Nice Day For A White Wedding by Georgia Le Carre

Author:Georgia Le Carre [Le Carre, Georgia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Georgia Le Carre
Published: 2019-10-29T16:00:00+00:00

I wake up in the dead of night to the sound of footsteps in the hallway again. I close my eyes and try to ignore them, but they’re so loud, I can’t ignore them. I roll over and realize how cold I am. I’m shivering and my teeth are chattering. I can see the plume of white in front of my face as I breathe out. So much for spring not being cold.

I sit up quickly, ignoring the frigid air that wraps itself around my bare skin as I hear footsteps in my room. They run from the bed towards the bathroom. I reach out and snap the light on, but the room is empty. I hear a noise like a door slamming and I tell myself it’s the pipes. Nothing but the pipes. I have to know for sure though, and I push the duvet back and stand up. I move slowly and cautiously towards the bathroom door.

“Hello?” I say.

I feel foolish talking out loud to what is almost certainly just the pipes, and I get annoyed with myself suddenly for letting fear consume me to the point that I’m whispering at doors like this. I reach out and throw the bathroom door open, almost daring there to be a crazed ghost in there. The bathroom is empty, as I knew it would be. Its emptiness seems to mock me, laughing at the dumb foreign girl who doesn’t understand the ways of the house.

I feel a shiver run down my spine at my strange thoughts and then I force myself to laugh. It comes out a little shaky, but it makes me feel better. As if the house is mocking me. I shake my head and turn to go back to bed. I grab my robe from the chair in the corner first and slip it on. It’s short and silky, extremely thin, and it’s almost useless against the cold.

It's only as I get back into bed that I realize the bathroom wasn’t cold. I felt the wave of warmth coming out of it as I opened the door. I wonder if I’ve accidentally knocked the heater off in my bedroom and I get back up and go towards it. The dial is still where it should be, and I reach out hesitantly to touch the actual radiator. I half expect it to be warm, to prove to me that this room is indeed haunted and the ghost of the crazy old aunt is making the temperature plummet. Of course, that’s not the case. The radiator is stone cold. I shake my head at my own imagination and head back to my bed again, making a mental note to tell Alex about the heater in the morning so someone can come and take a look at it.

I sit back down on the bed and reach for the duvet. My hands have just grasped it when I hear a woman’s voice from the bathroom. The voice says my name as clear as day.

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