The Ghosts of Mystic Springs by Mona Marple

Author:Mona Marple [Marple, Mona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-24T22:00:00+00:00

14

Sage

I like to visit in the evening, when they’ve kicked off their shoes and their responsibilities for the day and are just being themselves. They’re not always together, especially now one of them has found a man. I want to scream at them: don’t put men before each other!

Easy for me to say.

I never liked this place, with it’s small community and the judging eyes I felt surrounded by. Surrounded by housewives who were doing a better job than me at everything. Their whites were whiter, their cutlery was more polished, their doorsteps were swept more often than mine.

I felt their judgement weigh down on me like a pile of rubble, and I wanted to escape.

Then I looked at those two faces, those little faces who looked at me and saw sunshine and rainbows, and I cast aside the neighbours’ opinions and grabbed them for another dance or took them out into the garden with a tub of water and a paintbrush each and let them decorate the back of the house.

This, I can do well, I would say.

And now, as I visit, I know that I did do it well. My whites were a little yellow, my cutlery might have had a smear here and there, and my doorstep was never swept, but my girls were happy. And they’ve grown to be amazing women.

I hover near the door, not wanting to attract any attention to my presence. I don’t want to spook them.

Sandy brings in drinks, even though they’re at Coral’s house, which I could totally have predicted being the way things would work out for these two. Coral curls up on the settee and takes the mug of cocoa from her sister. She looks feline with her bright eyes and long limbs. Feline and tired. I hope she’s been sleeping.

“Want a blanket?” Sandy offers, already pacing back across the room to grab the blanket that lives on the back of the armchair. She spreads it across Coral’s slender legs then takes a seat herself.

“I’m so tired.” Coral says. She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them and yawns.

“Go to bed.” Sandy says. “I’ll have my drink and let myself out.”

“No, no, it’s been too long since we just sat and chatted. Talk to me… tell me everything.”

Sandy laughs. “There’s not much to tell.”

“How are things with Tom?”

Sandy grins, as she always does when someone mentions her boyfriend’s name. I don’t blame her, he’s quite a catch. “They’re amazing. I think he’s The One.”

“Well, duh.” Coral replies with an eye roll. “Of course he is. Have you only just figured that out?”

Sandy shivers. “Did you feel that?”

I realise I’ve moved forward, into the room, and as I feared, Sandy has felt my presence. Yes, it’s possible. That cold draught you feel? It could be a spirit. Things being moved? Could be a spirit. That sense that you’re being watched? Could be a spirit. Most living people are too cynical to pick up on those signs. The best people are children and the elderly, and nobody believes them, or people in a high state of emotion.

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