Ghostly Games

by K. E. O'Connor

  “I don’t much fancy it either.” I looked at the rotten boards on the treehouse. No one had used it in years.

  “Any sign of our ghostly children?” asked Helen.

  I looked around the play area and caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. “We may have company.” I turned and waited.

  It took about a minute, but the faint image of a girl appeared. She wore a long pinafore dress and had braids that hung over her shoulders.

  Flipper ran towards the ghost and circled her several times, his tail wagging as he did so.

  “What are you seeing?” asked Helen.

  “A sad looking girl,” I said. “She’s dressed in an old-fashioned pinafore. And she’s scowling at us.”

  “Speak to her,” said Helen. “Maybe she thinks you’re here to tell her off.”

  I took several tentative steps towards the ghost child, my hands held out. “We’re here to help you.”

  The girl tilted her head to one side, and her scowl deepened.

  “My name is Lorna, and this is my friend, Helen. And the dog circling you is called Flipper.”

  The girl looked at Flipper and shooed him away with her hands.

  “I don’t think she likes dogs,” I said to Helen. I gestured Flipper to my side. “Why are you here?” I asked the ghost.

  The ghost looked over her shoulder and then back to me. I caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes.

  “There’s no need to be scared,” I said. “We really are here to help you if you need it.”

  “Does she even realize she’s dead?” whispered Helen in my ear. “If she died as a child, she may not understand what’s going on.”

  I really had no clue how the afterlife worked for children. “Do you know where you are?” I asked the ghost girl.

  The girl nodded, but kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she could see something I couldn’t.

  “I don’t think she’s alone,” I said to Helen. “From the way she’s acting, she’s frightened by something.”

  “I hope it’s not us,” said Helen.

  “No, she’s not looking at us. But something is worrying her.”

  “Could it be another ghost?” asked Helen. “After all, you have seen those others in the house. And then there are the Bellamy children as well. You’ve yet to get a glimpse of them. Maybe they like to spend time in this play area.”

  “It might be them.” I focused over the ghost’s shoulder, squinting to see if I could see what was unsettling her.

  Flipper dashed from my side, passing straight through the ghost girl, and into the bushes.

  “Wait!” I called to him, but Flipper ignored me and plunged into the gloom.

  “Flipper’s onto something,” said Helen. “Should we follow him?”

  I took another step towards the ghost, and she abruptly vanished. “She’s gone.”

  “Which direction did she go in?” asked Helen.

  “She just disappeared. Flipper running off startled her.” I caught another movement out of the corner of my eye in the trees and turned towards it. “Let’s go in this direction; there’s someone else here.” I hurried away, intent on discovering what was troubling the girl.

  “Who is it?” Helen chased after me through the trees.

  “I’m not sure.” I pushed back some branches. “But I’ve gotten a glimpse of someone ahead of us. Maybe they were watching us speak to the ghost.”

  “Is it a ghost someone or a human someone?” asked Helen.

  “A ghost, I think,” I said. “Although I can’t be sure. But if it’s a human, why would they run away from us?” I pushed through a dense patch of undergrowth and stopped. We had come full circle and were almost back at the Bellamys’ house.

  “Did you see who it was?” Helen emerged from the trees and pulled a leaf from her hair.

  “They’ve gone,” I said. “It might have been one of the adult ghosts I saw in the house, but they kept flashing in and out of sight as if they were trying to conceal themselves from me.”

  “Why would they do that?” asked Helen. “And why are they being so sneaky with you? If they’ve got something to tell you, then why don’t they just do it?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure. But I’m more interested in finding out who this child is and what she was running away from. She was scared.” There was more than one mystery in this village to solve.

  Chapter 13

  After finding Flipper in the woods, and discovering that he’d been chasing pheasants and not ghosts, we returned to the house. I didn't have time to discuss our mysterious ghost with Helen anymore, so had a quick freshen up and ate breakfast, before going to find Jasmine and starting my day’s work.

  Jasmine was in the living room when I entered, a pile of papers in front of her. She was looking over the draft of the invitation I’d printed out yesterday for the children’s memorial event.

  “Good morning, Lorna.” Jasmine held up the invitation. “This is excellent work.”

  “Glad you like it,” I said.

  “It’s got just the right tone,” said Jasmine.

  “I can get some printed whenever you’re ready.” I settled on the seat next to her.

  “I just need to finalize numbers and then we can go ahead with that,” said Jasmine.

  “Perhaps we can go for a walk today,” I said. “You’ve not been out since I arrived, and fresh air always does a person good.”

  “A walk would be nice,” said Jasmine. “And it looks like a nice day.”

  I looked out of the window and saw the sun making a valiant attempt at pushing through the clouds. It was an improvement on the early morning mist I’d been running about in with Helen and Flipper. “Yes, perfect walking weather.”

  “There’s a little tea room I used to visit with the children,” said Jasmine. “It’s a nice place, and they do lovely cream teas. Do you like cream teas? Or they have a lovely selection of cakes, all home-made and fresh every day.”

  “I love cream teas,” I said.

