by Kirsty Ferry
‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’ Her rosy lips formed a perfect little circle. For a moment, he was rather distracted by those lips. He couldn’t shake the memory of them on his, all those years ago. But he blinked and forced himself to look over her shoulder instead.
He could see the church from here with its tumbled-down roof and it gave him the incentive to continue. ‘I think we both remembered something odd that evening.’
’Was there a red ribbon in what you saw?’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes flickered and she stared into the coffee. ‘It’s not the first time I’ve seen – them. Us. Like that.’ She raised her eyes and for the first time he saw fear in the clear blue depths. ‘It started in the church with the storm. I saw – things – happening. To do with the pistol and with the locket and sort of remembered things that I had no idea about.’ She shook her head. ‘I know some people think I’m odd because of what I see, but I can handle the usual stuff – the children in the nursery and the man in my old house and that old woman that toddles along the high street, just outside here. But I’ve never seen anything like that. I’ve never felt like I was part of it before. Never felt like it had all happened to me. And it’s terrifying, to be honest. I haven’t quite figured it out yet.’ She shoved the mug to one side and the black liquid sloshed onto the wooden table top and began to drip down between the slats. She sat back in the seat and looked at him as if he could offer an explanation. He couldn’t.
He tried to put the idea of an old woman wandering unseen along Hartsford High Street out of his head and concentrate on the Georgiana stuff instead. ‘Okay. So you saw pictures or whatever it was about the locket.’ He looked at her and raised his eyebrows, a silent plea that she should be honest with him. ‘And you saw a love-knot being made.’
‘With that red ribbon,’ she confirmed quietly. ‘And your hair – or his hair – was dark and mine – or hers – was blonde and we plaited it together.’
‘And then they halved what was left,’ he said. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And another time, they were …’ Her voice trailed off and she dropped her head again, poking at a knot hole in the wood as the colour rose in her cheeks.
Alex nodded, his stomach churning. He knew he’d have to press buttons that had long since been unpressed. ‘What else did you see in that snapshot we both experienced?’
‘It started to get … intense,’ she admitted. Then her head came back up, her chin lifting a little. ‘And that’s why I had to leave. I hope you understand why now.’
Alex nodded. ‘I didn’t want you to go. But I was pleased you did.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t think that came out right. I’m sorry.’
‘No, it’s fine. I wanted to stay with you. But I couldn’t. You know?’ She looked down again and her cheeks flushed to match her cloth. She splayed her hands out on the table and seemed to find her fingernails very interesting to study. ‘If I’d stayed, I didn’t know what we would do. Us, I mean. Me and you. God. I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?’
‘No. No, you’re not. It was like watching – us – you know – back when …’ There. It was out and he couldn’t take it back.
Elodie blanched. ‘Exactly. That’s the first time I saw – it – happen though. Lucy interrupted them another time, or it might have got to that point sooner.’
‘Lucy? Little Lucy under the stone angel?’
‘Yes. She found them in the attic together.’
Alex shook his head. ‘Why now? Why are we seeing these things? Remembering these things? Lucy! Good grief.’
Elodie looked as if she was about to say something else, then changed her mind. However, he, for one was pleased things were out in the open. It seemed as if Elodie was relieved too; she leaned across the table and rested her chin in her hands and fixed her eyes on him. For a moment he was swimming in their bright blue depths – and not for the first time. But despite what they were feeling now, all that had to remain buried in the past, that long ago summer. He couldn’t take the chance of it all going pear-shaped again.
‘I’ve been thinking about it all,’ Elodie said, bringing his thoughts back to today. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot. Sometimes it happens when we’re in the exact same position or the exact same place as Georgiana and Ben were. That’s his name, by the way – Ben. It’s like it’s all a recording, and we’re the projectors. We’re reliving their memories – they must have saturated this place with their emotions. The storm and all that electrical charge boiled it over. Sometimes it’s just like a flashback, just at that moment where you sort of zone out and daydream. When I was in your bath, I relaxed and half fell asleep, and I saw them meet. Georgiana and Ben – the first time they’d met properly on the Faerie Bridge and it was like I was her. I could feel everything she felt, see everything she saw. It was so real.’
