by Amy Cross
“Don't leave us alone,” I say firmly. “Please, Em!”
“You two should just enjoy one another's company for a few minutes,” she adds, patting my shoulder before heading over to the door. “You need to rediscover your mother-daughter bond, Barbara. That's all. It's in you, I know it is. Don't put so much pressure on yourself. Just enjoy holding your little girl. Whether she's disabled or not, none of that matters. She's yours, and deep down you love her. I know you do.”
I open my mouth to reply, but Rebecca's cries are getting louder and louder, and finally Emily leaves the room.
“Shut up,” I whisper, staring down at my daughter and feeling nothing but pure anger and hatred. “This isn't fair,” I continue, sniffing back more tears. “All I wanted was one normal child, and instead I got this... thing! This lump!”
I try to stay calm, to follow my sister's advice, but as Rebecca continues to scream in my arms, I feel my anger and resentment growing. I want to shake the little bitch until she shuts up, and the worst part is, I'm scared that one day I really will do something terrible. I'm scared that all my frustration will blow up, and that for a moment I won't be able to control myself. And then...
“I'm going to kill you,” I whisper to Rebecca, as her screams rattle my skull. “If this carries on much longer, I'm going to end up doing something truly awful.”
Chapter Forty-Six
“What?” I whisper, slowly opening my eyes in the dark bedroom.
For a moment, I'm not entirely sure why I've stirred. Just as I'm about to get up and go check on Rebecca, however, I feel someone nudging my arm, and I turn to find that Emily has crept into my room and is sitting on the side of my bed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, sitting up.
“Don't you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
She turns and looks over toward the doorway.
I wait for a moment, but I honestly don't hear a bloody thing.
“Em, you had a nightmare,” I mutter with a sigh. “Go back to bed and forget about it.”
“There!” she hisses. “You heard it then, didn't you?”
“Heard what?”
“Like a -”
“A scratching sound?” I ask.
She turns to me. “You do hear it!”
“No, but you went on about it in your last letter. I don't hear a fucking thing, and even if I did, it'd probably be mice.”
“There aren't mice at Auercliff,” she replies, her eyes wide with fear.
“How the fuck do you know?” I ask, before realizing that she's not going to give up just yet. Sighing, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get to my feet.
“There's a ghost,” Emily whispers. “A presence, something that lives here at Auercliff with me.”
“Bollocks,” I reply, heading over to the doorway and leaning out to take a look along the corridor. I still don't hear the fabled scratching noise, and I don't see any spooky figures either. What I do see when I turn back and look at the bed, however, is a rather frail woman who seems to be losing her marbles. I'm honestly starting to think that Emily's mind is falling apart, which is an awful possibility to contemplate, even if it leaves open certain opportunities.
Am I a bad person?
“You must be able to hear it,” Emily hisses, creeping up behind me. She sounds like a little girl again, playing some foolish game. “Oh Barbara, you simply must!”
“There's no such thing as ghosts,” I point out. “Em, please, I just want to -”
“I'll prove it to you,” she continues, slipping past me and making her way along the corridor. “I know you think I'm loopy, Barbara, and Martin thought the same, but there's something in this house!”
“Em, there's nothing in the -”
Sighing, I watch as she hurries out of sight, and a moment later I hear her pushing open one of the doors at the far end of the corridor. I know full well that she's heading through to the abandoned, mothballed western wing of the house, and quite frankly I don't see why I should go running off after her. Hell, it's no skin off my nose if my increasingly crazy sister spends the night scuttling about in the cold and the dark. Then again, deep down somewhere in the depths of my soul, I still feel a little sorry for her, so I grab my dressing gown and start slipping my arms into my sleeves as I make my way along the corridor.
“Em!” I call out. “For fuck's sake, you nutter, wait up!”
