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H
EY,” GRACE SAID, nudging Camille in the side. “Earth to Camille.”
Camille looked up from where she’d been doodling in her workbook as the teacher cleared his throat in annoyance. She waited for him to return to his lecture before she turned to Grace beside her. “Sorry. I’m not really with it today.”
“Is everything okay? Did something else happen?” Grace whispered.
Camille paused, pretending to watch for the teacher while she pondered what to say. “No. I’m just tired. I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep lately.” Grace nodded, but her frown made it clear she didn’t buy the excuse for a second. Camille returned to her doodling, the steady drone of the teacher’s voice drifting through one ear and out the other. All she could think about was the letter and the look on Mena’s face in the dream as Caroline led her back to the manor. None of it made any sense. It was impossible. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than just a dream. Still, Camille needed more answers before she discussed it with the others.
As the teacher turned to write on the board, Grace leaned over and whispered, “I’m working tonight at the bookstore. Yes, even Woodville does late-night shopping on Thursdays. Lachlan’s keen to hang out and do some research. Do you want to come? Jayne will be keen too, and Jonathan will come if the rest of us are.”
Camille nodded. “Sure. I have to go home first, but I’ll get Mum or Dad to drop me over. What time?”
Grace shrugged. “I start at four and won’t finish ‘til nine, so whenever you want is fine. Just bring your laptop and the professor’s research.”
“Okay. I’ll get there when I can.”
CAMILLE RAN HER FINGERS over the edge of Caroline’s letter. If her friends found out she’d kept it from them, she knew they’d be annoyed, especially after how invested they all were. With a final look, she folded up the letter and gently eased it back into the envelope. Feeling guilty about keeping the secret, it seemed that showing them the letter would be a fair compromise, but she would decide whether to tell them about the dream when the time came.
Camille stifled a yawn, walked toward the wardrobe, and opened the doors. She pulled a pair of jeans off the shelf and threw them over her shoulder, then reached out for a shirt off the rack and stopped. A black item she didn’t recognise caught her eye, hanging slightly over the edge of the bottom shelf. Bending down, she grabbed the item and held it out. It was the shawl.
This can’t be happening...
There was no denying the shawl was the same one from her dream; it even had the same holes in the delicate knit. Her hands trembled as she examined it, and she couldn’t stop shaking her head. The instant sound of her phone ringing on the bedside table startled her enough that she dropped the shawl. For a minute, she stared at it on the floor, as though it were a snake intent on biting her, and her phone kept ringing. Sidling away from the shawl, worried it would somehow disappear if she took her eyes off it, she hurried toward her bedside table and picked up the phone. Jayne was calling her. Camille fought the urge to ignore the call and finally answered it.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
“Uh, Camille? Have I got you at a bad time?”
Camille sighed. “No. Sorry, Jayne. I’m just in a rush trying to get ready.”
“That’s why I rang. My mum has a shift at the hospital tonight and won’t be able to pick me up later. We’re wondering, if we pick you up and take you to the bookstore, would your parents mind dropping me home?”
“Definitely. That should be fine.”
“Awesome. I’d be right miffed if I had to miss out.”
Camille smiled at the relief in Jayne’s voice. “What time do you think you’ll be here? I’ll wait out the front for you.”
“Give us about half an hour?”
“No worries. I’ll see you soon.” Camille hung up and slipped the phone into her bag on the bed. Then she slung the bag over her shoulders and with slow steps walked back to the shawl lying on the floor. She gingerly picked it up, wanting to tell herself it was just a coincidence, but after her dream the night before, she was starting to believe more in the theory that somehow, she was being shown these things for a reason. She didn’t know whether it was the house, or the old woman, or both—or neither. But they’d only lived in the house a week and the ... activity ... was increasing with each day.
Now, even as she held the shawl, she felt her initial fear fading away. Something comforting about the worn piece of clothing tugged at her, like an early-childhood memory she couldn’t quite reach but still made her feel safe. She folded up the shawl and gently tucked it into her bag.
