Glimpse (11 page)

I picked up my satchel with a sigh. ‘See you later, Dad.’

‘Have a good day.’ Dad dropped his voice to a whisper and added, ‘Give Scott a chance, eh?’

Outside, Scott was leaning against his car, waiting for me, kicking at the gravel. He stopped as soon as he saw me, folded his arms and squinted at the sky. ‘Does that tree bother you?’ he asked.

It was the last thing I expected him to say. Immediately, I thought of Zachary’s face framed by leaves last night, Zachary jumping through my window in the darkness. I tried to keep my face neutral. ‘Why would it bother me?’

‘My dad thinks it’s getting too close to your window. Blocking the light. Scratching the glass. He’s been talking about cutting off that big branch.’

‘Oh.’ I paused. ‘Well . . . I kind of like the tree the way it is.’

Scott shrugged. ‘I’ll tell him you said that. Let’s get to school.’

I frowned as he turned his back to get into the car. Surely those questions had to be coincidental. I tugged on the passenger door handle and clambered inside. Scott started the engine and we crunched out of the driveway.

‘You seem nervous,’ he said. ‘You don’t mind cars, do you? After what happened with your mum and dad and all?’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, my voice one degree warmer than frosty.

‘Good.’ Scott paused the car as we pulled out of the driveway. ‘I’ve only had my licence a few months, but I’m a decent driver. You can trust me.’

I sank down in my seat as we passed the bus stop – I didn’t want Katie or Susie to see me. I just wanted to get to school in one piece, without having to talk too much.

But Scott had other ideas. ‘Look, sorry again, about you seeing me the other night in my car,’ he said, pulling up at a traffic light. ‘And about you thinking I had one of my mates over.’

‘Really. It’s fine.’

He looked at me, an expression on his face that I couldn’t decipher. ‘Did you really think you saw someone?’

I looked away from him, out of the window. ‘I’m not sure any more. It could have been shadows, I guess. New house and everything.’

He grunted. ‘I hope that it was just shadows. If anyone was hanging around the inn at night, I don’t think they’d be a good person, do you know what I mean?’

I didn’t respond straightaway. I leaned my head back against the headrest so Scott couldn’t easily see my face. ‘Yeah?’ I prompted.

‘Yeah. Well, it’s obvious.’ His voice was almost painfully casual. ‘Any guy who hangs around girls’ bedroom windows at that time of night, would have to be dodgy. Certainly nobody you should be talking to. I mean, you start talking to a guy like that, he might think he was welcome inside. Who knows what it could lead to.’ He paused to change gear. ‘So, you know, I’m just glad to hear it was probably nothing.’

I hugged my bag to my chest. Scott had seen Zachary: he had seen him the night before, and he had seen him again last night jumping into my room.

Scott had been spying on me.

The car slowed as we entered the school car park. I hadn’t even noticed driving in through the gates. Scott pulled to a halt in a parking space then turned to face me. We looked at each other for a long moment. His face was bright and curious, as if nothing he’d said was strange.

‘You can tell me, you know,’ he said, ‘if you imagine any more people around the inn.’

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘But I won’t. See anything, I mean. Like I said, I just saw some shadows.’

‘Suit yourself. Only trying to help.’ He shrugged and got out of the car. He paused to brush a streak of dust off his shirt, then walked away.

I yanked the passenger door open and jumped out after him. Without turning around, Scott pointed the keys over his shoulder and the car beeped locked. He disappeared into the crowd outside school.

I stayed in the car park a minute, to gather myself together before anyone saw me. For the second morning in a row, Scott had rattled me as if he’d put my bones in a bag and shaken me up.

He had seen Zachary, I was sure of that now. Whatever Scott’s motivations for denying it, it was obvious he was trying to mess with me. And being messed with by a boy who some people thought capable of murder . . . It could never be good.

I needed to sort out my life before it got any more complicated. On Saturday, I’d get as much information as I could out of Zachary and, in the meantime, I needed to stay far away from Scott.

I could have hugged Miss Webb when I got to History and she told us we had the whole hour to go to the school library and do project research. I didn’t think I could have handled a ‘real’ lesson.

Susie nabbed us one of the more private tables between the stacks of shelves. I could have hugged her, too, for that.

‘Love your top,’ she whispered, as we sat down. ‘It’s so unique.’

‘Thanks.’ I tugged self-consciously on my lace collar, then pulled Granddad’s books out of my bag. ‘So I found these at the inn last night.’

