‘Get. Out. Of. My. House.’
Jennifer’s heart felt as if it was going to beat out of her chest as she faced the shadow of what once was. The room temperature dropped steadily until it was icy cold. Jennifer’s words carried on frosted breath as she uttered the words, ‘Mrs Bishop, I need your help. It’s about Bertram.’
The woman’s eyes blazed at the mention of Bert’s name. ‘What do you want with him?’
Jennifer tugged her jacket around her shivering body. ‘I’m looking for my friend Will, and I think Bert may know where he is. Has he brought anyone here?’
Bert’s mother relaxed into her rocker, setting it back in motion. ‘I’m waiting for Callum. He’ll be home soon. Bert’s in bed. He’s a sickly child.’
Jennifer sighed. She was not going to get any assistance from a dead woman’s ghost and it was time to move on. ‘Mrs Bishop, I don’t think it’s good for you to stay here.’
‘I’m waiting for Callum.’
‘He’s waiting for you, Mrs Bishop. He’s been waiting a very long time. Don’t you want to go to him?’ Jennifer swallowed, mystified at the words leaving her mouth. It was not the first time she found herself uttering words she did not understand, but if they provided comfort then she was happy to continue.
The woman’s face clouded over, the frailty of her soul laid bare. ‘I … I can’t leave the house.’
‘Yes you can. You don’t need it any more. Let it go. When you feel Callum’s presence, step up and take his hand. But you don’t need to stay here. There is so much more for you, if you can find the strength to leave.’
But she wouldn’t. At least not yet, and she returned her gaze to the fire as it hissed and spat orange sparks that went nowhere, delivering heat that could not be felt. Slowly Jennifer left the sad figure, and wandered through the rest of the house, her ear sharply attuned to the flapping of the ravens gathering on the fence outside. She rubbed the back of her hand. It had healed well, but the small scar would serve as a reminder of her stubbornness, and inability to ask for help for fear of looking like a fool. She checked her mobile phone, the absence of calls a painful reminder that time was running out. Five minutes. She would give herself five minutes and leave.
Every room door was ajar and she was relieved to see the loft hatch gaping open, its mouth an empty chasm as sharp-clawed rodents scurried overhead. Officers would have already searched the gloomy space, which meant she didn’t need to. The oppression in the house grew with every second that passed, until the derelict building took on a life of its own. I shouldn’t be here, she thought. Not only was she under a ceiling that may well give way, her presence was most unwelcome, and the birds that had swooped to attack her were now gathering outside.
Jennifer ventured into the kitchen as the building groaned above her. Small black pebbles of droppings littered every counter, and in the absence of food, there lay empty bread wrappers, chewed by rodent teeth. It felt as if a hundred sets of eyes were beating down on her back. She wondered if the attending officers had felt it when they conducted the search. She turned to leave, passing each ramshackle room until she came to the largest bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was caked in a layer of dust. The peeling sash window allowed generous light to flood over the rusted metal bedstead, and she guessed it was Bert’s room. Her heels echoed as she walked across the cold wooden floor, and she imagined a small hungry boy, lying on the sunken mattress as he stared at the oak tree outside. She pulled back the damp mouldy blankets and lingered long enough only to check under the bed. Another wave of despair passed over her. Will was not there. He never had been.
She turned on her heel and made her way to the hall, but the noise of the ravens suggested there were more than one or two waiting for her exit. She peered through the gap in the door, catching her breath as she caught sight of the black feathered sentries gathered on the fence. A horrifying sense of dread enveloped her as she realised she would have to pass them on her way out. Why didn’t I park the car nearer? she thought. If the birds attacked, they could do a lot of harm in the precious minutes it would take her to reach it. Tapping her fingers against her bottom lip, she formulated a plan. She picked up an empty milk bottle from the floor and pressed the central locking button through the gap in the door. A chorus of excited caws ensued as her car beeped in response, and they flapped and danced on the fence in preparation for their prey. They’ll rip me to shreds, Jennifer whispered as she backed away. She would get only one chance. She had to be quick or she would pay the consequences.
She returned to the kitchen, holding her breath as she slowly turned the handle of the back door. Relief flooded through her as it opened, and she tentatively slid out, tiptoeing through the undergrowth at the side of the house. The front of the house was black with ravens, their beady eyes focused on the front door. She flung the milk bottle, sending it rebounding on the front porch, startling the ravens long enough to race to her car. Soon she was safely inside, sending gravel shooting in her wake as she raced down the driveway for home.
Jennifer dropped her car keys onto the hall dresser. Her stomach growled to remind her she had not yet eaten, having been sick with stress all day. She opened the fridge door, gulping back the last of her mineral water. Pulling out a block of cheese, she laid it on the chopping board next to a chunk of bread. She checked her watch. It granted her enough time for a quick shower before Christian came around. She needed to wash away the dark barbs that clung from the horrors of the day. But the feeling of Will’s presence had grown stronger since she came home, each step inside telling her she was missing something, something she should have known. She tore off some bread and nibbled on enough cheese to silence her rumbling stomach. Hopping up the stairs, she turned the shower to the hottest setting and slipped off her clothes. A creeping sensation on the nape of her neck made her whirl around, a shriek emitted through her lips as she faced the steamed-up mirror. There, in the midst of her distress, the answer came. She knew where Will was. It had been staring her in the face all along.
Chapter Fifty-Two
In the mirror, daubed in ghostly fingerprints, were the scrawled words ‘LOOK UP’. Jennifer froze, her heart pounding as she steadied herself against the ceramic sink. Her eyes darted around the steaming bathroom, as she hastily pulled on her shirt and trousers, unable to take her eyes off the fogged writing. It was the only morning she had not showered. Just how long had those words been written on the mirror? And who put them there?
A frown burrowed its way into her forehead, and she stared up at the ceiling spotlights for answers. What does it mean, look up? she thought, her heart picking up a beat.
The extractor fan kicked in, fading the words as it sucked the steam from the room. She squeezed her damp feet back inside her boots, her flesh pinching against the taut black leather. The answer came to her like a bolt of lightning. The loft! He’s in the loft! The realisation invoked a fluttery, breathless feeling upon her. All thoughts of Christian’s visit were forgotten as she dragged the vanity chair to the landing, her mind flooded with thoughts of Will. Her nightmare showed him in a dark space, warm and heady … just like her loft. The moans she heard in her sleep – had they been real? Had he been calling for help? Had Will been lying in agony as she slept in her soft warm bed below? And if so, who put him there? Had the Raven been above her head all along? Had he crept into the loft while she was asleep? Surely she would have known. The thoughts lingered as she pulled down the extendable silver ladder, allowing it to clank against the soft woollen carpet below. A wave of sickness descended on her as fear ran riot with her imagination. She steeled herself as she gripped the cold aluminium, trying not to think the worst. How on earth could Will have ended up in her home? Cobwebs lingered along the edges of the dark space. It was the one room she could not bear to clean. But cobwebs and spiders were the least of her worries as she entered the attic. She inhaled through her nostrils, praying she would not be greeted by the scent of death.