Haunted Page 6

  By her side was an older man with long silver hair and a regal air. It was funny, I thought, how men grew to be distinguished while women just grew older. He was wearing a tweed three-piece suit with a spotted bow tie, which made him something of an anomaly at our casual Californian school.

  “I have good news and bad news,” Mrs Kaplan announced. “The bad news is that Madame Giles has been involved in an unfortunate car accident which resulted in two broken legs. But don’t worry, she is expected to make a full recovery, although we won’t be seeing her back at school for the rest of the semester. Now for the good news. Everybody, allow me to introduce Doctor Ritter. He is here to take over this class and I can assure you that nobody comes more highly recommended.”

  Why was she telling us that? We didn’t care about the credentials of our teachers. Maybe she was hoping we’d go home and feed that information back to our parents. Maybe she thought we actually talked to our parents.

  Doctor Ritter, I noticed, had sunken cheeks and skin with a leathery sheen, like he was a well-preserved ancient relic. I watched his gaze sweep across the room, taking us all in. He lingered on me a fraction too long and jerked his head slightly as if he knew me from somewhere. I felt a shiver run down my spine. His whole demeanour reminded me of a predator. A great white shark perhaps? His eagle eyes were dark and strangely glossy, while the corners of his mouth turned up in a way that suggested both sneering and smiling. It was unnerving to say the least.

  Mrs Kaplan’s ruby-red lips stretched into a smile. “Alright then, I’ll let you get on with it.”

  As she made her exit, Doctor Ritter set down his briefcase and settled on the edge of his desk, watching us all in silence. He picked a piece of invisible lint from his creaseless trousers and flicked it away.

  “So this is how it’s going to work,” he said eventually, his voice surprisingly reedy. I was expecting it to be low and commanding to match his silver fox exterior. “We are all adults here, aren’t we? Therefore we all deserve to be treated with mutual respect. Do you concur?”

  A few heads nodded and some voices mumbled their agreement.

  “School need not feel like prison,” he continued. “Believe it or not, I was young once and I know there is probably something other than French on your minds right now. For example: what are you going to wear to that party on Saturday night? Why hasn’t he texted you back? Will you be picked for the football team and finally make your father proud? All perfectly valid concerns.”

  Hart Anderson, captain of the swim team, was sitting at the desk next to mine. He angled his face toward me and widened his eyes. I repeated the gesture, sharing his confusion. What was Doctor Ritter’s deal? I didn’t know what to make of him. Was he trying to be funny or disciplinary or was he just plain weird? It was hard to tell.

  “Is something troubling you?” he asked.

  He pronounced the letter “s” with a slight hiss like a snake. It distracted me and at first I didn’t realise he was talking to me. Oh, great. Of course the heat would fall on me and not Hart, who was now frowning down at his textbook. I was not going to catch a break today, was I?

  “No, sir,” I answered. “Sorry about that. Everything’s fine.”

  He accepted my apology and was turning away when his eye was caught by something just below my elbow. I followed his gaze to my jacket, which was hanging on the back of my chair. Pinned to the inside pocket was the brooch Grandma Fee had sent me. For some reason I hadn’t wanted to leave it behind.

  “That is a fine-looking piece,” Doctor Ritter said, drawing closer to take a better look. “Is it genuine?”

  “I think so; it’s from my grandmother’s estate in England.”

  “England?” he repeated. “How fascinating. Do you know what it is made of?”

  “Um, I think it’s some kind of gemstone.”

  “Actually it’s moonstone, seed pearl and marcasite, circa 1850 if I’m not mistaken.”

  I was impressed. This dude really knew his way around antique jewellery.

  “You really should have made a point of finding out, Miss Kennedy. It seems foolish to wear something without knowing its origin, don’t you think?”

  “I —”

  He cut me off. “Yes, I suppose you have more important things to do with your time. Why bother discovering the history of an antique when Netflix awaits?”

  Something came over me then that I couldn’t explain. Maybe the stress of the last twenty-four hours made me reckless. I had a faultless record at Sycamore High; I’d never had so much as a detention. But instead of apologising again, I folded my arms across my chest and stared back at Doctor Ritter, uncowed by his authority. His jibe was unwarranted given that he knew nothing about me. Why should I let him get away with it because he was my superior and older than me? Alex was older than both of us put together and I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind to him. Afraid — I was sick of that word. I was sick of over-thinking every little detail and feeling that tense, nervous knot in my stomach from the moment I woke up to the moment I went to bed.

  “Do you think just because we’re young, you can ridicule us and dismiss our problems?” I asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  My brain told me this was a good time to stop, but my mouth had other ideas. “Are you suggesting that girls are vacuous and boys only think about sports? I’m sure life would be much easier if we were as stereotypical as you see us, but we’re a little more complex than that.”

  The Adam’s apple in Doctor Ritter’s tanned, taut throat bobbed around, the only sign of anger. His face betrayed nothing. “I’m going to ask you to leave my classroom, young lady.”

  “Fine.” I pushed back my chair and stood up, feeling every pair of eyes on me, their expressions ranging from admiration to disbelief. I was trembling, but it felt more like adrenaline than fear.

