A Passionate Spirit

by S. C. Skillman

  Zoe stared at her. Her fingers had gone numb. She flexed them repeatedly then clasped her hands together under the table.

  “What happened then?” Theo asked.

  “I stopped and got out. I was trembling all over, my heart was banging against my ribcage, and I felt cold as ice. I expected to find a body. But there was nothing.”

  Zoe moistened her lips. “Nothing?”

  “No. Nobody there.”

  “How old was the girl?”

  “Four or five.”

  Zoe’s stomach flipped. An image flashed across her mind’s eye: a little girl; four or five years old; long fair hair, green dress.

  Her heart was pumping faster. She looked at Theo. His mouth had fallen open.

  Alice spoke on, more quickly now. “I hunted everywhere I thought her body may have gone. I had a torch in the car. I shone it into the ditch at the side of the road, up and down the hedge; I even climbed through a gap in the hedge to see if her body had been thrown over it into the field. I found nothing.”

  “Did you call the police?” asked Theo.

  “Yes. They did a search. Their community support officer rang later and said they found nothing. No Missing Person report with which to match the child. Since there was nothing to go on, there was little they could do.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us this earlier.”

  “Ah. I was just a little concerned that you wouldn’t be very positive about my ghost stories,” said Alice, looking at Theo. “I’ve met some clergy people in the past who’d dismiss these experiences as my imagination.”

  “Well, have no fears about that,” Theo said. “I take your stories seriously.”

  “Thank you,” said Alice. “I’m still jittery every time I drive up that lane. I can’t shake off the idea there’s a body there somewhere, despite the fact that the police searched the area thoroughly. Every day I look in the papers for news of a missing child. Right now, every instinct tells me she was a ghost.”

  Theo turned to Zoe.

  “You said the child you met looked through you.”

  “Yes,” said Zoe. “I was petrified.”

  “That says it all,” insisted Alice. “Your gut instinct was: This isn’t a normal physical child.”

  “But why did she appear to us?” asked Zoe.

  Theo took her hand. “Alice still has another story to tell.”

  Both looked at Alice again.

  “Yes,” said Alice. “It happened a week later, again on the Friday. I was going to London for a meeting. Got on the train at Kemble and found a seat. At the next stop, a small girl came along and sat in the seat opposite. As the train began to move off, I thought, doesn’t she have an adult with her? She seemed four or five years old. I supposed the adult had perhaps gone to the toilet.

  “Ten minutes passed and nobody came along. I looked up. The girl didn’t seem at all worried to be left alone. I was about to speak to her, but something prevented me. My heart began to beat faster. My palms sweated. We drew in to the next station. As the train stopped, the child got up, walked to the door, and jumped out onto the platform.

  “After the train moved off, I spent several minutes trying to calm down. I was in a cold sweat. I closed my eyes for a few minutes. When I opened them, the train was waiting at the next station. To my horror, I saw the same child seated in front of me.

  “I froze with terror. I stared at her. She looked through me. I got up, grabbed my bag and coat, and ran the whole length of the train.

  “At Paddington I raced off for fear of seeing her on the platform. But I didn’t see her again.”

  Alice stopped and looked from Theo to Zoe and back again.

  Zoe wrapped her arms around herself, instinctively seeking some kind of reassurance.

  She turned to Theo. “What d’you make of it?”

  Theo rubbed his chin. “I’ve come across several paranormal tales involving children. And young children also do tend to attract psychic phenomena.”

  Zoe ran her hands through her hair. “But Theo, do you believe that Alice and I both saw a ghost?”

  “Yes,” said Theo. “As I said earlier, I’ve seen ghostly monks myself, in the London church where I served my curacy. And so I’ve done some soul-searching on the subject. It talks in the scripture about what happens when you die. We’re asleep is the Bible’s picture. But does that mean all beings that have ever been, are ‘sleeping’, in that sense? Are there some souls that are not resting in peace?”

  “Like the little girl?” said Zoe.

