Unwilling to give in straight away, I allowed a tight nod of my head, which he missed. Instead, he exhaled in relief. ‘Oh, she is back again! Where did you go to, Weesy? Aunt Harriet was here.’
Realising that we were staring at the exact same spot, he whispered, ‘You see her too, don’t you?’
For some reason I suddenly felt annoyed. ‘Of course I do. Stop asking me stupid questions!’
I wasn’t scared. I mean, it was just my little sister. At least, it looked like her for the most part, only there was a light around her, bluish and straining like the flames of a fire. I had never seen anything like it and yet, at the same time, it was only Weesy. I needed to think. Unfortunately, William still had questions. ‘Why isn’t she in Heaven? You said she was going to Heaven.’
‘Don’t blame me, William Coppin!’ I snapped. ‘This is not my fault!’
William bowed his head and mumbled, ‘Are you not happy that she is back?’
All the while, Weesy never said a word. She just smiled at us as if she was glad to be home again. Goodness knows how long we stood there before we were surprised by Laura who had been sent to fetch us. ‘C’mon, you pair. You are keeping everyone waiting!’
She grabbed us by the hands and Weesy disappeared just like that. In the dining room Mama asked what had kept us. She was seated in her usual place with Aunt Harriet to her left and Grandfather at the head of the table and they were not alone. Before I could stop him, William blurted out, ‘How did you get here so fast?’
Aunt Harriet laughed. ‘Because I came down ahead of you, remember?’
Peering at his forehead, Mama asked, ‘Is your poor head alright, dear?’
‘No,’ said William, not hearing her. ‘I wasn’t talking to you, Aunt Harriet.’
He stopped short and everyone stared at him. Mama shrugged and said, ‘Ah, you were talking to me then, were you? Well, I was already down here waiting for you and Ann.’
William looked at me as he shook his head.
I became the centre of attention as each adult, including Laura, who still held our hands, waited for me to explain my brother’s strange behaviour. It was Weesy who let me feel that it would be alright to tell. So, I just said it straight out as I did not know how else to. ‘Weesy is here.’
Laura gasped and dropped my hand. The others made no immediate reaction except that Aunt Harriet and Mama exchanged glances before Mama asked, ‘Where, darling?’
‘There!’ said William, pointing at Weesy’s chair, which wasn’t even pulled out from the table.
Aunt Harriet tried to persuade us otherwise. ‘Children, we all miss her desperately and it is perfectly acceptable to want to see her so badly that you almost think you do …’
William broke in. ‘I saw her upstairs just now. I told you. I ran to hug her and that’s how I hit my head against the wall.’
‘Well, yes, pet,’ Aunt Harriet assured him. ‘Because she wasn’t actually there.’
‘I saw her too,’ I added. ‘She looks the same, except she is not sick anymore. She is happy now.’
‘Is she?’
Mother’s eyes filled with tears while Aunt Harriet and Grandfather seemed unsure of what to say next. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Laura ventured, ‘Begging your pardon, Missus, but I think wee Sarah sees her most mornings … that is, ever since the master left. She chats away and acts likes she hears Weesy talking to her. I … well, I just didn’t like to say before.’
Mama gave her a watery smile as Laura suddenly choked up, covering her hand with her mouth.
It was as if Mama was the judge and we all had to wait for her to decide how to react, but I was sure that whatever she said would be agreed upon by the rest of the adults. Then, quite unexpectedly, I heard myself speak, though I hardly knew what I was going to say. ‘Grandfather, Weesy says your pocket watch is under your bed.’
I did not think much of my message, but Grandfather’s knife fell onto his plate with a right clatter, making us all jump. He slowly rose and left the room. Overcome with guilt, though for what I did not know, I apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Mama. I did not mean to upset anyone.’
‘Just sit down, Ann, like a good girl. You too, William.’
We took our seats and listened to our grandfather’s footsteps on the landing and then the door of his bedroom opening.
