Nyctophobia (26 page)

‘Christ, Callie. I need you to hold it together for me.’ He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to concentrate while he threw a capsule in a coffee machine. ‘Come on then, what is it, hit me. What’s happened?’

‘Why did you say you had a drink with Celestia on Saturday? She says she never saw you.’

‘What?’ He scratched at his hair, trying to think, or perhaps trying to come up with a fast excuse. ‘She’s going crazy. I was walking across the square with the paintbrushes and she called me over.’

‘Who was she with?’

‘Nobody – she was by herself at that table, where she always sits, and she had half a bottle of wine left and poured me a glass –’

‘What was it?’

‘What, the wine? It was a good Rioja, a
Sierra Cantabria
.’

‘Okay, now I believe you – you never forget a wine label.’

‘You know she’s a drunk, don’t you? She’s been frying in the sun drinking for the last twenty years. I’m surprised she can remember where she lives. Is that all? Can I go back to sleep for a while now?’

‘Yes – I’m sorry – things have been strange around here since you left. You sent postcards.’

‘Yeah – you already got them? My God, the Gaucia postal service is finally improving. Honey, I’m going now, say
bye bye Mateo
.’ He timbered back onto the bed with his coffee and the picture vanished.

But the feeling that I was being lied to by everyone wouldn’t be shaken. Mateo, Celestia, Jordi, the postman, even Bobbie for all I knew – it felt as if they were trying to humour me. But the more they wanted to hide the truth, the more I needed to know.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The Opening

C
ELESTIA STOOD IN
the porch rattling the rain from her umbrella. I had invited her over, and arranged for Rosita to bake some cod with
mojama
for our evening meal. ‘I shouldn’t use this, we get the most dreadful lightning sometimes,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen it scorch great patches on the ground at this time of year. I got a taxi here. If I stay too long and get too pissed you can put me up, can’t you?’

‘Of course,’ I told her. ‘Come in and get dry.’

That afternoon, Bobbie had been taken to Marbella to be measured for her school uniform by the mother of Yolanda, one of the girls who had already started at the school the previous term. Yolanda’s mother said that Bobbie could have a sleepover and that she would return her first thing the following morning, so we had the evening to ourselves.

I had looked in on Rosita while she was preparing the meal, but she had been even more morose than usual, and eventually explained that she did not care for Celestia, who had apparently said bad things about her in the village. She asked if she could take the evening off, and as the meal was already prepared I agreed.

I had decorated the dining room table with olive leaves and candles, and the cod was laid out on a bed of tomatoes and onions, with tortilla and a salad. I had even found one of the few bottles of Manzanilla that hadn’t been tucked away in Mateo’s wine racks.

‘Well, this is nice,’ said Celestia, taking off her maroon cardigan to reveal a green dress, rather old-fashioned and floaty, with a matching scarf thrown around her throat. ‘I so rarely get a chance to dress up.’

‘It’s very pretty,’ I said.

‘I didn’t get to see much of the inside of the house last time I was here, what with all the fuss about that little girl getting shut in one of the rooms. The village ladies still talk about it, you know.’

‘I think it was my fault,’ I admitted. ‘I can’t be sure if I locked the door behind me or not. It’s dark in there and I don’t suppose she could reach the handle. You thought she’d got in from outside but I think she went to the bathroom and tried the wrong door coming out.’

‘So you don’t believe the house is haunted anymore?’ Celestia asked, tucking in. ‘The cod’s amazing, by the way.’

‘Perhaps not haunted in the traditional sense, but there are people here with us.’ I tried to sound casual but it came out strangely.

‘You really believe that?’

‘I think after the Condemaines died in such tragic circumstances that their spirits lived on. Francesco planned a series of little rooms where they would be able to live after death.’

‘But I presume these spirits could get out whenever they opened the doors, if they really wanted to. I mean, you must go in there from time to time –’

‘Yes, Mateo keeps his wine in there.’

‘So why don’t they escape?’

‘I don’t know. They want something more. They have another agenda.’

Celestia stopped eating. ‘Which is?’

‘To take over from us. To shut us in there and live their lives out here in the side that gets the sun.’

