The Body at Auercliff (10 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“I don't remember,” Nathan replies, furrowing his brow as he tries to push me away from the side of his bed. “Leave me alone, Becky, I want to sleep!”

“You
must
remember,” I continue, convinced that he's just trying to be brave. “Or did Mum and Dad tell you not to talk to me? It's okay if you're scared, I just -”

“I'm not scared!” he says firmly. “I...”

He pauses, and in that instant I can tell he's not faking anything. Whatever happened to him a couple of hours ago, he's genuinely scared.

“I don't remember,” he stammers again, close to tears. “I went exploring, and then suddenly I was screaming and I was out again, and Mummy was carrying me away. I must've just fallen over or something like that.”

“No, you saw something,” I reply, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Think harder, Nathan. The way you were yelling, it was clearly more than just a spooky noise. What did you really see in the locked part of the house?”

I wait, but he seems to scared to say a word.

“Is there someone there?” I ask.

“Rebecca...”

“Maybe Aunt Emily keeps someone locked up in one of the rooms,” I continue. “I know she seems nice, but she might have...” I pause, trying to think of an explanation. “She might have some kind of prisoner here. Do you remember when we were exploring and we found that table, and it said something about the prisoner of Auercliff? What if there was more to it? What if there really
is
someone here and -”

“Aunt Emily would never do that,” he replies, interrupting me. “She's too nice.”

“But -”

“And you said it was a joke!”

“That was then,” I reply, “and this is now.
Now
we've heard noises,
now
we know there really
might
be someone locked away somewhere!”

“That's like something from a fairytale,” he points out.

“I know, but...”

My voice trails off as I realize that he's right. Aunt Emily might be a little funny sometimes, but there's no way she'd keep someone as a prisoner. The whole thing just seems so hopelessly dramatic. At the same time, I don't believe for one second that Nathan didn't see
someone
, so I guess the most likely answer is that there's a ghost.

“I'm tired,” he tells me after a moment. “I really don't remember what happened, Becky, but I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let me go to sleep.”

“You'll remember eventually,” I reply, getting to my feet and stepping back from the bed, “and when you do, you have to tell me. Deal?”

He pauses, before finally we shake hands.

Heading out of the room, I make my way along the corridor and then down the stairs, past all the portraits that are hanging on the wall. By the time I get down to the hallway, I can hear hushed voices talking in the distance, and I immediately realize that Mum and Aunt Emily are talking about something in the kitchen. I've lost track of how often I catch them having these secret little discussions, and I'm starting to think that they might be hiding something.

Stepping over to the doorway, I'm just in time to hear Mum talking angrily, almost as if she's trying to threaten Aunt Emily.

“She shouldn't be out!” she hisses. “I told you over the phone, Emily! For fuck's sake, that was the one condition I gave you before I agreed to bring my family here this weekend! You promised!”

“And I kept that promise,” Aunt Emily replies. “Esmerelda stayed in her side, and I made sure she won't make a noise!”

Mum says something angry in return, although I can't quite make out her words. Keen to hear more, and to work out who they're referring to, I creep closer to the doorway.

Suddenly Mum steps out right in front of me, and she grabs my shoulder before I can turn and run.

“I
thought
someone was eavesdropping!” she says firmly. “This isn't the first time, is it?”

“I didn't hear anything!” I stammer. “I swear, I was just -”

“Don't even bother lying to me,” she replies, her voice filled with disgust. “I've had just about enough of you today, young lady. Go outside and play.”

“But -”

“Out!” she shouts, shoving me toward the front door. “I don't trust you to be in the house right now! I want you out there in the garden!”

“Who's Esmerelda?” I ask.

She seems frozen for a moment, and I can see fear in her eyes. A moment later, Aunt Emily comes to the doorway, and she too seems upset.

“Who's Esmerelda?” I ask again, looking first at Mum and then at my aunt. “Does she live here? Are you hiding someone from us?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mum replies, but she sounds much more subdued than a moment ago. “Becky, I won't tell you again. Go and play in the garden.”

“Or?”

She steps closer. “I beg your pardon?”

“What if I don't want to play outside?” I ask, standing my ground even as she tries staring me down. I'm scared, but I can't let that show.