‘How strange.’
‘Yes, and I think you’re involved because you are part of the Hall’s history and linked to Georgiana; and I’m involved because – well, I’m just like that.’ She pulled a face. ‘Some things you don’t like to share too much, but Hartsford is me. You know? Much more than London ever was.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘Even with whatever went on before I ran away down there, my heart never left here.’
Alex nodded, leaning towards her and putting his own chin in his hands. ‘That sort of makes sense. And you admit now you did run away? It wasn’t just an offer too good to miss?’
‘Oh, I ran all right. But you know that I had my reasons.’ She looked up at him and their eyes drilled into one another, until she looked away first. ‘I didn’t tell you about any of the other times I saw Georgiana and Ben. When we were in the church and I touched the locket; it was like a flashback to the first night they ever came across each other. Do you know, the impression I got was that he was a highwayman and it was uncanny – it was as if their souls were bonded together. I mean, does that even happen in real life?’ She looked at him as if he could offer an explanation.
With you it did, he wanted to say.
But instead he shrugged: ‘Maybe.’
‘I saw them in the attics as well.’ It seemed as if now she had started, she couldn’t stop telling him. ‘But Cassie came in, just like Lucy did, and we were in the same places as they would have been. And when it happened with the love-knot, it was because we were both concentrating on it. And it meant a lot to both of them. But other times, it’s just Georgiana’s memories, like I’m flitting in and out of her life. Oh God, just to know that you understand it all! It feels so much better.’
‘I do understand.’ Alex reached across to take her hands in his, properly. She didn’t resist, and he squeezed them. ‘If we can talk it through, it might help us make some sense of this whole damn business.’
‘I just want to find out where Georgiana is, and if this is what I’ve got to do, I’ve got to do it. You know I asked you about Jasper?’
Alex thought how right her hands felt in his, then nodded. ‘I do recall that, yes. But then you had an incident in the mud.’
‘Well forget about me and my mud-wrestling. I saw Jasper too. He was in the coach with Georgiana, and then something Ben said made me think about the way he died. Jasper’s got that big fancy monument in the churchyard and the other family members have huge memorials; pointy ones and the like.’
The ‘pointy monuments’ Elodie meant looked a little like draped urns sitting on top of miniature Cleopatra’s needles. Georgiana’s parents had one, but Georgiana had her marble monument in the church itself, and Lucy had her little angel. But: ‘I don’t see the relevance?’
‘Jasper disgraced himself and the family by being an idiot, didn’t he?’
‘According to legend, yes.’
‘But he got a massive monument and an advert in the paper to hide whatever he was supposed to be guilty of. And Georgiana was given a huge white marble thingy, even though she’s not inside it and it seems she was having a love affair with a highwayman.’ Sh
e looked at him. ‘That behaviour wouldn’t have endeared her to many people in that era, especially not her family. So, I’m wondering if perhaps they wanted her to be seen as an absolute angel. When every piece of evidence pointed to the fact she wasn’t anything of the sort.’
‘Maybe.’
‘In that day and age, she’d have been deemed a trollop for even sleeping with a man once. And who’s to say that Ben was really going to be able to come back for her, despite how they apparently felt about one another? Maybe he just knew what to say to a girl?’ She raised her eyes and they sparked. ‘You know. To get a quick tumble with a wench?’
Alex’s eyes flared back. ‘Ben might have been a decent guy, just trying to do what was right. You never know.’
Elodie laughed shortly and removed her hands from his. She pushed her fringe out of her eyes. ‘Regardless. Naughty Jasper gets an article in the paper and an elaborate monument. Naughty Georgiana gets a nice marble tomb – it’s like their memorials are inversely proportionate to the misdeed.’
‘The greater the disgrace, the greater the “top show” as Margaret says.’ Alex understood. ‘And Lucy was only a kid, so she got a nice little angel and died before she could cause any scandal of her own.’
