Ghostly Vows

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Ghostly Vows Page 13

by K E O'Connor


  The ghosts exchanged a skeptical glance.

  They still needed convincing. “Jacob, is your sword that important to you that you can’t move on? Who knows what you could be missing out on by remaining in this castle? There might be ghostly maidens in need of a rescue.”

  He looked around the room before his gaze settled on the sword in the hallway.

  “And, Johnny, go over what happened on the night you died. If no one did this to you, and it was an accident, then you need to move on. You might want to spend time saying goodbye to this place before you go. From what I understand, you loved it here. Who knows what’s next for you? Just like Jacob, you could be missing out on so much by keeping yourself stuck here.”

  Johnny tugged on his bottom lip, his gaze remaining on the floor.

  It seemed I hadn’t done an amazing job of convincing either of them they didn’t need to be here.

  My stomach growled, reminding me it was long past dinner. “I’d better go. Maybe I’ll see you both at Helen’s wedding if you’re still here.”

  The ghosts slowly faded away.

  I let out a relieved sigh. Now that I wasn’t worried about them, I could focus on Helen and her big day. That was my priority, getting Helen married without her collapsing from the stress.

  Chapter 16

  I was almost drowning in medieval artifacts. I had finished with the silver and moved into the next room. This was full of display cabinets. I’d been slowly cataloging each cabinet’s contents, taking pictures, recording data on the artifacts, and removing any that showed significant damage or decay.

  I was trying to ignore the fact it was only three days until Helen’s wedding and focus on getting my work done. She was doing her very best to ensure that was impossible.

  “What do you think of this one?” Helen swept into the room, wearing a wedding veil.

  “It’s as lovely as the last three you showed me.”

  She twirled in front of me. “This one isn’t so long. And it’s got cute diamante that sparkle along the bottom hem.”

  “Exactly how many wedding veils have you ordered?”

  “Only a dozen.”

  “What’s wrong with the one we picked in the shop?” I rubbed dust from my hands and sat back on my heels.

  “It’s always good to have options.”

  “What are you going to do with them all when you finally choose one?”

  “Maybe I’ll give one to you.” Helen winked at me before doing another twirl and disappearing out the door.

  I’d just opened a new cabinet when she ran back in. “I forgot to give you this.” She thrust a black walkie-talkie into my hand.

  I stared at it. “This is for...”

  “So, we can stay in contact at all times. We’ll need it on the wedding day. We might as well get practise using it now.”

  “Why can’t you just call me if you have a question? Or come and find me? We do live in the same place.”

  “I’ll be too busy for that,” said Helen. “This is instant communication. Press the button and hold it down when you need to talk to me. Then release it so I can reply.”

  I placed the walkie-talkie down. “This will be invaluable.”

  Helen poked her tongue out at me as she left the room.

  I was turning over a piece of what looked like fragile pottery when the walkie-talkie squawked.

  “Testing, testing,” said Helen. “One, two, three. Lorna, are you receiving me? Over.”

  I grabbed the walkie-talkie and pressed the button. “I can hear you.”

  “You’re not using it right. Over.”

  “You just heard me, didn’t you?”

  “Yes! You need to say over at the end of every comment. Over.”

  “Why?”

  “Because then I know you’ve finished speaking. Over.”

  “Doesn’t my silence indicate that?”

  “You’re still not doing it right. Over.”

  I sighed. “So, what do you want? Over.”

  “That’s it. I’ve got different wedding shoes to try on. Shall I come and model them for you now? Over.”

  “What color are they?”

  There was no reply.

  My teeth ground together. “What color are they? Over.”

  “They’re all white. Over.”

  “Then don’t bring them down here. It’s too dusty. You don’t want to get them dirty. Over.”

  “I’ll take pictures of them on my feet and send them to your phone. Over.”

  “I thought we’d picked out shoes when we went to the dress shop. Over.”