It takes several minutes for me to find her again. Once I'm through to the house's western wing, I find myself in a goddamn maze of corridors, most of which look exactly the same. None of the light-switches work, so I have to rely on patch of moonlight as I fumble about, but fortunately I hear occasional bumps in the distance that allow me to work out roughly which way my lunatic sister has gone. I call her name out every few minutes, but it's clear that she's off on her own little endeavor with scant regard for the fact that anyone else is trying to help her. Honestly, I'm starting to think that her mind is close to breaking point.
“Stop!” I shout when I finally spot her at the end of yet another darkened corridor. Breathless now and cold too, almost to the point of shivering, I shove my hands into my dressing gown pockets as I hurry after her. I swear, I can almost see my breath in the air, and I wish to God I'd brought a cigarette. “Em, do you do this when I'm not here? Do you go running around every bloody night?”
Up ahead, she's silhouetted against a patch of moonlight. As I get closer, I slow my pace slightly, momentarily concerned that the silhouette suddenly seems different, almost as if it's not Emily at all. That moment of confusion lasts only a fraction of a second, however, and once I reach her I find that of course it's Emily, and she's got a particularly vacant look in her eyes as she looks around.
“Did you see -”
“A ghost?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “No, Em, I didn't see a fucking ghost. I didn't hear one, either.”
Placing a hand on her shoulder, I feel as if she's almost lost in her own little world.
“All I heard,” I continue, “was a nutter running around the corridors. Em, you really must -”
Suddenly there's a loud banging sound from behind. I must admit, I spin around rather fast, momentarily shocked. The noise is over already, but it sounded like something heavy fell against the floor in one of the nearby rooms. My heart is racing, and it takes a few seconds before I can regather my composure and turn back to my sister.
“That was nothing!” I say firmly. “Before you even begin to turn it into something, let me stop you and -”
“The kitchenette,” she stammers, pushing past me and hurrying along the next corridor.
“Em,” I reply with a sigh, “please, this is infuriating!”
She mutters something, but I can't hear a word of it. A few seconds after she shuffles out of sight, I hear yet another door being pushed open. Reluctantly, I follow her along the cold corridor until I find her standing in the middle of the bare little kitchenette.
“Happy now?” I ask. “Did you find anything?”
“You heard it too,” she stammers, turning and looking around as if she expects someone or something to leap out at her. “We're not alone here, Barbara! You heard it!”
“I heard a bang,” I mutter, stepping through to join her. “It doesn't mean the spirits of Auercliff's dead have come back to haunt us.”
Heading over to the window, I peer out at the dark lawn, and after a moment I see that moonlight has caught the edge of the family mausoleum far off in the forest. I must admit, the sight is a little chilly, but I'm not about to let my imagination run riot. Turning, I look around the kitchenette for a moment, before spotting something carved into the side of the table. I step over and crouch down, and then I run my fingers against the uneven edge.
“Here died the prisoner of Auercliff,” I read out loud. “Neglected and forgotten by all.”
I pause for a moment, before looking up at Emily as she wanders back toward the door.
“Someone had a m
onumental sense of their own importance,” I mutter, getting to my feet. “The prisoner of Auercliff? If you ask me, we're all prisoners of Auercliff. This fucking house is like a tomb. Who needs a mausoleum in the grounds? They might as well just stick the bodies in the rooms.”
“Barbara,” she replies, “I think -”
“This place is so dramatic,” I continue, stepping over to join her. “To think, generations and generations of the same family have been bottled up here, bound to the house by a sense of -”
“Barbara, I see her,” she stammers.
I stop, struck by the fear in her eyes as she looks along the corridor.
“Who do you see?” I ask cautiously.
“The ghost,” she continues, her voice tense with fear, “the girl, the... I see her in the moonlight. I see her through there, as clear as...”
She pauses, before raising a hand and pointing.
“She's right there!” she gasps. “She's watching us!”
