by Sharon Jones
Poppy washed her hands in liquid soap that smelled like it ought to be put down toilets rather than onto skin, and dried her hands on her jeans. She hadn’t actually needed the loo; she’d just wanted a couple of minutes away from Michael’s worried glances. He hadn’t actually seen the dead guy, but he seemed even more freaked out about it than her. She opened the bathroom door to the sound of more voices than she’d ever heard on the corridor.
‘I was just there…it was so horrible!’ said a voice with a French accent. ‘Who would do such a thing?’
As Poppy eased into the corridor, all four people turned and looked at her. Ria, wearing the long black dress with billowing sleeves again, was draped over Conal like a cat on a hot rock. Lucy was still being comforted by the same guy as before.
So here they were – the Apostles, or at least some of them.
Ria straightened up and brushed her hair back from her face.
‘This is Poppy, Jim’s daughter.’
The guy with Lucy cocked his head to one side, flipped the tail of his bright green scarf over the shoulder of his fitted blue hacking jacket, and gave her a long hard look. ‘You’re right, she does look like him. Same eyes. And that’s just how Jim’s hair would look if he ever went Highlander.’
‘Actually, he had long hair for quite a while,’ Poppy said. ‘I think he thinks he needs to look more respectable now.’
‘He may look more respectable…’
‘Devon!’ Lucy warned.
At that moment, the door at the other end of the corridor opened and out came Michael.
‘Hi.’ He threw Poppy an uneasy look.
‘Well, it looks like we have ourselves a wake. About time we gave Danny the sendoff he’d have wanted,’ Ria said, opening the door to her rooms. ‘Come along, everyone. Poppy, as you were the last person to see him, you will be our guest of honour.’
‘I don’t think…’ Michael began to say, at the same time as Lucy said: ‘I’m sure they have other places to be.’
‘Actually, why not?’ Poppy ignored Michael’s glare. Was he kidding? This might be their one chance to get to know something about these guys from the inside.
Ria’s room seemed to have collected even more empty bottles than the last time Poppy had been there.
‘Conal, get the chair from my bedroom while I make tea,’ Ria said.
Conal saluted and disappeared into the bedroom.
‘I’m afraid there still won’t be enough chairs. You’ll have to sit on the floor,’ she said to Devon.
‘I don’t mind a bit. I’m sure Michael won’t mind sitting beside me.’
‘Oh, yeah, OK,’ Michael said.
Lucy touched Poppy’s arm. ‘You’ll have to excuse Devon.’ She winked and her wide green eyes sparkled with humour.
‘Don’t listen to a word she says,’ Devon said. ‘In fact, you should come and sit beside me too. I want one of you sweet young things on either side.’
‘That wouldn’t exactly be a first,’ Conal said, heaving a slightly ratty brown velour armchair out of the bedroom. He dumped it beside the desk and flopped down into it.
Ria rolled her eyes. ‘It wasn’t for you, arsehole.’
‘Come, come, lovelies. Sit with Uncle Devon.’ Devon waved Poppy and Michael over to where he’d sprawled on a pile of cushions next to the makeshift altar in the corner.
This guy was a hoot. She glanced at Michael and he shrugged.
They sat on either side of him and Devon put his arms around them like they were bosom buddies. ‘Did I hear mention of tea, Ria? A Darjeeling special, I hope?’
‘It’s coming.’ She turned to Conal, who had grabbed his gangster hat from the desk and tipped it over his eyes as if he intended taking a nap. ‘Arsehole, get up and let Lucy sit down. For heaven’s sake, do something useful and give out the cups.’
Conal slumped out of the armchair, onto his knees in front of Ria. He tipped his hat back and stared up at her. ‘I am your humble servant, mistress.’ He grabbed Ria around the waist and buried his face in her stomach…either biting or kissing, Poppy couldn’t tell which.
Jesus! Were they…together? She thought Ria was meant to have been going out with Danny.
Ria cuffed Conal over the head. ‘Get up!’
‘Yes, mistress, anything you say, mistress.’ Conal bowed, his hands pressed together like he was paying homage to a goddess.