  “I changed my mind. I thought if I had a few different pairs, I can change them during the wedding, so I don’t get sore feet. Over.”

  “Surely, wearing several pairs of new shoes will make your feet even sorer. Over.”

  “I think it’s a great plan. I’ll start taking the pictures now. Over.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  There was silence.

  “Have you finished? Over.”

  “Yes! Over. Over. Over. I’m not talking anymore.”

  “You forgot to say over.”

  Resisting the urge to throw the walkie-talkie across the room, I gently set it down and patted it. I had a feeling I would hate this walkie-talkie by the end of the wedding.

  “We should have handles. Over,” said Helen.

  I stared at the medieval artifacts in front of me. It looked like I wasn’t getting any more work done. “A handle? Like they have on CB radio? Over.”

  “Ten four,” said Helen. “They all have funny names, don’t they? You know, like the Bandit or the Lone Ranger, Road Hog, Thunder Duck. That sort of thing. Over.”

  “You made up Thunder Duck.”

  “I didn’t. I looked at some online while deciding on our handles. Over.”

  “What names did you come up with? Over.”

  “I’m Sugar Cookie, since I’m sweet and always baking. Over.”

  “That’s not terrible. What about me? Over.”

  “You’re Cookie Monster. Because you’re always eating my cookies. Over.”

  “Why monster? Over.”

  “Well, you can be a bit strict sometimes. Over.”

  “That hardly makes me a monster. You’re the one who’s gone all Bridezilla recently.”

  “As is to be expected. There are only three days to go until I become Mrs. Helen Booth. Over.”

  “I’m counting every second. But I’m not going to be Cookie Monster.”

  “How about Ghost Dog? You know, because you can see the dead, and you have a dog. Over.”

  “So long as people don’t think I’m calling myself a dog because I’m not attractive.”

  “No one is going to think that. I still prefer Cookie Monster. Over.”

  “I won’t answer if you call me that.”

  “You will if you want any more cookies baked by me. And don’t think I’ve not noticed you’ve stopped saying over. Over.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Ten four, Sugar Cookie. Over.”

  “That’s right. You’re getting the hang of it. Now, I must try on these shoes. Over.”

  I set the walkie-talkie back down. Looking around the room, I was pleased to see neither of my two ghosts had made a reappearance since our last chat. They must have passed over when they’d figured out their mistakes.

  It was a shame neither had a chance to say goodbye, but I understood why they wanted to get out of here. Johnny must have come to his senses about what happened that night on the turret, and Jacob must have realized hanging around and pining for a bit of old tin was not worth it.

  I packed away the last piece of pottery and shut down my laptop.

  “When’s the cake arriving, Cookie Monster. Over?”

  “Cake?”

  “Yes. You’d better have gotten me a cake for the hen party.”

  I checked my watch and scrambled to my feet. I’d been so busy with my work that I hadn’t realized how late it was. Helen’s hen par
ty was in less than two hours.

  “There will be food and lots of fun. Don’t you worry.”

  “Did you get me a stripper? Over.”

  “No! I didn’t think you’d want one.”

  Helen laughed. “I don’t, not really. But all brides have strippers at their hen parties. I’m half expecting you to drag me to a nightclub to be pawed by drunk men all night. Over.”

  I hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t want that? Over.”

  “Absolutely not. That would be a nightmare. A small party is just what I need. That way, we can both relax, have lovely food, and get in some pre-wedding pampering. Over.”

  I’d arranged a pamper party at the castle. I’d asked Helen if she wanted to invite anybody else, but she said she wanted it to be just the two of us and Flipper. That had sounded like heaven to me and had been easy to organize.

  “Make sure you’re in the parlor at eight o’clock. Leave the rest to me.”

  “I can’t believe Countess Ponsonby has given us her parlor for the evening. Over.”

