The Old Mystic (The Barrington Patch Book 4) by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Gladys stood beside the well in the darkness, gripping the edge, the moss cold and damp on her skin. The sisters had gone to bed (she’d heard them say so through the glass: “I can’t keep my eyes open, can you?”…”No, I’m going to have to give in and go up to Bedfordshire.”), so Gladys was free to do as she pleased. Bodger’s ghost had called her out here, waffling on about the bells again, and she’d been so convinced the voice was real she’d had to come and check he wasn’t climbing out.

Was this what guilt did, had you imagining things? So much time had passed that Bodger couldn’t possibly be alive, yet her mind played tricks, insisting he was starving down there, his body so skinny from the lack of food he’d be taken for a lamppost if she looked at him from the corner of her eye.

“Stop tormenting me,” she whispered into the dark hole. “It’s your fault you’re down there. Perverts don’t deserve to be alive.”

He spoke inside her head: “But you didn’t know I was a pervert when you walloped me with the hammer, Glad.”

Chills passed through her, and she hugged herself.

“Piss off,” she hissed out. “Just piss off!”

“Everything all right there, Gladys?”

She jumped. Shifted her attention to the bottom of the garden and the fence that had three-inch gaps between the vertical slats. Robby Denzil stood in his garden, visible between two tree trunks. Light from his house spilt onto the grass behind him in a skewwhiff rectangle, turning him into a sinister, whippet-thin silhouette. His Great Dane bounded around, ears flapping, a massive thing that barked a lot during the day to be let back inside.

“I’m fine, thank you, Robby.” She rubbed the tops of her arms, willing him to piss off like Bodger.

He didn’t. “What are you doing in there? That’s not your garden.”

She didn’t know what to say other than, “I like the well.” It had sounded daft and, more to the point, she’d come across as simple, two bricks short of a load.

Robby stepped closer. “Hmm. It’s got secrets down it, that has.”

Her heart skipped a few beats, and she squeezed her arms to stop herself from crying out in alarm—what was he implying? Forcing herself to sound calm, she said, “What are you on about?” then laughed at the end so he didn’t think she was worried.

“All of them wishes people grant themselves to do with wells. The wishes become true, and they go down to the bottom and stay there.”

“You said secrets the first time, not wishes.”

“Same thing.” His dog came over and pushed his nose through a gap in the slats. He snorted then leapt off towards the house. Robby laughed. “Daft sod, he is. Anyroad, you might not want to be near that well as often as you are. People might start suspecting you of summat.”

Had he been watching her? He had to have been to know she came out here.

He continued, “Like I said, secrets.

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