The Secrets of Ghosts (29 page)

‘Shall we go for a walk?’

Gwen couldn’t answer him. She didn’t know what she wanted to do. She wanted to be with Cam, but alone. She wanted to be outside but also underneath her duvet, curled into a foetal position. She wanted to put loud music on and scream until her throat was sore and to sit quietly with no sound whatsoever. Most of all, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want these feelings; she didn’t want this need; she didn’t want this emptiness and desolation that seemed both inside her and bigger than her.

‘There’s still a chance,’ Cam said. ‘There’s nothing actually wrong with either of us—’

‘Don’t,’ Gwen said. ‘Please.’

‘Sorry.’

They got into the car in silence. Gwen waited for Cam to start the engine but he sat, his hands resting on the steering wheel, and stared out of the windscreen. He wasn’t crying, but the expression on his face was so bleak it was worse. Gwen felt it like a stab of reproach. She was depriving him of children. She was defective. No matter what the specialist said, she knew, with the awful Harper certainty, that it was her fault. Cam would’ve fertilised any other woman within seconds.

‘It’s my fault,’ Cam said, surprising her out of her shame spiral.

‘What?’

‘I work too hard. Long hours. Stress.’

Gwen was too shocked to speak for a moment. Then she said, ‘That’s nonsense. Everything is fine, physically. You know that. You’ve got the slip of paper to prove it.’

Cam turned to her, looking wretched. ‘Not on paper. It’s like I’m not making room for a baby in our lives so one isn’t going to come along. I know that sounds crazy, but what if I haven’t wanted it as much as you have and that has somehow stopped it?’

Gwen went cold. ‘You don’t want a baby?’

‘I want to be a dad. I want to have children. Definitely. But what if the universe can sense that I work too hard or something? Or…’ Cam glanced away, embarrassed ‘…what if I’ve pissed off Mother Earth or something? I mean. If you tell me I have to paint myself green and dance around a tree, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.’

‘It doesn’t work like that. This isn’t either of our fault. And it isn’t destiny or fate or the universe. It just happens.’ In comforting Cam, Gwen felt the load lighten a little. She was right, she knew. This wasn’t because of blood magic or hexing or any of it. This was just life. She reached for Cam and pulled him to her; his head fitted onto her chest. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his hair rhythmically while he cried.

*

Across town, Katie was taking a tea break and staring at her new most favourite thing in the world when Zofia walked into the staff room. ‘What is that?’

Katie quickly put the cloth back over the sphere. ‘Nothing. Just an ornament.’

Zofia reached out and flipped the material back. ‘Oh.’ She sat back on her heels. ‘That is good news.’

‘What is?’

‘You have a trap. That is very lucky. You should put that in your home. Although—’ Zofia glanced around the room ‘—maybe keeping it here might be best. Here is very bad.’

‘What do you mean “trap”?’

Zofia put her head on one side. ‘You know that’s a witch’s ball?’

‘Yes, that’s what the label said.’ Katie showed Zofia. ‘It’s an antique.’

‘They trap evil spirits. I’ve seen glass ones before. You hang them in a window or a doorway, somewhere like that.’

‘Like a dream catcher?’

Zofia shrugged. ‘I don’t know why you’d want to catch dreams. But bad spirits, yes, please.’

Katie nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree with you more. Do you know how it works? It’s a bit big to carry around with me, but—’

‘I don’t know,’ Zofia said. ‘I think it just does. If you just have it near, it can draw them. Like a magnet.’

‘Thank you,’ Katie said. ‘I know you probably think I’m mad, but—’

‘Not mad,’ Zofia said. ‘I’m glad to see you have this. I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. He doesn’t.’

Katie knew she meant Patrick Allen.

‘There are evil spirits here,’ Zofia said. ‘We all need to be careful.’

‘They’re not all evil,’ Katie said, thinking of Violet.

Zofia blew air over her lips, making a disgusted face. ‘They’re not supposed to be here.’

‘Do you know how we could get rid of them?’

Zofia pulled a face. ‘My grandmother would know. She’s very wise. Knows about Wila. Spirits.’

She gave Katie a shrewd look. ‘She’d be able to help you. I think you have more to fear than most of us — am I right?’

Katie swallowed. ‘Maybe. Or maybe I’m luckier than everyone else. I can talk to them. I can see them. I’m hoping I can help them.’

Zofia shook her head. ‘You can’t help evil spirits. Only banish. That’s what my grandmother would say.’

