Ghost Story II

Part Two

... Anne stared at the rock for a long time, as the beam from the lighthouse swept repeatedly over the bay, and the waves made gentle swooshing noises against the beach. Although the moonlight cast the side of the rock into shadow, no figure seemed to appear. The rock sat there innocently, in the manner of rocks everywhere. It had been a dream. Anne sighed, and rubbed her eyes.

"You’re looking for her, aren’t you?" A girl’s voice said softly next to her. Anne’s eyes flew open. Sitting next to her on the window seat was a girl, about Anne’s age, dressed in ragged blue cut-off jeans, a scruffy red t-shirt, and bare feet. The face looked like the face from Anne’s dream, but it was a little older, a little rounder, and the hair was dry and fluffy, not hanging wet and lank.
"You dreamed about her, didn’t you?" Repeated the girl. "Someone who looked like me?" she prompted.
Anne nodded.
The girl sighed, and looked sadly down to the beach.
"How do you know about her?" Anne asked, "And who are you? For that matter, what are you? What’s happening, why am I seeing ghosts, if that’s what you are?"

The girl settled back against the cushions, tucking her legs up under her. "We are ghosts, if that’s what you want to call us. I’m Ruth, and the girl in your dream, that’s my sister Mary. We used to live here, with our parents. The bedroom you’re sleeping in is my old room." She smiled, "You’ll like it when the sun comes in during the day. It smells good, and you can hear the waves, and the day seems full of promise..."

The smile faded, and she looked sad again. "Mary and I loved sailing. Our father had taught us. We had a little dinghy called Havoc, that we sailed together, although we could both sail it on our own. One summer holiday, I caught chickenpox, and was stuck inside. It was a beautiful sunny day, and Mary wanted to take Havoc out. My father said she’d better not, it was due to get windy later on, but Mary said she’d be back long before the storm came in.
"She would have been back on the beach, but the kicking strap broke, so she moored out in the bay while she tried to fix it. It got windier and windier, Havoc was bouncing about on the mooring. She gave up trying to fix it, and instead cast off, meaning to sail back to the beach. My parents were down on the beach by this time, I was watching from the window here. We’d sailed in windy weather before, as long as Mary was careful, she’d be fine. But she was halfway back to the beach when a strong gust came in round the harbour wall, and flipped Havoc over. Mary didn’t have a chance to react, she was thrown into the water. We think she must have hit her head, or maybe been trapped under the sail… but she didn’t come back up."

A tear rolled down Ruth’s cheek, as she looked at the beach and saw the scene played out again. Anne too could see it in her mind, as she looked at the water, so calm and innocent now.

"We waited for so long. Too long. Havoc tossed on her side in the waves, but there was no sign of Mary. They got the lifeboat out, but it was too late.
"They found the body next day, and brought her in. She looked so peaceful… You’d never know she’d been battered about by the storm.

"My father never forgave himself. He felt he should have forbidden her to go sailing that day. This house, which had been full of laughter and sunlight, cozy winter evenings round the fire, high adventure and fun… it was all gone with Mary. I’d never been so alone.
"And then they wanted to leave. My parents couldn’t stand to look out every day, to where it happened. They’d see it playing before their eyes… But I didn’t want to leave. I loved this house, this town, this place. The sky, the sea… And Mary was still here. She’d come to me about two weeks after she drowned, her hair was still wet, and she was wearing the clothes she’d gone sailing in that hot day. She said she was lonely, and she asked me to convince them not to leave. Even though they couldn’t see her, she could see them. She said sometimes she’d come in and kiss my mother on the forehead, and hold my father’s hand. He had big, worn hands, that always made us feel safe. She said she felt safe when she held his hand, and not alone. I promised her that we’d stay, that I’d stay. I promised I’d never leave her...

"But I couldn’t tell my parents why we shouldn’t go. And they couldn’t live with the hurt. So one day, one awful day, we left. I promised Mary that I’d come back for her. I promised myself, too. I loved this place. It was home."

"I did eventually come back, but it was too late. Too long. My parents have moved on, they’re happy now, I think. There was a car crash, you see, seven years after we left. It was fatal. They went on, but I came back. I had to see this place again, I had to see Mary. We could be together again, play on the beach, wander the streets, swim in the pool, laugh at the day-trippers. An eternal childhood.