A frown touched Elodie’s face, as if she was perhaps thinking of Lucy and any potential disgrace that may have manifested in a life cut too short. ‘Indeed. Well, that’s my theory anyway.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘It doesn’t help us to know where to find Georgiana, but it might be a reason for her not being in the tomb.’
‘It’s better than grave-robbers, anyway.’ Alex smiled.
‘Much better.’
She pulled the pink cloth towards her and moved the mug back as well, then peered into the mug and pulled a face. ‘Dead fly,’ she said. ‘I’m not drinking that.’
‘Don’t blame you. But if you promise to come to the Hall after you’ve finished up for the day, I’ll make you a fresh one.’
‘It’s a deal.’ Then her face shadowed a little. ‘If I run out on you again, though, it’s nothing personal this time. You know?’
‘I know,’ he said softly.
But part of him wished the same sort of vision would happen again and Cassie wouldn’t be around and Elodie wouldn’t run away from it.
‘Maybe we should just glue ourselves to each other’s hips for a few days?’ Elodie suggested light-heartedly. ‘Then we might randomly have a few more visions.’ She shrugged again. ‘It’s just a suggestion.’ She blushed and looked away, then busied herself with collecting the mugs.
It was a suggestion Alex kind of liked. But he didn’t dare tell her that.
It felt so much better, having it “out there”. At least Alex knew Elodie hadn’t acted weirdly for no reason. It was odd, though, that he’d only felt it the once.
She put it down to the fact that, as Alex’s psychic abilities were negligible at the very best, whatever emotional pattern had struck Ben that day had been strong enough to get through even to Alex.
She had only been half joking about the gluing themselves together idea. There was nothing she would like more than to try that and see what happened. And the idea of Alex in Ben’s outfit was still foremost in her mind. She felt her cheeks burn even as she walked back into the café and put the two mugs on the counter.
‘Well, at least you look a bit better now,’ remarked Delilah. Elodie noticed, with regret, that most of the cappuccino cake had been devoured. Delilah suddenly grinned and pushed a box towards her. ‘Here you go. Two slices for you. Thought you and Alex might fancy some later.’
Elodie stared at her. ‘How did you know I’m seeing him later?’
‘I wasn’t sure,’ Delilah said, ‘but you’ve just confirmed it.’
’Oh.’ Elodie had fallen into that trap neatly enough. Delilah laughed and went back into the kitchen, and Elodie violently rubbed the milk nozzle of the coffee machine again. The pink cloth was starting to smell a bit, so she wrinkled her nose and dropped it into the basket to wash later.
She wondered what would happen when she and Alex were back at the Hall and she flushed again at the memories it stirred up – Georgiana’s memories, she reminded herself. That led her naturally enough onto the items they’d found in the tomb and why they might have been placed there.
Elodie knew she didn’t like that duelling pistol much, and instead she tried to concentrate on the Bible and the key. She couldn’t understand why anyone would have put a Bible in an empty tomb, and she wiped the benches with another cloth, trying to think of a reason. She thought all the way through serving three more sets of customers, and she thought again whilst having a cup of tea in her break.
The only thing she could come up with, was that Bibles gave people comfort – almost like how the Ancient Egyptians had taken all sorts with them into the afterlife; perhaps the Bible was supposed to help speed Georgiana to her own afterlife.
But the family was a church-going family. They had their own church, for a start. And yet somebody believed that Georgiana needed that little bit of help.
You should go to Hell for what you have done.
The words were crystal clear and Elodie jumped, her cup paused halfway to her mouth. She looked around, but there was nobody near enough to have spoken so loudly. It had been a woman’s voice, and it was now swiftly followed by another, hysterical, woman’s voice.
To Hell? Then I look forward to it.
Her hands shaking, she put the cup down and stared at it, trying to steady her breathing.
The only thing to do was to try and find out whether Georgiana’s memories were linked to that Bible at all.
And it seemed like the place she needed to be to understand that, was the church itself.
