by Cavendish
Pre-Christmas shopping tourists were already out in force and Hannah negotiated shopping trolleys, ambling pedestrians, and cyclists who seemed to think they could ride wherever they chose.
Mairead and George arrived at the same time, having met up on George Street.
“Ready?” George asked.
Hannah and Mairead nodded.
“Have you any idea where we’re going?” Hannah asked Mairead.
“I’m not sure. I’m going to follow my instinct, wherever that takes us. There’s something in the back of my mind. It may not even be a memory. Perhaps a dream I had so, sorry in advance if this is a wild goose chase.”
“Right now, any lead is worth following,” George said.
“Definitely,” Hannah agreed.
Mairead had already begun to walk, across the green and onto South Charlotte Street. She turned off down Rose Street and Hannah recognized the route from her previous walk around there.
“I feel I want to go down here,” Mairead said, turning left off the bustling pedestrianized street.
Hannah was growing increasingly curious as to where Mairead was leading them. A feeling of déjà vu began to swarm over her.
Mairead stopped in front of a smart Georgian building. “Here,” she said. “Don’t ask me why but I’m as sure as I can be that Miss Carmichael lived here.”
Hannah stared up at the familiar black glossy door. Fleming, McLintoch and Campbell, Solicitors, on a gleaming brass plaque. “I’ve been here before too,” she said. “I had a wander around the New Town and ended up right here. It was weird. I had the strange compulsion to knock on the door. I didn’t in the end, but I came close.”
“What drew you to it?” George asked. He sounded surprised but Hannah didn’t think it was down to her revelation.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Hannah said. “I had such a compulsion to go inside but I’ve no idea why. As far as I know I had never been down this street before, let alone visited this place.”
“It used to be flats,” George said, staring at the upper stories. “I know it well.”
“Really?” Hannah asked.
George nodded. “I used to live here. Right up there.” He pointed. “On the top floor. I grew up there.”
A shiver traveled at the speed of light up Hannah’s spine. “So, in some way that none of us understand, we’re all connected to this building.”
George took hold of the brass door handle. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
“What?” Hannah grabbed his hand. “Whatever reason do we have for going in?”
“Do you know what?” George said. “I usually find honesty works best. I’ll tell them I used to live here and that I’d like to have a look around. Oh, and you want to make a Will.” He indicated Mairead.
“I do?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t afford their prices. They’re going to be sky high.”
“You’re not really going to make a Will. We’ll make you an appointment when we’ve had a look around and then you can cancel it later.”
“I always said you were mad, George Mackay.” Mairead smacked him on the arm and George turned the handle.
* * *
“You lived here? When was that?”
Hannah had the distinct impression the middle-aged receptionist was testing George, making sure he was telling the truth.
“We moved here when I was ten, in 1979, stayed five years and then left. I think it was converted to offices soon after.”
The woman nodded and a slight smile grazed the corners of her lips. “That fits. The practice opened here in 1986, soon after the conversion. I’m afraid there won’t be too much you remember. No bedrooms or original furniture. You rented, I presume?” She led them up the stairs.
“Yes. The landlord was a bit grim. I can’t for the life of me remember his name.”
“I never knew it. He died, I believe, and the house was sold to commercial property developers.”
“The stairs look familiar though,” George said, patting the bannister.
The woman reached the first landing. “Yes, I believe they’re original.” She pointed up at the next flight of stairs. “So you were up at the top then?”
“That’s right.”
“There’s nothing to see. Just closed doors, I’m afraid.”
“Nevertheless…would you mind? This means so much to me.”
He could charm a crocodile, Hannah thought, and it was clear that this receptionist was not oblivious to his cheeky smile. Considering George was around her age, he could turn on the boyish charm when he wanted to.
“As long as we don’t make too much noise I’m sure the partners won’t mind. Miss Fox and Mr. Napier are both out so there’s only Mr. Campbell up there at present. He’s with a client. He’ll be the one you see, Miss Ferguson.”
“Thank you,” Mairead said simply, averting her eyes from the woman’s gaze.
Climbing the stairs next to her, George whispered in Hannah’s ear, “Do you feel anything?”
Hannah shook her head.
At the top of the stairs, George looked around. He spoke quietly. “I can picture it how it used to be. A door at the top of the stairs, short hall, then rooms off. Two bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom and living room. The offices must be quite large. There’s only three of them.”
“Well, the solicitors do have quite a collection of legal books,” the receptionist said. “And they take up a lot of space.”
She led them back down to the first floor. Mairead staggered. Hannah steadied her.
“I feel something here,” Mairead whispered. Her face was white and her eyes wide. “I’ve been here before. I know it. I stayed in a room on this floor.”
“Miss Ferguson, you don’t look at all well,” the receptionist said. “Let’s get you back downstairs and I’ll make you a cup of strong tea.”
