Page 52 of We Live Here Now

51

Emily

My head is in a whirl. Could Sally really have murdered her rival, right here in this house? Maybe that’s what calmed her down. Maybe the trauma of what she’d done changed her. And what about Joe? Did he help her cover it up? Move the body?

The party has thinned right out, only Paul the vicar and our friends left, and we’re all in the poolroom. Paul’s in close conversation with Freddie, who’s now got a scarf around his neck. There’s a fire blazing, so I don’t know how he can be cold when Cat and Iso are both in thin tops and are fine. This house. This strange house.

“You all right, Emily?” Paul’s broken away from Freddie and come to join me on the small sofa. “You’re lost in thought. Something serious by the looks of it.”

“Not that serious. Not really.” I play it down, but I’m also curious to see what the vicar knows about this missing woman. He’s lived here long enough to remember it, surely. “It was something Merrily was telling me about. A woman who went missing years ago. Last seen coming to this house, back when Joe and Sally lived here. Just was weird.”

“I don’t remember anything about a missing woman. Are you thinking about your haunting?” He leans in closer. “Who was the woman?”

“A young artist called Georgina Usher.”

“I see.” He looks down at his feet. “And you think she’s haunting the Lodge?”

“Maybe she had an accident here. Maybe it’s her vibrations I’m feeling.”

There’s a long pause and then he talks, slowly and carefully. “If there’d been an accident, then the police or an ambulance would have come.”

There’s something in his tone, as if he’s testing me. I sit up straighter and look at him. Maybe he’s had his suspicions over the years. Maybe I’m the first person to say something out loud.

“Only if the people living here reported it.” I don’t use the word murder . And I don’t lay any accusations at anyone’s door, even if it’s all there in the subtext. The vicar looks at me for a long moment and I know he’s picked up on exactly what I mean. I’m so sure of it, I almost don’t hear what he says next.

“Emily.” He places a gentle hand on my arm. “Georgina Usher isn’t dead.”

I stare at him. “What do you mean? Merrily said she vanished. Never seen again.”

“Never seen back here again.” He pulls his phone out and goes to Google. “She’s a famous artist now. She lives in America. I go into that school she used to work at when the kids are getting ready for confirmation. Even though she quit without notice they’ve named their art department after her. And they have prints of her work everywhere.”

He passes me his phone. “Look.”

I stare at the dark-haired woman and the gallery wall of paintings behind her and then scan the text. I’m not really reading, my brain on fire and my face flushing. Everything he’s saying is true. This is her. There can’t be two Georgina Ushers with so much similarity in their past and of the right age. I’ve made such a fool of myself.

“Did Merrily say she’d died?” Paul asks gently. I know that tone of voice. Careful. Worried.

“No. I just—I just presumed.”

“Maybe you should let this idea of a ghost go.” He looks at me like I’m a child who’s done something stupid. “It’s just an old house, Emily. Old houses make noises. Their pipes and drains can smell. It’s easy to get lost in your imagination about those things, and being out here on the moors probably doesn’t help, but no one died in this house. There isn’t a ghost.”

“I know that.” My voice is quiet. “I’m so sorry. I just—I just got carried away for a moment. Please, please forget I said anything.”

I hurry out of the room, the heat stifling, and combined with my embarrassment, my chest is tight and I find it hard to breathe.

I go upstairs to the bathroom and lock the door, sitting on the side of the bath and taking deep breaths. He must think I’m crazy. God, what an idiot. How can I face any of them again?

When I come downstairs, Paul is saying his goodbyes and he gives me a hug as if nothing has happened, but I feel a careful resistance there and I don’t blame him.

As Cat pulls me away to put some music on, I want the house to swallow me whole.