  “Then that’s settled,” said Jasmine. “I’ll finish here, and we can go out this afternoon.”

  We worked for a couple more hours, looking at decorations and catering for the memorial event, before I stopped for a quick snack. I didn’t want to spoil my appetite for the treats I was going to have later.

  I returned to the living room and found Jasmine with her coat over one arm.

  “Shall we go?” she asked. “Now you’ve convinced me to venture out, I’m quite excited.”

  “Ready when you are.” I grabbed my jacket, left Flipper to his slumber in the annex, and we walked out of the cottage.

  “Do you know many people in the village?” I asked as we walked along the narrow country lane.

  “A number of residents have been here for years,” said Jasmine. “Born and bred if you like. Most of them are friendly enough, but I think they get annoyed by outsiders coming in and spending a fortune on their properties. But there are others who live here, like Chris and me, who have worked in the City and now want a quieter life. Somewhere nice where we can raise a family. They’re usually friendlier. And I did have several friends with young children of their own. But they stopped coming around after Mirabel and Michael died.”

  “That must have been difficult,” I said.

  “It was. But I do understand why they did it. I’m not sure I would know what to say to someone who had lost their children. Words seem so empty.”

  “No one came to visit after the children died?”

  “Some did,” said Jasmine. “We got lots of casseroles and stews to keep us going. And one or two of my friends came by a couple of times. But I was in no real state to see them. I didn’t want to entertain them, and I definitely didn’t want to hear about their children. They were awkward meetings, and I didn’t encourage them to come back. Maybe I should have.”

  “If they’re real friends, they’ll still be there when you’re ready to pick up the friendships,” I said.

  �
��Maybe it is time I looked them up and established our friendships again,” said Jasmine. “Their children will be older now and at school. It will be nice to know what they’re doing. I don’t think I’d find it such a painful thing to do now.”

  “It’s good to have friends to support you,” I said.

  We passed a black metal gate with a decorative angel in the center, and Jasmine stopped. “Would you like to meet the children?”

  “The children? Who do you mean?”

  Jasmine smiled. “My children. This is where Michael and Mirabel are buried.” She pointed at the gate, and as I peered through it, I realized it was a small cemetery.

  “This is where you were when Helen and I arrived on our first day?”

  “That's right. I’d like you to see their graves,” said Jasmine. “I get the sense you believe the children are still here, just as I do. Maybe you will sense something if you’re close to them.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, but I was interested in seeing their graves. There was a possibility the children were in the cemetery, especially if their parents visited so regularly.

  Jasmine opened the gate, and we walked through together. “When they first died, I came here all the time. I felt like I needed to be close to them, even though I knew they were gone. But I come less often now. I come here with Chris a couple of times a week. We like to lay flowers and talk to them as if they’re still here. I guess that sounds silly to you.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “It’s a nice way of keeping connected to them.”

  “I think so.” Jasmine led me along a neatly maintained gravel path and stopped by two small, white headstones. “Here they are.”

  I felt a lump in my throat, even before I turned to the headstones. Jasmine was being so brave; she’d lost her children, yet I was the one almost in tears about seeing their final resting place.

  Jasmine gently touched my arm. “You don’t have to say anything, but I knew you’d appreciate coming here. You have a sensitive way about you, Lorna.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. I’d been known to put my foot in it plenty of times. But when it came to ghosts, I did try to do my best. And I definitely would when it came to these two. “Thank you for showing me.”

  “It’s a comfort to know they’re here,” said Jasmine. “It’s so close to the house and easy to visit whenever I want to.”

  I surreptitiously looked around the cemetery, hoping to catch a glimpse of the children. But everything was peaceful and still. Apart from a few birds who twittered in the nearby trees, there were no signs of other life, ghostly or human.

  “Shall we go see about those cream teas?” asked Jasmine.

  “That would be lovely.” We walked back along the path and out onto the lane again. The silence that surrounded us was a comfortable one; I was lost in my thoughts about the children and what really happened to them. Jasmine seemed like such a loving mother. Could she really be involved with their deaths? I knew people often did things out of character when they were in the grip of mental illness, but it pained me to think she was involved in harming them.

  “Here we are,” said Jasmine as she stopped by a squat double fronted house, painted a pale blue, with tubs of bright autumnal flowers out the front.

  “This is a tea room?” The house looked like someone’s home. There were net curtains at the window and no sign outside promoting cream teas.

  “It’s a local secret,” said Jasmine. “The lady who runs it lives upstairs and uses the downstairs as her own little tea room. It’s very popular, and word has gotten out, so we get lots of visits from tourists. You can’t keep anything a secret these days.”

  I had to agree. The Internet was useful for searching out all kinds of information. I knew I was planning to use it to find out more about Michael and Mirabel when I had a moment to myself. “Shall we go inside?”

  “That’s what we’re here for.” Jasmine smiled and knocked at the front door.

  A moment later, a tall woman in her mid-sixties opened the door. “Are you here for the tea room?”

  “That’s right, Sylvia,” said Jasmine.