They steered her down the stairs and into an empty waiting room. At the sight of it, Mairead gasped again. A strange tingling and the feeling of déjà vu once again hit Hannah.
“I’ll go and make that tea now,” the receptionist said.
When she had gone, George and Hannah crowded around Mairead, whose face was even more blanched.
“I can’t explain what I feel,” she said. “All I know is that I stayed here at some time and that this,” she looked around, “was Miss Carmichael’s living room.”
“I’ve only encountered her ghost,” Hannah said. “How’s it possible that I’m sure I’ve been here before?”
George blinked. “What?”
“I know I’ve been here before. I can feel it and.…” How could she explain that she could see the room, not as it was now but as it might have appeared in Miss Carmichael’s day? “Mairead, do you remember this room?”
Mairead nodded slowly. “Miss Carmichael had it stuffed full of furniture and knick-knacks.”
Hannah nodded. She could ‘see’ the occasional tables with their lace doilies, photographs in silver frames. “There was a mantel clock over there.” Hannah pointed to a redundant fireplace.
“Yes,” Mairead said. “It used to chime the quarter hours. A real tinkly chime. Quite pretty.”
“And she had an aspidistra,” Hannah said. “On the windowsill.”
“Yes, she did and a glass display cabinet full of china.”
George was watching the two, eyes wide. “You two knew each other back then?”
“I don’t know,” Hannah said. “We seem to share the same memories of this room, but I don’t remember anywhere else in the house. The first and second floors meant nothing to me at all.”
“I don’t remember the top floor but, as I said, I had a room on the first. It’s so strange. So real.”
“Am I dreaming this?” George asked. “Because it certainly feels like it.”
“Not unless we all are,” Hannah said.
“This is the weirdest feeling—” Mairead didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because the receptionist returned with a tray loaded with mugs of tea.
“I thought you could probably all do with a cup,” she said, smiling as she laid the tray on a table in the center of the room. “How are you feeling now, Miss Ferguson? You’ve got a little color back in your cheeks.”
“I’m fine now, thanks.”
“Enjoy your tea and I’ll make that appointment for you. Is next week possible?”
“Er…yes. I’m sure that will be fine.”
The receptionist once again left them alone.
George handed out mugs of tea and sipped his own. “This is no coincidence. I lived here when I was growing up and you two seem to have some shared memory of sharing a home with Miss Carmichael.”
“Mairead does. I don’t. I just remember the room the way it was back then, and I know I have been here. More than that.…” Hannah shrugged.
“We haven’t got long. She’ll be back soon. What are we going to do?”
“Mairead could always make that Will,” Hannah said. “We could all chip in to pay for it. That way we have the perfect excuse for coming back.”
“What do you reckon, Mairead? Are you up for it?”
“Not that I have anything to leave or anyone to leave it to, but they say everyone should have a Will or the state gets it. In cases like mine anyway.”
“I made one when my marriage broke up,” Hannah said. “Just to make sure Roger didn’t inherit anything.”
“OK. I’ll do it.” Mairead set down her empty mug.
The receptionist returned carrying an appointment card. “Next Tuesday at nine with Mr. Campbell.” She handed the card to Mairead.
“Thanks.”
“Right, well, if you’re quite recovered, I’ll show you out.”
Hannah, for one, was glad to leave. A few minutes earlier, she had been struck with an almost overwhelming sense of being in another woman’s body. It had been unpleasant. That other woman, from another time who shared none of her memories and whose spiteful character left an unpleasant taste in Hannah’s mouth. Now, as they emerged into the grey, drizzling morning, the feeling lifted. But it had been there.
And she never wanted to feel it again.
* * *
Back home that night, Hannah booted up her computer and checked her mail. Nothing much. Mostly junk, but one item grabbed her attention. A minute later she was signing in to Facebook. Rosanna had finally accepted her friendship request and sent her a message.
“Hannah, how wonderful to meet you again after all these years. Trust you are well. I shall look forward to catching up with all your news.”
Hannah responded immediately. “Hello, Rosanna. Great to hear from you. I’m living in Edinburgh now. Are you still in Spain? There’s something I would like your advice on. Do you have Skype? I could call you.”
Hannah sent her message and waited. If only luck was with her for a change. Maybe Rosanna was still online. Seconds ticked by and then.…
“Yes!” Hannah punched the air. Rosanna had sent her Skype details.
* * *
“Hannah. Hello.”
The familiar face looked little changed from the excitable woman Hannah had known all those years earlier. Maybe the soft light had smoothed out any wrinkles. Maybe it was Spanish good living.
“Rosanna. Thank you so much for connecting with me. I hope you’re keeping well, and your family?”
The smile Rosanna had worn when the call first connected was fading. She looked troubled. “Yes, we are all well. Thank you. But you…I sense…something is wrong. You wanted to ask me something.”
She looked uncomfortable, as if she was…yes, she was squirming. As if she couldn’t wait to get away.
