Timeless Desire (3 page)

“William was also a keen diarist. All of his diaries
are here too.”

“And you’ve read them all?”

George nodded. “Well, what can I say? I’m a history
buff with a lot of time on my hands. I knew a little of the story from when I
started work here and got given the guided tour and potted history. But I was
fascinated by William’s story so I got permission to read his letters and diaries.
And that’s how I know.”

He shrugged. “Not much happens on my shifts, as you
can probably tell. I can show you where they are, if you like. There’s actually
one more box I haven’t been through yet. As far as I can tell it’s full of
various papers and photographs. Maybe we can look together?”

Emily nodded. “That would be great, thank you. I can
see I’m going to be spending even more hours in this house than I thought. So
much for doing the job and going home! Well, back to my hotel. You know what I
mean…” she tailed off, knowing she was in danger of babbling.

George smiled,
then
drained
his cup of tea before placing it back on the table. He stood, towering over
Emily as she, too, finished her drink. When she put hers down, George held out
a hand.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s see if we can find out a
little more about William. Maybe we can find out what he wants, why he’s
decided to appear to you.”

Emily grasped George’s hand eagerly, let him help her
up out of the chair and followed him as he walked back to the library. He didn’t
let go of her hand, and as Emily was enjoying the contact, she didn’t say
anything. She was really beginning to like him. After all, she’d been
completely freaked out earlier and he’d been so nice about it where others
would have laughed at her. Not to mention she felt much better when he was
around. She wasn’t really the damsel in distress type, but having a guy built
like George around certainly made her feel safer. Not to mention horny.

Now that she thought about it, though, she realized
she didn’t need protection. She’d never been in any danger, after all. William’s
ghost—or spirit, whatever it was—hadn’t meant her any harm. He hadn’t tried to
hurt her. But being felt up by a ghost wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence
and so Emily thought her reaction had been perfectly justified. Plus, she
doubted William would do it again, not with George around.

Soon enough, it was time to find out. Emily and George
walked into the library, still hand in hand, and looked around. Everything was
quiet, and as far as Emily could tell, exactly as she’d left it. Except….

Breaking away from George and walking towards the
ladder, she saw that the photograph near it had fallen over again. She was
pretty sure she hadn’t done it in her hasty departure, so it must have been down
to William. She picked it up and looked at it. The melancholy expression of the
photograph’s subject gave a considerable tweak to Emily’s own emotions. Then,
as she peered at the clothes he was wearing, a piece of the puzzle clicked into
place.

Spinning round, she was startled to find George a step
or two behind her. Recovering quickly, she thrust the photograph at him.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” she asked, then carried on
talking without awaiting a response. “That’s William. Of course, it all makes
sense now. That must have been taken after he came back home from London, when
he knew about what had happened to Jane. It’s why he looks so haunted.
So sad.
He must have been knocking the picture over to try
and tell me who he is. You know…” Emily moved to stand beside George so they
could look at the photograph together, “…you never did tell me what happened to
him, in the end.”

They both looked at the photograph for some seconds
before George spoke again.

“Let’s go and sit down for a minute.”

Rather than opening the curtains Emily had whisked
shut in her panic, they moved to the other end of the room and settled on the
sofa in the nook there. Putting the photograph down on the seat between them,
George’s face then took on a serious expression.

“There’s no easy way to say it, Emily. But according
to papers found in here, William took his own life. His diaries back this up,
as the poor guy was in a real bad way towards the end. He just couldn’t get
past losing Jane. He struggled to move on, and in the end he came to the
conclusion that he literally couldn’t live without her. Then his entries just
stopped.”

Emily had suspected as much, but tears still welled up
in her eyes once more as George related the sorry story.

“It’s such a tragic story,” she said, her voice
cracking. “Today, William would have been diagnosed with depression and given
help. But back then…he felt helpless.”

George took her hand and squeezed it.
“I know, it’s terrible.
But perhaps we can help William
now.”

“
Wh
—
what do you mean?” She’d absentmindedly started stroking
her thumb across the warm skin of George’s hand and he looked down their
clasped hands, an amused expression on his face. When she realized what she was
doing, Emily tried to pull away, horrified, but George held on tight and gave her
a smile that made a shiver run up her spine—in a good way. Her emotions swung
from being sad about William
to
eager for the comfort
that George provided, and not just in the hand holding sense.

