Page 98 of The Women of Wild Hill
There were mushroom bruschetta and mushroom canapés. For anyone who turned their nose up at mushrooms, there were bite-size meatballs with mushroom puree hidden inside. There were even desserts with mushroom-laced icing. Sibyl had done everything possible to ensure none of the guests would be leaving alive. She’d brought along a syringe filled with mushroom broth. She’d make use of it if, just by chance, someone declined to eat.
Her mother hadn’t returned to the kitchen, but she didn’t have time to worry. If she had, her mother’s whereabouts at that very moment would have been low on a very long list. It was time to serve the guests. Sibyl took off her apron, grabbed a platter, and pushed through the kitchen door. The room at the end of the hall appeared to be emptying and the guests filing outside.
A hand caught her arm and pulled her back into the shadows.
“Shhhh!” Phoebe said.
“What’s going on?” Sibyl whispered.
“It’s a witch hunt,” Phoebe whispered. “They’re going to kill Brigid.”
“Oh my god. Where is she?”
The guests were gone and only one person remained behind in the living room.
“I don’t know. Stay here.” Phoebe made a beeline for Liam. “You’re really going to let this happen?”
“This is the path I chose,” Liam replied calmly. “I promised Bessie I would follow it faithfully. When the guests return, I’ll be down by the beach.”
Phoebe recoiled. “Brigid told you about Bessie?”
“I’ve known Bessie for decades,” said Liam. “She’s the one who sent me.”
THE NIGHT HE MET THEghost, he followed his father to Wild Hill as he had several times in the past. He stood between the trees on the other side of the road and watched his dad try to scale the gate. Something always appeared to stop him. A swarm of locusts. A sudden assault by hail. On the night in question, it was an unkindness of ravens, swooping down from the sky to peck away at his flesh. Only when his glasses’ lenses were cracked did Calum give up and slink away.
With his father gone, Liam approached the gate. A raven looked down at him. Then it issued a sound somewhere between a croak and a belch. To Liam’s ears, it sounded likewelcome. He grasped a handful of vines and found a foothold. Then, expecting the flock to return at any moment, he slowly made his way to the top. An instant later, he landed on his feet on the other side.
He’d heard no one had visited the property in the years since Flora Duncan had died. But it didn’t look abandoned. Anything but. The caretaker’s house appeared as though the owners had just stepped out. They’d left clothes on the floor and fresh food in the fridge.
Exploring the grounds of the enormous mansion that stood looking out over the sound, he came across five chunks of granite standing at the crest of the hill. Each was engraved with a woman’s name. The stone at the end of the line readFlora. The woman who lay there had altered his life irrevocably, but he’d never actually met her.
“She was a lovely person,” said a voice. “You would have liked Flora.”
A woman in a simple white dress was standing beside him. It was cold, but her feet were bare and her arms exposed.
“I’m so sorry.” Liam stepped off the grave. “I thought the estate was abandoned. I wasn’t aware anyone lived here.”
“I don’t live here,” the woman replied. “I don’t live anywhere. I’m dead.”
“You look pretty good for a corpse.” Liam didn’t believe her.
“I’m not a corpse,” the woman informed him. “I’m a ghost. My name is Bessie, and I have been on Wild Hill for four hundred years.”
Liam’s smile weakened. He felt less confident now. The woman was quite clearly insane. “That’s a very long time,” he offered indulgently.
“It is, indeed. I’m hoping you can help change that. But first, perhaps, you can tell me whyyou’rehere.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. He knew the answer—that the place had been calling him. He’d dreamed about it. Ridden past on his bike a thousand times. He’d felt its pull for years but only now had he felt ready to visit.
“I just wanted to see the estate for myself. My father is a man named Calum Geddes. He used to spend time on Wild Hill. He claimed to be in love with Flora, but I honestly don’t know if he’s capable of loving anyone.”
“He was in love with her,” Bessie assured him.
“So you knew them?”
“Certainly. I know everyone who’s visited over the past four hundred years.”
The idea was beginning to seem less strange to Liam. “I thought my father might have had something to do with Flora’s death.”
