by Agatha Frost
He nudged her finger away and turned over her hand to kiss the back of it.
“My dear Dorothy,” he said with another kiss. “I’d never let such a thing happen to you.”
“I bet that woman in The Exorcist thought the same thing,” she said, noticing Lady curled up in her bed through the dining room door, “and look what happened to her daughter.”
Dot put the chips in the oven on the lowest temperature before joining everyone else in the sitting room. The furniture had been pushed to the sides to make room for a circle of cushions. Some were Dot’s, and they blended in with the rest of the neutral floral décor just fine. The cushions Evelyn had brought – and there was no denying they belonged to Evelyn – clashed in every way, what with their bright colours, mirrored circles, bobbles, and strange, thick textures.
Julia, Johnny, and Julia’s friend were all sitting cross-legged next to each other on one side, leaving the rest of them to pick from the remaining cushions.
“We’ll never get that smell out of the walls,” Dot whispered to Percy, nodding at the incense stick burning on the mantelpiece.
“Sit down, dear,” he said, patting the cushion next to him. “I saved you the biggest one.”
When they were all settled, Evelyn clinked a metal block against something resembling a turkey fork. It let out a strange sound, or more of a frequency, which tickled deep within Dot’s ear. The room fell silent, and Evelyn ran the prongs around a stone bowl lying in the middle of the room.
“I do things a little differently,” she said dreamily as she reached into her kaftan to pull out a matching scarlet velvet satchel. “Take one of each and pass it around.”
Evelyn plucked two stones from the bag and passed it to Amy.
“Labradorite.” Evelyn held up a dark stone that shifted blue and green in the light. “It will be serving a dual purpose tonight. It grounds the spirits, but it can also raise consciousness so we can make the right connections. It goes in your right hand, looking forward to future answers.”
Dot dug around in the bag and pulled out two stones with different textures. The dark labradorite was smooth as glass, while the other, a green stone, was rougher. She passed the bag to Shilpa, unable to believe she was going along with such charlatanry.
“Peridot.” Evelyn held up the stone before clutching it in her left palm. “A great calming stone. The spirits can change the mood in a room very dramatically. Peridot, in our left hand, will protect us from the spirits of the past.”
Dot groaned, catching the eyes of everyone. She coughed and looked down at the stones in her hands, wondering where in life she’d gone wrong to end up in this situation. It was a good job all the asylums had closed donkey’s years ago.
“Grass cut from the location of her death,” Evelyn continued, sprinkling green blades into the bowl, which already contained a blend of something like curry spices in the bottom. “Everyone should link arms. We’re about to begin.”
Clutching the stones in their appropriate hands, everyone linked arms. Dot slid hers through Percy’s on her right and Shilpa to her left. Julia, Leah, and Johnny grinned like schoolchildren, whereas Amy and Percy’s faces were as white as the ghost they were about to contact. Shilpa seemed unbothered by the whole event, and Evelyn was in a world of her own – but when wasn’t she?
“Penelope!” Evelyn cried, eyes clenched shut as her grip pulled Johnny and Amy closer . “I can see her.”
“I don’t like this already,” whispered Amy.
Evelyn’s groaning and swaying dragged the circle this way and that. Dot planted herself firm; she’d be doing no such thing, no matter how much Shilpa and Percy bashed into her on either side.
All at once, the noise and movement stopped. Evelyn’s eyes popped open, staring right at Dot.
No, through Dot.
The angle at which she was sat meant that from Evelyn’s position, the graveyard was directly in a straight line through Dot.
She didn’t like that one bit.
Her grip tightened on the stones.
“Hello,” Evelyn said with a weary smile. “Everyone, she’s here. And she knows what happened to her, alright.” Her face contorted. “It hurts. Her head hurts so much.”
In the back of Dot’s head, a twinge.
She wanted to turn around but, suddenly, she didn’t dare.
Tighter Dot clung to the rocks.
