Childish Spirits Page 9

  “That’s why,” she whispered. “That’s why she hates the family so much. And Edward… Edward’s the only one left to remind her of them.”

  She frowned. But why had Miss McKendrick only come back now? What had changed? She’d only appeared a few days ago… after they’d moved in…and Miss Harvey had moved out.

  “Miss Harvey!”

  Fighting the pain, Ellie headed for the stairs.

  Downstairs, a scene of devastation met her eyes. Water was pouring into the ground floor of the house. A panel was open in the hall, and she guessed the other panels were open in the library, and by the dining room. The water was already a foot deep.

  She understood, now, why Miss McKendrick had chosen water as her way of destroying the Manor.

  Ellie stood for a moment.

  What should she do? She had to get to Miss Harvey – but Mum and Charlie were in the flat, asleep.

  She came to a decision.

  She waded over to one of Marcus’s new fire alarm points, picked up a small, brass ornament from the hall table, and smashed the glass.

  An ear-splitting klaxon tore through the Manor.

  Ellie had no time to wait to see the result. But she knew that even Charlie wouldn’t be able to sleep through that. She could almost hear Mum, taking charge: “Come on! Outside! Now!”

  Ellie moved, as quickly as she could, towards the front door.

  Forcing herself to ignore her throbbing ankle, her pyjama trousers soaked, Ellie ran into the night.

  She hadn’t been outside the Manor in darkness before. Her footsteps on the gravel paths sounded louder, and every bush and trailing branch seemed to be a hand put out to bar her way.

  By the time she reached the road, she was utterly exhausted, and her ankle hurt like mad. But still she ploughed on, thankful that the village was only half a mile away.

  She knew where to find Miss Harvey. Mum had pointed out the cottage when they drove through the village on arrival.

  Ellie could only just make out the sign by the door.

  Inglenook.

  That was where Miss Harvey was now living with a friend.

  Standing on the doorstep, cold, wet, gasping for breath, Ellie pressed the doorbell.

  There was no response. Desperately, she rang again and again.

  “I hear you!” a sharp voice answered from within. “I hear you. Now, if you boys disturb our peace just once more…”

  The door opened. Miss Harvey stood there, in an immaculate dressing-gown, looking annoyed.

  Her annoyance vanished as soon as she saw her caller.

  “Ellie!”

  It was too much for Ellie. She almost fell into the cottage, unable to move another step.

  “Dear goodness, what’s happened?” Miss Harvey put her thin arms around Ellie’s shoulders. “All right, all right, calm yourself. You’re here now.”

  She guided Ellie inside.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I’m sorry there’s no milk.” Miss Harvey passed a mug of tea to Ellie. “My friend was supposed to do the shopping this morning. But she’s been called away to the hospital. Her sister had an operation on Friday… I’ve put plenty of sugar in.”

  Ellie took the mug gratefully, cradling its warmth in her hands.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now.” Miss Harvey took a chair next to Ellie. A warm fire was burning. Ellie had a blanket around her and her trainers were steaming quietly in the hearth. “Tell me everything.”

  Ellie obeyed. There was so much to tell, and Miss Harvey was the first adult she’d been able to confide in. She held nothing back, no matter how unbelievable it all sounded. Edward… Miss McKendrick and her guise as Moira… the old letters… and the journal.

  The more she told, the more she felt relieved. She hadn’t realised just how much she’d been bottling up. For the past few days, her only real friend had been a ghost.

  Miss Harvey didn’t interrupt once. She sat listening intently, every line of her face set in concentration.

  When Ellie had no breath left to continue, Miss Harvey rose slowly from her chair.

  “I was afraid this would all blow up again. Once I left… I almost told that silly man from Journeyback, then I thought: what’s the point? It’s all ancient history.”

  “You know about Miss McKendrick, then?” Ellie asked.