“Don't disobey me, young lady,” she replies. “Outside! Now!”

“I don't -”

Before I can finish, she slaps me on the side of the face.

Startled, I take a step back.

“Barbara, no!” Aunt Emily gasps, her eyes widening with horror.

“Go outside!” Mum says firmly, glaring at me with pure anger. “This instant!”

“I hate you!” I shout, with tears running down my cheeks. “And I wish Aunt Emily was my mother!”

With that, I turn and hurry out the front door, not daring to stop and see how Mum reacts. I hope she's upset, though. In fact, as I run out across the sunlit lawn and make my way toward the trees, I hope she's really sorry for being so mean to me. I can't believe she slapped me like that, but I'll make her sorry.

Stopping suddenly, I find that I've run almost all the way to the old mausoleum. And as I stare ahead, I realize with a sudden sense of fear that the heavy metal door has been left hanging wide open.

Part Three

Emily - 1989

Chapter Eighteen

“Is anybody there? If you can hear us, please give us a sign. We're here to help you.”

Having said the words, I fall silent for a moment. Looking past the flickering candles that light the dining table, I see that Daniel has the usual rather blank, passive look in his eyes, as if he's simply waiting to see how the rest of us react. After a moment I turn to Barbara, and her withering condemnation of the entire endeavor is immediately apparent. I can actually feel her negative energy emanating across the room.

“Well, Emily?” she asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Have the ghouls and ghosties said anything yet?”

“We have to be patient,” I tell her.

She rolls her eyes.

“The spirits have to be teased out,” I continue, forcing myself to remain calm. “They won't come if they sense resistance or doubt.”

“Says who?”

“Barb, please -”

“No,” she continues, “I'm serious, Emily. How do you
know
how this all works? Is there some kind of manual about how to contact the dead?”

“It just takes patience,” I tell her, fully aware that she's trying to rile me on purpose. “Negative energy is very unhelpful.”

“Then I'm going to need several more G&Ts,” Barbara mutters, rolling her eyes. “My energy's about as negative as it gets right now.”

“Everyone re-focus,” I tell them both, looking down at the Ouija board. “Put your hands back on the planchette. That includes you, Barb.”

“Maybe you two should do this without me,” Barbara replies. “I can entertain myself in the library just fine. That's where the booze is.”

“Hands on the planchette,” I say firmly.

Placing my right hand on the wooden planchette, I wait for them to do the same. Daniel, of course, is holding back, preferring to wait and see what Barbara does first. My sister is making her displeasure very much known, but finally she places a well-manicured, red-nailed hand on the very edge of the planchette, and Daniel quickly copies her move.

I take a few seconds to settle my soul, and to return my energy to a more calming, accepting state that should appeal to visitors from the next world.

“Are there any spirits here at Auercliff?” I ask, looking past the others and watching the darkness at the far end of the room. “Come to us. We are open and ready to receive your message.”

Barbara lets out a sigh.

“We want to commune with you,” I continue, ignoring her. Looking up, I see the gloomy, unlit chandelier high above the table. “We mean you no harm. We only -”

Suddenly the planchette moves, grinding across the board until it indicates the word 'No' in one corner of the board. I immediately glance at the others, before looking back down at the board.

Before I can say anything, a baby starts crying in one of the far-off rooms.

“Oh fuck,” Barbara says, putting her head in her hands. A moment later, she starts stamping her feet on the carpet in a moment of sheer frustration. “Can't the little prick stop bawling for five minutes?”

“You shouldn't say things like that,” I tell her.

“I know, but -”

Suddenly the lights flicker to life above the table. Turning, I'm shocked to see that Martin is not only back from the club early, but that he's standing in the doorway with an expression of grave disapproval in his eyes.

“Darling,” I stammer, “I can explain, we -”

“For God's sake!” he mutters, turning and storming away. “Not this again!”

“Trouble in paradise?” Barbara says with a smile, getting to her feet. “I told you this was a mistake, Em, but you just wouldn't listen.” She flinches as her daughter's cries get louder in the distance. “Alright, Rebecca,” she mutters, “Mummy's coming, you little cow.”