Camille closed the bedroom door firmly behind her and walked down the hall toward the staircase. Halfway there, she heard her parents’ laughter wafting through the house, and she followed the sound until she found them in one of the ground-floor rooms.
“Oh, hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” her father asked, approaching her to place a kiss on her forehead
“Okay.”
“Just okay?”
Camille walked past him and went to kiss her mother, who sat on a long, antique lounge. “Yeah, nothing interesting to report. But we’re all meeting at the bookstore to work on our assignments together.”
“Why the bookstore?” her father asked, sitting on the second identical lounge.
“Grace has to work tonight, so this way, she can still pitch in.”
“I wonder how much actual paid work she’ll get in with you lot there distracting her,” her mother said with a smile.
Camille rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, Mum. We won’t distract her while she’s busy. At least this way, she can still sort of join in.”
“I’m just stirring,” her mother reassured her. “Do you need a lift into town?”
“No thanks. Jayne’s mum is picking me up. But would it be okay if we took her home?”
“Not a problem.” Her mother covered a yawn.
“I can pick them up, hon,” Camille’s father said. “You look exhausted.”
“I am, but it’s an accomplished exhausted. I can’t believe how nicely this room is cleaning up.”
“It looks great, Mum.” Camille scanned the room. Between the two antique lounges with their teal upholstery sat a long, wooden coffee table gleaming with fresh polish and topped with a runner that matched the lounges. On one side of the room were three of the same beautiful windows Camille had in her own room, only these didn’t have window seats. On the right-hand wall stood an impressive fireplace, with lion heads carved into the stone on either side of the mantle. It too looked freshly scrubbed and cleaned. Spanning the length of the left wall was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf crammed with books.
“What do you call this room?” she asked.
“I think they originally would have called this a sitting room or a parlour,” her mother replied.
“It’s very lavish.”
“Well, the LeRoux’s were a very well-to-do family, despite their tragedy.”
“Is it okay if I take a look at these books when I have some time?” Camille asked, longing to drop everything and look at them now. “Of course. I suppose you could say they’re yours now.”
“Awesome. Okay, well, I told Jayne I would meet them out the front. I’ll text you later when we’re ready to be picked up, if that’s okay, Dad?”
“Sure. Go enjoy your research with your friends.”
Camille said good night and walked out into the foyer. She caught Miss McAllister; half hidden as she peered out through the staircase balustrade. They stared at each other for a few moments, and Camille fought the urge to say something horrible. Instead, she declared, “Good evening to you, Miss McAllister!” The woman scowled and retreated. Shaking her head, Camille continued to the front door and opened it just as the car lights rose up over the bend toward the house.
In the car, Camille politely answered Jayne’s mother’s friendly questions, but her mind kept returning to the letter and the shawl. Stifling a yawn, she realised how tired she was, as though with each passing day in the house, more of her energy seeped from her. The idea popped into her mind that it almost felt like the house was taking her energy from her on purpose—that in order to show her the past, it needed energy from the present. She knew if she voiced this concern, either her friends or her family would tell her she was being silly, that she just needed sleep. She tried to convince herself of the same.
As they walked into the bookstore, Grace waved at them from behind the counter where she was serving customers. Then she gestured toward where Jonathan and Lachlan lounged on a set of couches, a tray of coffees on the table before them.
“Took you girls long enough,” Jonathan joked as Camille and Jeyne joined them. “I was almost tempted to crack open a book.”
“Impatient to get started on more research, then?” Jayne asked with a raised eyebrow.
Jonathan scoffed. “Hardly. But I can’t leave you lot to your own devices while you have all the fun without me, can I?”
“Did you bring your laptop?” Lachlan asked Camille. She nodded, frustrated by the warmth she felt rushing into her cheeks under his gaze.
“It’s surprisingly busy in here tonight,” Jonathan said. “I think I heard that one of the staff called in sick. But Grace has a break in half an hour, so she said to just get started without her and she’ll pop over when she can.”
