Page 57 of An Immaculate Deception

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

A feverish thrill engulfs me as I climb on top of her. She giggles and helps me shed my clothes. I used to rush my time with her, fearful of my own thoughts intruding. But I’ve learned to let the moments linger.

Then I hear it again. A creaking of the floorboards above. Wood groaning under the weight of a heavy thump. The movement of a person, not a small critter.

We both still. The confusion in her eyes mirrors my own.

“I thought it was you upstairs,” I say.

“I thought it was you,” she counters. “Maria das Dores has already left for the day.”

And she would not be hanging about upstairs anyway.

Then…

“Oh my God.” I pull myself up.

“What?”

I can only think of one person it could be.

“Get dressed,” I tell Joaquina. “You need to go home.”

“Home? What are you talking about?”

“Go to your own house.”

Her face turns crimson. “At this hour? I shall do no such thing. Have you lost your senses? Who is up there?”

Her volume is loud enough that Mother could hear her.

“Go.”

“No.” She crosses her arms defiantly.

We glare at each other. She spins on her heel and heads to the door. My relief is short-lived, because she turns sharply at the bottom of the staircase and starts going up.

“Wait.” I catch her by the elbow. She spins around to face me.

“At least go down to the servants’ quarters,” I say.

“Who is up there?”

“My mother.”

Her eyes widen. “I thought you said she was dead?”

I sigh. I never said she was dead. I said that Mother was ill and sent away for treatment. Joaquina simply does not even remember, that is how little regard she has for Mother or me. I open my mouth to correct her, then suddenly a new idea strikes me.

“Yes, she is dead.”

Joaquina gasps. “Truly?”

I nod.

“And haunting the house?”

Just then there is another thump and Joaquina jumps.