The Body at Auercliff (5 page)

Chapter Eight

“Yes, they've gone,” I tell her again, hoping to calm her fears as I sit on the edge of the bed and hand her a cup of tea. “I promise. They left about twenty minutes ago.”

“This is
my
house,” she stammers, clearly still close to panic, as she looks over toward the window. “I won't have strange men wandering around
my
house. It's not right!”

“But you understand
why
they were here, don't you?”

I wait for a reply, but her attention seems entirely consumed by the sight of the window, and after a moment I take the wobbling cup of tea from her hands and set it on the bedside table, in case it spills. She doesn't even seem to notice.

“Aunt Emily,” I continue cautiously, “did you honestly never see or hear anything that made you think there might be someone else in the house with you? Maybe as far back as a year or two ago?”

She turns to me, and I can see the fear in her eyes.

“I know Auercliff's a big place,” I add with a smile, trying to make her feel more at ease. “Still, it's hard to believe that someone else could have been at the other end, and you never noticed at all.”

“Who are you?” she asks cautiously.

Sighing, I realize that her dementia seems to have hit a particularly tough spot. Dealing with Aunt Emily right now is like dealing with a particularly capricious weather system that has formed in her mind. Clouds of confusion and forgetfulness are regularly interrupting her ability to remember anything that's happening around her, but at the same time I know there's no point getting frustrated. At some point, she'll have another moment of clarity and she'll be better able to answer questions. I just have to push through the storm first.

“I'm Rebecca,” I tell her calmly. “Your niece, remember? Barbara's daughter.”

She stares at me for a moment, before looking down at her swollen arthritic hands.

“Do you have medication for your arthritis?” I ask. “I haven't seen you taking any pills.”

“I don't need pills.”

“If you're in pain, there are -”

“I don't need pills!” she says again, sounding irritated. “They make it worse.”

“The pain?”

“No, in here!” Reaching up, she jabs the side of her head with a trembling finger. “They make it harder to concentrate,” she adds.

Watching as her hand drops back into her lap, I can't help thinking that those swollen joints must be excruciatingly painful, but at the same time I know better than to argue with her. I'm going to need a really calm bedside manner if I'm going to persuade her to go to hospital.

“When was the last time you had contact with anyone from the village?” I ask.

She doesn't reply. She doesn't even look at me, instead preferring to look down at her hands.

“You have a lot of tinned food in the pantry,” I continue. “Probably enough to last another six months. Did you arrange for that at some point? Did you plan ahead and get someone to deliver it?”

I wait for her to say something, but she seems lost in thought.

“Haven't you seen her?” she asks finally.

“Seen who?”

“Do you never sit at the piano?”

“I... Sure. Sometimes. It's a little out of tune, but -”

“It's not out of tune!” she snaps.

“Okay, sorry, I didn't mean that.”

“If you sit there,” she continues, “you must have seen her. She runs past the window sometimes. She laughs.”

“I've never...” My voice trails off as I realize that she's absolutely serious.

“Please,” she stammers, “you must have seen her. The girl, she runs past the window...”

I wait for her to continue, but once again she seems lost in her own thoughts. “How old is this girl?” I ask finally.

She turns and looks toward the window, and for a moment I feel as if she's already drifting away again.

“No more than thirteen or fourteen,” she says finally.

“Okay,” I reply, having briefly considered the possibility that the girl might have been the dead woman from the room. Still, as I hear another distant creak from far off in the house, I start to understand how Emily might have never realized there was someone else living in the house. “You hear a lot of noises, don't you?” I ask cautiously. “Auercliff is never entirely silent, is it?”

She turns back to me.

“Bumps, things like that,” I continue. “It's been a long time since I talked to my mother, but I remember her telling me that you always thought Auercliff was haunted.”

“It's not about
thinking
,” she replies, reaching up and pointing with a trembling finger at her milky eyes. “It's about
seeing
. And
knowing
.” She taps her chest. “In here.”

“I was told you even used a Ouija board once, trying to talk to the spirits.”