  “And what the Fitzberrangers did to her.” Miss Harvey went to a tall bookcase that stood near the door. “You know, Ellie, I’ve never really understood this modern obsession with tracing one’s ancestors. They seldom do anything of which one is particularly proud.”

  With difficulty, she reached for an upper shelf. Ellie moved to help her.

  Miss Harvey reached down a large box-file.

  “I brought certain things with me. I’d no idea there was so much still at the house.”

  They went back and sat by the fire. Miss Harvey opened the file. It revealed a store of old documents almost as big as that which Ellie had found.

  “I was always aware,” Miss Harvey said, “that there had been sightings. Young Edward has been seen by visitors to the house throughout the decades.”

  She picked out a yellowing newspaper cutting.

  Ellie looked at it. It was dated 1976, from a local paper, and the headline read:

  Boy’s ghost let my tyres down! Is Manor haunted?

  Ellie smiled.

  “That sounds like him.”

  “There have been other sightings too,” Miss Harvey said. “Nothing confirmed, of course.” She passed another cutting. “One as far back as 1938… and here’s a letter someone wrote to me after staying in the 1990s…”

  “What about Miss McKendrick?” Ellie returned to the question that was filling her mind. “Why has she only just come back now?”

  “Miss McKendrick is another story altogether.” Miss Harvey reached deeper into the filing box. “There were sightings of her as well, in the early days – after she passed away. A letter here says she was seen outside the housekeeper’s room just after Edward’s father died in 1910. She was clearly heading for the nursery.”

  She lifted out a black-bound notebook.

  “Then, after Sally and her husband inherited the estate, the situation changed. There have been no further sightings of Miss McKendrick from nineteen hundred and ten until now.”

  She flicked through several neatly-handwritten pages.

  “And this explains why.”

  Ellie looked.

  It was another journal.

  November 9th 1910

  I cannot speak to Mortimer… he would never believe it, and this whole matter is best closed. But that woman has been seen again! The parlour-maid saw her on the staircase, and was nearly hysterical. I knew that as long as Miss McK. was here… free to roam the house, and the nursery… that my poor dear brother could never rest in peace. And I feared for the welfare of our own child, whose coming is near.

  I have taken measures. Mortimer must never know, as he disapproves of spiritualism. Miss Boscoe, my palmist in the village, has an awareness of these matters. And she told me it is possible to create a barrier against such evil spirits. Not exorcism, nothing that need concern the Bishop. In any case, I believe that even the most obnoxious of spirits has the right to a certain freedom.

  No, this method is, if you like, the opposite of a curse. A sort of spell that can be used to bring peace and blessing to a house, via one of its occupants. Namely, myself.

  I visited Miss Boscoe this afternoon. She is truly an eccentric lady, yet somehow I always feel safe with her. There was a strange aroma as I entered her cottage… incense. On the table were the crystal and the cards. One would hardly think she sings in the choir.

  She told me of the risk I would take… the power that would flow through me as keeper of the spell. Such things can have harmful effects… even shorten life. She assured me, however, that our baby would be safe.

  I gave my agreement. We chose my symbol of office. Then she held my hands and
spoke the words. I have really very little Latin… but it was something about life… and happiness… and freedom. As she spoke, her eyes were burning… and for a moment, I saw the crystal blaze with light.

  I felt quite ordinary, afterwards. And I was back at the Manor long before tea.

  Now, it is done. As long as I remain in residence at Inchwood… or those females who come after me… our home shall be free from the influence of Miss McK.

  I hope and pray for a daughter.

  “There was a daughter,” Miss Harvey said. “And later, a son. There have always been female Harveys at Inchwood from then… until now.”

  She sighed deeply.

  “I’m horribly afraid that this is all my fault.”

  “So that’s it!” Ellie cried. “Sally… and all those who came after her… kept Miss McKendrick away. Including you.”

  She hesitated.

  “So what now? We can’t ask you to come back. And it’s too late, anyway. She’s got her revenge. She’s got Edward.” She frowned. “What did Sally mean – symbol of office?”

