by Lily Morton
I straighten up, prepared to say something, but Blue kicks my ankle and shakes his head at me. “It’s fine,” he mouths.
“I agree with you about the false ones. But Blue’s the real thing,” Amelia says to her father.
“How do you know?”
“Because he knew about the blue beads. No one knows about that but Connor and me. He always called my sapphire necklace the blue beads. Taking the mickey as normal.” She smiles at Blue and there’s a grace and beauty in the gesture. “Can I take your number?”
He nods. “Are you okay to go on with this?”
She nods and squares her shoulders before turning to me. “As I’ve said, Connor was my fiancé. We were planning to get married. It would have been this year.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say awkwardly.
“That bloody house,” she spits out, her face contorting suddenly. “It’s all that house’s fault.”
“Can you tell us what happened?” I grimace. “I hate to put you through it, but my falling down those stairs wasn’t an accident.”
She breathes in deeply. “I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I can tell you that will help, but maybe it’s easier if I tell you about the last month of Connor’s life and then you can ask questions?” We nod and she leans forward. “He became obsessed with the idea that the house was haunted. It started small, according to him. Doors would slam, windows would open by themselves. Things would fly off shelves for no reason.” I jerk and she shakes her head. “I see it hasn’t changed.”
Mr Fenton stirs again, and she shoots him a sharp look. “I know you don’t believe, Daddy, but this is the truth. It’s Connor’s truth and it should be heard.”
He taps his fingers on the table. “I do believe,” he says finally and very reluctantly. His daughter shoots him an incredulous look and he flushes. “I admit I didn’t at first. I’m not sure I did even when Connor died and you told me. But having to spend time in that house when I was letting tradesmen in changed my mind.” He shudders and looks at me. “I’m sorry, Levi. I wanted to say something to you, but it was very difficult. I’m a solicitor. We deal in dry facts and not supposition. You might have laughed in my face for all I knew.” He pauses. “But it didn’t sit well leaving you that day, and I’ve worried about you ever since.”
I want to point out that it’s taken a long time for him to get round to saying something, but I don’t. I’d have probably done the same with no proof. “It’s fine,” I say. “We’re talking now.” I turn back to Amelia. “Can you tell us more?”
She nods. “According to Connor, it started to escalate. He was kept awake at night by the sound of something being dragged through the house. He heard weeping and screaming. At first I didn’t believe him. I thought he was sleep deprived and his mind was playing tricks on him. Then I got locked in the cellar one night.”
“What?” I exclaim.
She nods, her face pale. “It was awful. Connor had gone out for a takeaway. He didn’t want to leave me on my own, but I laughed at him and insisted. When he’d gone I heard sounds in the cellar and like an idiot, I went to have a look. I was halfway down the stairs when the lights went out and the door slammed.” Her fingers grip tightly together, her face set. “I couldn’t get out,” she says simply. “And there was something there in the dark with me.” She shakes her head. “Nothing happened, but I could hear breathing and I knew. When Connor got back, my throat was hoarse from screaming and I’d broken my nails on the door, but he heard nothing. He’d been in the house for ten minutes before he realised I wasn’t upstairs. In all that time he never heard me scream. When he opened the door, he said it wasn’t locked.” Her eyes are dark and haunted. “Suffice it to say, I believed him after that.”
“So what happened then?”
“I asked him to leave. I begged him to sell up, but he’d invested money in the house and he couldn’t or wouldn’t leave. So he turned to research. He said there must be a clue to what happened in the house, that things like that don’t just happen without a reason. Hence the ghost tours. We went on all of them but all we learned was that a murder had happened there. But we also learned the murderer was a woman. Connor kept insisting that he’d seen her ghost and he didn’t fear her. He actually felt she was trying to protect him at times.”
“He was right,” Blue says.
She sighs. “Then he started going to psychics. He had no luck finding a good one until one night when he went to a shop on the Shambles.” Blue jerks and I tighten my grip on his hand. “He told me the man there had been the real deal. The man advised him to leave the house as soon as possible and told him he would die if he didn’t.”
Blue breathes in sharply.
Amelia jerks. “Oh my God, was that you?”
He nods. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help him further. He had a dark cloud over him, making it so difficult to see. And like I told you earlier, my abilities aren’t very reliable.” He shakes his head. “I can’t remember much about him. In those days when I talked to people, I didn’t remember many details afterwards. I definitely shouldn’t have told him he’d die. That’s slightly against the psychic code.”
“But you were right,” she says firmly. “Because he did.”
“Why didn’t he leave?” he asks.
“He was going to, but then he discovered something. It made him really excited. He called me one night and told me he’d found an answer.”
I jump. “Really?” Excitement pours through me. This could be it. “What was it?”
“He didn’t tell me.” I sag in disappointment. “I was at a conference in Harrogate and we didn’t talk for long. He told me that he’d found something in a book which might be the key to the activity in the house, and he was going to London that day to do some research. I never spoke to him again after that, and he was dead within two days.”
“A book.” I think hard. “There were no books in the house when I moved in.”