“Nobody else took it seriously,” she replies. “I realized that later. You can't expect the spirits to respond if you're with people who don't believe, or who mock! Their negative energy repels the forces that you need...” She pauses for a moment, sounding a little breathless. “The environment was all wrong for it to work. Your parents and my poor dear Martin... Their skepticism repelled the very forces I was trying to contact.”

We sit in silence for a moment.

“You don't believe me, do you?” she asks finally.

I open my mouth to tell her that I like to keep my mind open, but the truth is... No matter how much I'd like to believe that ghosts are real, I can't quite bring myself to make that leap. Not anymore. When I was younger, I felt certain that ghosts existed, but I guess I lost that belief at some point while I was growing up. Maybe after the time I was trapped in the mausoleum, I just didn't dare entertain the possibility.

“Do you remember what happened to my brother here?” I ask. “Do you remember what happened to
me
?”

She frowns at me, and it's clear she has no recollection at all.

“I don't believe in ghosts anymore,” I tell her finally. “I think if I did, I'd have lost my mind a long time ago. Do you really not remember the incident with the mausoleum?”

“The mausoleum?”

I can't help smiling. It took me so long to come to terms with that terrifying day, and yet Emily has clearly forgotten. In a way, the mausoleum came to dominate my memories of Auercliff, and it's the main reason I stayed away for so long, even after I stopped talking to my mother.

“Maybe you've got the right idea,” I tell her after a moment. “Maybe it's best to just forget things.”

Chapter Nine

“Are you sure you feel okay to be up and about?” I ask a short while later, stirring chicken pieces around the pan as I turn and look back across the kitchen. “I was going to bring this up to you.”

“Oh, I'm fine,” Emily replies with a smile, limping toward the table by the window. “Just because I'm getting on in years, you don't have to fuss over me. Do you think I'm going to bump into something and collapse?”

“Of course not,” I tell her, surprised to find that she seems so perky and pulled-together now. The storm has parted in her mind and another lucid moment has arrived.

“It'll be good to eat something that isn't tinned soup,” she continues, wincing a little as she eases herself onto one of the chairs. “I must admit, my diet was getting a little samey. You won't believe this, Rebecca, but there was a time when Martin and I used to host big dinner parties here at Auercliff. Your mother used to come to them sometimes, and your father too. They even brought you and your brother, when you were just babies.”

Turning back to check on the pan, I can't help feeling a little troubled by the merest mention of my parents.

“So how long has it been,” Emily asks, “since you spoke to her?”

“I -”

“Several years for me,” she continues. “Five, I think. Yes, it must be five years. God, that woman can yammer on, can't she? And everything she says, everything she does, everything she thinks... All she cares about is herself, about somehow advancing her own position in some infinitesimal little way. Tell me, is your poor father still putting up with her?”

“As far as I know,” I reply awkwardly, tipping the chicken into the pot of sauce.

“We used to have a nickname for Daniel,” she tells me. “We called him Rover, because he just seemed to follow Barbara around like a little puppy, doing exactly what he was told.”

“Not much has changed.”

“And the last time she was here...” She pauses. “She came alone. She arrived completely unannounced. I always hated when she didn't at least warn me. And then...” Another pause. “I don't entirely remember, but she seemed angry. Oh, be a dear, Rebecca, and go to that cupboard next to the sink.”

“This one?” Heading over, I pull the cupboard open and find several old half-filled bottles of whiskey and other spirits. “There's nothing in here except -”

“The good whiskey,” she continues, gesturing for me to take one of the bottles over. “Come on, let's have a sip. It's been years since I tasted the damn stuff. Perhaps a nice dram will get the wheels turning again.”

“Aunt Emily, I don't think that's -”

“One whiskey,” she adds, interrupting me. “You wouldn't deny an old lady one of her few remaining pleasures, would you? Don't tell me the youth of today have regressed to such an extent that they're opposed to people having fun? Next, you'll be telling me you don't have a spliff or two tucked away somewhere.”

***

“Mum and I just never really got along,” I mutter a short while later, sitting at the table by the window with a glass of whiskey in my hand. “There wasn't
one
argument that made me cut off contact, it was more a general... atmosphere.”

“Sounds like she hasn't changed at all.”

I pause for a moment, before smiling. “Listen to me. All it takes is a few sips of this stuff and I'm pouring my heart out.”