  Sylvia did a double take and then stared hard at Jasmine. “Mrs. Bellamy! I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I know it’s been a while,” said Jasmine. “I hope you’re still open for business.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Lorna Shadow, I’d like you to meet Sylvia Edwards,” said Jasmine. “Her cream teas are amazing.”

  “I’m looking forward to trying your scones,” I said to Sylvia.

  “So you should be,” said Sylvia. “Best in the county. You’d better come in. You’re the first this afternoon. I’ve only just taken the first batch of baking out of the oven.” She stood to one side, and we walked into the hallway. It was a narrow, chintz filled area, with lots of small statues of women in bonnets carrying straw baskets lining the shelves.

  “Is it okay for us to go through?” asked Jasmine.

  “You know the way,” said Sylvia.

  Jasmine nodded and led me to the end of the hallway before turning right. The room we entered was open plan, with low ceilings and half a dozen small wooden tables and chairs set out. There was a tiny serving counter at the back of the room and a chalk covered menu board detailing all the delicious treats on offer.

  “You’ll be spoilt for choice,” said Jasmine in my ear. “Shall we have a seat by the window?”

  “Sounds good.” I followed Jasmine to a table. Once we were settled in our seats, I took a few moments to look over the menu on the board. It all sounded wonderful. I’d have to bring Helen here. She would be in her element sampling all the goodies. There was a tasty sounding chocolate cake, a lemon drizzle cake, and the coffee tarte sounded to die for.

  “What’s it going to be?” Jasmine looked at me with an amused smile on her face.

  “I’d like to sample them all, but I don’t think my waistband will allow me to.”

  “You can always come here again,” said Jasmine. “It was one of the children’s favorite places. They loved the rice crispy cakes topped with melted marshmallows and chocolate chunks.”

  “They were my favorite too when I was a kid,” I said. “But I’m going to try the fresh cream strawberry tart and some English breakfast tea.”

  “Let’s get a pot of tea,” said Jasmine. “I’m going for a lavender infused scone with local preserves and clotted cream.”

  My mouth watered, and I wondered if I should change my order. Jasmine’s choice of cake sounded tempting.

  “Would you mind placing the order while I visit the bathroom?” Jasmine stood and grabbed her bag. “I won’t be a moment.”

  “No problem.” I hopped up from my seat and walked to the small counter at the back of the room. Sylvia was there filling the display cabinet with sweet smelling scones. There was another woman with her, similar in age, but with dyed black hair and penciled-in eyebrows that made her look permanently surprised.

  “Marie, can you serve our customer?” Sylvia nodded at me. “I need to get these scones out and then it’s on to the next batch.”

  “You must be popular if you bake that many scones every day,” I said.

  “I like to think of the cafe as a community hub,” said Sylvia. “If you’re not a churchgoer, there’s not a lot to do in the village, and I thought having a place like this would be a fun thing to do. It definitely ensures I’m up-to-date with all the local gossip.”

  Marie approached the counter. “What will it be?”

  “A pot of English breakfast tea, a lavender scone with preserves, and a strawberry tart, please.”

  Marie nodded and began to assemble my order. I noticed her giving me a furtive look out of the corner of her eye. Maybe she didn’t like strangers coming into the village. Small town folk could be strange at times.

  “Have you worked here long?” I asked Marie.

  “Ever since it opened.”

  “And do you get to keep up with the
latest gossip as well?”

  “I don’t gossip.”

  Yes, Marie definitely didn’t like strangers. I studied the menu again, giving me a distraction from the awkward atmosphere developing.

  Marie placed the cakes on a tray and then moved to the kettle. “Interesting company you keep.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, but there was no sign of Jasmine returning. “You mean my new employer?”

  Marie nodded. “You must need money badly to be working for her.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “That family is no good.”

  “Marie, I thought you didn’t gossip.” Sylvia emerged from the back room with another tray of cakes.

  “This isn’t gossip; this is the truth,” said Marie.

  “The Bellamys seem like a good family to me,” I said. “But I haven’t been with them long.”

  “You must be doing something right,” said Sylvia. “Mrs. Bellamy hasn’t been in here ever since she lost her little ones.”

  “I know she’s taken it hard. But that’s to be expected,” I said.

  “I don’t know why she’s upset,” said Marie.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because of what she did,” said Marie.

  “Marie, perhaps you shouldn’t.” Sylvia cast a worried look in my direction.

  “It’s important to know who you’re working for.” Marie looked over at me. “You might decide you don’t want your job anymore when you know the truth.”

  “And what’s the truth?” I leaned closer to the counter, wondering what secret I was about to be told.

  “That woman killed her babies.”

  Chapter 14

  I felt my mouth fall open, and I gripped the edge of the tea room counter. “That can’t be true.”

  “Now, you’ve done it.” Sylvia banged the empty scone tray to loosen the crumbs before sweeping them into the trash.

  “She did,” said Marie. “Two little ones like that don’t die at the same time of natural causes.”

  “But they were both sick,” I said. “They had the same problem with their hearts. They were twins.”

  “It’s still not right.” Marie placed a teapot and two cups on the tray in front of me. “And she has the nerve to remain in the village. They live in that house as if nothing bad happened there.”