The Last Days of Summer by Sophie Pembroke

Author:Sophie Pembroke [Pembroke, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008193140
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Item 7: Ghosts

There are lots of different sorts of ghosts – poltergeists, crisis apparitions, vengeful ghosts – even ghosts who don’t know they’re dead yet.

I think the Rose Garden ghost must be a ghost with unfinished business.

I wonder if Granddad will be one too.

Excerpt from Caroline Ryan’s List of the Unexplained (with notes)

I woke to Edward’s hand on my shoulder, and a fresh glass of water on the bedside table.

“Pat Norris just pulled up,” he murmured, his voice bedroom soft. It made me want to reach my arms around his neck and kiss him again, but I managed to restrain myself. “I’m just going to round up the others.”

I nodded, and struggled to sit up as he left again, as quietly as he’d come.

I washed and changed clothes quickly, pulling on jeans and a T-shirt from my case. My make-up had worn away hours before, and my eyes were too sore from all the crying to think about redoing it. I ran a brush through my hair and called it job done.

Downstairs, I found the family all nervously perched around the drawing room, sipping tea and not eating biscuits.

“How about some anniversary cake, Pat,” Dad tried, but Nathaniel’s lawyer shook his head. He was, very clearly, here for one purpose only, and keen to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend the day with my family in their current temper, either.

“Shall we begin?” he asked, and we all nervously nodded, except for Isabelle, who continued to stare out of the window as if none of it mattered at all, really. I knew my grandmother, though. She was listening most carefully.

Mr Norris started in with the usual explanations and disclaimers – when Nathaniel had last updated his will (more recently than I’d have expected – just two weeks ago) and what instructions he had left, which at least vindicated Edward’s insistence that the study door remain locked until Mr Norris’s arrival. Isabelle scowled briefly at that, before regaining her expression of bereaved indifference.

“Now, the actual bequests.” This part, at least, seemed straightforward – almost everything went to Isabelle, including the rights to all his books. There was also a generous allowance made to Therese until her death, along with the deeds to her cottage. Isabelle scowled at this too, but Therese’s face and shoulders relaxed for the first time that day. I let out a small sigh of relief. One less thing to worry about.

There were bequests to Mum and Dad, and smaller ones to us grandchildren. Caro’s would be held in trust until her eighteenth birthday. As a favoured granddaughter, Caro was also left Nathaniel’s collection of his own first editions, all signed. But there was nothing in there to really upset Isabelle.

Until we reached the section about the memoirs.

“To Saskia Ryan and Edward Hollis, I leave the notes, files and existing work achieved on my planned memoirs, on the understanding that they complete and publish the work according to the plans I leave.

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