‘You mean they want to
possess
you?’

‘Yes – no – I don’t know.’

‘Because spiritual possession is supposedly a phenomenon in which some stray, damaged being from the other side takes over a living person and exerts a negative influence on them. And I know you can be a little strange, but honey, I don’t see your head spinning.’

‘Do you have a faith?’

‘Yes, I’m a Catholic. My mother was Irish – that’s my excuse, anyway.’

I looked at her in the light of the guttering candles and thought uncharitably,
You only have a few years left, you need something to believe in.

‘I take it you’re an atheist?’ Celestia asked, not unkindly.

‘I have good reason to be. The problems I had when I was younger were caused by my father. He desired me. I wasn’t being punished or tested by some higher power. And I suppose I know in my heart that whatever I’m seeing in those rooms is because of me, not some wandering lost soul looking for peace or revenge. But it still doesn’t explain –’

Celestia pointed. ‘Darling, your hands are shaking.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘something is happening here, something very bad. And I don’t know what to do or who to turn to –’ I didn’t mean to cry, but once I started I found that I couldn’t stop. Celestia came over and put her arm around me, waiting until I could regain my composure.

‘Listen, why don’t we test your theory?’ she said gently. ‘I never told you the real reason why I left London, did I?’

‘No,’ I sniffed, looking up at her, ‘I’m not sure you did.’

‘I used to help people.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘People who were in spiritual need. I’ve always had – well, let’s not call it a gift. Let’s say an ability to see things a little more clearly. You’ve seen those incredible digital photographs they can take now, where you can zoom in to see details that aren’t apparent at first? I’ve always felt as if I could do that. It’s almost embarrassing to talk about.’

‘No, please,’ I said.

‘Well, people would come to me with problems and I was able to sort them out. Sometimes I took a little money from them, just to cover travel expenses and to get a meal. This was back when times were hard for me. I was young and naïve. I thought I was helping. But taking money, well that was defined as something else by the police. It was suggested that I intentionally set out to mislead. Nothing could have been further from the truth.’

‘So you left the country.’

‘I was advised to leave. I stayed on for years, but when I started to try and help people again, I was issued with an ultimatum. What I did wasn’t illegal, but there was a troubled young woman I tried to help. Of course, I should never have got involved. She had made a terrible choice in life, marrying a man who had no respect for her. Within minutes of meeting him I knew he was having an affair.’

‘You just – intuited – it?’

‘I suppose so, at first. I saw a dishonest aura about him –’ She fluttered her hand around her face in vague indication. ‘It’s hard to explain and makes one sound so foolish, but there was something physically there. I did a little checking and found the address of his girlfriend. He lodged a formal complaint, and in order to avoid court procedure the officer in charge of our statements suggested a solution. That’s really why I came here. I don’t use my ability anymore – there’s not much call for it in a country that has so many Catholic solutions. But perhaps I can help you.’

She’s bats,
I thought, but by now I was ready to try anything. ‘Okay, what do I have to do?’

‘A little ceremony, not exactly a séance, just an opener of the way. I’ll need a few things, one of these candles, a little snip of your hair – really, anything with your DNA in it will do, an item strongly associated with the person we want to talk about – and some water that’s been standing here for a while.’

‘One of the upstairs bathrooms has a leak. I put a coffee mug underneath it, just until Mateo gets back and can change the washer. Will that do?’

‘How long has it been standing?’

‘Probably over a week.’

‘Then that will perfect. And I need you to open the front window a crack, to get some air through.’

I returned with the water and the key Elena had worn around her neck. ‘Just tip a little very slowly into that saucer,’ Celestia said, removing her teacup and pushing the saucer toward me. I did as I was instructed. ‘There’s really no science to this. Over the years I’ve just sort of worked out what gets the best results.’

‘How much hair do you need?’

‘Only the tiniest amount. I have some scissors in my bag.’ She reached over and took a small snip from the back of my head. Dangling it over the flame of the candle, she then dropped it in and poured the molten wax into the water, adding the key. It all seemed utterly ridiculous, but then I supposed that my experiences were just as absurd when described in the cold light of day.