***

“I specifically told you that I don't want this nonsense in my house!” Martin says firmly, as he pours himself a glass of whiskey. “I heard you out, Emily, and I gave your side of the argument due consideration, but I thought we'd agreed that you wouldn't start dabbling in this sort of thing! It's just not right!”

“I know,” I reply, hurrying over to him, “but -”

“But nothing!” he snaps, turning to me. For the first time since our marriage, he seems truly, genuinely furious. “You know how I feel about it all!” he continues. “I don't want people talking about ghosts in my house, much less playing stupid games designed to...” He sighs. “What's the point? I've told you this a thousand times, and evidently you don't listen! I might as well talk to the wind.”

“I thought you'd be out until much later,” I continue, putting a hand on his elbow, only for him to pull away. “Please, Martin, I never thought any harm would come of it. I thought we'd be finished long before you got home, and you'd never have to know!”

“And that'd make it alright, would it?” he asks, taking a sip of whiskey. “I had no idea you found it so easy to lie to me!”

“I just wanted to explore the possibilities,” I tell him, close to tears. “You know how I feel about Auercliff, darling. I see things differently to you, and I want to know if what I see and hear is -”

“You don't see or hear
anything
!” he snaps. “Do you?”

I open my mouth to argue with him, before realizing that there's no point.

“You haven't
seen
a goddamn thing,” he continues, “and you haven't
heard
anything either!”

“I sense a presence sometimes,” I reply, “and -”

“That doesn't mean a goddamn thing, and you know it!”

“I think the house has disturbed energy,” I explain, holding back more tears, “and I want to put that right. Speaking to the spirits is the first step.”

“Listen to yourself,” he mutters. “You sound utterly crazy.”

Again, words fail me, and this time I turn away, feeling as if I might burst into tears at any moment.

“This is my family home,” Martin says firmly, after a moment's silence. “The people who lived here were my forebears. My parents, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents and their parents, and their parents too, going back hundreds of years. They lived in this house, in these rooms, and now they're resting out there in the mausoleum just a few hundred meters from our front door. Do you really think I want to hear that relatives of mine, people I might actually have met when I was a boy, are supposedly haunting Auercliff?”

“I never specifically -”

“I know who this is about,” he adds, his voice filled with anger.

Unable to help myself, I glance over at the framed photos on the far wall, and I immediately spot the picture that shows a large gathering of Martin's family on the front steps.

“I never...” Taking a deep breath, I realize that perhaps I should have been more diplomatic about the whole thing. “I mean, I'm not -”

“Verity was my cousin,” he continues. “We were friends, good friends, before she was taken so cruelly at such a young age. Emily, please, have a little consideration. My cousin is not haunting Auercliff, and it troubles me greatly that you'd even suggest such a thing.” He takes another sip of whiskey. “Honestly, before I married you, I had no idea that you could be so flighty.”

A shudder passes through my chest.

“I'm sorry,” I tell him. “It'll never happen again, I swear!”

“You said that last time.”

“I know, but this time I realize how much it upsets you.”

Instead of replying, he steps around his desk and makes his way over to the window.

“I know you and your cousin were close,” I continue, “and I never meant to rake over old memories. I promise, Martin, I shall never again do or say anything that might upset you. I shall throw that ghastly board out. Better yet, I shall burn it. Would that help?” I wait for him to reply, before stepping over and placing a hand on his arm from behind. This time, he doesn't pull away. “Am I forgiven?” I ask. “Please, don't stay angry with me.”

He glances at me, but there's still a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“I just wish you'd never got started with that nonsense in the first place,” he mutters. “There's no such thing as ghosts, Em. Only a weak mind would ever entertain the idea.”

“Of course,” I reply, forcing a smile. “You're quite right. I'm dreadfully sorry.”

***

A short while later, with everyone preparing for bed, I take the Ouija board and planchette from the main room. Feeling rather disgusted by my foolishness, I make my way outside and around the side of the house, before finally dropping the awful apparatus directly into the main bin.

I'll make it up to Martin. I'll never mention ghosts to him again, and I'll be the perfect wife he's always wanted. And I shall put my concerns about Auercliff to the back of my mind.