He grunted, clearly not happy, and leaned back in the chair.
“Don’t mind Peter.” May put two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the table. “He can sound abrupt when he’s frightened. He’s not actually angry.”
Tara nodded and pulled her cup close to her chest. May had added two large white marshmallows; the bobbing lumps were starting to melt. It looked a lot like the hot chocolate their mother made when it rained. Her throat tightened.
“I’m glad you’re safe.” May eased herself into the chair opposite. Her eyes were still glassy, but colour had returned to her face. “I don’t know what I would do if either of you were hurt.”
Kyle lifted his head. “Did you try to kill Mum?”
Shocked silence filled the kitchen. Tara, horrified and blindsided, stared at her brother. She thought his lower lip quivered a fraction, but his face was firm.
Why’s he challenging them? Is he still high on adrenaline from the cougar? It’s like his allotment of courage from the last ten years finally caught up to him.
“What?” May tried to smile, but the expression was warped. “Sweetheart, why would you think—”
“You cut the brake’s wire. You wanted the crash to be fatal, but it only put her in a coma.” Kyle’s voice shook, but Tara thought it was from anger more than fear. “You’ve been following us for ages. I remember seeing Peter outside my room. Go on—try to deny it.”
May and Peter looked at each other. His expression was resigned. She lifted a hand to her throat as fresh tears trickled over her cheeks.
“You’re half right,” Peter said at last. “We’ve been trying to meet you since you were born. But we had nothing to do with the crash.”
“We love Christine,” May said. Her face twisted up with long-held pain. “I never wanted to see her hurt.”
Kyle kept silent. His fingers gripped the edge of the table, their knuckles white, as he glowered at his grandparents.
Peter sighed, gulped down half of his coffee, put the cup back on the table, and folded his arms. “Your mother left us when she was seventeen. We weren’t expecting it; we woke up one morning to find her room empty and a note on her bed: I never want to see you again. It broke our hearts. Nearly killed May; her heart isn’t so good, and the doctors keep telling her to avoid stress.”
“Why’d Mum leave?” Tara asked.
May’s head was bowed over her folded hands. “Because of me. I was terrified that someone or something would hurt my girl. I watched her closely, always. I now see I was smothering her. But at the time, all I wanted was to make sure she never came to harm.” She lifted her head and smiled despite red-rimmed eyes. “I vowed to myself that if she gave me another chance, things would be different. But she never came back.”
“We looked for her for years,” Peter continued. “We didn’t want to drag her home. We just wanted to be a part of her life. It took a long time to find her. When we did, we found she’d had children. You two. We wrote to her; she didn’t reply. So I went to visit.”
Tara leaned forward. “So Kyle did see you outside our window. It wasn’t a dream.”
“That’s right.” He shrugged. “I wanted to meet my grandchildren. But your mother didn’t want that to happen. She moved you away before we could talk. We were starting to fear that reconciliation would be impossible.”
Kyle’s face remained stony, and he held the death-grip on the table’s edge. “How’d you know about the accident?”
“A friend works at the hospital.” May traced patterns across the tablecloth as she smiled through her tears. “She recognised Chris’s name and called us. We knew Chris wouldn’t want us to visit, but we found out you two needed somewhere to stay. We were so, so happy to give you our home.”
Do I believe them? Tara examined first May’s face and then Peter’s. She couldn’t find any trace of lies in them—only tiredness and grief.
“I did wrong by your mother,” May said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I raised her the way I had been raised. But I’m different now. I prayed for a second chance, and now that I have you two…” She took a quick breath. “I won’t make the same mistakes. I won’t make you hate me.”
Tara looked down at her hot chocolate. The marshmallows had melted into a flat, pillowy layer over the surface. She took a sip; it was bordering on too sweet.
“Do you understand?” May’s long fingers shook as she knotted them together. “Are you disappointed in me?”
