9. Home is where your weird friends are #2
Ewan’s smile appears strained, but some warmth is seeping back into his voice.
I never stopped to wonder how it might be for him, to see the dead at all times.
To not know if the person talking to you in broad daylight in the middle of the street is really here or not.
How exhausting it must be for him. How terrifying.
We make it back to Lynch House quickly, the cold dodging our steps.
Lana doesn’t use a key, the door just opens for her, and I can hear a soft click, as if a lock just magically turned by itself.
As we step into the large entrance hall, a few cats welcome us.
One of them, the black one, rubs itself on my legs and I do my best not to cringe away.
They’re even more creepy after what Lana said.
“I knew these cats weren’t normal...” I mutter.
“What?” Ewan asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing.” No need to spook him more tonight.
“Go sit in the common room, by the fire,” Lana says. ‘I’ll make us some tea to warm up.”
Emma, