Page 64 of We Live Here Now

63

Emily

“Hello again, Fortuna.”

The old lady’s in the same chair as before, a cup of tea beside her, but this time with a thick blanket over her knees. She looks like she’s lost a little weight. More fragile than on my last visit. “Do you remember me? I live up at Larkin Lodge.”

“I remember.” Her eyes dart my way, narrow and suspicious. “The woman I don’t know.”

“I brought you some chocolates.” I hold up a box I picked up at the local shop on my way. “Thought you might like them.”

She doesn’t thank me but nods slightly, still suspicious but appeased, and I peel off the cellophane and open them for her, putting them next to her tea.

“You know, I heard a funny story the other day about when you lived in Larkin Lodge. From a woman who played there when she was a little girl.” I smile, I hope in a kindly way. “It was about your husband, Gerald. Something she thought she saw on the top floor. She was hiding in a cupboard there.”

Her eyes flash at me, sharp. “Doesn’t matter what she saw; he’s dead now. He can’t come back.” Her sudden staccato words are tiny dry twigs snapping. A voice left too long unused. My heart beats faster.

“He died of cancer, didn’t he? How awful.”

Her eyes drift out to the garden and she lets out a sigh. “We were happy after I killed him. My beautiful Gerald.” Her eyes glisten as I stare at her while she stares out into the past.

We were happy after I killed him.

My head spins with a sudden thought, crazier than the house being haunted. Is it possible that something in that room upstairs brings people—anything dead—that’s put inside it back to life? That raven, so alive this morning, was the one I saw dead, I’m sure of it. But if the dead come back to life, then there can’t be any ghosts. What’s been trying to send me messages in the house if there are no ghosts?

Find it.

Fortuna takes a chocolate and chews it slowly, lost in her own thoughts of the past. I lean forward, closer to her, as if I’m about to whisper a secret.

“When I was last here,” I say gently, “you said you found it but you put it back. You didn’t use it. What did you find? Is it something in Larkin Lodge?”

“The book, of course.” She looks at me as if I’m stupid. “What else would I be talking about?”

“Of course. The book.” I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I play along. “You didn’t use it.”

“I found it when we were moving.” She gives me a sly grin, little rivulets of chocolate-tinged saliva in the deep wrinkles around her mouth. “I didn’t use it. Too late now.”

The door opens and a nurse bustles in. “I’m sorry to cut your visit short, but we’ve got doctor’s rounds today.”

I almost ask for five more minutes, but Fortuna cuts in.

“She’s leaving now.” Her expression hardens as if she realizes I’ve gleaned precious information from her. “She won’t be coming back.”

I barely feel the cold when I get outside to the car.

Too late now.

My head is spinning. I need to get back to the house and think.

“Hope you weren’t too cold. I forgot to say I’d opened the window.”

Freddie’s home when I get back to Larkin Lodge, and I’m so distracted by my visit with Fortuna that I’m momentarily confused and have no idea what he’s talking about and then realize he means the third-floor bedroom window. He’s coming down the stairs in jeans and a sweater, changed from work, and the house is baking again.

At least now I know how the dead bird got back in. Through the open window. But how did it come through the window if it was dead? Had it somehow ended up on the roof and blew in with a wind? It was as if someone had thrown it back inside, but that’s ridiculous.

“Where have you been?”

“Oh, just out for a coffee. Stroll around the village. Trying to get back into driving again.” I don’t meet his eyes as I follow him into the kitchen. “Thought I’d give it a go before the snow comes.”

“Be careful. Those turns can be dangerous in the mist.”

“How come you opened the window? I thought you were always cold here.”

“I could smell puke.” He pulls out a cheese slice from the fridge to snack on. “You know, from Iso.”

“Of course.” My skin prickles. He’s not being honest with me. The house didn’t smell of sick. She didn’t make a mess. She threw up, yes, but straight into the toilet. There is something going on in this house, and Freddie can’t bring himself to admit he was wrong.

“I’ve volunteered to take on some extra stuff at work.” He changes the subject from the upstairs room, and I let him.

“Straight into it at the new branch then.” I don’t have the energy to argue, and he’s never going to tell me that maybe I was right. I was hoping he wouldn’t be back for a while and I could have some quiet time to think and search again, but as that’s not possible, I don’t want to fill the evening with fighting.

“Yeah, covering some accounts while someone’s on sabbatical leave. May have to work longer hours for a bit.”

“That’s fine. Every little bit will help until we sell this place.” I reach into the cupboards to see what we can have for dinner. Pasta again, no doubt. And wine. Cheap and hopefully cheerful. Anything to help ease this awkwardness between us. I should tell him about the money that’s on the way. I really should. We could play music and dance around the kitchen and feel the relief of all our financial problems being solved. I should tell him, but his lie about why he opened the window has annoyed me. It makes me want to punish him a little longer.

Sometimes I wonder if this house is bringing out the worst in us.