“If you're
that
much of a lightweight,” she replies, before downing the rest of her whiskey and gesturing for me to fill her glass again, “then I feel it's my duty to train you up a little.”

“I've never really liked -”

“Top me up!”

Grabbing the bottle, I pour another shot for Emily. Just as I'm almost finished, she grabs my hand and tilts the bottle a little more, filling the glass more than halfway before I manage to pull it away again.

“This house is too big for me,” she says after a moment, turning and looking toward the window, where the night's encroaching darkness has begun to hide the trees and the lawn from sight. “I mostly stick to just a few rooms, really, and that's when I feel like I can move around at all. Plus, there's the...” She pauses, before sighing. “Well, I'm sure you've noticed that I'm not always as sharp as I could be. Don't try to argue that point, Rebecca, I know it's true. My lucid moments are getting fewer and farther between. And then there's the scratching sound.”

“Scratching sound?”

“The curse of the family,” she mutters. “Martin used to hear it too, and his father before him. It seems to come and go.”

Not really knowing how to respond, I look down at my glass. Every time I talk to my aunt, I realize that her dementia is a little worse than I'd realized.

“There!” she says suddenly.

Turning, I see that she's pointing toward the window.

“Did you see it?” she asks, getting to her feet and starting to totter around the table. “There's somebody out there!”

“I didn't see anything,” I reply, hurrying after her. Alarmed by the way she's swaying, I grab her arm to steady her a little, but she's already almost all the way over by the back door. “Maybe you should sit down. I can go and check, but I'm worried you might fall.”

“Nonsense.” Grabbing the handle, she pulls the door open, immediately letting a gust of cold air into the room. “I saw someone on the lawn, as clear as I see you now.” She grabs the door-frame and steps out barefoot onto the concrete step. “My eyesight might not be so hot these days,” she adds, “but movement is the one thing that I have no trouble with. Somebody ran across the lawn.”

Realizing that I can't possibly force her to stay back, I instead step out with her and hold her arm as she limps down the steps.

“I'm starting to understand how you hurt your legs,” I tell her. “Do you go chasing shadows like this a lot?”

“It wasn't a shadow,” she replies, stopping at the foot of the steps and looking around, as if she's expecting to see someone nearby. “I've been seeing that girl for thirty years. I don't know who she is or what she wants, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that she's here. I've always...” Her voice trails off for a moment, and then she points past me. “Over there!”

Sighing, I turn and look toward the far end of the lawn. For a fraction of a second, I actually half-expect to see something, but there's just darkness.

“You saw her, didn't you?” Emily asks, her voice tense with anticipation. “Please tell me you saw her.”

“It's hard to see much at all,” I reply, trying not to be too dismissive. “It's very dark out here.”

“She doesn't usually show herself to other people,” Emily tells me, slipping free of my grip and then pushing me gently toward the far corner. “Go and take a closer look! Perhaps she'll let you see her! That would make sense.”

“Why would -”

“Just go! Hurry!”

Staring out at the darkened lawn, I try to spot something that Aunt Emily might have mistaken for a ghost. Then again, with her vision being so bad, she might well have simply seen a blotch created by her own eyes. Still, I make my way cautiously along the side of the house until I reach the corner, at which point I look along toward the driveway. There's no sign of anyone, of course, but my heart is pounding. After a moment, I turn and see that Emily is still watching me, as if she's keen for me to somehow validate the things she's seen. In a way, I wish I could.

“There's no-one here!” I call out to her. “There's -”

Before I can finish, I feel something brush against my elbow.

I turn, but there's no-one.

“Hello?” I say cautiously, just in case there's any chance of someone being nearby.

Shivering as a cold wind blows against me, I look around, watching the dark trees for a moment before finally turning and making my way back toward Emily.

“I didn't see anyone,” I tell her as I get closer. “Maybe it was just -”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, staring at the spot where I was standing. “She was right next to you.”

“Who was?” I turn and look over my shoulder, but still I don't see anyone.

“When you were calling back to me,” she continues, gripping my arm tight, “the girl was standing as close to you as I am now. She was looking at you!”