Page 13 of We Live Here Now

“It wasn’t me, Iso.”

“The two people who believe in the supernatural are in charge of the planchette and it moved. Hardly a surprise.” Freddie’s still annoyed. He’s never liked any of this stuff. “I think they were both playing with us.”

I shrug. I’m not going to fight with Freddie in front of a guest, and I don’t want the vicar thinking I’m crazy. Maybe I did do it. Maybe Iso did. I rub my fingertips together. I can still feel thedragof the planchette under them. My head’s throbbing slightly, and I wish we’d never gotten the board out at all.

“I suppose if anywhere was to be full of restless spirits, then Larkin Lodge is probably a likely candidate. Given where it stands.”

“What do you mean?” I sit up straighter, ignoring the awful pain in my leg that tells me I’m late for my painkillers.

“Don’t tell me this house was built on an old Indian burial site,” Russell says.

“Or aPet Sematary,” Freddie adds, the two exchanging a smile.

“A crossroads,” Paul says. “It’s built on a crossroads.” He sees our confused faces and leans his arms on the table, as if about to impart a secret or tell a ghost story himself. “Ah, I take it you don’t know what crossroads were used for?”

We shake our heads, and while Iso’s eyes glitter with excitement, I’m not sure I actually want to know.

“Well, it was an unpleasant practice and stopped nearly two hundred years ago but harkens back to when suicide was deemed acrime against both God and oneself. Those who took their own lives couldn’t be buried on consecrated ground.” He takes a sip of wine before continuing. “They were laid face down and staked through the chest to the earth. Sometimes their heads would be cut off and placed between their legs. It was supposed to tether their spirits to the earth and leave the damned souls unsure of which path to take to leave. Stuck on a crossroads for all eternity. A barbaric way to treat people.”

He sits back and drinks more wine, letting that sink in. “I’m sure the ground must have been blessed since then.” Paul smiles reassuringly at us. “Several times over, as there’s been a house here in one form or another for at least three hundred years.”

“And no juicy murders?” Mark asks. “No victim who could be Emily’s ghost?”

“Not so far as I know.” Paul smiles kindly at me. “And as much as I am a believer in the Holy Spirit, I’m less a believer in trapped souls. I have faith that we’re claimed by one side or another after death and no one is forgotten. But if you’d like, I could bless the house again.”

“We’re not believers, I’m afraid,” Freddie says. “Your prayers would fall on stony ground.”

His attempt to use the Bible for humor makes me cringe. Freddie’s never been as funny as he thinks he is.

“Well, if you change your mind, you can find me at either the church or my house. It’s only a corner cut across the moor.”

“I’m sure it’s just an old house making noises,” I say, as if I’m taking the potential haunting in as lighthearted a manner as everyone else.

“And I’m sure you’re right.” Paul squeezes my hand with his papery dry one and smiles around the table. “Now, thank you for your wonderful hospitality but I must get home. Have a lovely evening.”

Cat goes with Freddie to see the vicar out, Russell pours more wine, and Iso gives me a half smile, and I know that even if I ask her again, she’ll deny she was moving the planchette. But it musthave been her if it wasn’t me. That’s the logical truth of the matter, whatever I feel.

I’m suddenly exhausted, my leg and my hips throbbing and my headache getting worse. I can barely keep my eyes open. As I pick up some empty pudding plates to help clear up, the thought echoes in my head.What other explanation could there be?

16

Freddie

I knew something was off with Mark as soon as they arrived, and when Iso insisted we go and get that stupid Ouija board from the outhouses he started probing me with all his questions as if heknowssomething. I’d had a feeling he’d wanted to get me on my own all day and I was right. Well, he didn’t get anything out of me. My secrets are still safe. Just. I should have been better at answering his recent texts. I forget how well he can read me after all these years of friendship. He knows when I’m hiding something, I start to hide myself.

I lean against the locked bathroom door, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Whatever Mark thinks he knows, he doesn’t really know anything. But even if he doesn’tknow, he definitely suspects. At least it was dark and wet outside and he couldn’t see my face as I tried to laugh it off. Has he shared his thoughts with Emily?

Despite the freezing cold up here, I’m overheating with nerves and my stomach clenches, threatening to force me to vomit up all that food.Think, Freddie, think.He can’t have done. I’d know. Emily would have lost her shit. But if Mark suspects, how long will it be before Emily does? God, I’ve been so stupid. So bloody stupid.

I need to stop this, I tell myself for the hundredth time. I don’t need it. Emily’s alive and I have to look after her, get this ship on an even keel. She’s not back to her normal self yet, that’s for sure. All this talk about ghosts. She moved that planchette herself, but I don’t know if she even realizes it. Is her mind playing tricks on her? Post-sepsis symptoms?

Maybe it’s a good thing for now. I need the time.

I have to stop. I have to.

I close the lid and sit on the toilet, my phone in my sweaty palm. Emily’s never been the sort to go through my phone, but I have to delete everything incriminating just in case. And then I’ll end it. No more.

17

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