“I know. I have them,” she says. “His mother gave me most of his effects. I think all of his books are in a box in the storage area.”
“Could you look?” I ask urgently.
She nods. “Of course I will. He thought that if he could prove whatever he’d found then the house might be safe again.” She sighs. “To be honest, it sounded like mad ramblings to me, and I got angry with him. That day he was supposed to be moving out of the place and there he was haring it off to London. I thought it was never going to end. I regret that so much now,” she says finally, a wealth of sadness in her voice.
Blue leans forward and takes her hand. “He knows that. People argue. Rows go with love like toast and marmalade and scones and jam. Words said in the heat of the moment aren’t what we take with us when we die. Only the love remains out of everything.”
“How do you know?”
“I feel it,” he says simply. “It’s what comes across in nearly every spirit I’ve ever seen and every bereaved person who’s ever come to me.”
They stare at each other for a long moment and then something eases slightly in her face. “Thank you,” she says softly.
I fiddle with the handle of my cup, going over her words. “Did you say he went to London on the day he died?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Do you know what he was doing there?”
She frowns. “I don’t. He was in the middle of telling me when we started arguing.” She bites her lip. “But I’ll tell you something that was a bit strange. After the accident when I went back into the house, there was a flyer next to the phone for a Jack the Ripper walk. It struck me as strange at the time because he’d never expressed an interest in that, and it seemed so out of left field for someone who was so obsessed with what was happening in his own home.”
I sit back. “A Jack the Ripper walk,” I say disbelievingly. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
Blue taps his fingers lightly on the table, his face creased in thought. “The only connection I can think of is that at
one point the London police thought the Devil of York was connected to the Ripper case, or that he was actually the Ripper who’d moved localities.” He looks at me. “You remember? I say it on my ghost tour every night that the head policeman actually visited York and studied the case.” He shakes his head. “But he was convinced there was no connection. Completely ruled it out.”
Silence falls over the table until Mr Fenton stirs. “Do you still have the flyer, Amelia?”
She thinks hard. “Probably. I couldn’t bear to throw anything away, and for a while it comforted me because for some silly reason I thought that maybe he’d been planning for us to spend a few days in London. I liked that idea in the darkest hours.” She shrugs. “Doesn’t seem likely now.”
Blue taps her wrist. “Maybe not, but the fact that he thought he had the answer and was going for it says a lot about his commitment to keeping both of you safe. I think that’s probably a better proof of love than a city break.”
She smiles at him.
Mr Fenton shoots Blue a look of gratitude. “Surely your way forward is set, then.”
We look at him enquiringly.
“Why don’t you trace Connor’s footsteps?” he says. “Follow him to London, go on the tour he wanted to. See if you can glean anything from that.” He shrugs. “It seems a logical step to me. After all, you’ve found nothing here.”
Blue and I exchange glances. He says, “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
I sit back. “This is madness, but okay. London, here we come.”
Chapter 15
Blue
It’s funny to be back in London after all this time. At one point in my head the city had become something awful. The scene of my mother’s suicide and our worst moments.
But now it’s just another slightly grimy city. I love the history of it, but I have to say I prefer York. I like how it’s so easy to get around. I like the smallness of it and the way the Minster looks over everything. I like knowing the names of the local people I pass on the street. I like that Levi lives there.
Levi has booked us into a nice hotel in Kensington, and I can’t help the roundness of my eyes as I look at the huge lobby with its marble floors and wood panelling. However, most of my attention is on Levi. He’s done very well so far, but he’s flagging after the long train journey. It’s in the tightness around his pretty eyes and the way he’s cradling his arm.
As soon as we get into the room, I make a beeline for the bed and draw the covers back. “Strip and get in,” I instruct.
Humour flares instantly in his eyes. “Blue, I’m sorry, but I’m just not that sort of boy.”
“You totally are, but only with the right pain level incentive,” I say tartly.
He grins, but pain is thinning his mouth, and I help him take his coat off, noting every wince anxiously.
He stands quietly, letting me help where other blokes would protest at being coddled. I love the steadiness of him, the way he’s so quietly confident. Most of the men I’ve been with have been full of bluster. Not Levi. He’s happy in himself and looks to the good in people.
It’s a testament to his mum, but I do halfway wish he weren’t so prepared to accept people on face value. It’s going to get him hurt. He’s a gorgeous man inside and out and I’m amazed he doesn’t know it. I think of the time I looked up on that ghost tour and saw him watching me, all that lovely hair messy and his coat half on. All I could see was the humour and warmth in his eyes.
I push away my thoughts while I help him with his jumper and jeans, trying not to notice his wide, smooth chest and that trail of nut-brown hair leading down from his belly button. I remember the way it tickled my nose and the rich, warm scent of his pubes at the base of his cock.
I swallow hard and force my attention back to where it’s needed. We haven’t even discussed the blowjob from the other night, as we’d slept all day in the quiet calmness of the hotel and then woken up late and in a rush to meet Mr Fenton and Amelia.
