Chapter Forty-Seven
I’m fast asleep when she wakes me.
First, it’s her light I sense, dazzling behind my closed lids, as if morning has suddenly arrived in full force. By the time
I open my eyes and realise I’m not dreaming, the Blue Lady’s faintly pulsing light is already moving through my bedroom door.
For a moment I think she must just have been passing, but the last time she appeared to me Megan was camping out in the rose
garden. Something must be wrong. Scrambling out of bed, I fling open the door to look for her. She is hovering by Forrest
and Artie’s adjoining rooms.
“What is it?” I whisper to her, but before I can reach her, she vanishes. Looking up and down the length of the corridor,
I find no trace of her. Not so much as a sparkle. That’s when I realise that Forrest’s bedroom door is wide open.
Peering inside I can see him, sprawled half naked in bed.
“Forrest?” I whisper, as I stand in the doorway. “Your door is open, and anyone can look at you sleeping possibly naked, covered
in only a thin sheet.”
Forrest doesn’t stir. The sheet covers him just below the waist; his arms are flung out across the expanse of the bed, his dark curls covering his face. Why is the door open? What has the Blue Lady brought me here to show me? Is she really invested in me hooking up with Forrest or something?
Then I remember what Lady B told me at the start of our stay here at the castle. The Blue Lady shows herself when children
are in danger. That’s why she appeared to tell me about Megan. This can only mean one thing: Artie.
“Forrest!” This time I walk into the room, calling his name at full volume. “Forrest, wake up!”
I open the connecting door that leads to Artie’s room, and my heart drops into my stomach. Her bed is empty.
“What? What’s happening?” Forrest looks at me. “What are you doing here, Ava? I thought you said . . .”
“It’s Artie. She’s not in bed,” I tell him urgently. “The Blue Lady woke me up to tell me. She’s missing.”
“What are you talking about?” Forrest asks. “What do you mean . . . ?”
He sees Artie’s not there and rattles the door that leads out to the hallway.
“It’s still locked,” he says. “She couldn’t go anywhere without going past . . .” Forrest closes his eyes. “Oh no. Oh God,
she snuck out and I was fast asleep. Ava, she could be anywhere by now. Fuck, what do I do? Where’s my phone?”
Then I remember what Artie said earlier, about wanting to go on a nighttime adventure to see fairies.
“She can’t have got far.” I point at the chair at the end of her bed. “Look, she’s taken her helmet. I get the feeling she’s
gone on an adventure.”
“But she’s only six. Anything could happen to her,” Forrest says. “And even if she stays in the grounds . . . We need to get everyone up and call the police.”
Just then, the light returns, glowing in the hallway just outside the room.
“Forrest, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think all we need to do is to let Cecily show us where Artie has gone.”
“Ava, what are you talking about?” Forrest pulls on some jeans. “Who’s Cecily?”
“Come on,” I say, holding out my hand. I lead him out into the hallway. “The Blue Lady knows where to look.”
Right up until the moment he sees her with his own eyes, Forrest doesn’t believe me. Then he sees her too, her light shining just at the top of the stairs. She’s
brighter and more focused than I have ever seen her before, and I can’t help thinking that’s because the danger is more urgent.
Forrest blinks and rubs his eyes.
“Am I awake?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I tell him.
“She’s beckoning to us,” Forrest says in disbelief.
“Come on. She’ll take us to Artie, like she took me to Megan.” We run barefoot along the hallway, and as we do Cecily floats
down the stairs and out through the main entrance door, and I mean right through its thick solid oak.
“It’s locked,” Forrest says as he races to the door, rattling the handles.
Thinking for a second, I remember Hal and me standing at the open French windows in the drawing room.
“This way,” I tell him, running into the room. “We can get out this way.”
Hastily I fumble with the latches on the door. As soon as they are open, we tumble out onto the terrace. By the time we get
outside Cecily is already halfway across the lawn, heading towards the cedar trees. She’s moving so fast that we are both
running at full tilt to catch up with her, her brightness rivalling the shine of the waning moon.
“Where’s she going?” Forrest asks. “Oh God, this is the way to the lake, isn’t it?”
“It’s okay,” I tell Forrest. “I think I know where she’s gone. She wanted to see fairies. She’s gone to the chapel.”