“Well, if the old saying is true, that ghosts only
hang around if they’ve got unfinished business, then maybe we can find out what
William’s is and help him pass over. And,” he said, squeezing her hand again, “I
think you’re the key. There’s a reason he’s appeared to you and nobody else for
ages. We just need to work out what it is.”

“Umm, okay,” Emily said, her brain processing what
George had said. She knew he was right, but how would they find out how they
could help William? “So, what do we do now?”

“I don’t have the answers, Emily, but I do know where
we can start. You remember that box I told you about earlier? There may be
something in there.”

Gently disentangling their hands, George stood up and
indicated Emily should follow him. He walked over to the wall on their left,
and crouched down in front of one of the wire fronted bookshelves. Opening the door,
he carefully pulled out several boxes one at a time and placed them on the
floor beside him. When they were all there, George stood up and looked across
the room at the desk Emily had been using. Seeing it was full of all her
cleaning paraphernalia, not to mention the few books she still hadn’t replaced
on the first shelf, he simply sat on the floor, cross-legged. Reaching over to
flip open the lid of each box in turn, George found the one he was looking for,
and pulled it towards him.

Chapter Three

Emily had been standing nearby, ready to start moving
boxes around if necessary. But when it became apparent that George’s chosen
workplace was going to be right there on the floor, she raised her eyebrows in
surprise, then moved and sat down beside him. He turned to smile at her, and
indicated the box he was about to start rummaging through.

“This is the one,” he said. “Now let’s see what we can
find out.”

He pushed the box to his left a little, so Emily could
also reach inside and start examining the contents. Before she started, she
gave voice to something that had been bugging her. “Why does he only haunt the
library, do you think? He was born here, so he’s got links to the whole
property and grounds. He could appear anywhere, but chooses the library to make
his appearances.”

George pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and
nibbled it. Emily tried not to watch, to wish she could nibble his bottom lip
as they kissed. Then he shrugged. “I
dunno
. Some
ghost fanatic types say that spirits are tied to things that belonged to them,
but that includes all sorts of stuff in this place. On top of all the papers
and diaries in here, there’s his old bedroom and everything in it, and much
more, probably. What I’ve read so far hasn’t given me a clue, unfortunately.”

“I guess we’ll never find out. Never mind. I just
wondered.” She paused, still thoughtful. Then took a deep breath and steeled
herself
to carry on. “Okay.” She carefully lifted a pile of
papers, letters and photographs from the box and placed them on the rug in
front of her. “Here goes nothing.”

The two of them worked in silence for a little while,
reading through various documents about and belonging to the Elliott family,
and looking at photographs. Every item plucked at Emily’s heartstrings as she
learned more and more about a tragic love story and two lives that had been
lost. After a while, she came across a particularly interesting photo.
A lovely one.
When she saw George looking at her
quizzically, she realized she must have made a noise.

“Sorry,” she said, “but just look at this.”

She handed him the worn black and white image. It
depicted a family; mother, father and young teenage boy. They all looked happy.
There was nothing written on the back of the photograph, but having seen the other
picture of William, Emily recognized the boy and knew it was the Elliott
family.

George studied the photo for some minutes,
then
passed it back to Emily. “They look happy. It’s a shame
that the war had to come along and rip their family apart.”

“Hmm,” Emily replied, unable to think of anything more
eloquent to say. Then she had a thought. “What happened to William’s parents
after…you
know.
They must have been devastated.”

“I guess so. He
was
their only child. There are no firsthand accounts—neither of them kept
diaries—but the records say they sold the house a few months after William’s
death and immigrated to Australia. They left the majority of the contents of
the house behind. It seems they were keen to move on and put their dark times
behind them, doing what their son couldn’t.”

Emily was quiet for a while then, her face taking on a
thoughtful expression. “They’d be dead too, by now, wouldn’t they?”

George nodded. “Unless they’ve managed to live into
their hundreds, then yes. We can only hope they managed to find peace when they
left England.”