  She looked down at the journal again. At the bottom of the page, Sally had drawn a strange, swirling shape.

  Ellie pointed it out.

  “Miss Harvey? Do you know what this is?”

  “No,” Miss Harvey said. “It occurs a few times in the journal. People of those days used coded symbols in their diaries quite a lot… there’s no knowing what they meant.”

  “No, hang on!” Ellie stared hard at the shape. “I’ve seen this somewhere before…”

  She picked up the journal and rotated it.

  “If you turned this picture upside down, and mirrored it…”

  She looked at Miss Harvey.

  “That’s where I saw it! On our first day. Upside down and flipped… it’s that pattern on your brooch!”

  Miss Harvey stared at the page.

  “Good grief.”

  Ellie was positively dancing with excitement now, her sore ankle almost forgotten.

  “Can I see the brooch?”

  “It is a family heirloom, of sorts,” Miss Harvey said. “Handed down since the nineteenth century. I took it to a dealer once, he told me it was of little value.”

  Ellie examined the brooch, with its white-embossed design. It was beautifully made. But there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it.

  Deflated, she turned back to Miss Harvey.

  “So where does that get us?”

  “Not very far, I’m afraid.” Miss Harvey paused. “Wait a moment. There is something else that might relate to this.” She rummaged in the filing box. “It’s in Sally’s journal, but in another volume… the final one. The very last entry, as a matter of fact. Here we are.”

  She produced another black-bound book and turned to the final page.

  Ellie read the entry. Sally must have been unwell when she wrote this. The writing was fainter. Yet the voice of the woman within was as strong as ever.

  I know now that my time is near. I have spoken with Miss Boscoe regarding my passing. She tells me that although my life is ebbing to a close, I may still return to conclude what I began… and save my departed brother from her influence. I leave the custody of Inchwood with my daughter, and then with future daughters … and with the simple trinket they wear to continue my task.

  “That’s got to be it!” Ellie said. “She must mean the brooch… the symbol of office… but what does it do?”

  “I’m afraid I have no idea.” Miss Harvey stood up. “You must get back to the house now. Your mother will be worried… and from what you tell me, there is great danger. Oh.” She looked at what Ellie was wearing. “It’ll be cold out there… Just a moment.”

  She left the room.

  Ellie picked up the first journal again. The one Sally had been writing when she set up her spell.

  What was the point of the brooch? How was it used?

  For the first time, her eye was caught by the way the journal entries were written. Many started with an initial letter that was written much larger than the rest, in bright red ink – similar to the way illuminated manuscripts had begun in the Middle Ages.

  There were enough letters there to form words in their own right.

  Summer is with us again, and the heat has been most oppressive…

  By the time Mortimer came down to breakfast…

  The cook came to me this afternoon and said…

  Ellie grabbed a pad and pen from the little telephone table next to her and flicked through the whole journal, jotting down all the initial letters Sally had highlighted.

  S, B, T, T, I, V, L, R, B, E, E, V, A, A, S, O, R, I, I.

  She blinked at the pad. Anagrams had never been her strong point.

  “These should fit you…” Miss Harvey bustled back into the room, carrying a sweater and a very battered pair of jeans. “Someone brought them for the jumble sale. They should help keep you warm.”

  “Miss Harvey.” Ellie passed the pad and pen over. “Look at these.”

  Miss Harvey looked. She began copying the letters out again, swapping them around.

  “This is where being a crossword fanatic comes into its own. Lib – liberty? Liberation? Oh, of course! I know what this is!”

  She scrawled three words rapidly, crossing out the letters above as she did so.

  She passed the pad to Ellie.

  “Veritas vos liberabit. It’s Latin. It means: “the truth will set you free”.”

  “Wow!” Ellie stared at the page. “You’re brilliant!”

  “Not really,” Miss Harvey said. “It’s the motto of the Fitzberranger family.” She paused. “Ellie… it’s written above the entrance to the Manor.”