Camille reached into her bag to pull out her laptop, her hand momentarily resting on the shawl before she quickly brushed it aside. She would need to wait for Grace to join them if she was going to say anything at all.
As she stifled another yawn, Jonathan pushed the tray of coffees towards them. “You look like you could use this.”
Camille gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Oh, is one of those for me too?” Grace asked as she approached. Then she perched on the edge of the couch beside Jonathan.
“Of course!” He passed a coffee up to her before wrapping his arm around her.
“Jonathan said you didn’t have a break for another half an hour,” Jayne stated.
“I switched when I saw you guys arrive. I wanted the goss before you got started.”
“So do I,” Jonathan stated. “Lachlan told me you found some of his uncle’s research.”
“Since when are you interested in research?” Jayne scoffed, then took a sip of her coffee.
“Historically... never. But this is different. This is someone we know. Well, we don’t technically know him. You know what I mean. What are the odds that Lachlan’s uncle disappearing is connected to the manor?”
“I’m at least keen to try getting to the bottom of it,” Lachlan replied. “It can’t be a coincidence. Don’t laugh... but I think this is all happening for a reason.”
“And what reason would that be?” Jonathan asked.
Lachlan shrugged under everyone’s gaze. “I don’t know, but there has to be one. With everything Camille’s going through on top of my uncle’s research... it just can’t be for nothing.”
“You’re quiet,” Grace said to Camille. Camille nodded but still hesitated with her hand on her bag, inadvertently drawing the group’s attention to it.
“What is it?” Lachlan asked. He stood from the couch and approached Camille’s lounge to hover right there beside her. Camille lifted her bag onto her lap to make room for Lachlan to sit next to her, trying to ignore Jeyne’s sharp breath.
“Is everything okay?” Grace prompted.
Camille looked at her hands. “Things have... escalated a little.”
“Escalated?” Lachlan asked.
Camille looked up at Grace and Jonathan, feeling the intensity of Lachlan and Jayne’s stares on either side of her. Taking a deep breath, she said, “You’re going to think I’ve lost the plot this time for real. But a few things have happened at home the past couple days.”
“So, tell us,” Lachlan said. “We won’t think you’ve lost it. Whatever it is, it’s clearly worrying you.” He lifted his arm and rested it on the back of the chair. Camille had to force herself to ignore the sensation of his arm resting against her hair.
“Well, it started with a dream I had last night. Only it wasn’t a dream so much as it was a glimpse into the past. At least, that’s how it felt. Like it was something that had actually happened.”
“What was it about?” Jayne asked.
“Caroline. I didn’t know it was her at first. Not until she introduced herself.”
“She introduced herself to you?” Jonathan asked.
“No, not exactly. It was like I was there, watching. And then I was a part of it.” Camille explained the rest of the dream to them, emphasising the impression she’d had that Mena had known exactly who she was and had lied about it.
“Okay...” Jonathan said. “So that’s intense. But it’s just a dream, right? Like you said, when Caroline worked at the manor, Mena would have been in her fifties. If she’d even been alive. Not still a little girl.”
“I know. It doesn’t make any sense. But then... well, there’s something else.” Camille paused, and everyone stared at her in anticipation. “Okay, when I woke up from the dream, I wasn’t in my bed. I was lying on the floor in the attic.”
“What? Like you sleep-walked?” Grace asked.
Camille shrugged. “I guess, if I got all the way up there. The weirdest part is that when I woke up, I found this right next to me.” She reached into the bag and withdrew the letter.
“Woah, that looks old...” Jayne exclaimed. “Can I read it?”
Camille nodded and handed it over. Then she grabbed her coffee from the table and focused on that instead. Jayne read it aloud, then handed it back to Camille. The group sat in silence for a few seconds until Jonathan let out a low whistle.