  “Perhaps. There are some things that God wants us to understand,” replied Theo, “and there are other things that are not for us to understand, and which are beyond our imagination. Yes, I believe in ghosts. But we cannot yet know what the appearance of the little girl means.”

  He looked at Alice. “Remembering the little girl you babysat, Alice; were she and the ghost child one and the same?”

  Alice shook her head. Her skin had tightened around her jawline.

  It occurred to Zoe that the child could be a doppelgänger, the ghost of a person still alive. She’d heard stories of these out-of-body apparitions.

  “Theo, what does it mean?” she asked urgently.

  Theo shook his head. “No idea. I’m baffled.” He turned to Alice again. “All I can suggest is that you write these incidents down. If anything else strange happens, they’ll be important.”

  “I will,” she said. “And there was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Well, two actually: James and Natasha.”

  Zoe held her head up. “What about them?”

  “You know your stories of Celtic saints, Theo?” said Alice. She laid her arm across the back of the chair. Her russet-coloured leather jacket creaked. “I love them: Ninian, Columba, Francis… they all believed in entertaining strangers, in case they turned out to be angels; great stuff. But …”

  Theo sat with chin cupped in hand. “Yes, go on.”

  She nodded. “When Zoe and I were with Natasha and James this morning, I had a picture. It was of a tarantula crawling over a jewelled masquerade mask.”

  Zoe shuddered. She shot a quick glance at Theo. They both knew about Alice’s mental pictures: a vision of an apparently ordinary situation, in which she’d see something that told a different story from what lay on the surface. And, as with her finely-tuned instincts about non-verbal messages and body language, she’d mostly been proved right.

  “A tarantula and a jewelled mask? In James and Natasha?” asked Theo.

  “Yes,” said Alice.

  “That’s a vivid image,” said Theo. “Why should they give you that impression? James does have a rather haughty manner, I agree. But, to see him and Natasha in those terms…”

  “Sorry. It’s how I feel.”

  “Alice, I respect your feelings,” said Theo, “but we’ve offered them our hospitality. We can’t judge them on the basis of one of your mental pictures.”

  Zoe fiddled with the gold cross hanging on a chain round her neck then moved her hand to her left shoulder, clasping her arm across her body.

  “Natasha asked if we planned to start a family,” she said.

  Theo smiled and put his arm round her. “We do. It’s a natural question to ask.”

  She nodded.

  Theo looked at Alice. “Despite your feelings, we must accept James and Natasha. They have a right to be here. We’re open to all, as long as people respect our guidelines.”

  “Sorry Theo. I don’t trust James – or Natasha,” said Alice. “She has some kind of spiritual aura around her. But I don’t feel good about it.”

  “What do you mean by that, Alice?” asked Theo, removing his arm from Zoe’s shoulder and sitting forward with a frown.

  Zoe chewed her lip. Her spine prickled.

  “Can’t be more specific,” said Alice. “Just trying to be honest with you about how I feel; and Natasha’s words about starting a family… Of course it seems perfectly innocuous. But I believe ther
e’s more to that too.”

  “Let’s leave the subject for the time being,” said Theo.

  “Right.” Alice got up, picked up her handbag, and pulled her car keys out of her pocket. “Thanks for listening to me. Bye.”

  “Alice…” began Zoe.

  But Alice had already walked out into the entrance hall. They heard the front door open, then close.

  Silence followed. They heard no sound of gravel crunching beneath her feet.

  Zoe looked at Theo. They both got up and went out of the house to see if Alice was still there and needed anything else. But she was nowhere to be seen. Zoe looked to the right, across to the conifers where Alice could have gone, choosing the woodland walk to the back of the car park. But there was no sign of her.

  She might have gone up the drive which was more open and a route Zoe herself often preferred, when the light was fading, or in the dark. She looked straight ahead up the hill, and again saw no-one.

  A curious silence hung over the scene. She shivered. They both turned and went back into the house.

  “Where’s she gone?” asked Zoe.