“And angry,” she turned so far to the left it looked like her neck might snap. “So much rage. Betrayal. She knows who killed her. Oh, she knows, and she didn’t see it coming until she was already dead.” Evelyn’s head snapped to the other side, and she nodded as though someone was talking to her over her shoulder.
On one side, Amy shivered like a cold church mouse.
On the other, Johnny seemed to be biting back laughter.
“It was quick,” Evelyn said with a firm nod. “Yes, thankfully it was quick.”
“Ask her who killed her,” Shilpa urged.
“Someone she trusted.” Evelyn’s eyes squeezed shut even more tightly. “She doesn’t want to say. The name has too much power. Oh, she feels so betrayed. What is it, Penelope? Why can’t you tell me their name?”
“Convenient,” whispered Dot.
More swaying and rocking followed, and this time Dot couldn’t resist the movement. Dizzied, she watched as Evelyn’s face, blurred by the candles, twisted and pulled around as her lips formed the abnormal shapes of words Dot couldn’t make out.
“Ca . . . Ca . . .” Evelyn choked on the sounds. “Penelope, tell me. Please. Ca . . . Ca . . .”
The house creaked and Amy squeaked, her eyes shut tight. A breeze tickled Dot’s neck. There was that gap under the back door. She wanted to turn to make sure, but she was frozen.
“She doesn’t like the graveyard,” Evelyn continued in a tone as soft as a child’s. “It’s too quiet at night.”
“A name, Evelyn,” Dot pushed.
Evelyn’s head rolled back and more groaning followed. Dot was sure she could hear footsteps coming up behind her.
She could.
Soft creaks but creaks all the same.
Turn around, Dorothy!
Blinding light filled the room, as did a chorus of terrified screams.
“Are we dead?” Amy cried.
Dot spun around, letting go of the stones. With Olivia in his arms, Barker and his daughter stared down at them all through eyes squinting like they’d just awoken from naps.
“I thought you were having a meeting?”
“Exactly my thoughts!” Dot sprang to her feet and pulled Percy upright with both hands. “Get all these cushions up off the floor, and let’s get the sofa back to where it belongs. I’ve had quite enough of that.”
Dot retreated to the kitchen and retrieved their supper from the warm oven. She pulled open the cupboard to retrieve a stack of plates, but she couldn’t quite bring her hands to reach for them.
“It wasn’t real,” she whispered to herself. “Just a trick.”
Shaking her head until she was too dizzy to be scared, Dot pulled down the plates and set to work.
“That was an interesting experience,” Julia said when she and Olivia joined Dot in the kitchen. “Now we know what it’s like, I guess.”
“Yes, quite the show.” Dot pushed up her curls. “Food, and we can finally get to business.”
“About that.”
The controlled way Julia exhaled through her nose told Dot her granddaughter was about to tell her off for something. She busied herself with spreading out the plates.
“I’ve been hearing things.”
“Not spirits, is it?” Dot asked. “Strange voices?”
“Gossip.”
“About?”
“Your interviewing tactics.” Julia peeled the bag off a stack of food with her free hand while Olivia tried to reach for Dot. “I know you’re . . . enthusiastic about your group, but . . . did you throw a cup of tea in Ethel’s face?”
“Someone said
that?” She snorted. “This village! This is why Ethel needs to go. She’s spreading lies.”
“But you did crash their bridge meeting?”
“I was invited to join,” she said. “A trial, as it were. And it was an illegal geriatric poker ring, not bridge, I’ll have you know. We exchanged nothing more than cross words during an interview. If anything, Ethel has only made herself look guiltier by lying about what happened. And don’t expect her cronies to back me up, either. They’re all brainwashed. Ask Amy.”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s—”
“She’s blood-thirsty!” Dot couldn’t help herself. “She’s clearly been desperate to take Penelope’s place. It’s pathetic. I exposed that, and now she’s bothered about being caught out.”
“And Gus?” Julia pushed. “And Des?”
