Page 41 of Love At First Fright

Juliet walked over to the window and stood facing out, her edges hazing like a mirage against the dawn. She stood for a while in quiet contemplation.

“I don’t think we can go back to how it was before.”

“No.”

Juliet rested a hand on the glass, frosting the pane.

“I don’t think I want us to.”

“What do you want, Juliet?”

The ghost turned to look at Rosemary, silver tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I want to not hate myself anymore, for what I am. I want to stop imagining what my father and mother would say if they knew. I want…Cecilia. I want her to know how I feel.” She swiped the tears away with the back of her hand in a gesture that was almost unladylike.

“Will you help me?”

—

How many candles could someone steal from the props department over the course of one day without creating a scene?

Twenty-three on her own, but with a ghost accomplice, a solid forty-five.

Juliet had been fussing by Rosemary’s side all day, desperate to set her grand gesture in motion.

She chatted in Rosemary’s ear all through the morning filming, voicing every one of her anxieties about the plan, as well as telling her how pretty Cecilia would look in the candlelight.

It seemed that now she was out of the ghostly closet, Juliet wanted to do her yearning out in the open.

As the filming day drew to a close, Juliet and Rosemary carried their squirrelled-away candles into the forest. Well, Rosemary did all the carrying, otherwise it would have appeared to any onlooker as if a bag or a bunch of candles was floating beside her—not exactly inconspicuous.

The sun had long since set, the evening was clear and crisp.

They placed candles in the arched windows, bare sconces, and moss-covered altar of the chapel.

The air smelt of lit matches and the green scent of the woods.

It was peaceful, working in silence around the chapel, lighting one candle after the other.

The only sound was the brush of matches and the quiet rustling of a magpie that had built its nest in the rafters.

The full moon hung above them, already waning.

Rosemary thought about showing this to Ellis; he had introduced her to this place, after all. But could she tell him why she was here, and why she was lighting all these candles ? I’m helping a ghost perform a grand romantic gesture felt like the sort of thing that would have Ellis running a mile.

Still, a part of her felt sour at keeping it all a secret. Time was ticking for her to tell Ellis about Hank, too, she just didn’t see a way of broaching it. The thing between them was delicate, and Rosemary’s ability might break it.

“What time is it?” Juliet fretted, pacing up and down the aisle.

“Six p.m. ”

“Do you think she’ll have found my note?”

“Yes.”

Rosemary waved the final match and stood back to admire her handiwork. The chapel no longer carried the same gothic gloom. The moss and ivy, lit by the candles, were like emeralds nestled in the walls, and the ghostly magic that clung to Juliet painted her in almost angelic light.

“What if she doesn’t come? This was a mistake, Rosemary. She won’t come and she’ll hate me forever.”

“Just give it time, she’s not late yet.”

“What if she doesn’t want me back? After all of this, I don’t think I can go on if she doesn’t know how much I love her.”

Rosemary heard a sharp inhale of breath behind her. Cecilia was standing in the doorway, looking for all the world like a bride on her wedding day.

“You love me?”

A grin lit up Juliet’s face, and for a second, Rosemary thought she could glimpse the kind of woman Juliet had been in life. “Ruinously so, my darling,” she said, crying, rushing into Cecilia’s arms.

“Will you have me,” Juliet asked, “for however long we have? For whatever comes next?”

“Yes, yes, finally! You foolish woman.” Cecilia pulled Juliet to her.

The ghosts embraced, first with tentative kisses, but when Juliet tugged Cecilia’s lips fervently to hers, the kiss became more heated.

Rosemary, momentarily struck dumb from witnessing the entire thing, came to her senses and slipped away.

Waiting outside, as if he’d been tagging along with Cecilia for company, was Hank. She bent down, feeling his feather-light fur under her palm.

“Good boy. I think we helped, didn’t we?

” she said to him. “No more falling chandeliers.” But it was more than that, Rosemary knew.

All her life she’d been able to see ghosts, but never, never had she been able to help one.

She hadn’t realised until now how powerless she’d felt, watching so many of them stuck in cycles that kept them here.

“If I throw you a stick, will you run after it?”

Hank tilted his head at her, ears flopping.

“Who are you talking to?”

Ellis was standing in front of her, and Hank ran up to him, jumping and excited.

“What are you doing here?”

“I saw you traipsing into the woods with a bag full of candles like an hour ago, I just wanted to check if you were okay.”

“Damn, I thought I was being subtle.” Rosemary smiled, but didn’t feel it reach her eyes. Now that she was in the moment, she wasn’t ready. What if their relationship was too fragile for this? What if the hagstone didn’t work and he thought she was insane?

“I was putting the candles up in the ruins,” she said.

“Okay. What for?” Ellis walked over, pulling her into his arms as if it was second nature.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

Ellis smiled. “Try me.”

Rosemary looked down at Hank, the way his tail had now partially faded to nothing. It was now or never.

“I can see ghosts.”

“Ghosts.” He paused for a long time. “And the candles?”

“It’s a long story, but I had to help these two Regency ghosts make up, they were the ones causing all the accidents on set. The candles were part of a, um, grand gesture.”