  “It was a generous offer.” I’d felt a bit guilty about not inviting her and had suggested she come along. Countess Ponsonby had declined, saying she didn’t want Helen to feel awkward sharing her hen party with the boss.

  “We’re having champagne, aren’t we? Over?”

  “Of course. As if I’d forget something like that.” A message pinged on my phone. “Right. I need to get busy making the final arrangements. Don’t forget, eight o’clock. Don’t be late.” I grabbed my phone and checked the message. My heart felt like it had stopped beating.

  I dropped the walkie-talkie as I re-read the message: Dear Miss Shadow, it is with the deepest regret that I must cancel your food order. We have had an outbreak of salmonella in the kitchens and had to close with immediate effect. With best regards, Bay View catering company.

  “You have got to be kidding me.” I closed my eyes. There was no way I’d find somewhere at short notice to supply us with the feast I’d ordered for Helen.

  I opened my eyes, checked I hadn’t imagined the message, and then stuffed my phone into my pocket. I didn’t dare try cooking anything. I’d have to go see what I could find at the local stores before they shut. Maybe there was a deli that could supply treats.

  My stomach dropped. The cake. There had to be cake. Bay View was supposed to bring a three-layer chocolate torte with brandy-infused cream and chocolate dipped strawberries.

  Walking out into the hallway, I felt dazed. At least we had the beauticians coming to pamper us. That would make up for the lack of amazing food.

  I made a list in my head of all the things I needed to buy. Cake was the first thing. Then champagne. I’d buy the fanciest party food I could get my hands on and hope all it needed was to be warmed in the oven. Even I could manage that.

  A knock sounded on the front door. I watched as Parsons walked over and opened it.

  Standing in front of him was an enormous, hairy gorilla wearing a red bow tie.

  Parsons didn’t even blink. “Are you expected, sir?”

  “I’m here to see Helen Holiday, the bride to be.” The gorilla’s head turned in my direction. “Is that you?”

  I hurried over. “No! Who sent you?”

  “Lady Tilly Ponsonby.”

  “Shall I get Miss Holiday?” asked Parsons. “We don’t want to keep our gorilla friend waiting.”

  I caught the trace of a smile on his face before his professional demeanor slipped into place. “Go on, go get her.” Somehow, I didn’t think a man dressed in a fluffy gorilla suit would make up for the lack of food, but it was worth a shot.

  I heard Helen squeaking in delight before I saw her. She ran down the stairs toward the gorilla. “Is this my surprise? Lorna, did you do this?”

  “Erm, no.”

  Helen gestured to the gorilla. “Go on, what are you going to do?”

  The gorilla danced into the hallway. Parsons shut the door behind him.

  We stood and waited.

  The gorilla cleared his throat before doing a reasonable version of a moonwalk across the floor. Then he broke into a dubious rendition of “You’re the First, my Last, my Everything” by Barry White.

  Helen clapped along and danced on the spot, occasionally grabbing my hand and twirling us around.

  Maybe a gorilla who couldn’t sing all that well would make up for the lack of cake.

  Parsons stood by the door, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the gorilla.

  The singing gorilla ended the song, scooped Helen over his shoulder, and ran around the hallway, beating his chest with his free hand.

  Helen squealed. “Put me down, you great ape!”

  Parsons leaned toward me. “Are we expecting any more surprises this evening?”

  “We weren’t even expecting this one. I promise you, no more gorillas tonight.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  The gorilla loped over and placed Helen on the ground. He beat his chest a few more times before kissing the back of Helen’s hand.

  Parsons opened the front door. The gorilla ran out, making a noise that sounded like he was in heat.

  Helen laughed so hard she could barely breathe. “That. Was. Brilliant.”

  “It was different.” I stared at the door, half expecting the gorilla to burst back in again.

  Tilly ran down the stairs. “Did I miss him?”

  “You knew about the gorilla?”

  She grinned. “It was my little treat.”

  “That was some treat.”