‘Good one.’ Susie sorted through the books, and she soon spotted
Haunted Hulbourn
. ‘Seriously? This is perfect! Liz, your granddad had great taste in books.’

She cracked it open and started to read, her brown eyes darting wildly. I fiddled with my pen and waited for her to finish. I hadn’t plucked up the courage to read the entry on the Highwayman Inn again, not after last night. I remembered it vividly enough.

‘Hey, I know this woman.’ Susie jabbed a lacquer-black fingernail onto the page.

‘What woman?’

‘Meg Sanders.’ Susie twisted the book so I could see, and pointed again at the text. ‘The woman who did the seance at your inn in the fifties. She lives down my road.’

I blinked at Susie. ‘Are you sure? Wouldn’t she be really old by now?’

‘Mrs Sanders is ancient; I’m sure it’s her. She read my mum’s tarot cards once for a tenner.’

In a flash, and for the first time that morning, she had my full attention. ‘We have to talk to her!’

‘Exactly what I was thinking.’ Susie’s white cheeks had gone pink. ‘This is perfect. Think of all the things she can tell us! And Miss Webb’ll love us if we include an interview in our presentation.’

I nodded. ‘Can you arrange it?’

‘I’ll speak to my mum at break. She can ring Mrs Sanders for us. Maybe we can even see her tonight.’

I squeezed my locket. If the inn really was haunted, if I really was seeing ghosts, if Zachary was right, perhaps the psychic would know. And maybe when I met Zachary tomorrow, I’d have some information to tell him.

I texted Dad on the bus ride home to let him know I’d be late. It took me a few tries – my phone was on its way out, I was badly in need of a new one. Then I walked with Susie and Matt into the village centre. They spent most of the walk murmuring together, hands intertwined, as if it was the first time they’d seen each other all month, not since break-time. At school, their all-consuming infatuation with each other sometimes made me blush – they were sweet together, but so unguarded, so open about their feelings. I couldn’t help imagining myself in Susie’s place and feeling both shy and a little bit envious. Maybe one day I’d feel confident enough about myself to let someone as close to me as Susie let Matt, but I couldn’t even imagine it now.

This afternoon, however, I didn’t need to feign an interest in the pavement or the sky during their more lovey-dovey moments. I had bigger things to think about, like how to ask a little old lady about the dead people that haunted my house.

Matt left us at the street before Susie’s. ‘Have fun with the ghost lady,’ he said. ‘Don’t get possessed.’

Susie rolled her eyes at him, then led me down her terraced street. ‘That’s Meg’s house—’ she pointed ahead ‘—the one with the broken gate. Are you excited?’ She clapped her hands. ‘I’m excited.’

Meg’s garden gate wasn’t the only thing broken about her house. (What did I expect from an old lady psychic – window boxes? Wind chimes?) The garden itself was overgrown with bindweed and nettles, and her front door was a disgrace of scabby, peeling brown paint. It rattled on its hinges as Susie banged the brass knocker. Long moments dragged by.

‘Are you sure she’s in?’

Susie nodded. ‘Mum said she might take a while to get to the door. Meg must be, I don’t know, eighty-something.’

There was a scrabbling from the other side of the door then the sound of bolts being shot back and a key being turned. The door creaked open to reveal a woman with papery skin and thinning hair hunched over a walking frame. She blinked at us from behind wide-rimmed glasses.

‘Susan?’ she said, in a voice that sounded like a scratched gramophone record. ‘What happened to your hair?’

Susie smoothed her black and lollipop-red fringe. ‘Hi, Mrs Sanders.’

‘And who’s that?’ Meg peered around Susie to look at me. She wobbled on her frame, and Susie had to grab her arm to steady her and stop her falling against the door.

I smiled. ‘I’m Elizabeth, Susie’s friend.’

Meg gave me a displeased look. ‘I thought only Susan was coming. Well, you’re here now. Don’t just stand around out there. You’re letting the cold in.’

I caught Susie’s eye and raised my eyebrows. Considering the things I wanted to ask her about, I’d hoped Meg would be more approachable.

‘Come on, girls!’

Susie and I followed her into her narrow hallway. A musty smell hit me, reminding me of the inn, but more claustrophobic somehow – as if Meg’s old furniture was trying to stuff itself up my nostrils. The decor was dark and museum-like. All that was missing were a couple of sinister waxwork figures in fifties period costume.