Ria rolled her eyes and went into the bedroom, leaving Conal to get on with giving out delicate china cups and saucers, the kind that made Poppy very nervous. The same kind that she habitually broke whenever she visited her very snobby grandparents.
Poppy took the cup and saucer and placed it carefully on the floor in front of her. Nothing bad could happen to it if she wasn’t touching it.
Michael caught her eye and smirked.
‘Now, what’s going on between you two?’ Devon asked, squeezing them to his sides. ‘We’ll have none of your young lover secrets here.’
‘It’s nothing,’ Poppy said.
‘Poppy doesn’t have the best record with bone china,’ Michael said, tossing his cup in the air, and catching it one-handed.
Show-off.
‘Then we’ll be sure to keep an eye on her. And what a pretty eyeful she is.’
Poppy almost laughed when she saw the look on Michael’s face. Really, he couldn’t possibly be bothered by a comment like that from Devon. Surely he understood which of the two of them Devon was more likely to be interested in.
Ria came out of the bedroom with a teapot in each hand. As she poured for Lucy, Poppy could have sworn she heard a fizzing noise. When Ria got to her, she held up her cup and saucer. She nearly dropped them when she realised that the teapots did not contain tea.
Ria gave her an amused look. ‘What’s the matter? Afraid Daddy won’t approve?’
In defiance, Poppy raised her cup to Ria. When the cup had been filled she downed the contents in one, wincing as champagne bubbles fizzed up her nose.
‘That a girl,’ Ria said, refilling her cup.
As Ria continued, Lucy smiled at Poppy from across the room. ‘So, Poppy, are you applying for Cambridge?’
‘Umm, no. I think I want to go to Manchester, but I don’t have to decide just yet.’
‘Good redbrick, Manchester,’ Devon said, nodding his approval.
‘But I thought you were visiting…’ Lucy looked confused.
‘Michael has applied to King’s for History. He’s the smart one.’
‘Don’t listen to her,’ Michael said, giving her an exasperated look. ‘With her grades, she’ll be able to go wherever she wants the year after next.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Does that mean you’re only…what? Sixteen?’
For some reason Poppy felt herself blushing.
Devon gasped dramatically. ‘Sweet sixteen and never been kissed! I’d be honoured to put that right.’ He puckered up.
‘That’s already been taken care of,’ Michael said.
‘I bet it has,’ Devon replied, squeezing Michael’s knee.
Poppy couldn’t help laughing at the stunned look on Michael’s face.
Ria tapped a spoon against a teacup, getting everyone’s attention. ‘To Danny,’ she said, raising her teacup. ‘Wherever you are, we miss you.’
‘To Danny,’ everyone echoed, taking a sip of their drink.
‘If you’re all third years, do you know what you’re doing next year?’ Michael asked, when their cups had been refilled again. Poppy hid her smile behind her hand. She knew where he was going with this one.
‘We’re all doing postgraduate degrees,’ Lucy said. ‘Me and Devon are going to Harvard.’ She shot Devon a big grin. ‘Ria’s staying here. Only Conal’s joining the real world.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Michael pressed. ‘Have you got a job to go to?’
‘Me?’ Conal glanced up as if he hadn’t really been listening to a word anyone had said. ‘Yeah, I’ve got a job with the Foreign Office.’
‘Sounds intere
sting,’ Michael said lightly, as Ria scowled at Conal.
Poppy stole a glance at Michael. He scratched his forehead to hide his raised eyebrow. So Conal was a spy. Wow. He didn’t look very James Bond-y, although he had the kind of eyes that gave very little away.
Seeing as they were all feeling so chatty Poppy thought she’d try her luck. ‘Are you guys all members of some kind of club?’
Conal coughed and spat an entire mouthful of champagne over Ria. Poppy bit back a grin. Maybe he should consider a different career after all.
Lucy frowned at Conal before turning to Poppy. ‘Why do you ask that?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘Someone said something about Danny being a member of a society, but I didn’t catch what it was.’
