The traffic was unusually heavy for a Wednesday evening. Consequently we were ten minutes late sneaking in to take our customary seats at the back of the class.
Mike gave us a nod of acknowledgement and carried on with his lecture.
It seemed that tonight’s class was mainly going to be about looking for the architectural details you could use to date various parts of your home. On the screen behind him appeared a selection of slides about bricks. My hand automatically made notes while my mind strayed to wondering about Steve and his gig.
He’d been happy to put the music side of his life on the back burner while we’d been together. He’d always said he was glad to be out of the music industry. I think he’d seen too much of the darker underbelly of fame to want to go back there again. Too many of his friends had fallen prey to drugs or alcohol or seen their money vanish into the pockets of dodgy managers or dodgy contracts.
He still played his guitar and sang but he hadn’t written any new music for a long time. The band days had been behind him when we’d met so I’d never actually had to cope with too many problems from jealous fans or attention from the paparazzi. Unless Nasreen counted as a jealous fan. I smiled to myself imagining posters of Steve on her bedroom wall.
“What’s so funny about drainpipes?” Lou whispered, jolting me back to the present.
“Nothing.” I made a few more notes and went back to my reverie.
Steve hadn’t mentioned the gig or that he had started writing music again to me at all. There was no reason he should have but even so, I felt a little hurt that he hadn’t. Nas had said he was in a band with Jamie and her. Even if I’d been brave enough to take a peep I don’t think I could have stood seeing Chloe and Steve singing together.
A huge sigh escaped me causing Lou to frown and poke me in the ribs with her pencil. I’d been so busy over the last few months convincing myself that I had no feelings left for Steve, that I disliked him. Then we’d fallen into bed together again.
Now I wasn’t sure how I felt.
Lou had said she thought he was still in love with me, but if he was he wouldn’t be seeing Chloe. Even if he was still in love with me it changed nothing. He hadn’t been in love enough with me to give me the foreverness that I wanted. We’d simply been drifting along in a comfortable rut and.
He’d said he loved me. We’d lived together, shared a house – lots of houses, a bank account and a cat but while I’d dreamed of a wedding and babies we’d never talked about them. It had been an unspoken assumption by everyone that knew us, me included, that that was where our relationship had been headed.
Dimly, I realised that Mike had finished talking and the rest of the class was busy helping themselves to cups of tea and chocolate biscuits. Lou plonked herself back down and deposited a stack of five biscuits onto the table in front of her. I gave her a questioning look.
“What? I’m eating for two, remember? Besides you’ve been miles away all through that talk. You’d better go and get a drink if you want one before he kicks off for the second half.” Lou crunched into her biscuit, spilling crumbs down her top.
“I bet there aren’t any biscuits left.”
She smiled sweetly and took another large bite of biscuit.
“How is the ghost hunt going? Have you found out anything else about your cottage?” Mavis, of the matching tee shirts asked, as I took the last Jammy Dodger from the plate next to the urn.
“Brian is coming on Saturday night with the paranormal team. He said someone called Beaner was coming as he knew more about the house.”
“Ooh, Beaner himself is coming? He only goes to the houses that he thinks have real psychic energy. You’re very lucky.” She looked impressed.
“What does he do then, this Beaner?”
Mavis’s eyes rounded. “He’s extremely well known in psychic circles. He can see things other people can’t see. If anyone can tell you about your ghost it’ll be Beaner. How exciting for you.”
I wasn’t sure if I was excited. Scared, maybe. Mike gave a polite cough at the front of the class to indicate that we should all get back to our seats so I couldn’t ask her anything else.
Mike had organised a picture quiz for the second half of his lecture to test us on our ability to identify architectural features so I had little opportunity to daydream or worry for the next hour. Instead I had to focus on bricks, plasterwork and downpipes.
Finally class was finished and we all packed our things away.
“We didn’t think you were coming tonight when you were late,” Mavis remarked as I stowed my notes into my folder.
“We got held up in the traffic,” Lou replied.
“It’s busy out. Somebody said there was some kind of concert on at one of the clubs and everybody was going there.” Mavis’s matching half joined us.
Lou exchanged a meaningful look with me. It sounded as if Steve’s secret gig wasn’t exactly secret. The rest of the class filed out leaving Lou and I to be last as usual.
“Fancy a drink tonight, ladies?” Mike asked.
“Why not?” I didn’t fancy going back to the cottage on my own yet. I knew I would keep thinking about Steve and his gig.
We walked across the street to our usual post-class pub.
“It’s quiet in here tonight.” Mike remarked as he handed our drinks to us.
“I think everyone is at Benny’s Bar,” Lou said.
He looked puzzled.
“Steve is playing there tonight apparently. It’s his first live performance in years. It was supposed to be a secret gig except I think the word got out.” I took a gulp of my juice and wished I wasn’t driving. I could have done with something stronger.
Mike’s face cleared. “Ah, I see.”
Lou gave me a look that clearly indicated she didn’t think he did see. I didn’t want to be drawn into any kind of discussion about Steve and his group so I told Lou and Mike what Mavis had said about Beaner.
“It sounds scary to me. I might need to bring Jamie along to hold my hand.”
Lou gave an exaggerated shudder as she spoke.
I wondered if Steve would hold my hand if I got scared.
“I’ll be interested to see if there is any historical or scientific data that emerges from the experience,” Mike mused.