I open my mouth to tell her she's losing her mind, but for a moment I'm struck by the sense of genuine conviction in her voice. She really, truly believes every word she's saying. Even though I don't for one moment believe in ghosts, I hesitate for a few seconds before slowly turning and looking along the corridor, and I have to admit to a flutter of relief in my chest as I see that there's no-one in sight.
“There!” Emily stammers. “Right there!”
“I don't -”
“Now she's gone!” she adds, lowering her hand again. “I saw her, though! A girl, maybe a woman, I don't know, but she was there. You must have seen her, Barbara, if only for an instant!” She turns to me. “How could you not?”
I pause for a moment, staring at my sister and seeing that her mind seems to be on the brink of absolute collapse. She's clearly been driving herself insane these past few months, living alone at Auercliff with only Esmerelda for company. It's almost as if the weight of the house has begun to crush her soul. And yet, at the same time, I'm starting to think that perhaps I can turn this to my advantage.
May God forgive me for what I'm about to do.
“Yes,” I say finally, feeling a shiver run through my chest, “I saw her.”
Her eyes widen with shock. “You did?”
“A ghost,” I continue. “A girl.” I turn and look along the corridor, which is as empty now as it was a moment ago. “I saw her,” I add. “She was at the far end, just like you said.”
“What did she look like?” she asks. “Tell me exactly what you saw!”
I pause, trying to remember how Emily has described such sightings in the past. To be honest, I've become accustomed to letting her words wash over me, and I haven't really been paying attention.
“Was she young?” she continues breathlessly, clearly eager to know more. “A teenager, perhaps?”
“Well,” I reply cautiously, “I'm not -”
“Or was she older?” she asks. “I don't think she is a teenager. I mean, I thought she was at first, and she might still be, but I also think that maybe she's a little older, maybe in her early twenties, but it's hard to tell for sure, isn't it?”
“It is,” I reply, “but -”
“And she was just staring at us,” she continues. “Right? That's what you saw?”
I pause again, before looking back along the corridor and trying to imagine the sight of a girl at the far end.
“She was just staring at us,” I say after a moment. “You're right, Em, it is difficult to judge her age for sure. I didn't get a very good look at her, and she was just in silhouette, but I could just tell somehow that she was a ghost.”
“I knew you'd see her eventually,” she replies, gripping my arm. “Martin always said I was wrong, that I was impressionable and that the history of the house had made me imagine things, but I knew it was real!”
She pulls me tight and hugs me, and after a moment I realize she's sobbing.
“I'm so glad someone else has finally seen her,” she continues, while choking back tears. “I thought I was losing my mind, but now I know it's all real! Oh God, it's really, really happening!”
“Yes,” I reply calmly, still looking along the empty corridor, “it most certainly is. Now you know the ghosts are real.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
“Scared?” Emily asks the next morning, as we stand at the front of the family mausoleum, staring at the heavy metal door. “Why would I be scared? I feel free and refreshed, and energized.”
Turning to her, I see the expression of wonder in her eyes.
“So you honestly don't mind living in a house with a ghost?” I ask.
“Why would I?” She turns to me. “I don't think for one moment that the spirit has any ill intentions toward me. Besides, I'm fairly certain that I know her identity. I think she's Martin's cousin Verity.”
“And how do you -”
“Just a hunch,” she adds with a smile. “It makes sense. Verity was very young when she died, thirteen or fourteen years old. I know it hit Martin very hard, and he was always very much opposed to the idea that there might be ghosts here at Auercliff.” She pauses. “I never really suggested this to him, but I often wondered if he was opposed because he was scared. Maybe he feared that one day he'd...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“Well, you know,” she continues finally. “Maybe the thought of seeing her again was rather terrifying. Or just too much for him to handle.”
“He said her name just before he died, didn't he?” I ask.
She nods. “The ghost you saw last night looked like a girl, didn't it?” she asks. “More than a woman, I mean.”