She had changed from her café uniform of a black skirt and white blouse, topped with a gingham apron, and put on her jeans and a bluebell-coloured short sleeved top. She was standing at Alex’s door, clutching Delilah’s plastic box and waiting for him to let her in.
Cassie’s motorcycle wasn’t on the driveway, tucked away beside their wing, so Elodie assumed she was either out for a little while or she had gone back to university. Her question was answered when Alex appeared at the door looking a lot more relaxed than he had done earlier.
‘Hey Eldorado.’ He used the childhood nickname he’d made up for her. ‘Cassie’s gone back. She sends her apologies.’
‘That’s not a problem.’ She stepped into the house as he moved to one side to let her get by. ‘I think she was more interested in the locket than anything else and she got that open for us.’
‘She did.’ Alex ushered her into the kitchen where there was an aroma of fresh coffee. ‘Told you I’d make a coffee, didn’t I? Almost as good as Delilah’s.’
She sat down at the breakfast bar and watched him work. ‘We’ll need forks too. I have cake. And at least I don’t have to clean the nozzle here.’
‘You can clean it if you want,’ he said, nodding towards the kettle. ‘But it’s the old-fashioned type. I’ll even let you put on your waitress outfit if you like. I’ve always liked you in gingham.’
‘I’m fine. I thought you preferred the French Maid look anyway.’
‘None of our staff will let me introduce that here. Unless you want to be the first? Be a trendsetter? Tell them the Look comes fresh from London. Perhaps we should try to recreate that wonderful marketing leaflet – only with you wearing a French Maid outfit. The customers would go wild.’
“That leaflet” was one advertising Hartsford Hall, and featuring Elodie, dressed as a milkmaid, holding up a plate of Delilah’s cream scones and leering out at the potential customers. The scones were level with her chest area, so it looked, at a quick glance, as if she had two massive, round, inviting scones as boobs. Elodie thought she looked like a harlot, but everyone else, especially Alex, seemed to like it. He’d told her so with that same twinkle in his eyes, and she had almost crumbled.
But no.
She hadn’t wanted to
go there. Not again. And yet now, her feelings had changed …
Despite that, Elodie’s stomach lurched a tiny bit at that comment – did he know she’d been to London recently? And, more importantly, what her purpose had been? The image of the girl on the old, flaking portrait came into her mind, along with the damaged marble tomb. She was so close to knowing what Georgiana looked like, yet so far. It was odd to think that Alex probably knew already. But if he knew—
‘Alex, what did Georgiana look like to you? You must have seen her.’
She watched him as he paused and then brought the mugs and cutlery over to the breakfast bar. He sat opposite her and studied her. His gaze made her feel slightly hot and very exposed.
For want of anything better to do, she pushed the cappuccino cake over to him, and took a slice for herself. ‘What? What is it?’
‘If you want my honest opinion, she looks like you. That’s why it was so weird – kissing – you know. It made me remember …’ He trailed off and looked down at his mug.
She stared at him, although it shouldn’t have been surprising, really. She lowered her own eyes and poked at her cake with the fork. ‘Ben looked like you. I know what you mean.’
‘Interesting.’
‘So do you think they did look like us, or we’re just imagining it? Even if it is their memories. Are we just putting each other in there?’
‘Perhaps it’s a bit of wishful thinking to complete the scene.’ Alex half-smiled and took a sip of coffee.
‘Perhaps.’ Elodie felt a little uncomfortable with the psychology behind that one; she decided now was a good time to change tack. ‘Can we take the Bible we found back to the church? I don’t think we’re going to get anything at the house about it. You see, I’ve been thinking about it and I only seem to remember things Georgiana did. And I doubt she put it in her own tomb, so perhaps – by some long shot – Ben did. And if he didn’t. Well.’
‘Well indeed. If neither Ben nor Georgiana placed the Bible there, there won’t be any burning memories.’
‘Exactly. Then it would be safe to assume it was put there to help her on her way. Whatever emotional moments occurred relating to that Bible, I would suggest the strongest grid would be by the tomb. The big question would be who did put it there. Because somebody clearly thought she was heading to Hell in a handcart.’