“Gus was . . .” She paused, reaching for the right word. “A warm-up. I’ll admit, it could have gone better. And Des? What are people saying about that? Did I punch him? Push him down the stairs? Switch out his heart pills for breath mints?”
“I don’t know what you did,” Julia said, throwing the plastic bags in the cupboard with the rest of Dot’s never-ending ‘bag for life’ collection. “I tried to ask him some questions, and when he realised I was connected to you, he called you crazy and ran away from me.”
“What a drama queen.”
“His ex-wife was murdered.”
“Ex for a reason.” Dot rolled her eyes as she dumped the first steaming, soggy portion of fish and chips onto a plate. “And a suspect in a murder investigation.”
“But still a human being. You know we’re only looking for one person; the rest will be innocent.”
“No one in that group is innocent.”
“There’s still a chance none of them murdered Penelope, Gran.”
“There bloody isn’t!” Two plates clacked together as Dot continued dumping out the food. “I understand why he might feel that way, but I did nothing wrong. I went to Vicky’s Van and had the worst cup of tea ever, and she pointed me in Des’s direction.”
“She did the same to me. Why did you go to Vicky’s Van?”
“To check that you’d conducted your interview.”
“Oh, Gran.”
“Which you did!” Dot cheered up. “I was very happy to hear that you’re getting involved. But as nobody had claimed Des, I popped by the library to have a little chat with him. My grandson-in-law manages the place. I had a right to be there.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“What did you do, Gran?”
“Nothing.” Dot huffed. “I only . . . talked to him. Tried to relate to him. I lost a husband once, you know. I’ve felt that pain. I pushed it too far. Perhaps.” She scratched at her hair. “Embellished. Made my grief sound more . . . recent.”
“Gran . . .”
“He opened up!” she insisted. “I found out what they were arguing about in that meeting I overheard, and everyone else would know too if we hadn’t settled on amateur dramatics hour.”
Julia’s eyes lit up.
“I thought you’d like to hear that part.” Dot circled Julia’s face with a finger. “Something about his grandson. He didn’t say more than that. I didn’t get the chance. He realised I was interviewing him. Neil blabbed the truth and asked me to leave. Me! I’ve a good mind to give him a lump of coal come Christmas. I never meant to upset the man.”
“Did he say anything about Penelope?” Julia asked as Dot scooped up four served plates. “We still don’t know much about her.”
“Well, we now know she has a grandson since they were married for so long,” she said. “And from the way Des talked about Penelope, he was still very much in love with her. And I learned that their marriage ended five years ago thanks to Penelope’s wandering eye. He didn’t say who it wandered to, but from the numbers, it can’t have been too long afterwards that she married Gus.”
The information silenced Julia.
“Ah, I thought you’d like that too.” Dot pushed open the door with her hip. “I might not have been on my best behaviour, but I got something.”
Back in the sitting room, everything was back to normal, though the incense smell still lingered. If it did stick, she’d be sending Evelyn the cleaning bill.
“All that swaying must have taken it out of her,” she whispered to Percy as Evelyn fanned herself with an issue of Cotswold Life. “There’s a couple more plates in the kitchen, dear.”
Dot dished out the food from memory, only switching up Johnny and Julia’s friend’s orders. When they all sat – on the sofas this time – Shilpa cleared her throat, and Dot sensed another telling off was on its way.
“We’ve been talking,” Shilpa said, wiping salt off her fingers with a napkin. “We all agree that we should be focusing on the break-ins, not the murder.”
“The police are close,” Barker spoke up through a mouthful of chips. “Christie thinks one of them will crack soon.”
“Which is why we all think,” Shilpa continued, looking around the room as though needing everyone’s support, “that it would be best to try and solve the issue that will have the most impact. After talking to Julia about the flowers, I think it’s safe to say the same culprit is behind all the break-ins and thieving going on lately.”
Knowing she was outnumbered, Dot had to admit it wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe she had gone too far with her storytelling. Upsetting the man certainly hadn’t been her intention.
“Fine,” she said as coolly as she could. “Have it your way.”
