Thinking for a second, I remember Hal and me standing at the open French windows in the drawing room.
“This way,” I tell him, running into the room. “We can get out this way.”
Hastily I fumble with the latches on the door. As soon as they are open, we tumble out onto the terrace. By the time we get outside Cecily is already halfway across the lawn, heading towards the cedar trees. She’s moving so fast that we are both running at full tilt to catch up with her, her brightness rivalling the shine of the waning moon.
“Where’s she going?” Forrest asks. “Oh God, this is the way to the lake, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay,” I tell Forrest. “I think I know where she’s gone. She wanted to see fairies. She’s gone to the chapel.”
As we run out from under the spread of the tree, Cecily is waiting a few feet in front of us, icy bright. Sapphire tears seem to sparkle on her cheeks, her head shaking in sorrow; her whole body, if that’s what it can be called, is shimmering. A gentle moan of anguish rushes through the tree branches as she gestures towards the chapel where her little girl is buried. Then suddenly she vanishes, and the night seems silenced by her absence.
“Listen,” I say, catching hold of Forrest’s hand and pulling him towards the chapel. I was right; relief floods through me. “Listen.”
We can hear Artie, chatting and laughing, playing. There’s a second voice with her, the high, excited babbling of a younger child. But there are no more children at the castle. Not living ones, anyway.
Forrest and I exchange a glance and very softly approach the chapel. A soft light emanates from within the walls, moving across the stained glass. As we reach the doorway we see Artie sittingamongst the flowers, laughing with delight as she watches moths and fireflies dancing around a bright white light. And the source of that light is a ghost girl. Little Eliza, her chubby arms outstretched, is trying to grasp the insects that fly through her grip.
“Artie.” Forrest breathes his daughter’s name, gentle and full of love. “My Artemisia.”
“Daddy?” Artie looks up, giving a delighted smile at the sight of her father. “Is she here, Daddy? I thought Ava would bring her. Did you bring her, Ava?”
“Is who here, darling?” Forrest says.
“Eliza’s mommy, is she here? I worked it out, the problem. Eliza’s mommy thinks she can’t come into the places where Eliza is. She thinks it’s her fault that Eliza got sick and died. But she can, Daddy. She can be with Eliza. Will you tell her, Ava? Will you tell her to come in, because Eliza misses her mommy very much.”
Forrest sinks down into the grass. Turning around, I go back out the entrance to look for the Blue Lady. There’s no sign of her now.
“Cecily.” I softly call her name. “Cecily, thank you for helping us find Artie. But I have something else to tell you. Something important, a message from Artie for you. What happened to Eliza is not your fault. You didn’t know that you could pass your illness on to her. No one blames you, Cecily. Your husband loved and missed you both until the day he died. Eliza can’t go to him, because she’s waiting for you, Cecily. You both have been waiting to be at peace for so long, and all you have to do is go to her.”
For a long moment there is nothing but the sound of the soft breeze in the creaking arms of the cedar and the sound of Artie and, incredibly, Eliza’s laughter from within the chapel. When Ilook around, Forrest is crouched amongst the nodding flowers a few feet away from the girls, his face rapt with astonished wonder.
“My Eliza?” I turn back and Cecily is standing there. There is no light now. Just a young woman, her face wet with tears, who looks just as real as you or I. “My Eliza died because of my kisses.”
“You didn’t know,” I say. “No one knew. You loved her so much. And her father loved you both. All these years you haven’t been able to find each other, Cecily, but all you have to do is go to her. Just go into the chapel. Eliza is waiting for you.”
“I’m so afraid,” Cecily says. It sounds as if the cedar trees are whispering her words for her.
“Look, I don’t know what comes next,” I tell her. “But I do know your little girl misses you, Cecily. That has to be worth the risk, right?”
Her eyes meet mine, and she walks past me towards the entrance of the chapel. I follow her inside. Once we are inside her light shines again; the whole space fills with joy and the warmth of a mother’s love. Perhaps I imagine it, but I feel my own mum nearby, standing at my shoulder. And I see Artie smiling into the flowers as if she can see a familiar face there too.
“Mama!” Eliza runs towards Cecily’s outstretched arms.
For a moment it feels like a star is being born within the walls of the little chapel. Blindingly bright light fills every crevice, dazzling us. Laughter and voices echo around us. Cecily’s and Eliza’s, but a man’s voice too.
“Papa!” I hear Eliza cry, and then all at once there is nothing but Artie, Forrest, and I sitting amongst the wildflowers in an empty ruined chapel built by a father who loved his daughter.
Forrest and I look at each other, both of us stunned and altered somehow, although we can’t know how yet.
“I’m so tired,” Artie says suddenly, flopping against Forrest. “Daddy, will you carry me? Why are we all out here anyway? It’s far too late for a child my age to be up and about.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Artie is fast asleep in Forrest’s arms even before we get back to the castle. We make our way back in the way we left, and I lock the window behind us.
The castle seems different somehow, as we go upstairs to Forrest’s room through its soft shadows and long memories. It feels serene and peaceful—restful in a way that it never has before. Part of me can’t help wondering if that’s because two of its restless ghosts are gone, reunited and hopefully happy, wherever they may be now in this vast and mysterious universe.
As Forrest tucks Artie into her bed for the second time that night, I wait in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed. It’s right at this moment I realise I am not wearing underwear under this long T-shirt. Forrest and I just went through perhaps the most profound spiritual experience of our lives, and I wasn’t wearing any knickers. He’s about to come into this room, shirtless, and I’ll be sitting on his bed, knickerless. There have been some periods in history when that would have been more than enough to qualify us for immediate enforced marriage. Getting up, I’m about to return to my room when Forrest comes back, firmlyshutting the connecting door to Artie’s room. Looking around, he sees a beaded necklace of Artie’s and hangs it over the door handle.
