evie whispers. The word continues. ‘S-C-A-R-E-D.
Scared?' Evie repeats. ‘What are you scared of, Caz?'

It skirts over to the P and begins a new word.

‘P-A-R-I-S-T-A-L-K.' Evie copies the letters with her left hand. They squiggle down the page.

‘
Paris talk
?' Evie frowns. ‘Paris is your sister, right? You want me to go and see your sister? You want her to talk? Talk to me?'

It points to the ‘YES', three times before making a circle around the entire board. It stops and then, for a second, hovers as though unsure of its direction. Evie watches her finger, wondering where it will follow.

The planchette points to the C then, gathering up speed, continues the message. Frantically, Evie writes the letters. Randomly, they land on the paper as each one is delivered. ‘C-A-R-E-F-U-L-I-N-E-E-D-A-S-' Evie watches the jumble appearing before her, ‘S-I-S-T-A-N-C-E-A-N-DH-E-L-P.' Her finger runs along the letters, linking them together and forming the words, ‘Careful I need assistance and help.'

‘Okay,' she says in reply. Evie places her finger back on the needle. ‘Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything?'

‘H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P …' The pointer swings around the board. ‘H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P …' Faster and faster. It won't stop. ‘H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P …' Evie feels like her arm is about to dislodge from its socket. Around and around it whizzes as the air becomes trapped in her throat. ‘H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P-H-E-L-P-H-E-L-PH-E …' Evie can hardly breathe. The wheeze is barking from her mouth. She has to stop it. She pushes against the energy, forcing the planchette to the word ‘GOODBYE'. She holds it there, puffing and panting.