“No,” Tara said quickly. She looked at Kyle for confirmation, but his eyes hadn’t left the table. “Thank you for explaining. I think… I think I’d like to go back to bed, if you don’t mind.”
May made a faint noise, but Peter pressed her shoulder. “Let the kids get some sleep,” he said. “We can talk more tomorrow.”
“Yes.” She rose and moved around the table to kiss both of their foreheads. “Get some rest, my dears. Sleep in as late as you like. I’ll cook you a special breakfast when you get up.”
She and Peter stood at the base of the stairs and smiled at them as they climbed. Tara waited until they were inside Kyle’s room and the door was firmly closed before releasing a held breath. “What are you thinking?”
“They have answers for everything.” He flopped onto the edge of the bed. “But they didn’t explain the payphone being down.”
“It was a big storm. Probably a bunch of lines went out.”
He scowled. “So you trust them now, huh?”
“I… don’t know.” She rubbed at her exposed forearms. “I suppose I trust them more than I did before. But maybe not completely. What about you?”
Kyle scuffed his slippers over the carpet then kicked them off and rolled into bed. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I just want to sleep.”
“Yeah. Me, too. Good night.”
20
In the Garden
Tara startled awake. She blinked at the wood ceiling as disorientation fogged her brain and unnerving dreams sifted away from her conscience. Kyle was still sleeping. The room seemed too dark for it to be morning, but when she looked at Kyle’s alarm clock, she saw it was nearly ten.
Heavy grey clouds blocked out the sunlight. Tara rolled out of bed, wrapped her arms around herself to protect against the lingering chill, and went to the window.
Patches of frost lingered over the lawn. Birds fluttered through the forest trees, their shrill screams blending into the rustle of leaves. A figure stood in Peter’s garden, surrounded by the sprouts and empty pickets. His shoulders were bowed by age, and his grizzled face was turned towards Tara’s window. He made eye contact with Tara then pointed towards the ground. The frost hung over the garden bed like glistening spiderwebs. As he pointed, parts of it melted away. The patches of brown grew and merged to spell a word: HELP. The ghost looked back up at Tara then faded away like smoke in a breeze.
Tara pressed a hand over her mouth. The frost continued to melt until the word disappeared and the garden bed returned to an empty patch of dirt. Is he asking for help or offering it? Either way can’t be a good sign, surely?
Tara turned from the window and rubbed her hands over the back of her neck. Maybe I can ask May. Tara pulled on her dressing gown and, moving quietly so that she wouldn’t disturb Kyle, crept into the hall and down the stairs.
May and Peter were already in the kitchen. They spoke quietly, but the words floated through the still house. May was talking about repainting one of the damaged parts of the house, with Peter agreeing occasionally. Then he said, “How long do you want me to wait to reconnect the phone?”
Tara froze. From where she stood, she could barely see May’s back as the woman worked in the kitchen. Her shoulders shrugged. “Give it a few more days. Perhaps a week. I’m sure I can bring them around with a bit more time.”
Oh no. Tara held her breath. Her sweaty palms stuck to the bannister as she crept backwards, retreating up the stairs.
Peter said, “All right, just tell me when.”
This i
s bad. Tara didn’t dare inhale until she’d reached the hall. She rolled her feet to minimise the noise as she snuck back to Kyle’s room and eased the door closed. It doesn’t matter if they’re benevolent or even well meaning. This is proof that they’re deliberately keeping us isolated.
She leaned her back against the door and ran a hand over her mouth as she thought. We’ve got to leave. Or at least have a way to contact someone… The memory of the ghost standing in the garden gave her an idea. She crossed to the bed, where her brother continued to sleep. “Kyle.”
He stirred at the sound of his name, and Tara nudged his shoulder until he rolled over and squinted at her. “What?”
“Wake up. I have a plan.”
He sat up and scratched his scalp, blinking furiously. “A plan for what?”
“To get our phones back. I overheard May and Peter talking about not reconnecting the landline. I’m pretty sure they won’t want to give us our mobiles, but we have to get them. We need a way to contact the outside world.”
