It was over.
The sun shone, and the air held the moist green breath of spring. Penny saw a lark swooping above the moor. That was always a good sign, Grandad said.
“Mum, look!” Penny said, pointing as the lark was joined by a second, and the two birds performed an aerial ballet. “Larks!”
She looked at her mum for confirmation. Mum had learned a good bit about birds from Grandad. Mum smiled sweetly back at her. Penny shook her head in mock impatience. Mum and Dad had been moony over each other all morning. Ever since that super-snog in the attic last night.
Mum stood there now by the taxi like a schoolgirl, hands clasped demurely in front of her, while Dad and Harper and the taxi man loaded their stuff in the back.
Happily things had turned out okay, and Penny was already assembling the tale in her mind; she didn’t want to leave out a single detail when she saw Em. She’d woken up that morning unburdened and floaty, smiling at her mobile as she answered Em’s text with a code of their own making: R2PE. Return to Planet Earth.
It meant everything was okay.
Then she lost signal. Mum, ever efficient, had no doubt already had the service cut off.
In the light of morning, the old pile looked kind of sad, Penny thought. It was sorry to see them go, she was sure of it. There were probably good spirits here that wanted them to stay. They had just been overpowered by the bad ones. The good spirits wouldn’t get to hang out with Penny and Harper now.
Tough tooty, as Emily would say.
The Hamiltons were outta here.
The next family would at least have a normal house to live in. Normal in the sense of ghost-free. Not normal in the sense of terminally ugly wallpaper.
Penny got in the back seat of the taxi with Mum and Harper while Dad got in front with the driver. Harper sat in the middle and took Penny’s hand.
As the taxi pulled away, Penny turned and watched out the back window. The house receded behind the big oaks lining the drive like a stain receding from the fabric of her life. She felt almost light-headed with relief at seeing it go.
They rode in silence as the taxi turned onto the roadway across the moors. Penny leaned against her window watching the landscape roll by. It all looked so serene, so innocent and peaceful. Like a scene from a calendar or postcard. Green pasture, dots of white sheep, purple heather, rolling clouds. Penny wondered if she would ever think of it that way again, ever want to set foot in Yorkshire again in her lifetime.
Harper leaned against her. She could feel his warmth through her anorak. Penny felt a rush of love for her little brother. He’d been so brave. She’d no doubt come to see him as a pest from time to time, but she would always treasure him, to a degree above and beyond anything she’d ever felt before.
Maybe that was the one good thing that had come out of all this. They all appreciated each other now. Mum and Dad were back together. And she and Harper knew they could count on each other, no matter what.
Em would say she was being melty. That was just fine.
As soon as they got to Grandad’s, where there was both good mobile service and a landline, she would call Emily and plan a get-together. Em could come and spend the night, and Harper would get to see his precious Potter. He’d been silly-weepy over breakfast while talking about his kitty. Penny had a long mental list of all that she and Harper would do when they got back to London. Maybe even ask Mum and Dad about getting a dog.
But for now it was enough to ride, squashed but safe in the backseat, melty or no, holding Harper’s hand with Mum on the other side of him, the back of Dad’s scruffy head comfortingly close in the seat just in front.
It was amazing, Penny thought, that not a single car had passed them and still not another human was in sight. It felt as if she’d been on another planet for years and years.
The only sound breaking the quiet peacefulness was the slight swooshing of the tyres on the roadway, which still shone damp from the nighttime dew.
Penny began to grow sleepy and leaned her head against the window. Harper rested his head against her arm.
CRACK.
Penny’s head shot up. She felt Harper tense and raise his head.
CRACK. Crack, crack, CRACK.
The sound of snapping twigs.
Stunned and disbelieving, Penny looked over at her mum. Her mum was using the thumb of her right hand to crack each of her fingers, one by one.
Crack, crack, crack, CRACK.
Harper’s hand squeezed Penny’s hard. She looked at her brother. His eyes were big as goose eggs, shiny with fear.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Penny twined her arm tightly with Harper’s, twisted her fingers into his. His body was rigid.
As Penny watched, her Mum’s right hand turned slightly towards her.
Penny saw the ring.
Mum’s hand wore a square silver ring, with a pulsing yellow stone set in a Ω mark.
Penny’s heart raced.
She looked at her mum’s face questioningly, begging her with her eyes to explain. To tell her this wasn’t happening, that there was some explanation.
Her mum—her bossy, brazen, headstrong mum—looked back at her shyly and smiled. A small, timid, demure smile. The smile of a meek country milkmaid.
It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
Penny’s mind spun, her thoughts raced, her chest filled with wool, and she strained to breathe.
Her dad turned around then and looked at Mum, his face filled with love. His eyes were dark and intense. His look was that of a man gazing in adoration at a prize possession.
Slowly he reached his arm into the back seat and took her mum’s hand.
He smiled at Mum, and Mum smiled back at him, like two smitten teenagers.
“I love you, Petal,” he said in a strange, rough voice.
Penny cut her eyes to Harper’s. He saw it, too; he knew. Harper looked back at her like a frightened rabbit caught in a snare.
From the front seat, their dad squinted at them, his eyes hard and full of warning.