Ellis shook his head as if he was trying to wake himself.

“ Ghosts. ”

“Yeah.”

“Are the ghosts…here right now?”

“Juliet and Cecilia? No, I think they’re still in the chapel.”

He nodded slowly. “How can I…? I want to believe you love, I really do, but how, how can this be possible?”

Rosemary looked up at the full moon, and when she pulled the hagstone out of her pocket it felt heavier, almost pulsing and a touch warm. The veil was thin, the time had come to tell him, even if it cost her.

“I think I have a way to prove it to you, but…it might be difficult.”

Ellis walked over to a stone bench just outside the chapel doors. He pulled his coat tighter around himself, and bathed in the moon and candlelight, all Rosemary could see was the confusion racking his features.

Tentatively, Ellis patted the bench beside him.

“If there’s a way, then I want to know. Rip the bandage off.”

Rosemary sat and took his hand. Hank was sitting at Ellis’s feet, his silver head resting on Ellis’s foot.

“When you first told me what Hank looked like, I wasn’t surprised. Because”—she met Ellis’s eyes—“because I had already seen him. Hank—Hank’s ghost—has been with you.”

Ellis exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “What do you mean, with me?”

“I think, when you die, you get the chance to move on to whatever comes next. Some people move on, some people don’t, and some people get stuck here for a little while before they figure it out.

With animals, I’m less sure about the rules.

I spoke with Cecilia, one of the ghosts, and she told me that sometimes animals who were pets, they don’t move on.

They choose to stay by their owner’s side, even if their owner can’t see them, until they fade.

And that’s what Hank has been doing, I think. He’s been by your side, all this time.”

Ellis shook his head more firmly this time, his hands coming up to aggressively wipe the tears falling down his cheeks.

“All this time? You mean…he’s here right now?”

Rosemary nodded. She handed Ellis the hagstone.

“Hold this to your right eye, and look down.”

Ellis stuttered a breath, and took the hagstone with shaking hands. When he put it to his eye, his voice broke into a soft sob. Gently, anguish raking over his face, Ellis reached down a hand.

“Hi, sweet boy.”

Hank’s tail wagged furiously, hearing Ellis speaking to him. He nuzzled and licked Ellis’s hand, jumping up to rest his front paws on Ellis’s shins. Ellis sat back, and patted his thighs, and Hank jumped up to his lap.

“Oh god, I missed you so much.” Ellis bent down and buried his face into Hank’s fur, even if he couldn’t feel it. Hank was wriggling, jumping up at Ellis, pressing his paws against his owner’s chest.

“You’re such a good boy, I missed you so much. My best boy.” Ellis cried softly. Hank barked, and Rosemary thought she heard a wisp of sound.

“I’d always imagined him running through sunny fields with endless bones or something,” Ellis said, running his hands along Hank’s coat.

“He was running through fields, with you and Fig.”

“Fig can…see him?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

“That explains a lot, actually.” Ellis swiped the tears from his face. “How come I can see him? What is this thing?”

“The hagstone lets you see ghosts, only during a full moon, though.”

“So after this, I won’t be able to see him again?” Ellis looked down at Hank, who was nuzzling into his arms.

“Ellis, I think Hank needs to move on. He’s fading, and I don’t know what comes next, if it’s the same for animals as it is for the rest of us, but Hank needs you to let him go.”

Under the moonlight, in the still cold air, Rosemary watched as Ellis said goodbye.

“Can you forgive me, sweet boy? For that night?”

Hank tilted his head to the side again, and seemed to reply by giving Ellis’s hand a sloppy lick.

“Thank you, Hank. I know you can’t understand me, but you saved me.

Again and again, just by being there. My life was fuller because of you.

I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. And I love you, so much.

” He patted the air softly. “You can go now, sweet boy.” Hank stilled, as if Ellis’s words were settling over him.

Rosemary felt the air around them swell and for a second the world grew soft and permeable.

She heard a raspy bark, as if down a long echo, and Hank dissolved into moonlight.

Ellis tipped forwards and buried his face into Rosemary’s neck, and she stroked his hair.

“Stay with me tonight?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“I would love to.”

Together, they returned to the Gatehouse.

He’s not afraid, he’s not running away, she reassured herself, but she didn’t truly believe it until she knocked on Ellis’s door and found him sitting in bed, Fig snoring at his feet.

“Warmed it up for you,” Ellis said as Rosemary climbed into the bed. They’d only spent the one weekend together, but climbing into bed with Ellis already felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt like home.

“So, you’re a clairvoyant. Or a medium? Ghost whisperer? What’s the technical term?”

“You know, I’ve never really picked one. I sort of think of it as this weird little quirk of my family, or at least my mother’s side.”

“I can’t believe ghosts are real. So you said there were two in the house, Juliet and Emilia?”

“Cecilia. They were in a fight, but it turned out one of them had just been stuck in the closet for a couple of hundred years.”

“You helped a ghost come out?”

“Mm-hmm. Can you imagine being stuck in the closet all that time? I’m not surprised Juliet was so bitter.”

For a moment Rosemary saw Ellis’s face contort into a pained expression, but he masked over it fast. “Yeah, that would be horrible.”