Meg led us through to the living room and gestured at a sunken sofa. Susie and I perched on the edge of it and, waved on by Meg, we each took a dubious biscuit from a greasy plate on a coffee table cram-packed with a teapot and too many tea-stained mugs.

I looked around me at the cabinets full of ornaments and dusty knick-knacks. Random objects cluttered the surfaces, far more than at the Highwayman. Some matched what I imagined an old lady should own; some, like a fruit bowl full of what looked like small bones, did not.

I realized Meg was staring at me with suspicion. I snapped my attention back to her with a too-bright smile.

‘Thanks for seeing us, Mrs Sanders,’ I said. ‘We’re here because we’re researching the Highwayman Inn’s ghost stories for a school project. We’re hoping you can help. I—um, I actually live there now.’

Meg leaned forwards and squinted at me. ‘The Highwayman Inn. It’s a long time since anyone’s asked me about those spirits. You live there, do you, you say?’

I glanced at Susie. ‘Um, yeah.’

‘Well, you’ve come to the right place.’ Meg leaned back in her chair. ‘I know all about the spirits at the inn.’

It was exactly what I’d hoped to hear, but her words, combined with her unfriendly demeanour, made me feel apprehensive. I nibbled my stale digestive, trying to hide my anxiety.

‘That’s amazing,’ Susie said, her bright tone soothing my nerves. ‘We hoped you’d have some good stories.’ She pulled
Haunted Hulbourn
from her bag – she’d insisted on keeping it today to show Matt. ‘This book mentions your name. It says you did a seance at the inn in the fifties.’

‘Show me the book.’

Susie open
Haunted Hulbourn
to the right page and handed it over. Meg brought it close to her eyes. ‘“Most haunted building in Hulbourn”,’ she read out loud. ‘Most haunted building in the county, more like. I’ve encountered any number of spirits, girls, but none so frequently as at the inn.’

Susie clapped the tips of her fingers together excitedly.

I thought of the snarling face I’d seen on Monday, the footsteps outside my door last night, and coughed on a biscuit crumb.

‘What do the spirits look like, when you see them?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

‘Not like they do in the films, I can tell you that,’ Meg said. ‘The way I see spirits has changed over the years. When I first saw them, they looked like . . . fragments. Small pieces of spirit. A hand here, a leg there.’ She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘You know what I mean.

‘But as my psychic powers developed, I found I could see more and more. And as I opened myself up to the spirits, the spirits were better able to communicate with me. Some were even able to touch me. These days, if I see a spirit, they look and feel so real, I could almost think they’re a living person.’

‘Ugh.’ Susie shuddered, making the sofa rock. ‘That must be so weird.’

Meg’s gaze locked with mine. I tried to keep my face blank. I didn’t want her to see that she’d rattled me. I didn’t want to be like Meg. I didn’t want my Glimpses to get worse.

‘So what ghosts have you seen at the inn?’ Susie asked.

‘Oh, too many to say. Tea?’ Meg smiled, reached precariously for the pot on the coffee table, poured stewed tea into three of the least tannin-browned mugs and shoved a milk jug towards Susie.

‘Can you describe some?’ I asked. ‘For our school project?’

I was grateful to be able to take a mug and sink back into the sofa. I lifted the mug to hide my mouth and I listened. I tried to match what Meg described with my own Glimpses – did Meg and I really see the same things? – but it was impossible. I had no way of knowing if the face I’d seen had belonged to a servant girl or an inn guest; if the footsteps outside my door last night had belonged to a barmaid or a dead relative.

Susie took furious notes. ‘It’s all so creepy,’ she said with delight.

It was creepy. But I was not the least bit delighted.

Meg shook herself exaggeratedly, as though shaking off an unwelcome topic.

‘Enough of this dark talk.’ She glanced at me. ‘You two girls should be heading off. I’m sure your mothers will want you home.’ Pain bristled through me at the word ‘mothers’, but Meg smiled at me, oblivious; sweet innocence embodied. ‘Have you finished your tea, Elizabeth? Let me take your cup.’

She pulled the mug out from my hand, and dropped it straight onto the floor next to the coffee table. I gasped as warm liquid splashed up my jeans and into my ballet pumps.

‘How clumsy of me!’ Meg’s hand flew to her pale cheek.

I stared at her. She’d done it on purpose!

Susie leapt to her feet. ‘Where are your towels, Mrs Sanders?’