‘Does she know how to do it?’

‘Oh, yes. She’d have this tidied up—’ Zofia snapped her fingers ‘—like that.’

Katie felt her hope rising, but she kept it in check long enough to ask, ‘Is she in Poland?’

Zofia nodded.

Katie’s heart sank.

‘But I can email her.’

‘Would you?’

Zofia patted her arm. ‘Of course.’

*

Katie looked for Violet in every public room of the hotel. The place had filled up with MOPs and The Plum Suite had a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign hung on the door handle. Katie hoped, for their sake, that Violet wasn’t in residence. She went outside to check by the pond and then wandered around the gardens.

She found Violet in the walled garden. The borders were a little overgrown, but in a very attractive manner with blowsy summer blooms tumbling over one another and butterflies dotting the shrubbery. Katie looked at the different colours of roses, visible through Violet’s body, and breathed in the mix of floral scents.

‘I can’t smell them,’ Violet said, turning slowly. ‘I’ve been standing here for hours and I can’t smell a thing. Not the grass, not the flowers, not even my perfume. Why is that?’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know,’ Katie said. ‘But I have got something to tell you.’

She took a deep breath, hoping her news wasn’t going to be like a rose. She wanted to give Violet soft petals and happiness, no nasty hidden thorns.

‘Are you getting married?’ Violet clapped her hands together.

‘What? No.’

‘Oh, you were staring at the flowers. I thought you were planning your bouquet.’

Katie shook her head. ‘Henry’s here,’ she said, and then mentally kicked herself. Nice gentle way to break the news. Really smooth.

Violet had gone very still but Katie could tell she was upset by the way she had floated upwards and was now suspended at least a foot above the lawn. ‘He’s dead?’

‘Um, yes. I’m afraid so.’

‘But he’s like me? And he’s here?’ Hope and pain were fighting it out across Violet’s face. ‘Why can’t I see him? Is he with us now?’

Katie shook her head. ‘No. He’s usually in the library. I don’t know why you can’t see each other. I think it’s something to do with how and when you died, but I’m not sure.’

‘It’s not fair,’ Violet said. ‘What did I do? What did I do that was so terrible?’ She sank down to the grass and sat cross-legged, looking even younger than usual. She passed a hand across her face and looked up at Katie with an expression of frustration. ‘I should be crying but I can’t—’

‘I think I can bring you together,’ Katie said. ‘If that’s what you want.’

Violet unfolded from her position and twirled in the air by way of an answer. Violet was moving so fast, she was just a blur and it made Katie feel sick. She closed her eyes and felt a brush of cold lips on her cheek.

‘I take it that’s a “yes, please”,’ Katie said to the empty garden.

Chapter 25

Inside the hotel, Max was polishing the bar with a cloth with more force than was strictly necessary. ‘Why is he still here?’

‘Who?’ Katie turned around and spotted Barton sitting at a table in the corner, reading a newspaper. ‘Oh. Patrick has offered him another show. Popular demand, apparently. He’s doing it on Friday night and Patrick is putting him up for free until afterwards.’

‘Can’t you stop him?’

‘Patrick? Unlikely,’ Katie said.

Max was still glaring at Barton, anger and something else across his face.

Katie reached out and put her hand on top of his. ‘I know he bothers you, but it might not be all bad. Maybe he comforts some people.’

‘With lies,’ Max said.

‘I’m not defending him.’ Katie squeezed his hand. ‘Just trying to lower your blood pressure.’

Max made a visible attempt to relax. He passed a hand over his face. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Katie said. ‘I’ll buy you a beer?’

‘I’m working,’ Max said, but he got a bottle from the fridge and popped the cap.

Katie hoisted herself onto one of the bar stools. ‘What did Barton tell you that was so awful?’

Max took a long pull on his beer and for a moment Katie thought he wasn’t going to answer her. Then he closed his eyes and said, ‘I tried to get him to take it back. I went to his room after the show and I asked him straight.’

‘And did he?’

Max gave her a bitter smile. ‘He said I needed a private session. Only two hundred quid for an hour.’

‘What a bastard.’ Katie glanced at Barton, who was still reading, oblivious. ‘I hope you spat in his drink.’

He tilted the beer towards Katie and she shook her head. ‘You know he’s a fraud, though.’ Katie put a hand on Max’s arm. ‘Why do you need him to take it back? Or prove he’s lying or whatever?’