Aunt Harriet sighed and asked Laura to bring out the soup. ‘Cook must be fretting over our lack of appetites,’ she said brightly, trying to drown out any sounds overhead, while Mama stared at the ceiling as if she could see right through it.
‘I am hungry,’ I offered, wanting to make things better.
Aunt Harriet smiled. ‘I am sure you are; breakfast was a long time ago, and what about you, William? Are you hungry?’
‘I am always hungry,’ William said, to make us laugh.
Cook and Laura bustled in with the trays of soup. Cook, looking irritable, failed to notice anything unusual as she only had one thing on her mind, and hinted about her complaint, ‘I only hope that it is still hot for I was not expecting the delay.’
She continued to grumble under her breath as she and Laura doled out the bowls. Stopping at Grandfather’s chair, she cocked her head, ‘Will your father be wanting his soup then, Madam?’
‘Yes, he will,’ said Aunt Harriet quickly. ‘I hear him on the stairs. Thank you!’
Cook placed the bowl down and turned on her heel. ‘I had better go see that the pie hasn’t burnt.’
I saw Laura roll her eyes and Aunt Harriet shaking her head at her, putting her finger to her lips. In other words, Laura was not to tell Cook about Weesy; I understood that much. Grandfather came back in as they returned to the kitchen. He sat down and I saw his watch peeking out of his pocket but thought nothing of it. Mama saw it too and quietly asked, as William and I started to blow noisily on our soup, ‘Was your watch lost?’
I hardly heard his answer. ‘Since yesterday morning.’
The next day, at dinnertime, Weesy’s chair was pulled out from the table and her cutlery was set in its usual place.
***
And that’s just how it was until Papa’s return. He was there one morning, not long after Weesy’s first appearance to William, when we came downstairs, with a paint box for me and another toy ship for William, while Sarah was already sitting on his knee, clutching a new doll.
‘Oh, Papa, you have been gone for so long!’ I said.
He smiled in surprise. ‘No more than usual. Though, you’re right, Ann. This time it felt especially long for me too.’
He looked different and I realised there were lots of grey patches in his hair and sideburns that I was sure had not been there before. He must have been lonely for us, on his ship, lonely for all of us. At least here, at home, we had one another.
‘Anyway, I am here now and that is all that matters.’
We hugged him in agreement until Sarah cried out in annoyance, making Papa laugh. ‘Oh dear, are we squashing you, Sarah?’
She pouted and shoved her doll’s head at his mouth to be kissed, which he did immediately.
‘You have to give her a name. What is dolly’s name?’ I asked.
Sarah thought for a moment before announcing, ‘Dolly!’
Climbing down from Papa’s lap, Sarah brought Dolly over to show her off. I opened up the paint box to find different shades of colours, some of which were new to me: four different blues, four different greens and reds and pinks.
‘Well, Ann, do you think you could produce some worthy art for me?’
I hugged him. ‘Oh, yes, Papa. I love it!’
‘Where’s Mama and Harriet?’ asked William.
‘Shopping, I should think,’ replied Papa.
Laura came in with a tray of tea and biscuits. ‘Are you sure this is enough for you, Captain Coppin? Cook says she can make you something if you are hungry.’
Papa shook his head, ‘No thank you, Laura. This is fine.’
I saw Laura give me a funny look but I was too w
rapped up in Papa to pay her any attention.
William took Sarah’s place on Papa’s lap. He could be such a baby sometimes. ‘Where did you go, Papa? Did you see any pirates or sea monsters?’
‘Not this time, thank goodness. We sailed to a country that was so hot I watched a fellow cook an egg on a rock.’
‘How did he do that?’ I asked.
‘He cracked the egg open with a spoon, turned it upside down and drained the contents onto a rock that was large and flat and, lo and behold, it began to sizzle.’
‘Oh,’ said William. ‘I wish I could have seen it!’
Papa stretched over to the plate. ‘I suppose you will all be wanting one of my favourite biscuits?’
‘Yes, please,’ sang out William and I together while Sarah just said, ‘Yes!’
‘I thought so!’ said Papa. ‘Let’s see how many we have here and, for goodness sake, do not tell your mother!’