"But Mary had changed. She never forgave me for letting them leave. She said she had found other ways of preventing herself from feeling lonely in the seven long years that we were away.

"So I sit up here, and look out over the bay, and think of the nights that she and I used to sit here and talk. We’d imagine walking out along the moon’s silver path to a land of enchantment and adventure. We’d plan our holidays here, camping on the island, sailing, exploring. I try and stop Mary taking more people away with her, when I can. That’s why I sent you that dream. One day, I hope she’ll change back to the Mary I knew.

"They say, in the town, that if you stay here at night, you can see a little girl sitting on that rock on the beach. And they say, that if you walk along the beach at night, and look up at this window, you’ll see a little girl looking out to sea. Even if the house is empty.”

Ruth turned to look at Anne.

"And they’re right," said Anne softly. "And that’s why my father was able to get this house for so little. No-one wants to stay here."

Ruth nodded.

"What can I do?" said Anne suddenly. "Isn’t there something we can do? Something to help Mary, so you and she can be friends again, so you can both walk out along the Moon’s path together, and find your land of adventure?"

"I can go any time," said Ruth, "But I won’t go without Mary. And she won’t talk to me."

Both girls stared down at the beach. As they did so, a cloud passed over the moon. When it had gone, they saw Mary, the girl from Anne’s dream sitting on the rock, her arms around her knees, her pale face, expressionless, looking up at them.

Anne woke late the next morning. The sun was streaming in through the open curtains, and as Ruth had promised, the room smelt good, a combination of sunlight, warmth, the smell of the sea, and… breakfast.

Over breakfast, plans for the day were discussed. As her family debated the merits of the open-air pool versus the beach, Anne tucked into toast, and tried to put the events of the night from her mind, at least for now. When questioned, she put her vote in for a day spent at the pool. She wasn’t too keen on spending more time near that rock, even though – a cursory glance through the window showed – it was sitting there rather innocently.

A day spent at the pool soon put the night’s story from Anne’s mind. She and Philip went on the slides, tried out the blow-up obstacle course (and succeeded in completing it on about their twentieth try; there was a certain trick to getting round the palm trees without falling off), and when they had commandeered a float each, they played pirates. By the end of the day they were tired, happy, and had even turned slightly brown from all the sun. They met their Aunt Jane on the way back from the pool. She was invited back to the house for tea, and the all walked back along the road together, Philip (his computer games forgotten), talking excitedly about plans for tomorrow.

"Oh," said Aunt Jane, as Anne’s father unlocked the front door, "You’re staying in the Haunted House." She smiled.
"Haunted house?" Anne’s father laughed, "Well, that would explain why it was so cheap to rent it. You must tell us the story over tea. I’m sure the children would love to hear it."

After tea, they settled in the sitting room overlooking the bay, and Aunt Jane started her story.

"The family that used to live here had two little girls, only a year apart in age. The father taught at the school, and the mother kept a sweetshop in the town. The girls seem to have been very popular here, they were active at the sailing club, and had their own little boat, they could often be seen sailing in the bay there. One day, the father punished a rather rowdy boy from a difficult family; he made the boy stay in school and miss a sailing race that was on that evening. It seems that in revenge, the boy came and vandalised the family’s dinghy. He boasted about it to his friends, and various people at school. Until, two days later, the youngest girl of the family drowned. It seems she’d taken the boat out, a storm had come up, and the damage caused by the boy made the boat unsafe. When it capsized, the little girl, Mary, was hit on the head and drowned."

"How awful!" Philip exclaimed. "Did they catch the boy?"

"No," Aunt Jane said. "Although it was common knowledge that he had damaged the boat, causing the accident, his father lied to protect him. There was not enough proof, so the police could do nothing. Mary’s father had to go to school, and teach the class, and see that boy grinning at him, every day. Of course, he couldn’t stand it.
"At the time of the accident, their older daughter, Ruth, had chickenpox. She was infectious, so hadn’t been to the school, and didn’t know about the boy who had vandalised the boat. In order to protect her, and so that the father shouldn’t go mad from grief and anger, the family moved away. It was terribly sad; they were all killed in a car crash seven years later. They say that the older girl, Ruth, never got over the loss of her sister."

"My goodness, Anne, are you alright?" Anne’s mother looked at her in concern. "You’ve gone very white."
"Oh, I’m fine Mummy, I think I’m just very tired."

Anne sat on the windowseat, her mind going over what her aunt had said, joining the details with those of Ruth’s story. She’d said she would go to bed, but her mind was too busy for her to sleep. If Ruth didn’t know about the other reasons her parents had left, then she couldn’t have told Mary. Perhaps if Mary knew, she would understand that all the blame for her loneliness couldn’t lie with her sister, or with her parents.

Once the house was quiet, Anne put on her shoes and a jacket, and crept down the stairs. She left the latch off on the front door, and closed it quietly behind her. Once over the wall and on the beach, she headed for the rock. Close to, it was about half her height, and she could see the foot and handholds that would let one clamber up and sit on top. She did so, the rock under her fingers still feeling warm from the sun although it was nearly midnight. She sat with her legs drawn up under her, the way she had seen Mary sitting.

The beach was quiet. Anne could hear a lone seagull somewhere out at sea, and the gentle rhythmic whispering of the waves. It was another clear night, and from where she was sitting, there was a moonlit path going across the wet sand, and out over the waves, out to sea, beyond the point of the bay. She turned, and looked up to her bedroom window. A pale face, filled with longing, looked down at her. She looked away, turning to look back at the moon.

Mary stood between the rock and the sea, in the middle of the moon’s reflection. Dressed as she had been in Anne’s dream, she looked small and forlorn. She held out her hand to Anne.

Slipping down off the rock, Anne took Mary’s hand, and followed her. The moonlight on the waves seemed to create a glittering, magical path. Mary said nothing, her eyes dark in her face, her wet hair hanging down her back. When they reached the entrance to the bay, Anne stopped. "Mary."
"What?" Despite being a menacing ghost, she sounded like a petulant small girl.
"I have something to tell you."
Mary turned to face Anne, stepping between her and the moon, so all that Anne could see was the dark eyes in a pale face, expressionless.
"Well?"

"Ruth told me about what happened..." Anne began. She hurried on as she saw Mary’s features begin to twist in hatred at the mention of her sister’s name. "But Ruth was ill with chickenpox at the time. Your parents didn’t tell her everything."

For a long time, the two girls stood in the moonlight. Anne talked, telling Mary the whole story, everything her Aunt Jane had told her. As Mary listened, the hate drained out of her features. As Anne talked about Mary visiting her parents, a tear rolled down Mary’s cheek. "Mummy..." she whispered. "Daddy..."

"You can see them again." Anne said gently. "Don’t stay here. Go with Ruth. Go to the enchanted land of adventure, at the end of moon’s path, out at sea. Your parents will be waiting for you. They’ve waited a long, long time. Why don’t you go to them, tell them you love them? Your mother has waited a long time to hold you again."

Two tears rolled down Mary’s cheeks. She looked at Anne, then at last, turned and led the way back to the beach. When they reached the rock, Ruth was waiting for them, sitting on top of it. She slid down to join them, landing softly on the sand.

Mary said nothing, but held her arms out. Ruth went to her, and put her arms round her. The sisters said nothing, but nothing needed to be said. Then, holding hands, with Ruth leading the way, they walked down the beach and out to sea, along the glittering silver path. Ruth looked back, just once. Anne waved.

As they approached the mouth of the bay, Anne thought she saw two figures, a man and a woman, standing on the path, holding out their arms to the children. Ruth and Mary seemed to see them too, as they ran forward, still holding hands. The little family was complete. As they faded from view Ruth seemed to look round at Anne once more. "Thank you..." The waves seemed to say.

For a long time, Anne sat on the rock, and looked out at the horizon. When she went back to her room, she sat on the windowseat, and looked out at the bay. The lighthouse beam flashed over the bay, a long path of yellow light in brief, bright competition to the moonlight. Somewhere over the bay, a seagull called. Anne fell asleep, listening to sound of the waves.


~~~~Fin~~~~

I think it will need some editing, but that's for another night. I hope you enjoy it, anyway.