A warm feeling of affection swept through me. Mike was so very down-to-earth, why couldn’t I have fallen for him instead of someone like Steve? We stayed in the pub for a while chatting about ghosts whilst Mike told us all the different ways he thought people could fake psychic phenomena and apparitions.
Eventually however Lou started to droop, so we said goodbye to Mike and I drove my sister back to her flat.
“How do you think Steve’s gig will have gone?”
I’d hoped Lou wouldn’t ask me that. I’d spent the last hour or so trying to avoid thinking about it.
“If it’s what he wants then I hope it went well.” My words didn’t sound convincing even to me.
I did wish him well. It wasn’t as if I wanted him to be unhappy. It was simply that I’d wanted him to be happy with me. Lou nibbled on her lower lip as if she wanted to say something more but she didn’t.
“When do you plan to talk to Jamie and Gary about the baby? You can’t leave it much longer, you’ll be starting to show soon.”
Lou’s face clouded. “I’m not sure, I suppose after the weekend. I was trying to get to know Jamie a bit better first before I said anything and Gary will be convinced it’s his.”
I leaned across and gave her a hug. Whenever she told them it wasn’t going to be easy. Neither of them would be pleased when they knew there was another possible father in the frame. Still at least she’d realised that she did have to say something to them about her pregnancy.
I saw Lou safely inside the entrance of her block of flats then headed back to Myrtle Cottage. Steve’s caravan was in darkness as I pulled into my parking space and I wondered if the gig had finished and where he might be. I tried not to think about who he might be with.
I’d left the kitchen lights on in the cottage so that I wouldn’t be returning to a dark house. The garden path was much easier to negotiate since I’d cut back the brambles and the weeds. I let myself in through the back door and smelled the by now familiar scent of lavender. Mr Flibble was absent, presumably on mouse patrol in the outhouse and the cottage was quiet.
* * *
Father is not speaking to me. I feel the weight of his sorrow and anger whenever he looks in my direction. I pray every night for Joshua, that he might come to no harm and return quickly. Although I have not told Father that Joshua is the father of my baby I suspect that he has guessed the truth. I hope that Joshua is safe and that this wretched conflict will soon be at an end. Mayhap father would be happy if we were wed - if he did not keep his pledge to run my lover through with a sword first.
* * *
Outside an owl hooted and sounded so close I startled. I opened the door to the hall to turn on the lights. My hand paused over the switch. Ahead of me in the long corridor I saw two tiny globes of light winking and floating in the darkness.
My mouth dried and the hairs on my arms stood to attention as I watched them bob and dance in mid air. Then, as quickly as they had appeared they vanished leaving the hall in complete darkness once more. I snapped on the light, banishing any darkness from the space, and then ran around the house turning on all the lights.
Finally I returned to the kitchen and sank down onto one of the pine chairs, my legs shaking. With the cottage ablaze with light so no more freaky floating lights could come and get me I began to feel better. Saturday couldn’t come soon enough for me. I’d had enough of this.
I wished Mr Flibble were with me. At least with my cat there was another living, breathing live body in the house. Being alone like this in the cottage was too scary. I’d never been able to watch horror films and being trapped in the middle of my own personal version wasn’t exactly soothing for my nerves.
I stayed in the kitchen for a while listening for any more of the strange footsteps or sounds of sobbing or singing that I thought I’d heard before. The lavender scent seemed to fade while I sat there and the only noise was the sound of the owl outside in the garden still calling for its mate.
Eventually I grew brave enough to leave the kitchen and go around the house turning off the various lights. Finally there was just the landing light, the bathroom and my bedroom light left on. I washed quickly in the half-finished bathroom and changed into my nightshirt.
As I made my way back to my bedroom I half-wondered if I’d imagined the lights in the hall. Maybe they had merely been moths fluttering in the darkness. Even as I tried to rationalise what I’d seen I knew the twin lights hadn’t been insects. I switched off the landing light and closed my bedroom door behind me. The sooner I went to sleep the better. In the daylight no doubt all of this would seem like a bad dream.
Once in bed, I lay and watched the pattern made by the moonlight shining through the leaded panes of my window. I couldn’t bring myself to close the curtain, needing to keep some light within the room. I had just started to fall asleep when I heard a noise downstairs in the kitchen.
Instantly awake I sat up straining to work out what exactly I’d heard. My heart hammered against my chest and I looked around my room for a possible weapon. The only thing to hand was one of my canvas espadrille sandals which had a chunky wedge heel. I grabbed it and crept to my bedroom door, avoiding the squeaky floorboard.
There was definitely someone moving around downstairs in the kitchen. I peered across at my window, bending my head to try and see if there was any sign of life in Steve’s caravan. I cursed myself for leaving my mobile downstairs. In my preoccupation with the mystery lights I’d left my bag on the kitchen table.
Gripping my sandal tighter in my sweaty palm I made my way slowly down the stairs hoping my mystery intruder would simply turn out to be Mr Flibble upsetting his dish on the tiled floor.
Cautiously I pushed the kitchen door open a crack and peered in. The silvery light of the moon threw shadows across the sparse furnishings. The scent of lavender was back and in the far corner by the Aga a column of mist, fine and shimmery with silver, rose into the air.
* * *
I sense the spirit woman carries the same burden of despair that weighs so heavily on my own shoulders. Sometimes as I go about my household duties I sense her near me. I long to be able to speak to her, to find out what grieves her so and why she is here in my home.
* * *
I banged the door back shut and ran back up the stairs to barricade myself in my room. I turned on my lamp and dived under my duvet. There was no way I was prepared to go back downstairs until morning.