This was just a special treat because he was home, otherwise the only time we saw biscuits was on a Sunday, and even then, depending on Mother’s mood, we might only be allowed to look at them.
‘Here, William, take the plate and offer them out to your sisters, but I’ll take my one first.’
Papa watched approvingly as we politely lined up in front of William. He bit into his as he began his usual habit of counting us out, saying, ‘One for Sarah, one for William, one for Ann and for W … we … Oh, my God! WEESY?’
William and I were delighted. ‘You can see her, can’t you? You can see her like us!’
Papa’s expression was one of total confusion.
I ran to him. ‘Aunt Harriet and Mama and Grandfather can’t see her. Sarah saw her first and then William and then me.’
At that moment, the door opened and Mama came in, followed by Aunt Harriet. Before she could say anything, William roared, ‘Papa can see Weesy too!’
Mama stared at Papa, who nodded and reached for her, but she moved out of his way, her lips pressed together in annoyance.
4
June 1849
Ann upsets Mama
One night some time later, I woke up with a start, thinking someone had knocked on my door.
Sure enough, my bedroom door was being opened slowly and deliberately as if somebody wanted me to look around. I pretended to ignore it, to see what would happen. Keeping my eyes shut, I breathed loudly and steadily as if fast asleep.
Then came timid footsteps, the slightest brushing against the wooden floor, but still I would not react. It was hard not to jump when I heard the door creak in earnest, the noise it made when it was pushed back and forth as if it were a swing in the playground. I did it myself, sometimes, finding that the squeaking helped me to think better, though usually I would be obliged to stop soon enough as it never took long before someone protested at the noise.
My stubbornness took charge. I would not sit up. I would not call out. I would not show I was afraid, which I wasn’t anyway, not even a little bit.
However, I did open my eyes but only enough to see a wedge of moonlit shadow fall across the wall in front of me. It was too late to change my position. I was lying on my left side, with my back to the door.
Instinctively, I clutched my old doll, Mary, closer to me and nuzzled her hair with my nose, glad for the familiarity of Aunt Harriet’s perfume. I had given her to Weesy when she got sick but, now, she was mine again. Fancying that she smelled of sickness and gloom, I had begged my aunt to sprinkle her with perfume.
The scent was from some flower I had never heard of, though Papa said it was Spanish and did his best to describe it, saying it was the brightest pink I could imagine, pinker than my lips and pinker than Mama’s pink roses. He had brought the perfume back from one of his trips.
What was that?
I felt like I was being studied, that someone was searching for the tiniest hint that I was awake. I forgot to keep breathing loudly and, instead, took minute, rapid gulps of air that were too slight to fill my lungs. My chest began to hurt.
Who was there?
I shivered, only then realising that I was bitterly cold.
Finally, I forced myself to turn around and to see who was there but there was no one. I sat up, in a fury, and hissed at the empty room, ‘Weesy! I know it’s you.’
Even as I said her name, I considered the chilling possibility that it might not be Weesy. But who else could it be? Who else could I be talking to?
I sat there, trembling from the cold, my breath creating brief swells of fog in front of my face. I could see nobody yet I still felt stifled instead of alone.
And then.
And, then, suddenly Mary was tugged right out of my arms. I screamed and reached forward, waving my arms around, scrabbling to find her amongst the bed clothes.
My door swung open once more, this time bringing Mama to me. Without a word, she sat down and folded me into her, holding me as I began to cry tears of grief for Mary and rage too.
When I was able to, I blurted it out. ‘Weesy! It’s Weesy, she’s trying to scare me.’
Mama fumbled in her pocket for her handkerchief. Treating me as if I were years younger, she wiped away my tears, saying, ‘Why would she do that?’ her tone suggesting that there could be no proper answer to her question. ‘I mean, if as you say, it was Weesy …’
Feeling criticised, I rudely interrupted, ‘It is her!’
‘Hush, Ann. You will wake up the whole house.’
Afraid that the conversation was dribbling away, I prodded myself to think of something interesting to say. ‘Perhaps she is in Hell.’