  Their eyes met. Theo’s face was white.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A quarter of an hour later, Zoe was in the sitting room doing her usual check. There wouldn’t be many of them that evening for dinner, which was just as well, as Zoe felt nervy from the day’s odd events. It wasn’t until the following afternoon that she and Theo would be welcoming their new intake of guests for next week. In addition to James and Natasha, there were just three more guests that evening, those who’d stayed on from last week’s painting, marbling and ceramics course, Cynthia, Gareth and Heidi.

  Gareth was a successful artist who lived on the earnings from his work, painted the subjects he knew to be most popular, and always had an eye to the best cash return. Heidi was married to a university professor and had arrived feeling jaded and stressed with her role in supporting him and interminably entertaining all his colleagues, research students and professional contacts; she’d come to the centre to ‘find herself’ so she’d told Zoe. And Cynthia had just gone through a hurtful divorce and was cynical about life and men in general, but had been persuaded by her therapist to try a creative arts retreat to refresh herself; mind, body and soul.

  Zoe knew people came here with high expectations, and she and Theo did everything possible to fulfil the hopes of their guests. Most of those who came regarded themselves as ‘spiritual but not religious’; though Theo was a priest, and the inspiration for the centre came from Celtic Christian spirituality, they were open to all, of any faith or none.

  Right now, Theo had gone to sort out a menu issue with Miles, the chef, and Zoe had come to check the sitting room; the guests usually gathered in here for coffee after dinner and she liked to make sure it was as comfortable as possible for them. She walked around checking the bowls were full of chocolate mints, the flower arrangements fresh and none of the candles needed replenishing.

  All was as it should be and Zoe sank into one of the emerald-green armchairs to relax for five minutes. It was a luxury to be alone in here; on the way through the entrance hall she’d passed Heidi and Cynthia, who were just going upstairs, and she’d also greeted Gareth as he headed into the library for a quiet half an hour’s read before dinner.

  A book lying open on a chair in the corner caught Zoe’s eye.

  She picked it up and began to read:

  On the morning of September 8th, 1560, at the isolated manor of Cumnor Place, the body of a young woman was found at the bottom of a staircase, her neck broken. But this was no ordinary death. Amy Robsart was the wife of Elizabeth I’s great favourite, Robert Dudley, the man who many believed she would marry, were he free…

  Ah, she thought, looking at the cover. Death and the Virgin: Elizabeth, Dudley and the Mysterious Fate of Amy Robsart by Chris Skidmore. One of the guests had clearly chosen reading matter to match their location, in a sixteenth-century manor house.

  The subject of first wives pulled Zoe’s mind off on a tangent. Theo’s first wife had divorced him nine years before. He’d told Zoe the circumstances, and she felt confident he’d shared everything with her.

  It seemed to Zoe, though, that even with his first wife, Theo was too ready to place his confidence in the goodness of others; because it did sting a little sometimes, when he spent more time making himself available to other people, than listening to her.

  And although she loved him, Zoe couldn’t shift off one particular doubt about her husband; the question of whether he’d stay free of the depression that had stalked him at various points in his life. Before they married, Theo had told her he’d suffered from this in the past.

  Sighing, she replaced the book as she’d found it, open at the account of the story of the ill-fated Amy. Suddenly she was electrified by screams outside on the staircase from the first floor. She heard something – or somebody – tumble down the stairs.

  Vito leapt up. Zoe dashed across to the door. Vito was already there, standing on his hind legs, pawing at the timber panels. Zoe opened the door. Vito hurtled into the entrance hall ahead of her. The first thing Zoe saw was Cynthia lying on the floor in a heap at the foot of the staircase. One leg was bent under the other. Her long brown hair had escaped from its pins, and fanned over her face. Vito was by Cynthia’s side, sniffing at her hair, nosing at her forehead, his tail drooping.

  Before Zoe could say anything, the library door opened and Gareth put his head out. Heidi and Alice had appeared on the first-floor landing and were hurrying down to join them. Zoe hardly had time to quiz Alice on what she was still doing in the house, though it made sense of why she hadn’t heard her footsteps crossing the gravel.

  “Cynthia! What’s happened?” she gasped.