The added dimension to our relationship is something I haven’t quite worked out. I’d thought about it all the way here on the train while pretending to read, but the best I can come up with is how close he feels now. Like we’re connected in some secret and invisible way.
I’m not sure why. I’ve given hundreds of blowjobs and that hadn’t even been my best effort. I’d forgotten all my moves and got totally lost in everything. I didn’t check myself or look for potential trouble. Instead, I was absorbed by him, listening to him groan and cry out. My coming had taken me completely by surprise, but I’d been desperate for it by then.
I’m jerked from my thoughts when he taps my shoulder. “You okay, Mr Thoughtful?”
I flush as I realise I’ve stopped undressing him and have been staring into space. “Just thinking of the Ripper walk,” I say quickly, bending down to take off his shoes and socks and then easing his jeans off.
Finally, when Levi’s down to his boxers, I help him into bed. The way he settles down with a tired groan means I’m right about his pain level.
“You need some more painkillers,” I say decisively and head into the bathroom to get him a glass of water. I stand over him as he swallows the tablets and then take the glass from him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing my fingers as I start to move away.
“What for?”
“I’m hardly good company. We should be doing something fun while we’re in London.”
I reach down and stroke the warm silky hair back from his face. His eyes are as sweet and brown as a bag of Chocolate Buttons. I remember one of my mum’s boyfriends buying me some once when I was little. I ate them as slowly as I could, feeling the chocolate dissolve in a sweet burst on my tongue. I made a small bag last a few hours. I shake my head to clear away all the extremely stupid thoughts. There’s no point to fond memories. They don’t help with the shit that life throws at you.
“Listen,” I say, “the Ripper tour is tonight. There’s going to be a lot of walking and then we need our A-game to question the bloke. Therefore, you need to sleep and get your strength back, Levi.”
“What will you do?” he asks sleepily.
I hold up his iPad. “I’ve got a date with Dean Winchester.”
He smiles, but within seconds he’s asleep, his chest rising and falling gently.
I strip myself down to my briefs too and then ease carefully into the bed next to him, cradling his iPad and pulling the sheets and blankets over us. But rather than watch anything, I snuggle carefully into him. I’ve grown addicted to doing this, and I try not to think about how hard it will be to not sleep next to him when this is all over.
I’ve never slept well before. It was always so cold in the squats I lived in, and I had to sleep lightly in case anyone pinched anything of mine or tried to hurt me. But it’s so different with Levi. He’s warm and smells so good and I sleep deeply next to him because despite me telling my brain no, it clearly still believes that I’m safe with him.
I rest my head gently on the pillow and look at the elegant lines of his face. I wish I could draw like he does. I’d love to sketch the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the slightly too big nose and the plush softness of his mouth. I lay my hand very gently on his chest, holding my breath in case he wakes up, but he sleeps on and, abandoning all ideas of watching my programme, I snuggle in a bit further and let sleep take me under.
When I wake next, dusk is gathering outside the window and a glance at the clock tells me we still have a few hours left before we have to be at the Ripper walk. I look sideways and go still. Levi isn’t asleep. He’s nestled into his pillow watching me steadily, the lines of pain on his forehead gone and a smile playing on his mouth.
“You alright?” I ask softly. “How’s the head?”
“So much better,” he says and stretches, giving a grunt of contentment that hits me in the base of my stomach.
He rolls onto his side, and we study each other for a long moment. I don’t know who reaches for the other first,
but we’re suddenly lying in a tangle of arms and legs.
The room is cool, but Levi’s body is hot against mine, and I stretch out against his length, all the hair-roughened surfaces providing a delicate friction. As if synchronised, we wriggle out of our underwear, and he gives a small groan as my body moves against his. His cock rises and pushes against mine, hot and silky.
“Blue,” he says softly and kisses me.
His tongue plays across the seam of my lips. I open to give him access, and the kiss catches light. He plunges his tongue inside, twining and rubbing against mine, and his breath puffs softly on my cheek.
He groans and rolls over onto me, pushing me down into the mattress. Most of his weight is on me, because he only has one arm to support him. For a split second, total fear shoots through me and I can’t catch my breath. I’ve been held down before by johns, and I quickly learnt to avoid this position because, let’s face it, when you’re on your back with your legs spread and someone’s weight is on you, there aren’t many ways to escape.
He reads the momentary stiffness of my body immediately and levers off me, taking his weight on his elbow but still keeping body contact with his leg slung gently over mine and his big hand kneading my hip.
“You okay?” he asks. His voice is hoarse and uneven and sends a tingle down my spine, making me want to rub against him like a cat. He stays my hip as I push towards him. “Blue?”
I cup his face, feeling the sharpness of his cheekbone under the soft skin. “I’m okay,” I whisper. “Really. Just old instincts are hard to forget.”
As his gaze skims our bodies, realisation flashes in his eyes.
“I don’t want to stop though,” I say forcefully. “Ignore it.”
He shakes his head and falls onto his back. I open my mouth to argue but he pats my hip. “We’ll save that position for another time,” he says, giving me a lazy smile. “My arm’s too fucked to pound you into the mattress tonight anyway.”