‘I didn’t say it was logical. I know he’s lying, that he just got a lucky hit, but there’s that little bit of doubt.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And now I know that ghosts exist, it makes it all so much more possible. Afterlife. Messages from beyond the grave, all that.’

Katie wanted to ask him what Barton had told him, but she was afraid he’d say, ‘It’s personal,’ again.

He read her mind. ‘I know you must be curious—’

‘It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it.’

Max looked relieved. ‘Thank you.’

Damn it
. Maybe Anna was right: maybe it was time she took a leap of faith. If she opened up to him, maybe he’d do the same back. Gwen had told her once that when a client was being hesitant about explaining a problem, she shared something personal or embarrassing first. Like swapping vulnerabilities. Like making a deal. ‘I know what it’s like to be lied to. There was a woman who talked me into trusting her. She said she was going to show me how to harness my power, make me strong like Gwen.’ Katie swallowed. ‘She showed me just enough magic so that I believed her, showed me how to do things.’

Max was leaning on the bar, nodding. ‘She gave you what you wanted. Perfect con.’

‘And then she tried to kill me. Nearly succeeded, too.’

‘Jesus,’ Max said, straightening up. ‘You mean that metaphorically, right?’

Katie swallowed and shook her head.

Patrick sailed up to the bar and Max swiped his beer off the top.

‘Where’s Housekeeping?’ Patrick said, not even bothering to look up from the tablet he was carrying.

‘Zofia?’ Max said. ‘Behind you.’

‘Ah, good.’ Patrick tapped at his gadget a couple more times, then frowned at Zofia. ‘I’ve just had another complaint. Mrs Thomas in The Blue Room says her bed wasn’t made today.’

Zofia shook her head. ‘I did that room. I made all the rooms.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Katie stepped in front of Zofia.

‘This is unacceptable,’ Patrick continued hectoring Zofia over Katie’s head. ‘People expect a certain level of service and if you’re unable or unwilling to provide that service—’

‘She did the room,’ Katie said. ‘She just told you.’

‘This isn’t like the good old days. There’s the Internet now. People go on their computers and write bad reviews that the world and his wife can read.’

‘So, give Mrs Thomas a free meal or a spa treatment or something.’

Patrick finally seemed to notice Katie. ‘I thought you were looking into this?’

‘I am,’ Katie said. ‘Did you check the room?’

‘Look for yourself,’ Patrick said and marched away.

‘Sorry,’ Katie said to Zofia. ‘Just ignore him.’

Upstairs, Katie knocked on the door of The Blue Room to make sure it wasn’t occupied and then used the master key to go inside. There was a suitcase on the luggage rack, a few personal items on the bedside tables and desk and the curtains were open. Sunlight streamed onto the unmade bed. Sheets were tangled on the floor, the blanket scrunched up at the foot of the bed and what looked like a toaster-full of crumbs on the bottom sheet.

Katie crossed her arms. ‘Violet! Come out here right now!’

A waft of Chanel No.5 and a dramatic drop in temperature gave her away.

‘Where I can see you,’ Katie said, using her strictest tone.

Violet glided out from the en-suite bathroom with a studied look of innocence on her face.

‘What have you got against poor Zofia?’ Katie indicated the bed. ‘She’s the one who catches trouble for this stuff, you know.’

‘Nothing,’ Violet said. ‘Although I don’t know why you care so much. Maids are all the same. Sneaky.’

Katie closed her eyes.
Of course
. ‘Did a maid tell your father about Henry?’

Violet tossed her hair. ‘She spied on us then went running to him. She got Henry sent away. Father wouldn’t even let me write to him. It was awful.’

‘I’m sure it was,’ Katie said.

‘I trusted her,’ Violet said. ‘I confided in her and she betrayed me.’ Violet looked anguished and Katie felt the stab of betrayal in her own heart.

‘But you mustn’t punish Zofia. It’s not her fault.’

‘You won’t let me have any fun.’ Violet pouted. ‘And I’m dead. It’s not fair.’

‘Vi—’

‘Fine.’ Violet curtseyed, holding out the skirt of her dress. ‘Your wish is my command.’

‘Are you talking to a ghost right now?’ Patrick emerged from behind the door, which Katie had left open out of habit. He’d followed her upstairs, had been listening in the hallway.

Katie looked at Violet. ‘No.’

‘You were,’ Patrick said. ‘You said “Violet”. Is that Violet Beaufort? The girl who was murdered?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Barton said he could sense a lot of energy here, but I didn’t really believe him. This is brilliant, though.’