I was shocked to be roughly pushed aside.
‘Mama?’ I began.
‘Ann Coppin! How could you? I do not believe … I just cannot believe that you would say such a horrible, dreadful thing.’
My cheeks burned in the darkness and I felt tears gathering once more. ‘I am sorry, Mama. I did not mean it.’
‘You must never say that again, do you hear me? Never again!’
I was panicking now. ‘I won’t. Truly, I won’t. Never, ever again.’
She stood up and I was glad that I could not see her face. I felt miserable for spoiling everything. It had been so pleasant to be in her embrace. She was no longer curious or sympathetic, saying briskly, ‘Go back to sleep. It was just a bad dream.’
I lay down immediately.
She started in annoyance. ‘What on earth? Why is Mary on the floor? I do wish you were more careful with your toys.’
She placed my doll beside me and I closed my eyes. When I opened them a moment later, she was gone. Her parting kindness was to leave the door partially open, should I have another nightmare and cry out again.
Mary felt cold to my touch. I dragged up my blanket to cradle her against my chest. Her hair seemed wet but that could not be. No matter, she was safe again. I must have dropped her when I got a fright. Yes, that was what happened.
5
Tuesday, 20th May 1845
HMS Terror Captain Crozier’s Journal
Home at last! That is, I am back here in my cabin after another infernal dinner with Captain Franklin and his officers. God help me but I cannot do this night after night, yet how do I refuse? How do I politely decline to leave the comforts of Terror in order to be rowed across the water to Erebus? Why must I be the one to suffer the cold air?
Surely he will give me a night off to dine here quietly with my books and papers. Does that make me a bad person? I do like him; in fact, I have always liked him. However, I would prefer to be with him under different circumstances. I cannot shake the feeling that this expedition is cursed and that my genial host is the wrong man for the job ahead.
This evening, I witnessed his flaws as a captain. His men are much too casual, treating him like a favourite uncle at the dinner table on Christmas Day and, goodness, how he enjoys it. At one point, the steward serving us dinner laughed out loud at the officers’ jokes. If it had been my ship, I would have had him severely reprimanded for his insole
nce. But Sir John, his face practically glowing in the candlelight, merely smiled dotingly upon them all. He only wants to be their friend and, in this, he seems to have succeeded.
Several things pester me and I cannot ignore them. The ships are one too many. Two ships require too much crew and supplies. There is hardly room to walk around the thousands of food tins, never mind the tobacco, soap, blankets and mountains of coal.
On top of that, we are like two floating farms, what with the number of live animals on board: sheep, cattle, hens and pigs. Then there is the enormous bear of a dog taking up precious space on Erebus, a gift from Lady Franklin. He will surely end up on a dinner plate should we run short of food, which seems hardly fair to him. This is why I do not agree with pets on my ship. And if the dog wasn’t bad enough, Lady Franklin also gave her husband an actual monkey. I mean, a monkey on a ship to the Arctic. What was she thinking? The little wretch tried to steal my watch while I ate. I hear that he spends his days thieving, worse than any professional pickpocket on the streets of London. He seems quite a favourite with the others. Why, I don’t know.
I also worry that, with our steam engines and coal mountains, we are too heavy for the troubling seas ahead. We sit deep in the water. There will be storms to sail through, huge gales whipping up waves bigger than houses.
Honestly, I do not believe that there is a single person aboard Terror or Erebus who has considered that we may well run into bad luck. How can they be so confident? Even as I write that question, I hear the answer immediately, which is that few of them have ever done anything like this before. It is easy to be jolly about the Arctic when you have never been at its mercy.
Apart from all of that, I cannot shake the sense that we are sailing too late in the year to make real progress. For instance, if the weather is already too severe, we will soon be prevented from adventuring further. I dread to think that we will end up repeating the disastrous expedition of 1824 when those two ships – Hecla and Fury – were late and found themselves losing an entire year to being stuck in the ice, ending with Fury being wrecked and abandoned.
Chasing Ghosts Page 3