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There was a wooden desk and chair next to the window with an open box of crayons sitting on top. Some of them were broken.
She closed her eyes for a second. She could almost see a little boy sitting there. She could almost feel him picking up the crayons and colouring on some paper. The pictures in her head were vivid. Pale. He was pale beyond all reason with mischievous green eyes – just like Andrew’s.
A collection of books sat next to the bed. She recognised some of them. Most of them were still popular today. One with a bear. One with a caterpillar. They looked as if they had been read everyday.
Her throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe.
Her first reaction was to turn to the door and run. But, for some reason she just couldn’t. Something was pulling her back inside, drawing her into the room.
With some faltering steps she continued. Walking straight towards the bed and sitting down. The temperature was colder than everywhere else. The chill terrifying.
She wasn’t sure if she believed in hauntings or ghosts. She wasn’t sure if she believed in ‘presences’. But this was the first and only time she’d ever felt anything as strongly as this.
On a few rare occasions she’d walked into a place and wanted to turn around and walk back out. Some places were just plain scary. A few production assistants on a number of jobs had agreed and refused to be part of the crew.
“Douglas,” she breathed. She could see her breath in the air.
All the rational parts of her brain were trying to flood her with thoughts. The radiator in this room wouldn’t be switched on. It was far from the other rooms that were already heated. It was only reasonable that this room would be cold. But it felt wrong.
She picked up the caterpillar book and started turning the pages. Something made her talk. “I’m here with Andrew, your brother. He’s thirty now.” She looked up from the pages. “He still misses you.” She stood up and walked to the door, running her hand down the cold dressing gown. It shouldn’t be cold. It shouldn’t be like this. It should be filled with a little warm body, wrapped around to keep the cold out.
Something squeezed around her heart. She was so lucky. She’d never experienced grief like this family had. It made her appreciate how fortunate she actually was. Andrew’s parents must have felt as if their hearts had been ripped out their chests.
She couldn’t blame them for leaving the room the way it was. It was like a secret dream that their son could actually come back. It wasn’t morbid. It wasn’t crazy. It was a way of coping. She got that.
She touched the desk at the window.
No dust. It came to her in an instant. The other rooms she’d visited had been covered in a light coating of dust.
She looked around again. There was no rational explanation. Andrew had said he didn’t have a housekeeper. His father was dead and his mother in a nursing home. Who could keep the room clean?
She took a deep breath. She was crazy. She clearly had no idea what she was doing. “Andrew is cutting a tree for Christmas. We’re going to put it in the window where it used to be when you were boys. I’m supposed to be looking for the decorations.” She gave a little smile. “Tonight, and tomorrow I’m going to try and help Andrew cook Christmas dinner. That might not sound like much, but I’m not exactly the world’s greatest chef, so it’s a big deal for me. After that Andrew and I will film an episode of our TV series.” Now, she was a little nervous. “It’s about hauntings and Andrew said that Garnock Hall has a history. We shouldn’t even be here, but another little boy got hurt, and we can’t use the show with him in it. So we had to make a replacement at short notice. I hope you don’t mind.”
Her voice trailed off and she looked around her again. “Your brother is sad, Douglas. This whole house is sad. I’m hoping to make it a little less sad.”
The light above her flickered.
It was the tiniest second, and more than likely caused by ancient wiring. But it felt like so much more. She walked to the door, and touched the dressing gown once more.
“Merry Christmas, Douglas,” she whispered as she flicked the switch and turned out the light.
Chapter Seven
‡
By the time he’d hauled the tree into the house and managed to get it into the stand and fill it with water he was badly in need of a shower.
Juliette appeared at his back with a large cardboard box in her hands.
“Oh good, you found the decorations.” He lifted one of the flaps on the box. “I’m not sure what condition they’ll be in. Do you mind if I go and have a shower before we start?”
She seemed pale and a little distracted. “Sure, that’s fine. How about I make us some tea and toast before we start? I think I can manage that.”
“That would be great, thanks.” He gave a little nod and went to walk towards the door, before hesitating. The expression on her face was bothering him. “Juliette?” Her eyes met his. “I’m sorry you can’t be with your family this Christmas. I hope Garnock Hall isn’t too disappointing.”
She stared at him for a long time. “I’m sorry you can’t be with yours either.”
It was the oddest sensation. A little prickle down his spine, caused more by the way she was looking at him, rather than the words she said.
She looked unnerved, uncomfortable, and he was sure it wasn’t anything that he’d done. Maybe he hadn’t been welcoming enough? Garnock Hall wasn’t exactly guest central. He was even making her help cook her own Christmas dinner. His host skills were definitely questionable. As for a Christmas gift? It hadn’t even crossed his mind.
The thought horrified him. He couldn’t care less about gifts for Christmas. But he’d sent something to the people who were important to him. His mother always took great pleasure in telling him to buy her things in her moments of being lucid. He always complied. The staff at the nursing home always received a huge hamper from one of the big London stores containing enough wine and chocolates for everyone.
But here? Now? He couldn’t think of a single thing to give Juliette.
“I’ll light the fire when I come back down. Maybe heat this room a little
.”
It was strange seeing her in here, with a Christmas tree behind her. The last time he’d been in this room with a Christmas tree had been the year before his brother died. He wasn’t sure he was ready for all the feelings that the sight and smell of a simple tree were evoking.
But what he was sure about, was the fact that Juliette being here, made it so much easier.
*
She listened to his footsteps on the stairs and hurried to the kitchen. Tea and toast she could do. The bread looked a little strange. Andrew had called it a ‘plain’ loaf when he’d bought it. The slices were more oblong than square, with thick crusts and thicker than normal slices. He’d obviously picked up some jam too, so she boiled the kettle and made the tea and toast. Her stomach growled. It smelt great. Perfect, for a winter’s night.
The pile of food on the work surface was beginning to look a bit ominous. Could they really cook up a Christmas dinner between them? This could be a disaster.
By the time she’d found a tray and walked back through, Andrew was lighting the fire. His hair was still damp and he’d pulled on a t-shirt and jeans that outlined all the muscles on his back as he leaned towards the fireplace.
As the fire lit, it sent a warm, orange glow around the room. But the heat didn’t quite reach where she was standing. She slid the tray onto a nearby table and lifted the plate with toast and the mugs of tea towards him, sitting on the rug beside him.
“Don’t you want to sit at the table?”
She smiled. “Not a chance. I’ve always dreamed of sitting in front of a roaring fire and this is my chance.” She took a bite of the toast. The thick toasted bread was different from any she’d tasted before. “This is delicious. Why on earth haven’t I tasted this before?”
“It’s one of Scotland’s secrets – plain bread – always best toasted. Have you never looked on Facebook and seen all the ex-pats in Australia and the US complaining that they can’t get plain bread or square slice sausage?”
