Chapter 11

It's a few days later when I see the woman again.

I see the noose tied around her next, I see the sickening drop of her body, I hear the crack of her neck echoing through my head well into the night. I also feel the helplessness. The deep guilt in my gut as I watch her fall the few inches to her death right before I try to reach out and stop her. I thought it was gone. Now it's back.

I spend the next day working at Silverstones. It's a Saturday, the busiest day of the week, and the constant flow of customers keeps my mind and body occupied. But before I know it, Sadia's closing the shop for an hour so we can have a lunch break.

Sighing, I realise that now would be a good time to make the call.

I've had Sandy Harrington's number stored away on my phone ever since I began caring for her father, in case of any emergency. I've been debating whether or not to delete it ever since the funeral and I still haven't entirely decided, but I need to ask her something I'm desperate to know the answer to. I've learnt from a young age that if you need something done, you should do it yourself.

Stepping outside, I wrap an arm around myself and press the phone to my ear. The phone rings for enough time for the breeze to tease at the skin on my hands and face until she finally picks up.

"Sandra Harrington, who's this?"

Her name is Sandra? I had no idea.

"Uh, hi Sandy," I say, my mind going blank. "This is Ember. I was at your father's funeral a few weeks ago."

"Oh, Ember," she says. Her tone has dropped from cheery and welcoming to bored and agitated in a matter of seconds. I try not to let it bother me. "How can I help you?"

I struggle for a moment, biting down hard on my bottom lip. Something tells me she's going to hate me even more than she does now as soon as I ask this question. "Look, uh, this might sound absolutely crazy, but I've been wondering if anyone has died in Windchime Manor over the years?"

The other line is very quiet, until, "why?"

"I've... heard rumours," I tell her. There's no way I can be honest about what I've seen.

"What kind of rumours?" Sandy asks. It sounds like she's speaking through gritted teeth.

"Oh, you know," I say, stalling slightly as I work out what to say. "It's a big empty house. People have been saying stuff about ghosts and... whatever. I was just wondering if--"

"No," Sandy interrupts. "I am not having this conversation with you."

Shit. "Oh, but I..."

"There's nothing wrong with that house, Ember," she continues. "You're living there alone, I get that you'd be scared sometimes. It creeped me out as a child, too. But don't you dare come to me and ask about what happened in that house. Stop digging and we won't have a problem."

She abruptly ends the call before I can say anything else. Sighing in defeat, I stuff my phone into my pocket and step back into the bookshop. I can't eat lunch as Sandy's clipped voice and harsh words run through my head on repeat, so instead I get straight back to work. It doesn't fully succeed in taking my mind off things, but at least it's something.

I try to drag out the last few hours as much as possible but eventually my shift comes to an end. I do offer to work a few more extra hours to close shop but Sadia insists I get home and have something to eat. So I leave.

The streets are dark as I slowly walk back up to the house, illuminated by a few streetlights decorated with flowers hanging from baskets, but in a village like this I feel entirely safe. I'm honestly more worried about getting back to the house. That's where the real demons hide.

The walk doesn't last as long as I hoped it would. I step into the deafening silence of the house and try to make myself some food, but again I barely manage to consume any of it before the anxiety rolling in my stomach becomes a little too much to handle. Instead, I trek upstairs and decide I should probably get to bed.

I open the bedroom door to be greeted by the girl again. It barely shocks me this time. She's holding the same book I read to her last time she appeared and she's looking up at me with pleading eyes. She wants me to read to her again.

I can't say no.

I feel my lips twitch up into a smile as I drop my bag onto my bed before going to take the book from her hands. Then she skips over to the loveseat in the corner of the room and sits down. I follow her.

This time, I don't read to her for very long. I'm too curious to keep going. I want to see if this girl can talk, maybe even give me the answers I'm so desperate to hear. I can't keep reading to her while having no idea of who or what she could be.

Glancing over at her, I notice that she's already looking at me. We lock eyes. There's so much depth behind hers, as if they're real and she's real and she has a whole past behind her. There's no way she could simply be a figment of my imagination. She's there.

"My name is November," I say. It's the first thing that comes to mind, but I guess it's a good place to start. "Can you tell me yours?"

She shakes her head, blonde hair falling across her face as she looks away shyly.

Okay. Baby steps.

"You don't have to tell me," I say, trying to keep my voice low and steady. The fear of scaring her away again is lingering, the twinge in the healing wound on my forehead reminding me of when I scared her away last time. She doesn't seem as frightened of me any more. I want it to stay that way. "You don't even have to talk," I continue. "But I'd really appreciate it if you would. There's just some questions I'd like to ask you."

She peers at me round the curtain of hair, before her sight flickers back to the ground.

"Is there anything you want to say to me?" I ask.

A shake of her head. Okay. Maybe she's unable to talk?

"Do you... do you know who the lady is?"

Now she looks up at me with sad eyes. Something tells me she knows exactly which lady I'm talking about, and something about that has upset her a little. Not enough for her to run away from me, however. I guess that's good.

"Is she part of your family?"

She nods, mouth twitching into a frown. Then it opens, and she speaks. "The lady is my mummy."

I almost audibly gasp at the sound of her voice. So human yet so... not at the same time. Similarly to the gasps I've heard from her and the little boy, her voice is angelic. Almost echoing and very, very delicate.

I try not to focus on it for too long. "I'm sorry to hear that," I say. Hesitating, I think carefully about what I should say next. I want to be careful but... I also want her to know that I've been in her shoes once. Not that I remember it. "My mum..." I take in a shaky breath, trying to picture my mother's face in my head. It doesn't work. "She died too."

"Rope?" she asks me.

I shake my head. "Pills," I say gently. "She took too many of them."

I would imagine that the girl would have no idea what I'm talking about, but she seems to understand. She must have a very mature head on her shoulders, something I could guess just by sitting beside her. She looks like a child but has the presence of someone older.

"Sorry," she says.

"It's okay." I think for a moment, something sparking my memory. "What about the little boy?"

She shrugs her shoulders, staying quiet again. There's only certain things she feels comfortable with answering. I understand.

I exhale a deep sigh. "I don't want you feeling scared of me, okay?"

"I wasn't," she says sheepishly. Her legs swing from the edge of the window seat. "I was just surprised."

"About what?"

She glances up at me, round blue eyes meeting mine, before she turns her gaze away again. "About you seeing me. No one's seen me in a long time."

"You're real," I whisper. "Aren't you?"

She shrugs again. "Some people think I am. Other's think I'm not. I don't really care. I just like being seen again." She swings her legs again, watching them. Then she lifts her gaze to meet mine again and gives me a small smile. "Could you please keep reading the story?"

I watch her for a long moment, until I open the book back up and continue reading.

WC: 1521