She looked up and caught Ria staring at her. The expression in her eyes would make a glacier look warm. Ria poured herself another cup of bubbly and downed it in one. She cleared her throat. ‘I know what we should do. We should have a séance.’
‘No,’ Lucy said, sighing, as if this was a regular suggestion.
‘No!’ added Conal with a little more force.
‘What do you say, Devon?’ Ria asked. ‘You’re normally up for a bit of table tapping.’
‘It does seem a little distasteful, Ria, dear.’
Ria laughed. ‘Oh, so just because Danny’s dead we’re meant to suddenly become good children and live by the rules, is that it? Do you think he’d want that? Do you? Imagine if he was trying to get in touch with us and we didn’t even try to open an channel.’ Her gaze fell on Poppy. ‘What if he’s trying to find a way to talk to us?’
Poppy’s breath caught in her throat. Did Ria know what she’d seen? How? She felt a pressure on her shoulder. It was Devon, using her and Michael’s shoulders to push himself up. He stumbled over to Ria and pulled her into a hug. ‘Dearest, don’t be getting all screamy in front of the young ones; you’ll scare them.’
Devon stepped away from Ria, smoothed down her hair and smiled. Then he turned to the rest of them. ‘Up, everyone. Let’s move the furniture back so we have plenty of space.’
Poppy could feel Michael’s stare before she turned to him.
‘Can I speak to you for a moment?’ Michael said – his voice low and threatening. ‘Out there.’ He nodded towards the door.
‘Fine. We’ll be right back,’ Poppy said, shooting the others a smile.
She followed Michael to the door. He held it open and then followed her out onto the corridor. Thankfully, someone had fixed the freaky light, but with her head a bit fuzzy from champagne, she couldn’t help shuddering and glancing around just to make sure there were no dead people lingering in the hallway.
‘Don’t do this,’ Michael said, capturing her eyes with his. ‘This is crazy, Poppy. Ria’s upset, she’s not thinking clearly, and – just so we’re straight – neither are you.’
Poppy took a step back. His eyes were bit unfocused, but he was serious. Worse, he was really mad with her.
‘Why are you so angry with me?’
‘I’m not angry with you. I just think we should go. Your dad said the train was at eleven. We can still make it.’
‘No. We haven’t seen the detective yet. I said we’d be here. Plus, these guys might know something. They’re getting pissed in there. They’re bound to slip and say something.’
‘Is that really why you want to stay in there? Or do you want to stay because you think this séance thing might work?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Look, you had an awful shock yesterday. It was bound to screw with your head. And if you really think…if you’ve changed your mind about all the supernatural stuff, then I’m OK with that. You know I’ll support you whatever. But don’t do this.’
‘Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just a game, Michael.’
‘For them, maybe. What is it to you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Michael took a deep breath and looked away. He shook his head. ‘You need to talk to someone.’
‘What?’
He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. ‘Your mum. Maybe Jonathan.’
Jonathan? Her stepfather was a psychotherapist. Jesus! He thought she was losing it because of last night. ‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Last night you were so scared.’
‘It was a nightmare.’
‘You’re lying to me.’
‘I’m not.’
His hand slid into her hair and tugged her head back so that she had no option but to look at him. His wide eyes held her gaze fiercely. ‘I thought you trusted me.’
‘I do.’
He kissed her, gently…teasingly, until her head felt as if all the champagne bubbles had collected there. She felt dizzy and with each breath he sucked in, she felt like she was losing another tiny bit of her soul to him.
Her heartbeat ticked in her throat, getting quicker and quicker.
She pushed her hand against his shoulder and tried to push him away, but he wasn’t giving in, and the longer he kissed her, the more she wanted to give into the kiss herself.
He spun them around until her back was pressed up against the wall and she was pretty sure that his mouth and the wall were the only things keeping her upright.
Michael stepped back and stared into her eyes. His chest heaved in and out, and she could tell he was nearer to losing control than he had been when they’d been naked in his bed.
‘Don’t go back in there,’ he pleaded.
‘Why don’t you want me to do this? It’s just pretend. You don’t believe in this and neither do I. Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘I think you believe in it more than you’re willing to admit to me, and I think it’s screwing with your head.’