There wasn’t anything Emily could really say to that,
and the pair of them fell silent once more. The photograph was placed on a pile
and they continued looking through the other contents of the box. Not long
afterwards, it was George’s turn to make a discovery.

His sharp intake of breath had Emily’s head snapping
in his direction. “What is it?”

“Umm…I think you’d better look at this. Shit.” He
passed her an envelope addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Elliott. Inside were a letter
and a photograph, which Emily pulled out. After looking at the photograph,
though, she felt the color drain from her face and quickly forgot all about the
letter. She simply stared at the image in her hand. It was like looking at a
photograph of
herself
in old fashioned clothes. Her
heart pounded.

After giving her a few minutes for it to sink in,
George spoke softly. “That’s Jane. The letter was from William to his parents.
He was just about to go off to Europe, so there was no time for him to bring
her up here to meet his mother and father. So he sent them a letter to tell
them about her and their intention to marry after the war, and included the
photo to show them how beautiful she was. I think,”
he
continued, “we’ve solved the mystery of why he haunts this particular room. He
wants to stay close to this photograph of the love of his life. He just can’t
let go, poor guy. And it also explains why he’s appeared to you. It seems he
thinks you’re her. Jane.”

Emily finally tore her gaze away from the photograph
of Jane—almost her double—and looked at George. “I guess so. But what do we do
now?”

“I’m no
Ghostbuster
,” George
replied, gently taking the photograph of Jane out of Emily’s hand and replacing
it in the envelope along with William’s letter, “but I’m sure we’ll figure
something out. Let’s put this stuff away and go back to my office. I don’t know
about you, but I could really do with another cup of tea.”

A little over half an hour later and they’d figured
out their plan. They walked back towards the library together, hand in hand.
This time, though, it had been a deliberate thing. As they’d left George’s
office once more, Emily had reached for him, suddenly desperate for the comfort
and security he afforded. George had looked down at where their skin touched,
startled, then at Emily’s worried-looking expression, and given her a warm
smile.

“You’re going to be just fine,” he said, “and besides,
I’ll be close by. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Emily did her best to believe George’s words. Deep
down, she knew they were true. But for some reason she just couldn’t shake the
feeling of foreboding. Right now, she just wanted to get this over with. With
that thought in mind, she picked up her pace, forcing George to do the same.

Once they reached the end of the corridor which led
into the library, they stopped just outside the doors. Emily pulled out of
George’s grasp, sucking in a deep breath, as if to steel herself. Suddenly, he moved
in front of her, put his hands on either side of her face and pressed a kiss to
her forehead. Then he replaced his lips with his forehead, and looked down into
Emily’s startled eyes. A huge part of her wanted to cup his face and pull his
lips to hers and see where things went, but she knew she had to get this
William thing done. It was the right thing to do. He deserved to be released
from his miserable existence, to be freed.

“I’ll be just here,” George said, quietly. “I’m not
going anywhere.”

Then he pulled away abruptly and stood to one side,
leaving her path to the library clear. Telling
herself
that the sooner she went in, the sooner she could come out, Emily walked in.
She picked up the photograph of William that they’d left on the sofa and moved
across the room, returning it to its rightful place on the shelf. Then she made
her way back to the desk she’d abandoned earlier that evening and sat down.

Then, knowing the longer she left it, the more
difficult it would be, Emily spoke. “William? Are you here?”

She paused, scarcely daring to breathe. Nothing
happened.

“It’s all right, William. I know it was you earlier. I
just panicked, that’s all. I’m sorry. I know you were just trying to
communicate with me. Will you communicate with me now?”

As she fell silent once more, the hairs on the back of
Emily’s neck stood up again. This time, she was prepared for the slam of the
photograph and she didn’t jump when it came. She turned her head towards the
source of the noise and spoke again.

“Hello, William. I’m glad you’re back. I’d like to talk
to you. I hope that’s okay.”

At first, Emily noticed nothing. But after a couple of
beats, she spotted the ladder moving slightly, as though a weight had been put
on it. Somehow, Emily knew that William had sat down on one of the steps and
was listening to her.