“We don’t have much to go on, though,” said Julia, feeding Olivia rather than eating her own food. “Other than a new shoe.”
“Seen anyone barefoot lately?” Barker asked. “Skinny lad?”
They all shook their heads.
“There’s been another break-in, too,” said Johnny, pulling out his phone. “It was on Peridale Chat. Was being the operative word. I can’t seem to—”
“Shoes!” Evelyn announced, jumping up with her plate in her hands. “That’s it!”
“Shoes killed Penelope?” Dot pinched between her eyes. “Evelyn, you had your chance for your little perfo—”
“My gardening shoes,” she continued, putting the plate down and taking Dot’s centre-stage spot at the mantelpiece. “I meant to do some weeding this morning, but my gardening shoes had gone missing.”
“From where?” asked Julia.
“My shed,” she whispered excitedly. “What if my visitor is the same person?”
Dot looked down at Evelyn’s feet, tiny even poking out of her kaftan.
“They were a men’s size eight,” Evelyn explained, picking up the hem, “and a little roomy, but if I tied them tight enough, they hung on.”
“Why would anyone want to wear their shoes too big?” asked Dot.
“A guest left them behind, and I couldn’t reach them. Felt like a waste.”
“Barker?” He was perched on the arm of Julia’s chair, and she rested a hand on his knee. “What size were the white trainers?”
“Eight.”
Like before, bright light flooded through Dot, though this time it was in her mind only. A fully formed plan landed like she’d already spent hours coming up with it. Oh, it was good.
“Then let’s do something about it,” Dot announced, taking her turn to jump up. She budged Evelyn from the mantlepiece and back into her seat. “You said it yourself. It’s probably the same person. They could have killed Penelope, too.”
“Unlikely,” Barker said firmly. “Just going off the distance between the graveyard and Leah’s cottage, he would have had to teleport. They happened at almost the same time.”
“Then we put the break-in case to bed,” Dot said, pointing at Johnny’s phone. “And when everyone on that silly little internet group sees that it was us that solved it, Peridale’s Eyes will be a thing of the past. What are they doing about anything right now?”
The group l
ooked amongst themselves and, just as they’d done on the night of her victorious first meeting, she sensed they were hanging on every word she spoke.
“I’m in,” said Leah. “Johnny?”
“Sure,” he said, still scrolling. “I still can’t find it though. Or any of them, for that matter.”
“Do you have a plan, Gran?”
“Oh, yes,” Dot said, straightening her brooch. “And we’re doing it tonight. I hope none of you have places to be, because it’s going to be a late one.”
And she had just the outfit in mind.
9
I t had been one of those glorious nights where Olivia drifted off without much fuss. Her gran had assured her that it would be easy to leave if Olivia was already asleep. Leaning into the cot to brush her daughter’s soft pink cheek, Julia already knew that not to be true.
While pregnant with Olivia, Julia had hoped the whispers of ‘mother’s guilt’ wouldn’t be as bad the women around her had alluded to, but she couldn’t deny how much it prickled. After some trial and error in the early days, at least it was easier to manage now.
“Your life can’t revolve around a baby!” Dot had said one day in Olivia’s third week home after Julia had exhausted herself trying to keep every plate spinning by herself. “The faster you learn to hand over the baby when you need to, the sooner you’ll realise how much easier that help makes everything else.”
As it turned out, it really did take a village.
Handing over the reins so she could rest her mind and body did help, and Julia had grown to cherish the support those that cared about her offered.
During the daytime, anyway.
Julia had avoided everything and anything that might involve leaving Olivia past sunset. Subconsciously, perhaps, but Julia hadn’t yet been ready to take that first step of walking away from the cot instead of lying down next to it.
“Do it before she’s six months,” Dot had warned as Julia prepared to leave her gran’s cottage after the séance, “or you just never might.”
Most of the time, Julia felt like she knew none of the moves to the dance of motherhood. At others, she had to do them wrong several times to know when she was veering off track.