Alertness returned to Kyle’s face. He shuffled onto his knees. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“I tried to get the mobiles from the kitchen last night—but they’re not there anymore. I’m pretty sure May moved them into one of the locked rooms. Maybe her bedroom. Which means we need the keys and time alone to search.”
“Which we’re not going to get.” Kyle nodded towards their door. “They’ll be watching us like hawks.”
“I know. But I think we can get their guard down by voluntarily spending more time with them.”
“Which is the exact opposite of getting time alone.”
Tara rapped the side of Kyle’s head. “Hear the plan out, doofus. This morning, during breakfast, we’re going to ask if we can help in the garden. Make it sound like a family bonding event so that May comes, not just Peter. Once we’re all outside, I’ll say I have a headache and ask to lie down.”
His eyes lit up. “And they’ll stay outside with me while you nab the keys and go searching.”
“Bingo.” Tara brushed stray strands of hair out of her face. “The only problem is this goes directly against our promise of sticking together.”
“Can’t be helped. The keys are on the hook by the kitchen, and May seems to spend her life in there. She’d notice if they went missing. We’ve got to get her and Peter both outside—and keep them there—if we have a hope of finding our phones.” He chewed on the corner of his thumb. “So. Straight after breakfast?”
“Works for me.”
They took turns showering. By the time they arrived downstairs, it was closer to lunch than breakfast, but both Peter and May were still in the kitchen.
“Good morning, children.” May wore the same hopeful, slightly nervous expression she’d had the night before. “I made you pancakes. Fruit salad and fresh yogurt. Toast and bacon and eggs. And some muffins have just come out of the oven.”
“Wow.” It was a mountain of food. Tara tried to look excited as she took her seat. “This is incredible, Grandma May.”
May beamed. “You had such a bad night last night, I thought you two deserved something special this morning.”
Peter watched them as he sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable, and Tara focussed on looking carefree and happy as she poured syrup over the pancakes.
Kyle cleared his throat. “I was thinking… I need a hobby other than books. Something to do outdoors. Do you think Tara and I could help in the garden? It’d be nice to have our own plants we can water and watch grow.”
Genius, Kyle. May’s expression brightened, and she nudged Peter’s shoulder as she moved past. “That sounds lovely, doesn’t it, Peter? The kids can have their own sections in the garden.”
“Yeah.” Tara tried to build on the image. “Grandpa Peter said you like flowers, May. Why don’t you have a corner, too? We can all grow different things. It’ll be a family garden.”
For a second, she worried she’d pushed too far, but May only laughed. “I’d like that. What do you say, Peter? Ready to relinquish your hold on the ground out back?”
He snorted, but the corners of his mouth twitched up. “I’d be glad for some help.”
“Let’s start this morning,” Tara said. “While it’s nice and cool.”
“All right,” May said indulgently. “But finish your breakfast first.”
Tara and Kyle exchanged a smile. They ate quickly. Nerves had wormed their way into Tara’s stomach and unsettled it, but not wanting May to think she was unhappy, she finished her plate. Peter disappeared into the house to find them work gloves while May washed up, then together, they stepped into the overcast day.
Peter carried a small toolbox and a canvas sack of implements, which he dropped at the side of the garden. He handed out shovels then cracked open the toolbox. It was full of packets of seeds.
“Pick what you like,” he said, indicating different sections. “Flowers here. Root vegetables, lettuces, and squash here. Got a couple of types of tomatoes.”
“No fruit?” Tara asked, kneeling beside the crate.
“We’ve got strawberries, but it’s better to buy most fruits as saplings. Dig some trenches today, then tell me what you want, and I’ll get them at a nursery.”
