They caught each other’s eye. He tugged at his lip nervously.
She turned. ‘I’ll get some cardboard and tape.’
‘No. Wait a sec.’
She paused and walked over to the gaping, breezy window. Pulling her cardigan across her as she gazed out at the dark street below. He stood alongside her and for a while, they said nothing.
Menham Park was over the other side of the street but the wide expanse of grass and trees, lake and gazebo, were thoroughly lost in inky-black shadows, which the orange street lights here could barely penetrate. The wind made the trees shimmer and hiss, so for a while they both just stood there, listening to it. He knew from his pastoral days that you don’t rush a traumatised person. And he could see by the stare in her eye and scrape of the wrist that Rachel was very close to the edge right now. So they watched a glowing cloud slide silently across a ringed, grubby moon.
Finally, he spoke. ‘She had a really good view of the park, didn’t she?’
Rachel tucked some hair behind her ear. Her fingers were trembling. ‘She’d sit here after school and watch the trees and count the birds. She always said she was the luckiest in the family since she got the best view in the house.’ Her mouth faltered. She dropped her hand to her side. ‘Which is why she did it here. I’ve always known that. Even that morning, I knew. That she wanted to be looking at something pretty, at the end. She’d kept the curtains open, by the way. Just a touch. Not too much that she’d be seen and scare anybody. But enough so she could see.’
A few seconds ticked by; neither of them moved from the carpet, which felt more worn than anywhere else in the room. He looked at his shoes.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Matt said.
She nodded.
‘From what I understand, apart from the figure on the roof … you didn’t personally witness the poltergeist in this house?’
‘I saw the leftovers. I saw furniture pushed over, the pictures upside down, the taps going on at night. I knew some stuff was missing from the house.’
‘What stuff?’
‘Ornaments. A few pictures. An old tape recorder I had was taken which really cheesed me off. One of Mum’s shoes. Random stuff. Bob reckons they might never be found.’
‘But you never witnessed anything supernatural happen in front of you?’
‘No.’
‘So, didn’t you doubt it at first?’
‘’Course I did … but then I saw that shadow thing on the roof and I wasn’t so sure any more.’ She turned to him. ‘There really was something there, you know. A creature.’
‘Forget the shadow for a second.’
‘That’s easier said than done, Matt.’
‘Before that … did you ever think the poltergeist was just somebody making it up?’
‘I used to think it was Holly …’ She turned back to the window. ‘I thought that she’d invented it all.’
Somewhere way up the street he could hear a group of women suddenly cackle.
‘And why do you think she’d do that?’
‘Because she was lonely. Because she didn’t have any friends.’ She blinked slowly; her eyes kept looking for the unseen women. ‘I read that some kids make this stuff up to get noticed. Which certainly happened here. God, Holly’s become a legend in this town. You know, after she killed herself I’d sometimes spot kids down there in the park.’ She nodded at it. Filled with so many shadows it looked like a hole in the world. ‘They’d gather in little groups under the trees down there and look right up here. Hoping for a sight of her. I went down to chase them off once and do you know what I found? They’d made a Ouija board out of cardboard and a cap from a deodorant bottle. They had a newspaper picture of Holly pinned to it with a branch …’
‘People are drawn to mystery,’ he said. ‘And to the beyond. The afterlife helps them make sense of the world … it helps them make sense of death.’
‘Well, Joyce tells me the local kids still do that. They come looking for the infamous Holly Wasson because … because they think she still lives here.’ She shuddered then turned away from the window and looked directly at him. ‘And after what happened downstairs … I think they might be right.’
‘Well, respectfully, even after the seance, I’m not convinced. But for the sake of argument …’ He put a palm out. ‘Let’s say ghosts really do exist. That the dead might have the ability to communicate with the living.’
She nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Well, if that was actually true … that Holly could talk to you again …’ He saw the shift in her jaw, the loss of focus in her eye. He was speaking as gently as he could. ‘Would you even want her to?’
She blinked a few times, like her brain was computing something. ‘If you’re trying to say something. Just say it.’
He nodded. ‘Okay, you loved your sister, I think that’s clear. But Rachel, I saw you at the gazebo the other day, when Joyce mentioned Holly was calling out to you. Then tonight at the dining table. I saw your eyes when Joyce started scratching out those words … when she wrote your name.’
‘And?’
‘And I’m getting the distinct impression that you really don’t want to hear from Holly, even if you could.’
Rachel suddenly spun back towards the window.
‘And I want to know why.’
She took a step towards the frame.
‘Did you and she not get on?’
He heard her breathing. It sounded shallow.
‘Did something happ—’
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Did you hear that?’
He followed her gaze through the gap where the window was supposed to be. If this was a musical, this would be the part when they’d both sing out a lament to the empty street below.
‘It’s the wind,’ he said. ‘Now focus. I noticed you didn’t read one of the sheets out during the seance. What did it say—’
‘Dammit … listen! Something’s,’