“OK, we’ll catch up later.” She took a deep breath. “Some strange stuff has been happening here.”
“Yes. I can tell.”
“You can? How?”
“I feel it. I can see it. It is all around you. Remember when Jacquetta and your daughter were friends? I told you I sensed an aura around you. Something dangerous. I know you didn’t believe me then but I was right and I am right now.”
“You mean the same thing you told me about then? It’s still with me?”
“It is much stronger now. You have been in contact with a force so powerful, it has drawn out the presence from within you.”
“But how is that possible?”
Rosanna shook her head. “I never pretend I have all the answers, but I do know you were drawn to the place you are now. It is a place of great danger for you.” She clapped her hand in front of her mouth. Her eyes shot wide open.
“Rosanna, tell me. How do I get rid of this? It’s not just hurting me, it’s targeted my friends as well. Maybe more people will be hurt by it.”
“It’s growing stronger. Maybe it is already too strong.”
“What can I do? How can we protect ourselves?”
Rosanna lowered her hand, but her eyes stayed wide, scared. “It’s all around you, Hannah. I have no idea how to help you. I have never seen anything so strong. So…evil.”
“But you must know something that will help.”
“I’m sorry, Hannah. Truly I am. I will pray for you.”
She cut the call.
“Rosanna!”
Hannah stared at the screen. She tried to call back but there was no answer. When she returned to Facebook, she found Rosanna had unfriended her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once again, the heavy atmosphere of Henderson Close cloaked Hannah in an unpleasant embrace that had become all too familiar and made her nerve endings itch. The day passed uneventfully enough, for which she felt relieved, but she knew it was only a brief respite. All the joy she had ever felt for this job had evaporated. Now each working day was a hill to climb. If she could, she would simply leave. Maybe go away from Edinburgh. But it would do no good. Rosanna had made that clear. Whatever was after her here had been after her probably all her life. Everything had been leading up to this encounter. She wondered if it was the same for her friends.
She said as much to Mairead and George as the three sat in the café opposite their place of work.
“I don’t know,” George said. “Who does? It’s a shame Rosanna was too scared to help any further.”
“You should have seen her face.” Hannah shuddered. “I think she knew she would be way out of her depth. She genuinely didn’t seem to know how we could help ourselves. We’re going to have to go on our own instincts and hope it gets us through.”
“We’re still the only ones to notice anything really wrong,” Mairead said. “Morag laughed when I asked her if her groups had experienced anything out of the ordinary. She still thinks everything is pretty much as it was. The usual chills, over-imaginative visitors, but nothing to what we’ve been through.”
Hannah had received the same reaction from Ailsa, combined with a look that seemed to question her sanity. “Things only seem to happen to members of our groups. A Canadian woman yesterday screamed when she saw a tall thin man in the shadows. I’ve had people tell me they’ve been pushed. One man said a gruff voice swore at him, another said he heard a young girl sobbing. It was a relief to have a peaceful day today for a change.”
“There have always been visitors who have heard, seen and felt things,” Hannah said. “But it’s the way it’s escalated that worries me, and Rosanna telling me it was now so strong it might be impossible to defeat.”
“Something happened when those workmen knocked down the wall into Farquhars Close. We know that for a fact,” George said.
“That accelerated something for sure,” Mairead said. “But think about it. Before that happened. What are the chances of the thr
ee of us – each with our own connection to Miss Carmichael’s house – coming together in the same workplace at this time?”
“That’s what Rosanna was getting at. It’s been engineered that way, but not only for me. For all three of us,” Hannah said.
“Either that or our being here has acted as some sort of catalyst.”
“I get that,” George said. “So, what I suspected has to be true. We have a collective strength, if only we knew how to use it.”
“If we could go back in time again,” Hannah said, thinking aloud. “If we could control it. Maybe go back together. Find Miss Carmichael.”
“And stop her being killed?” George said.
“No, I don’t think we can do that,” Hannah said. “Surely that would kick off some kind of chain reaction. I don’t think we can change history, but if we could be more aware of it. Know exactly what happened and who was responsible.… Maybe, just maybe, we could trap the evil back in its own time.”
“Murdoch Maclean,” Mairead said.
George and Hannah looked at her.
“Don’t you see? His shop is some kind of…I don’t know…portal. Both Hannah and I found ourselves back in Miss Carmichael’s time when we went near the shop.”
“Yes,” Hannah said, “but it’s so random. I’ve done countless tours and had no reaction there whatsoever.”
“Hannah, it was in Murdoch’s shop you found the newspapers disturbed and saw the photograph of Miss Carmichael,” George said. “Mairead could be on to something. And if we’re right about the collective strength of the three of us.… There’s never been an occasion when all of us have been there at the same time, has there?”
Hannah thought back. She shook her head. “It’s got to be worth a try. Miss Carmichael isn’t going to rest until we find her killer, and we have to find a way of cleansing Henderson Close of that demon or whatever it is that’s escaped.”