  I hastily collected my books and made sure to seal my departure by slamming the classroom door behind me. It was only when I reached the silence of the hallway that my indignation abated and I stopped to reflect. As I waited for my heartbeat to return to normal, a thought struck me. Doctor Ritter hadn’t been at our school ten minutes so how did he know my name? Could he have memorised a class list with our photos attached? If so, he must have one hell of a photographic memory. But I wasn’t sure any such list even existed. The admin department wasn’t that organised.

  I’d have plenty of opportunity to regret my outburst after Doctor Ritter reported me to Kraplan and she called my father. But in that moment I felt empowered, like I was capable of anything. Bring it on, universe, I thought.

  The first thing on my to-do list for the day was to find Alex. I’d turn the school inside out if I had to, and then I was going to sit him down and tell him the truth. I needed to take control of this situation instead of letting it control me. It sounded like a cheesy line from a self-help book, but it was the only thing that made sense.

  My new vigour gave shape to an idea that seemed so obvious I couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to me before. The theatre. I had been here yesterday, standing in almost exactly the same spot, thinking almost exactly the same thoughts. Where was Alex? Where could he be hiding? The anticipation proved too much and I broke into a run.

  At this time of day the theatre was deserted, and so silent I became aware of my own breathing as I paused at the foot of the stairs to pull myself together. I might have to start going to Natalie’s spin class if I was going to be chasing ghosts all over the city.

  The stage was empty, with props from the last rehearsal stacked haphazardly into a corner. I ran up the stairs without looking at the balcony to see if Alex was there. Because there was a fifty-fifty chance he wouldn’t be and then what?

  My spirits dipped with doubt, but I refused to give in to negative thoughts. I liked the assertive Chloe better. She understood that the only way to deal with a situation like this was to go in guns blazing. You couldn’t tiptoe around like some timid mouse. I would not be a timid mouse … at leas
t not any more.

  I straightened my shoulders and stepped onto the landing. He was there, sitting in exactly the same place as yesterday.

  I wanted to laugh with relief, but I didn’t. Instead I sauntered over to him and flopped down next to him in one of the faded folding seats. He didn’t seem surprised to see me.

  “Guess you’re not the social type,” I said drily.

  “I prefer to stay in the shadows,” he replied. “The sunlight is so harsh here; there is nowhere to hide.”

  “You don’t need to hide. And you don’t need to run away from my house without telling me. Irish goodbyes are not cool.”

  “I am not Irish,” he said calmly. “Nor did I run away.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was sitting on the bed waiting for you. Then darkness closed in and I found myself here again.”

  “What? How is that possible? Actually … never mind. I think we’ve clearly established that anything is possible right now. So you’ve been here the whole time?”

  “Yes. I knew you would come to find me eventually.”

  I gave a faint smile. “Well, that makes sense. But before anything else happens, there’s something I need to tell you. And if I don’t tell you now, I never will, because it’s not the easiest thing to tell someone.”

  “Very well.” His brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  “It’s just … well … here’s the thing …” My tongue felt awkward in my mouth, like there wasn’t enough room for it. “How can I put this? You’re not … you aren’t exactly —”

  “Chloe,” he interrupted, “please, just tell me.”

  He was right. This wasn’t a truth that could be sugar-coated. The only thing to do was lay it bare on the table. I released a long whoosh of breath, steeling myself for the both of us.

  “Alex,” I said quietly, “you didn’t travel through time.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because I know something you don’t. Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this but …” I trailed off again. It was just so difficult to put into words.

  His eyes searched my face. “Chloe, for goodness sake, just —”

  “Alex, you’re dead!” I could see from the look on his face that my words cut deeper than any dagger. “You’ve been dead since 1853.”

  It didn’t take long for the shock in Alex’s eyes to be replaced by disbelief. He looked at me like I was a child declaring something outlandish to be fact. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I know how strange this must sound. But I can explain everything if you’ll let me.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a macabre sense of humour?”

  “I wish I was joking,” I replied softly. “You have no idea how much.”

  That troubled look crossed his face again and I could see him struggling not to give in to fear.

  “In that case you must be a very disturbed person,” he said.

  “I would think that too. But, please, just hear me out. Then if you still think I’m crazy you can leave and never speak to me again.”

  Alex didn’t say a word. But he didn’t turn his back on me either.

  I took that as permission to continue. He was already on the defensive so I’d better choose my words carefully. I decided it was best to stick to the facts, keeping emotion out of it.

  “I know about Isobel and Carter and the life you had together at Grange Hall,” I said slowly. “I know that you and Isobel were having an affair, and that James was your son, not Carter’s.”

  Alex threw an alarmed glance over his shoulder, as if worried someone might be spying on us. His voice dropped to an agitated whisper. “How could you possibly know such things?”

  I pressed on, even though what I said next would devastate him. “I know because Grange Hall is owned by my grandmother now. Her name is Fiona Kennedy. She turned the place into a bed and breakfast —”

  “How dare you,” he interrupted, like I’d said something sacrilegious. “Grange Hall belongs to the Reade family and will continue to do so for many generations to come.”