‘I grew up with this stuff. I think any screwing that was going to be done must have already happened.’ She thought about what she’d just said and grinned. ‘Wow, that came out wrong, huh?’ She laughed, hoping he’d laugh too. He didn’t.
‘I don’t trust them.’
She couldn’t bear to look into his angry blue eyes any longer. She turned away. ‘You mean you don’t trust me.’
‘Not at the moment, no. Talk to your mum, talk to your dad. Just talk to someone before you do something like this.’
She shook her head.
Michael sucked in a deep breath and stepped back. Shit! Why did that one move tear the flipping heart out of her chest?
‘Don’t be angry,’ she said, her body automatically following his down the corridor towards their set. He took the key from his jeans pocket and opened the door.
‘I can’t help how I feel, Poppy. If you’re going to go through with this charade then go and do it. But don’t expect me to like it or watch it.’
‘Michael, don’t be like this,’ Poppy whispered.
Part of her screamed to follow him through that door and pick up where they’d just left off. But what if Danny was trying to get in touch? She’d seen him twice. If it wasn’t his ghost…if the things she was seeing weren’t real…
She had to find out.
Poppy shuddered as she walked back into the study. Ria had pulled the curtains closed and lit the candles on the makeshift altar. A strong heady incense was burning and if she wasn’t already feeling slightly disorientated after Michael’s very worthy attempt to persuade her not to do this, she would have felt dizzy after a lungful of whatever was smoking out the room.
Her head felt hot and heavy. She unwrapped Dad’s scarf from around her neck and fingered the small piece of obsidian at her throat. This was going to be OK.
Everyone except for Ria was sitting on the floor around the edge of the room, leaning against furniture. Conal was picking at his nails, looking bored. Devon looked like he was trying to perfect his lotus position.
‘No Michael?’ he asked, sounding more than a little disappointed.
Poppy shook her head.
Lucy was sitting next to Devon, fidgeting with the fraying seam of her jeans. Sh
e looked up and gave Poppy a tight smile.
‘Come and sit down here, Poppy.’ Ria had moved the coffee table from the middle of the room. She sat down cross-legged on the rug and indicated for Poppy to sit opposite her at the centre of the circle.
Poppy hesitated. Hold on a minute, why was she in the centre? If this was a magical ceremony, the guys on the edge of the circle would be feeding power into the centre. The centre was not a place she wanted to be. She looked back at the door, wishing Michael were there. Nonetheless, she sank down to her knees and clumsily crossed her legs.
‘Now give me your hands,’ Ria said, holding out her own hands, palm up.
Poppy took a deep breath and took the girl’s hands.
‘Close your eyes, Poppy, and try to relax. They can’t speak to you unless you relax.’
‘They’ll be speaking to everyone else too, right?’ she said, with a nervous laugh.
‘Ria, I think Poppy should sit with me,’ Lucy said.
‘Don’t be silly, Lucy. Poppy is our guest of honour. It’s only fair that she gets the best seat in the house.’
Right. Nausea curdled her stomach. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. Just as she settled uneasily into the silence, the door slammed open.
Poppy’s heart shot into her mouth. She gasped and snatched her hands back from Ria.
Michael towered over them and he wasn’t looking happy. Nonetheless, he sat down beside Lucy.
‘You can’t be here,’ Ria said.
‘Why not?’ Michael asked, just as testily.
‘You don’t believe in this shit. You’ll fuck it up.’
‘You’re right, I don’t believe in this shit. But as long as she’s here, so am I. Deal with it.’
An amused smile spread across Ria’s face.
‘I do like a man who can take charge,’ Devon whispered, like a naughty schoolboy.
The muscles in Poppy’s chest contracted and her eyes watered. She blinked quickly before moisture could turn into tears. She had no idea why she’d want to cry, but the fact that he was still willing to be here with her set the strangest pain deep in her heart. But she was happy. How could happiness hurt like that?
Ria rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re going to stay, you have to keep quiet, whatever happens. Bringing someone suddenly out of a trance state can be dangerous.’