‘Sometimes it seems possible to bring things into the light,’ Celestia said, ‘and people do seem to expect some sort of a formality at the start. A ritual just cuts the ribbon to allow progress, that’s all, like the opening of a new highway.’

A ritual – an opening – something stirred in the back of my mind but vanished when I tried to look at it. ‘What happens now?’ I asked.

‘Let’s just be quiet for a while.’

We sat there in silence, she and I, for nigh on twenty minutes, breathing in unison, listening to the ticking in the hallways and the wind rising in the trees. Finally, though, I was ready call a stop to the whole thing. When Celestia cleared her throat and spoke, I was relieved to hear that it was in her own deep tones, not in some high-pitched strangled voice from beyond.

‘I can’t tell you what you need to know,’ she said briskly, as if having struggled with some decision. ‘I can only show you what you already understand. No-one ever told you lies to hurt you, Callie. Take my hand, we have to go and find her. Come with me.’

I placed my right hand in hers and we left the room. She led the way to the front door. ‘Open it, please. I’m not allowed to touch it.’

The rain was torrential and obscuring. She stepped into it without flinching, pulling me behind her. ‘This way. We should have done this earlier.’

We crossed the lawn, now slippery with pooling water. Celestia’s ballet shoes, which she wore for her bunions, raised splashes as she slid onwards. Her green dress darkened and stuck to her. ‘Over there, I see her now!’

I knew at once where we were heading; to the Condemaine cemetery behind the trees. ‘Hurry,’ she called back, ‘or we’ll miss her!’

Lightning flared over the cliffs behind the house, and for a brief moment I saw her hunched shape between the bare bushes, so thin and tiny that she hardly seemed capable of pulling the thing at her feet.

‘There, you see?’

The branches were springy and wet, and fought back, whipping as Celestia released them. I could only follow. Just as we reached the clearing she stopped, holding me back. I followed her outstretched arm and pointing finger. The spindly ravaged creature with the smiling face was barely more than a rain-drenched bundle of rags. She suddenly stopped pulling the bundle and fell to her knees. I knew that poor Elena was dragging the remains of her husband, returned to her after his death at Passchendaele.

‘She can’t hurt us, nor we her,’ whispered Celestia. ‘She’s in a different time. You’re seeing something that happened in the past. We can’t cross the gulf, but if she sees us there could be terrible consequences. Come back now.’

‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I have to see, I have to know what she did.’

‘You can’t be here, she’ll return to the house shortly, but we can go ahead of her.’

Back we went, fighting through the leaves once more, wet thorns clawing and dragging at our clothes, then across the waterlogged lawn, the paths turning to sandy rivers, and into the house at last.

‘She’ll try to get back to the other side, won’t she?’ I said.

‘Yes, I imagine so.’

‘Then we need to confront her.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Fire

‘W
E’LL GO INTO
the other side together,’ said Celestia, pulling off her shoes in the hall and shaking away as much rainwater as she could. The hall lights flickered, then glowed bright once more. ‘How do we get in?

I had the keys on me. Perhaps I had always known we would pass into the darkness tonight. ‘Follow me,’ I instructed, leading the way to the connecting door in the drawing room. Celestia peered inside. Her clothes were weighted down with water, her hair plastered across her face. She looked more than a little mad. ‘Can you put a light on?’

‘There aren’t any in here. I have a torch or candles, but they won’t be enough to deter her. She was burying someone, wasn’t she?’

‘It would seem so, yes.’ She didn’t sound too certain. ‘I imagine she’s doomed to repeat her actions over and over again.’

Emboldened by Celestia’s presence, I flicked on the LED torch and led the way. ‘Mateo and I have talked about tearing the rooms out, but it wouldn’t make any difference,’ I explained. ‘The cliff face is right behind us, so there could never be any natural light.’

‘Then why build rooms here at all?’

We edged into the mirror-drawing room like children, the torch beam scanning the walls. Outside, I could hear the rain spattering against the windows. Celestia saw the framed photographs on the sideboard, then reached the seven ugly dolls dressed in adult clothes. ‘Are these meant to be the Condemaines?’ she asked. ‘It’s as if they always lived on this side, not the other.’ I realized she was right; that was exactly how it appeared.