  Bewildered, she hurried across and fell on her knees beside Cynthia. Gareth, Heidi and Alice were close behind Zoe, leaning over her.

  “Keep her immobile,” said Alice. “You don’t know what injuries she has. I’ll call an ambulance.” She pulled her mobile from her pocket and began to tap.

  Meanwhile, Heidi pushed the hair off Cynthia’s face so they could see her better, and Zoe was bending low, ear to Cynthia’s chest.

  Having finished her call, Alice rejoined the group clustered round the patient. “Cynthia!” she said. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  No reply. Zoe’s heart pounded. She took Cynthia’s wrist and checked her pulse. Then she put her ear to Cynthia’s mouth.

  “She’s breathing all right.”

  “Any obvious signs of injury?” asked Gareth.

  Zoe gently parted Cynthia’s hair in several places over her scalp for signs of wounds or blood. She found none. Alice was checking Cynthia’s ears, nose and her eyes.

  “Can’t see any bleeding,” she said. “But she’s unconscious. That’s bad. Could be an internal head injury.”

  “Do we need to cover her?” asked Heidi, her voice trembling.

  “Good idea. I’ll go and get a blanket.” Gareth stepped over Cynthia’s body onto the first stair. As he bounded up the stairs, Zoe continued searching Cynthia’s face and head for any signs of injury they might have missed.

  Then she noticed Cynthia’s eyelids flicker. Her eyes opened wide with a terrified expression. She shook her head, and kicked out – including, Zoe noticed with horror, the leg that had been bent at an awkward angle. If it hadn’t been broken before, Zoe feared it would be now. She shifted aside to avoid being kicked.

  “Cynthia!” she cried. “Calm down! But thank God you’re awake.”

  Cynthia struggled to sit up.

  “Where am I?” she cried. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  “You fell downstairs. You were unconscious. We’ve called an ambulance.”

  Now Cynthia was sitting, Zoe put her arm under her shoulders and guided her to lean against her. She wiped some more of Cynthia’s hair away from her face.

  Alice pressed in close to Zoe, eyes fixed on Cynthia. “How do you feel?
Does your head hurt? Can you feel your arms and legs? Do you feel sick?”

  Gareth reappeared at the bend of the staircase holding a blanket and came down to them. He edged round Cynthia, holding the blanket out wide.

  Zoe took the blanket and put it around Cynthia’s shoulders.

  Cynthia ignored the questions, but gasped, “Why…? What…? Who…?”

  At least her speech didn’t sound slurred.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Zoe looked up. Another figure had appeared at the bend of the staircase. “James!”

  “Cynthia has been hurt,” cried Heidi.

  James descended to the hall at a leisurely pace.

  “She fell downstairs. An ambulance is on its way,” said Zoe. Then she noticed Natasha following behind James.

  “Can I help?” Natasha asked. “Let me have a look at her.” Gareth had moved back several paces, gazing at Natasha. Alice rose to her feet and joined him. Zoe stayed where she was. Heidi had remained a little apart from the others for the past few minutes, looking helpless and scared. Natasha, meanwhile, crouched down beside Cynthia. But instead of examining her face and head in the way Zoe had, she began whispering words Zoe couldn’t catch.

  Then she placed one hand on Cynthia’s head and another over her heart.

  “There are injuries,” said Natasha. “I sense them. But I can heal you, Cynthia, if you wish. Would you like me to?”

  Zoe couldn’t tell whether Cynthia had moved her lips or not. Something made her look up from her kneeling position and she caught Alice’s eye. Then she saw the expression on Heidi’s and Gareth’s faces. Both had changed colour. Their mouths had fallen open, and their eyes were focused on Natasha.

  Zoe looked back at Natasha who was murmuring words Zoe didn’t recognise. Her voice had the same effect upon Zoe as a glowing log fire might have. Warmth and peace stole through her body, starting with her fingers and moving up her arms.

  Cynthia’s hands fell to her sides, her fingers relaxed. She lifted her head and looked around with a quizzical expression then smiled at them all.