Lachlan took a deep breath. “So—”
“Wait,” Camille interrupted, deciding to bite the bullet. “There’s one more thing. You guys remember the other dream I had, right? The one about the trunk and the mirror and the shawl?” They nodded, urging her to continue. “Well, just before Jayne came to pick me up, I found this in my wardrobe. It was just folded neatly on the bottom shelf.” Reaching into her bag, she gently pulled out the shawl and held it out for everyone to see.
“That’s pretty much exactly as you described it,” Grace said, standing from the arm of the couch for a closer look. “Even the holes”
“This is crazy...” Jayne reached out to touch the frail fabric.
“You’re sure it wasn’t there before?” Lachlan asked.
Camille nodded. “The wardrobe was definitely empty when we moved in.”
“Damn. I have to get back to work so Kylie can go on break,” Grace said. “I’ll come back over when I can.” She gave Jonathan a quick kiss and Camille a reassuring albeit sympathetic smile before dashing off toward the register.
“I believe you,” Lachlan stated, looking Camille straight in the eye. “I know something’s going on in that house.”
“We believe you too, don’t we, Jonathan?” Jayne jumped in, though Camille couldn’t help but wonder how much of the girl’s support was genuine and how much was just following Lachlan’s lead.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jonathan said. “But I have to admit there’s a tonne of weird stuff, and it seems to be centred around you.”
Camille gave them a grateful smile. “Good, because I’m starting to feel like I’m going crazy.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Jonathan said.
“Have you said anything to your parents?” Jayne asked.
“Not really. When I told them about seeing the old woman, they just put it down to an overactive imagination and a nightmare. I haven’t bothered telling them anything else.”
“Well, you have us,” Jayne said. “Now we just have to work out what the hell’s happening.”
“I think it’s clear someone or something is trying to tell you something,” Lachlan said. “It’s like the longer you live in the house, the more these things are revealed. Like you’re somehow giving it the energy it needs to show you.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking on the way over,” Camille said.
“It sounds like something out of a damn horror movie,” Jonathan added.
“Do you have a better theory?” Lachlan demanded, sounding on the verge of anger.
Jonathan sighed and leaned back into the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “Honestly, no. I just can’t believe we’re legitimately sitting here talking about messages from the past and ghosts and haunted manors.”
“Tell me about it,” Camille said. “I don’t think this is what my parents meant when they said moving halfway around the world would be an adventure.”
“Regardless of the how, what’s the why?” Lachlan said. “What have we learned?”
While Camille now understood where Lachlan’s intensity about the manor came from, she found it confusing. She couldn’t tell if his interest was solely in the manor, or whether his enthusiasm might have been fuelled a little more by how he felt about her. Telling herself she was being silly; Camille forced that last possibility as far back in her mind as she could and focused on what Lachlan was saying rather than what he might or might not have been thinking.
When no one answered his question, Lachlan dove in himself. “Okay, so we know Caroline’s important to the manor. She took Mena in as a daughter, only she didn’t know it was Mena. So, she called her Alice instead. Mena should have been in her fifties, not a little girl. Obviously, we can’t explain that bit now, so let’s just leave it as it is.”
“Then we have the shawl from her dream. Right here in front of us. It’s obviously connected to Camille, but we have no idea how or why. Most likely, it’s something else to do with the manor...” Jayne said.
“Don’t forget the old woman,” Camille added. “She’s been finding me from the moment we moved in.”
“It’s got to be because you’re a LeRoux,” Jayne added. “That seems pretty obvious.”
“And your similarities with Mena,” Lachlan said. “She was the last girl born into the family until you, Camille.” Jayne nodded. “It’s true,” Jayne added, and Camille wondered if she’d only imagined the other girl’s reluctance. “You fit right in, like you’ve always lived here.”
“See?” Grace said. “That settles it. A birthday sleepover at the manor. That is, as long as your parents won’t mind.”
“I’m sure we can find the room.” Camille joked.
“This is going to be so awesome!” Jayne squealed.