As we run out from under the spread of the tree, Cecily is waiting a few feet in front of us, icy bright. Sapphire tears seem
to sparkle on her cheeks, her head shaking in sorrow; her whole body, if that’s what it can be called, is shimmering. A gentle
moan of anguish rushes through the tree branches as she gestures towards the chapel where her little girl is buried. Then
suddenly she vanishes, and the night seems silenced by her absence.
“Listen,” I say, catching hold of Forrest’s hand and pulling him towards the chapel. I was right; relief floods through me.
“Listen.”
We can hear Artie, chatting and laughing, playing. There’s a second voice with her, the high, excited babbling of a younger
child. But there are no more children at the castle. Not living ones, anyway.
Forrest and I exchange a glance and very softly approach the chapel.
A soft light emanates from within the walls, moving across the stained glass.
As we reach the doorway we see Artie sitting amongst the flowers, laughing with delight as she watches moths and fireflies dancing around a bright white light.
And the source of that light is a ghost girl.
Little Eliza, her chubby arms outstretched, is trying to grasp the insects that fly through her grip.
“Artie.” Forrest breathes his daughter’s name, gentle and full of love. “My Artemisia.”
“Daddy?” Artie looks up, giving a delighted smile at the sight of her father. “Is she here, Daddy? I thought Ava would bring
her. Did you bring her, Ava?”
“Is who here, darling?” Forrest says.
“Eliza’s mommy, is she here? I worked it out, the problem. Eliza’s mommy thinks she can’t come into the places where Eliza
is. She thinks it’s her fault that Eliza got sick and died. But she can, Daddy. She can be with Eliza. Will you tell her,
Ava? Will you tell her to come in, because Eliza misses her mommy very much.”
Forrest sinks down into the grass. Turning around, I go back out the entrance to look for the Blue Lady. There’s no sign of
her now.
“Cecily.” I softly call her name. “Cecily, thank you for helping us find Artie. But I have something else to tell you. Something
important, a message from Artie for you. What happened to Eliza is not your fault. You didn’t know that you could pass your
illness on to her. No one blames you, Cecily. Your husband loved and missed you both until the day he died. Eliza can’t go
to him, because she’s waiting for you, Cecily. You both have been waiting to be at peace for so long, and all you have to
do is go to her.”
For a long moment there is nothing but the sound of the soft breeze in the creaking arms of the cedar and the sound of Artie and, incredibly, Eliza’s laughter from within the chapel.
When I look around, Forrest is crouched amongst the nodding flowers a few feet away from the girls, his face rapt with astonished wonder.
“My Eliza?” I turn back and Cecily is standing there. There is no light now. Just a young woman, her face wet with tears,
who looks just as real as you or I. “My Eliza died because of my kisses.”
“You didn’t know,” I say. “No one knew. You loved her so much. And her father loved you both. All these years you haven’t
been able to find each other, Cecily, but all you have to do is go to her. Just go into the chapel. Eliza is waiting for you.”
“I’m so afraid,” Cecily says. It sounds as if the cedar trees are whispering her words for her.
“Look, I don’t know what comes next,” I tell her. “But I do know your little girl misses you, Cecily. That has to be worth
the risk, right?”
Her eyes meet mine, and she walks past me towards the entrance of the chapel. I follow her inside. Once we are inside her
light shines again; the whole space fills with joy and the warmth of a mother’s love. Perhaps I imagine it, but I feel my
own mum nearby, standing at my shoulder. And I see Artie smiling into the flowers as if she can see a familiar face there
too.
“Mama!” Eliza runs towards Cecily’s outstretched arms.
For a moment it feels like a star is being born within the walls of the little chapel. Blindingly bright light fills every
crevice, dazzling us. Laughter and voices echo around us. Cecily’s and Eliza’s, but a man’s voice too.
“Papa!” I hear Eliza cry, and then all at once there is nothing but Artie, Forrest, and I sitting amongst the wildflowers
in an empty ruined chapel built by a father who loved his daughter.
Forrest and I look at each other, both of us stunned and altered somehow, although we can’t know how yet.
“I’m so tired,” Artie says suddenly, flopping against Forrest. “Daddy, will you carry me? Why are we all out here anyway?
It’s far too late for a child my age to be up and about.”