  “It did belong to your family. But that was a long time ago. In fact, they haven’t lived there in many decades.”

  “Stop.” Alex’s voice was icy. “I have heard quite enough from you.” He got to his feet, eyeing me with outright distaste.

  Before he could walk away, my hand shot out to grasp his. He seemed startled by the physical contact and pulled away like I was a leper.

  “Can’t you see I’m trying to help you?” I implored, only to receive a withering look.

  “By inventing spurious stories about my family? I will not listen to another word.”

  “If I was making this up, how would I know that the second bedroom on the third floor used to be yours?” I blurted out. “How would I know that you painted Isobel’s portrait in the summerhouse by the lake, but she would only sit still once you promised to take her riding? How would I know that Carter laughed at you for wanting to pursue a career in art? That he thought you’d wasted your time in Paris? How would I know that you offered to run away with Isobel, but she was too afraid of a life of poverty?”

  What little colour there was in his face drained away and he seemed lost for words.

  “The reason I knew your name yesterday wasn’t because you reminded me of someone,” I told him. “It was because you and I have met before … even if you can’t remember it.”

  “I thought I knew your face,” he admitted in a hollow voice. “Although for the life of me I could not remember from where.”

  “Like I told you, I’m no stranger to seeing the dead. But you were the first person on the other side I’ve actually been able to talk to. It scared us both at first, but we got used to it. You told me yourself how your spirit had lingered at Grange Hall since 1853, the year of your death. You haven’t travelled through time, Alex … time just went on without you.”

  He met my gaze with a fierce look, as if willing me to retract everything I’d just said.

  “I’m so sorry, but it’s true.”

  “Why do I have no recollection of dying?” he asked with a slight tremor in his voice.

  I could tell his thoughts were starting to shift, giving way to understanding.

  “You know how the last thing you remember is fighting with Carter?” He nodded hesitantly. “Well, that fight ended very badly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The hardest part was coming. My heart felt like it was cracking in my chest.

  “I mean that Carter shot you. That’s how you died, and that’s why you don’t remember anything past that point.”

  Alex let out a sharp breath. “That is the most absurd thing you have said so far. Killed by my own brother? That’s preposterous.”

  “Carter was outside the library that day.” The words were spilling out faster now, like a wall inside me had been breached. “He came home early and was listening at the door. He heard everything you and Isobel said. You were right about one thing — he had been drinking. And when he discovered the truth, it drove him mad.”

  Panic rippled across Alex’s face. “Isobel … did he harm her?”

  “No. But she died anyway.” I pushed on, deciding it was better to get it all out in one go. “She drowned herself in the lake.”

  “Isobel …” He whispered her name urgently, like he still believed he could save her. “Why would she do such a thing? How could she leave our child alone?”

  As the truth sank in, I felt his pain as acutely as if it were my own. Alex was the last person in the world I wanted to hurt. It wasn’t fair he should have to relive the deaths of the people he’d loved all over again. He had lived with that torment for so long already. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

  “She didn’t leave him,” I whispered. “James was already gone.”

  That knowledge brought such despair to his face that I had to look away. Part of me wanted to deny everything I’d just revealed, to declare it nothing mo
re than a tasteless joke, even if it meant him despising me forever. That would be preferable to watching him go through this.

  “But James was only an infant … what could have happened to him?”

  I didn’t want to answer, but having started this I knew I had to finish it. “Carter.”

  “What?” Alex cried, fury flashing in his eyes.

  “Isobel found him in his crib. And with you already gone, she had nothing left to live for. Hers were the last screams you heard.”

  “And my brother?”

  “Once Carter came to his senses and realised what he’d done, he hanged himself from the willow tree in the garden.”

  Alex’s rage melted into a deep and bottomless sorrow. He stared fixedly into space, not bothering to wipe away the tears snaking down his ashen cheeks. There was nothing I could say to comfort him or even reach him through so much loss and despair. I knew he must be picturing his son. He thought he’d be around to watch James take his first steps. He’d imagined a lifetime of precious moments ahead of them. He thought he’d had all the time in the world to say I love you. But the child’s life had been ended before it had even begun. Like a wisp, his soul had sailed in and out, leaving behind just the tiniest, faintest imprint on the world.

  Even though I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, I couldn’t begin to comprehend what Alex must be feeling. I couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to wake up one day to find that everyone you knew and loved was gone. They just weren’t there any more, and the world was full of strangers. And to make matters worse, you weren’t even alive to do anything about it like search for answers or seek justice.

  Alex slumped forward, fingers scraping his temples like he wanted to rip what I’d told him from his head. All I could do was sit silently and watch his back rise and fall with grief.

  When he finally looked up, his eyes were red. “I need to be alone.” He rose purposefully to his feet even though it was clear he didn’t have anywhere to go.

  “Please don’t disappear on me again,” I said. “I understand this is painful, but it’s not safe for you to be alone. At least not until we’ve figured out what’s happening.”