“What’s awesome?” Jonathan asked as he and Lachlan approached the table. “Aside from our basketball skills, that is.”
“We’re going to have a sleepover at the manor tomorrow night!” said Jayne. “Well, maybe.” She glanced at Camille. “If Camille’s parent’s say it’s okay.”
“Can we come?” Lachlan asked and took the only spare seat available, which was next to Jayne.
“Oh... so you’ve always dreamed of going to a girl’s sleepover party?” Camille joked.
Lachlan laughed in a rare expression of amusement, and she found herself revelling in the way his blue eyes brightened above his smile. “Not exactly. Though I have always wanted to spend a night in the manor.”
“I’d have to agree with that.” Jonathan casually draped an arm around Grace’s shoulders and picked up a menu with the other, eyeing it hungrily. “I’m pretty sure no one in this town can say they’ve spent time in the creepy LeRoux Manor.”
“Except me,” Camille said.
Jonathan winked at her. “Exactly. So why should you have all the fun?”
“Yeah, you’re part of the group now, remember?” Grace added with a laugh.
“Okay, okay!” Camille raised her hands in mock defence. “I’m not sure how my parents would feel about boys staying the night... But it’s not like we don’t have spare rooms.”
“We’d be on our best behaviour,” Lachlan declared, raising his hand as if swearing a vow.
Camille smiled at him and pulled her phone out of her bag to text her mother. “All I can do is ask, right?” She figured it was a question better asked via text, so her parents could think about it, rather than saying no on a call if she put them on the spot.
“Hi, guys. Congrats on the win.” Amy skated up to their table. “What can I get for you?” The girls placed their orders, and Camille’s mouth fell open when the boys listed their seemingly endless order.
Seeing her expression, Jayne laughed. “We did warn you.”
Camille smiled back at her, relieved that Jayne didn’t seem to resent her for Lachlan’s attention. At least, the thought of spending the night at the manor seemed to cool whatever resentment was there.
THE GUYS WERE IN HIGH spirits after their basketball win, and Camille found herself enjoying the carefree evening full of wisecracks and laughter. It was a nice change from conversations focusing on the manor and its mysteries. For the first time since moving to Woodville, she felt like a normal, carefree teen surrounded by good friends. She realised she now liked the thought of calling this new place her home; it almost felt like she’d always lived here.
Before she’d had the chance to fully register the thought, she felt suddenly lightheaded and queasy. She lowered a half-eaten chip to her plate and stared down at the table, forcing herself to take long, slow breaths.
“Camille? Are you okay?” Jayne asked from the opposite side of the table.
Camille didn’t trust herself to speak for fear she might be sick. All she could manage was a slight shake of her head.
“Let her out.” Grace nudged Jonathan out of the booth, half a burger still in his hand. “I’ll get you some cold water,” Grace offered as Camille slid out of the booth.
A loud rushing flooded Camille’s ears, and a wave of nausea hit her like a kick in the stomach. Tumbling to the ground, she clamped her hands over her ears, but that only seemed to make the noise louder. She had a brief thought of being trapped beneath crashing waves, the water swirling and whirling over her head. It felt as if she were about to fall through the floor itself. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the sensation to pass. At first, her friends’ voices sounded far away, but one by one, she heard their cries of concern.
Grace and Lachlan helped her to her feet, and the rushing stopped. The sudden silence left Camille stunned and completely confused.
“What happened?” Lachlan asked.
Camille looked at each of them in turn. “I have no idea.”
“Are you okay?” Grace asked.
Camille swallowed and nodded. “Just... feeling a bit lightheaded.”
“Here, sit back down.” Lachlan moved out of the way so she could sit on the edge of the booth.
Then Amy skated toward them. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Camille replied before anyone had a chance to say otherwise. Amy gave them a dubious look but took off again for her other customers.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Grace whispered.
“Yeah, I feel fine now. Just tired. That was so weird.”
“Maybe eating something will help.”
Camille gave her friend a small smile and absently picked up another chip.