  “You said no stripper.” Tilly winked at me. “I figured a gorillagram was a good compromise.”

  “That was from you!” Helen wiped her eyes. “Thanks. He was perfect.”

  “My pleasure,” said Tilly.

  Parsons opened the door again as the sound of footsteps approached. In front of him stood a stern-faced woman carrying a folded table and a large black bag.

  “I have been sent by Candice.”

  “You must be the beautician.” She looked a little scary to be a beautician. They were normally all pink and glowing and smelled faintly of essential oils. This lady looked like she was ready to go into battle.

  “I am the waxer.”

  I took a step back. “The what?”

  “I will remove all your body hair for you. The beautician is sick. Candice sent me instead. I will make you smooth.”

  “We were planning on a relaxing evening. Manicures, pedicures, and face masks. I don’t think waxing will have the same effect.” There was no way I was going to let her anywhere near any part of me that might require waxing. I’d tried it once and had been in pain for days.

  “I am a good waxer. I’ll make you hair free.” The woman flexed a bicep.

  Parsons coughed into his hand as he studied the floor.

  “I’m sure you’re the best,” I said. “None of us need waxing. Can Candice send somebody else?” Someone with a less maniacal glint in her eyes.

  “There is no one else. Where shall I set up?”

  “Maybe another time.” Tilly hurried over and ushered the woman outside, pulling the door behind her as she did so.

  I turned to Helen. “You don’t want an all over body wax I suppose?”

  Helen wrapped her arms around her middle. “Not a chance. She looked mean. I never let anyone that angry get near me with hot wax.”

  “It looks like we’re not going to get pampered after all. I’d planned us such a lovely evening.”

  “The gorillagram was fun,” said Helen. “And I’m looking forward to the food.”

  “The food!” I still hadn’t managed to sneak out and get anything delicious for us to eat. “About that—”

  “It’s all sorted.” Tilly came back in, this time without the demon waxer in tow.

  “Has she gone?” I asked.

  “She left happy. Well, I think she was happier. It was hard to tell. I gave her a tip. I also made a call. We’ve got a great local salon down the road. I
go there every week. They’re happy to come and pamper you for the evening.”

  “That sounds fab,” said Helen. “What sort of treatments do they do?”

  “Anything you want. They’ll do your hair. Make sure your nails look amazing. Sort out your cellulite even. Best of all, they won’t wax a single hair on your body, unless you want them to. What do you say?”

  “I say yes,” said Helen. “And you must join us.”

  Tilly shook her head. “I’ll have a quick glass of champagne if there’s any spare. But I’ve got things to do this evening. Besides, it’s your hen party. You don’t want someone you work for gate crashing.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” said Helen.

  “No. You two enjoy yourselves. They’ll be here in an hour.”

  That gave me enough time to nip out and get food. But I needed transport. “Helen, about our party food...”

  Helen groaned. “Please don’t tell me you’re making the food?”

  “No! I wouldn’t dream of it. But the company I was using to get the food had a little snafu. They won’t be able to deliver.”

  “I’m not going to have anything lovely to eat at my hen party?” Helen’s bottom lip jutted out.

  “I’ll find you something nice.” I just didn’t know where I would find it at such short notice.

  “Leave the food to me,” said Tilly. “I know all the local restaurants. I’ll have something delicious here in no time. And as for chocolate, being from a family who owns a fancy chocolate range, I’m sure I can rustle up a few treats.”

  “Really? Are you sure?” asked Helen.

  “Of course. Call it a wedding gift.” Tilly winked at me before she pulled her phone out.

  I could have hugged her. She’d saved the day and made sure Helen’s hen party wasn’t a complete disaster.

  Instead, I caught hold of Helen’s elbow. “Let’s get ourselves ready for your party.”

  Chapter 17

  An hour later, we both reclined in comfortable chairs, our faces covered in strawberry smelling face mask. Beside us were trays of delicate canapes and glasses of champagne.

 

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