Page 26 of Ever After

“Yeah,” he says. After he stands, he offers me a hand and pulls me up. When I sway, he clasps my waist. “You okay?”

“I didn’t have the best night’s sleep.”

“You were flat out before I went for my run. I wasn’t surprised after I remembered all the activity you got up to last night.”

I consider telling him about the footsteps but immediately reconsider. I don’t want to be bothered about bloody ghosts on my honeymoon. We’ve had far worse in the past than a mild case of footsteps and someone looking in the window. I’ll tell him tomorrow, I decide.

We start to walk across the beach. “I can’t wait for a shower,” I say, yawning. He laughs and I nudge him. “Are my ablutions hilarious now?”

He throws his arm over my shoulder. “I was just thinking how you should’ve showered before bed last night.”

“Why?” I’m mystified.

“Well, when I woke this morning, I noticed there was sand in the bed, and your hair was sticky with salt. You must have stood outside for ages last night.”

“What?” I stop dead, and my dream comes back to me in sudden technicolour—the ship, the wreckers, the man telling me to go. How could I have forgotten that?

Levi gives me a curious look. “You okay? I’m not cross about it.”

“Thanks,” I say automatically as my brain races. Did I astral travel again? If so, I went back centuries. I have a very rusty knowledge of smugglers and wreckers, but I do know the predominant time for them was during the Napoleonic wars with France.

“Blue?”

I look up at Levi. “It’s nothing,” I say.

I’ve tried to always be honest with him lately, but sometimes I revert to my old protective and vague ways. He’s going to be disappointed with me when I tell him, and I will tell him. I’ll just do it tomorrow when I’ve had the chance to think about it properly.

I wake with my heart pounding as if I’ve just done a ten-mile run. I lie for a second, dragging in air, and then look around frantically. There’s nothing here. The room is the way we left it before going to bed—our clothes on the chair, the suitcases still unpacked on the floor. We’ve yet to pick up the confetti that my twat of a best friend put in the cases, and the tiny ghosts and bats twinkle merrily in the moonlight.

Slowing my breaths, I put a hand on my chest and feel my heart rate become steady. Nothing is here. I must have been dreaming again. Probably not helped by booze and rich food. I cuddle up to Levi, who’s still sleeping soundly.

Awareness trickles down my spine. The light. We closed the blinds last night. So why was the confetti sparkling?

I sit, jerking my head toward the window. The blind is now open, letting a strange, murky light flood into the room. A dark shape looms, and I give a choked grunt of horror as a face presses against the glass. Its features are smashed against the hard surface, so it looks like it’s got a snout. I close my eyes for a second and when I open them, there’s nothing there—just the dark window.

The garden is built on a rise, so the bedroom window is close to the ground. Could someone be walking around outside again? I hesitate. I want very much to stay here in bed with my husband, but I can’t go back to sleep if someone is wandering around the cottage grounds.

I climb out of bed, shivering in the cool air. I hover cautiously by the window for a few seconds, and when nothing happens, I take a deep breath and look through the glass. A thick sea mist has fallen, drifting lazily over the garden, and tattered tendrils brush against the window as if they’re trying to get in.

Shuddering, I consider going downstairs and having a look outside. But after all these years, I’ve begun listening to my inner warning voice, and right now it’s telling me to stay here. So, after another look, I trudge back to bed.

I climb in and pull up the sheets determinedly. The cottage is locked tight so if a human is outside, they’re doomed to a long cold night. And if it’s a spirit? Well, I don’t have to react as I once would’ve—shivering and lying awake worrying about it. Sometimes I encounter things that don’t mean anything, that aren’t demanding a response from me. They might not even be aware of me. Tarquin’s told me about the Stone Tape Theory. It’s the belief that scary or traumatic events from the past are absorbed into nearby surroundings and captured inside stone or brick. And when we see something that looks like a spirit or an otherworldly event, it’s really just what’s happened in the past being released.

Maybe this is that? I roll my eyes. Maybe I’ve also had too much beer and sex and just need to sleep.

I close my eyes and, lulled by the warmth of Levi’s body, I drift off. Sometime later, I become aware of a scratching at the window. It’s a branch, I tell myself, keeping my eyes closed, but they fly open when a loud knocking sound comes from somewhere inside the house.

What the fuck? I sit, clutching the sheets, as the noise gets louder. It seems to reverberate through the room, but I can’t trace where it’s coming from. I clap my hands over my ears, looking frantically at Levi. He’s fast asleep, a small smile playing on his lips as if he’s having good dreams.

It’s the reverse of my experience. The noise increases in volume and then, just as I think I can’t stand anymore …it stops. The silence seems to ring, and I can hear my breaths coming fast in the room.

“Blue Billings.”

The voice is faint and seems far away.

It comes again. “Blue Billings.” This time it’s nearer and coming from the garden. I can probably hear it because the window isn’t double-glazed.

Other voices join in, mockingly calling up at the window. “Blue Billings, come out and join us.”