“Thank you, William.” Now it was time to give the
hardest part of her loosely planned speech. She took a deep breath and spoke
loudly, projecting fake confidence into her voice. “I guess you already know
that I was looking through some of your family’s belongings earlier?” She
deliberately didn’t mention George, not wanting to risk antagonizing the spirit,
considering how strongly he clearly still felt about Jane. He’d probably see it
as a betrayal, and who knew what a pissed off spirit could do? “Well I found
lots of interesting things, including a letter you sent to your parents before
you went to fight in the war. It had a photograph with it.
Of
a girl.
Of Jane.
I was quite surprised to see
the photo. She looks just like me. The resemblance is uncanny, actually. I
suspect there may be a family link there, which means I’ve got more digging to
do. But that’s all it is, William.
A link.”

She spoke gently now, a part of her knowing she was
going to hurt William’s feelings and wanting to do it as pleasantly as she
possibly could. “I’m
not
Jane. You
know that, don’t you William? Deep down, you know I’m not really her, don’t
you? My name is Emily Stone and I was born in 1978. Many years after the war
you fought in.”

She paused, hunching down in the chair slightly, as if
expecting something to come flying at her head. Nothing did. She pressed on.

“You remember, don’t you, William? Jane died in London
during the war. She was killed during a German raid. I understand it affected
you terribly. It was a tragedy, and so was what happened to you. But do you
know what I think? I think you can be with her again. You just need to let go.
Let go of this place…of me. Jane will be waiting for you on the other side. I’m
sure of it. Just reach out and find her.”

Emily suddenly realized that she had no idea if her
plan was working. With William’s photograph already flat on its back, he couldn’t
use that to communicate. But surely if he could move that and the ladder, he
could move anything?

“Can you do that, William? Can you go and find Jane?
If you can…” she paused, thinking of a signal he could possibly give. Then her
gaze alighted on one of the cleaning brushes on the desk in front of her. “If
you can, William, move this brush for me, won’t you?”

For a moment, Emily thought nothing would happen. Then
suddenly she sensed someone standing close by her. A few seconds passed. Then
the brush rolled gently across the desk until it hit one of the books, and
stopped.

Emily raised her eyebrows, a sense of relief flooding
into her. “Well done, William. You’re doing the right thing. Jane will be so
happy to see you.” Then, as a tear rolled down her face, she whispered, “be
happy.” Her heart pounded and she felt sad and happy all at once.

A noise from the direction of the ladder drew her
attention. Emily turned to look, and what she saw made her gasp. Standing up,
she moved a couple of paces across the room towards the shelf,
then
stopped.

“George,” she said, loudly enough for him to hear,
“come look at this.”

The security guard walked into the room, peering
around, before looking at Emily enquiringly. She pointed towards the photograph.

“He stood it up. He rolled the brush, like I asked.
Then he stood the photo up of his own accord. I think he’s gone.
For good.
He’s gone to find her. They’ll be together now.”

George crossed the room toward Emily, then they moved
together to stand in front of the photograph, looking at it. What they saw
inside the frame made them turn to look at one another in disbelief. Turning
back to the shelf, Emily picked up the photo and examined it closely, with
George doing the same over her shoulder. It was the same photograph…but not.

Almost everything was identical; William’s position,
his clothes, his haircut. But his facial expression was so altered that he
looked like a completely different person. Gone was the haunted look, the pain
in his eyes. He wasn’t smiling—it just wasn’t the
done
thing in those days—but he still looked much happier. At peace, was the phrase
Emily decided she was looking
for.
She smiled. She
hoped he was, anyway. Hoped he’d found Jane, wherever they were.

George reached over and took the photo out of Emily’s
hand and put it back on the shelf. Turning to face her, he said, “You look
tired. Let’s get this place sorted out ready for tomorrow and then get you on
your way.”

“But I’ve hardly done anything—”

George cut her off. “Tomorrow evening I’ll come and
help you. I’ll have to go round and do my checks every now and again, but I can
be here with you most of the time. You’ll get caught up in no time. And no one
will ever know.”

Holding her hands up, Emily admitted defeat. It
would
be nice to have his company, as
well as his help. Though it wouldn’t do anything to help her take her mind off
how much she wanted to get naked and horizontal with him. “Okay.
As long as you’re sure.
I’ll work you hard, you know. You’ll
be begging for mercy.”