“Well, I...” Pausing, I realize that I need to keep validating whatever ridiculous ideas she might believe. “I think so,” I continue. “It was hard to tell, I only saw a silhouette, but it certainly could have been a younger girl.” Turning back to look at the mausoleum, I can't help feeling a faint shudder at the thought of the bodies inside. “Why can't they just bury their dead in a cemetery, like normal people?” I ask. “Why do they insist on chucking them into this horrible thing?”
“It's tradition,” she replies. “I rather like it. Come and see around the side, I have something to show you!”
“Personally,” I mutter as I follow her, “I think one of the perks of death is the chance to get away from your family. I'd hate to be -”
“There!” she says proudly, pointing up at the large plaque on the mausoleum's side. “It was completed only a few days ago!”
It takes a moment before I spot Martin's name at the end of the list. Evidently Emily found someone who could do the engraving job for her, and now Martin's place in the family is complete. Still, I shudder again at the thought of his body having been placed inside the mausoleum along with the bodies of all his ancestors.
“They're all up there,” Emily continues, “going back hundreds and hundreds of years, to the very first inhabitants of Auercliff.”
“Lovely,” I mutter, before spotting a crack at the bottom of the wall, near one of the corners. “Looks like the place is falling down, though.”
“Huh?” She glances down at the crack. “Oh, that's nothing. Just old age, I'm sure.”
“Still,” I continue, “you wouldn't want a hole in this thing, would you? Next thing you know, there'll be sparrows in the garden, carrying rotten fingers about like they're trophies.”
“Don't be morbid,” Emily replies, crouching down and taking a closer look at the crack. “It doesn't go all the way through. It's just...” She pauses for a moment, and finally a frown crosses her face. “Do you hear that?” she asks, turning to me.
“A scratching sound coming from inside the mausoleum?” I ask with a grin. “Thankfully, no.”
“It's not coming from inside,” she continues, placing a hand against the soil. “It's more like...”
Her voice trails off.
Before I can come up with some witty riposte, I hear a faint gurgling sound from nearby, and I turn to
look over at the pair of prams parked nearby.
“Rebecca's stirring,” I mutter. “She probably needs feeding. God, that child clamps on so tight, sometimes I think she's going to bite half my boob off.”
“You just need more time with her,” Emily purrs.
“I have more than enough time with her.”
“Be patient,” she adds. “Try to make your energy field more positive.”
I turn to her, tempted to rip her goddamn head off for giving me such pathetic advice, but I catch myself just in time. My sister's lost in some kind of hippy-powered wonderland where no-one has to face the pressures of the real world. The only way she could ever understand what it's like to deal with a child such as Rebecca would be to look after her, day-in and day-out. Even then, maybe she actually would find a way to resolve all the problems and make life perfect.
Heading over to Rebecca's pram, I reach in and pick her up.
Naturally, she starts screaming again. I swear, it's almost as if my touch is enough to set her off.
“You're never going to like me,” I whisper, staring at her horrified, tear-filled eyes. Glancing into the other pram, I smile as I see Esmerelda grinning back at me. “But you... You're a normal little girl. And so beautiful, too. You like me, don't you?”
I pause, before glancing over at Emily and seeing that she's on her knees, pulling some weeds from cracks at the corner of the mausoleum. She isn't paying attention at all. I can do anything I want.
***
“I don't know why you bother pulling those things out,” I mutter, heading over with a calm, quiet, happy baby in my arms. “They'll just grow back.”
“Martin would hate it if the mausoleum looked untidy,” she replies, tugging on one particularly thick knot of weeds and pulling a chunk of soil out with them. “You know what he was like, Barbara. Always so proud of Auercliff.”
“That doesn't mean you have to give a shit.”
“The house goes back hundreds and hundreds of -”
“In his family,” I add, “not yours.”
“It's all the same thing now,” she replies, glancing at me with a smile. “I see myself as a caretaker, really, looking after the place until Esmerelda is ready to inherit the estate.” She glances at the baby in my arms. “See? I told you Rebecca would calm down if you just spent a little more time with her.”