  Ellie looked back from the pad to the journal.

  “Oh.”

  Miss Harvey smiled gently.

  “I wonder…” she said, “whether it does have any relationship to the brooch. It’s a phrase Sally would have known well. And all those who followed her…”

  With a burst of strength, Ellie levered herself to her feet.

  “I think it is time I was getting back. Thanks, Miss Harvey!” She grasped Miss Harvey’s hands. “And thanks for the clothes. Mind if I borrow the brooch?”

  In less than two minutes, Ellie was out of Miss Harvey’s front door, dressed in her fleece over the sweater and jeans, the brooch safely zipped into an inner pocket. She was no longer thinking about the pain that came from walking on her swollen ankle.

  “But Ellie,” Miss Harvey was still saying, “I really think you should be careful. It could be dangerous…”

  Ellie was already halfway up the village street.

  Miss Harvey shook her head.

  “I only hope those ghosts know what they’re in for.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ellie stood in the nursery, nervously holding up the brooch.

  She was going to feel pretty silly if this didn’t work.

  Getting back into the house had been near-impossible. The ground floor was now under two feet of water. The fire alarm was still blaring. But there was no sign of anyone.

  She had waded across to the door to their flat to check on Mum and Charlie, fighting her way through floating chairs and a sea of Journeyback magazines from the hall table.

  The door had refused to open. She knew who was responsible for that. She imagined that Marcus must be trapped in his room too.

  She only hoped the heavy old doors would hold the water back as well as they held the occupiers in.

  She held the brooch as high as she could. She wished she’d done Latin at school.

  “Veritas vos liberabit.”

  Nothing happened. The only sounds to be heard were the fire alarm along the corridor, and the distant running of water.

  She tried again.

  “Veritas. Vos. Liberabit.”

  Nothing.

  She caught sight of the portrait hanging on the far wall. The one where Edward had been hiding when Miss McKendrick came.

 
; The young woman in the painting wore a Victorian day-dress and had her golden hair tied back from her face. There was something familiar about the shade of her hair, and those blue eyes. She was wearing a wedding ring. The picture showed her standing by a bookcase, on which Ellie could see several black-bound volumes.

  “Of course!” Ellie whispered.

  She turned and held the brooch out towards the portrait.

  “Veritas vos liberabit!”

  For a second, nothing happened. Then Ellie stared.

  The canvas on which the portrait was painted seemed to be shining. It was no longer a painting, but looked like a window into a room as real as the one in which Ellie stood.

  Ellie saw the woman’s eyes blink. Her face lost the solemn expression it had worn for the portrait, and softened into a smile.

  Then, she took a step forward and reached her hand out of the picture frame.

  Ellie realised that the hand was being offered to her. She moved closer and took it. As with Edward, and Moira, it felt just like the hand of a human being. But warmer, and stronger, than Moira’s hand had been.

  As they grasped hands, the woman moved further forward and out into the nursery. Her long dress drifted behind her as she descended gently to the floor.

  Slowly, Ellie released her grasp.

  “Hello. Are you Miss Fitzberranger? I mean, Mrs Harvey… Are you Sally?”

  The young woman nodded.

  “My name is Ellie,” Ellie continued. “And… if it’s all right… I need your help. Please.”

  Sally showed no surprise.

  “Is it about Edward?” she asked in a gentle voice.

  “Yes,” Ellie answered. “And Miss McKendrick. She’s come back.”

  For the second time that night, Ellie told her story. Sally took everything in rather faster than Miss Harvey.

  “I know where she will have taken him. Into a Psychic Realm… that is, a route to the afterlife. She will pass judgment on him there.”

  She walked towards the wall where Miss McKendrick had made her exit.

  “Come.”

  She paused, and looked at Ellie’s ill-fitting sweater and jeans.

  “I think perhaps something a little more… ladylike.”

  She made a movement with her hand. Ellie looked down to see the clothes she was wearing shimmer, soften and change colour.