Tara took the pack of strawberries as well as cucumbers and lettuces. Kyle knelt over the box, his face scrunched up in concentration as he chose his plants. May watched and smiled as Peter divided the prepared ground into sections and showed Tara how to use the shovel. She’d meant for the garden to be a quick distraction, but Tara found herself growing increasingly enthusiastic about her little plot as she dug rows.
She allowed just enough time for it to be convincing then scrunched up her face and leaned over her shovel. May, who had done very little work and mostly watched, moved forward. “Is something wrong, honey?”
“Just a headache.” She shook her head and blinked. “I’m probably still tired from last night.”
May pressed the back of her hand to Tara’s forehead, a frown pulling at her eyes. “Would you like a glass of water? You might be dehydrated.”
“Nah, it’ll be fine. I just get headaches sometimes.”
“Maybe you should lie down. We can always come back to the garden later.”
Bingo. “That sounds really good, actually. You guys keep going. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“I’ll make you a cup of tea and a warm compress,” May said, starting towards the house with her hand on Tara’s shoulder.
“Thanks, but… but—” Caught off guard, Tara desperately hunted for an excuse that would sound convincing. “Please stay with Kyle. He gets lonely so easily. Would you keep him company while I can’t?”
May’s eyes flicked over Tara’s face for a second, then she smiled and nodded. “Of course. Have something to drink. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
As May returned to the garden, Kyle gave Tara a quick nod. Tara nodded back, wishing him luck. She kept a slow pace until the house’s front door closed behind her, then she snatched the keys off the hook by the door. Kyle would keep their grandparents in the garden for as long as he could, but there was no guarantee of how long that might be. She needed to be quick.
Where would May hide the phones? From Tara’s count, there were at least six locked doors in the house. She bit her lower lip as she jogged up the stairs to the second floor. Maybe in the master bedroom. It’s the last on the right, isn’t it?
Tara tried the door handle and wasn’t surprised when it didn’t turn. She counted her breaths as she sorted through the keys. There were twenty of them, and it took too long for comfort to find the right one. At last, a bronze key turned in the lock, and a soft click let her twist the handle.
The room wasn’t what she’d expected. Flowing white curtains and blue-patterned wallpaper matched May’s style, but the bed was a single, not double. Does Peter sleep in a different room? They seem so close. Maybe he snores?
She tucked the keys into her back pocket and began searchi
ng. The room was pin-neat, so Tara took excruciating care to put things back the way they’d been. She hunted through the dresser drawers, the top shelf of the wardrobe, the bedside table drawers, and even looked under the bed for a secret compartment without any luck. As she straightened, laughter floated through the window. Being careful not to be seen, Tara crept up to the glass and peeked outside.
The garden bed was nearly directly below the window. Kyle was clowning it up and waving the shovel around like a sword while May and Peter laughed. The scene looked happy—almost whimsical—and Tara felt a small pang of regret for what could have been. She rubbed at her arm as she prepared to leave the room.
She sensed the ghost’s presence before she saw it. The room seemed to grow a fraction dimmer, and an icy chill floated over Tara’s arm. She sucked in a breath as she turned. Two pit-black eyes stared back at her.
21
Family
The dead woman’s face, framed by thick steel-grey hair, was as sunken as her husband’s. She tilted her head to one side, and for a moment, she looked as real and tangible as any living human. Then her form flickered into transparency as she reached a hand towards Tara.
Tara stumbled backwards, a hand pressed over her mouth to muffle a scream. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor. She scrambled away from the spectre, not stopping until her back hit the wall.
The woman was old—older than May—and a dark mourning gown swirled around her in an invisible wind. Her dark eyes followed Tara’s movements as her form continued to bleed away, making her appear fainter with every passing second.
“I’m sorry,” Tara said, although she wasn’t sure what she was apologising for.
The ghost extended her hand towards the desk below the window. She rested her fingertips on a thick, leather-bound book, her gaze never wavering from Tara. Then her form evaporated, disappearing into the ether, and the oppressive, suffocating gloom lifted from the room.
The Folcroft Ghosts Page 11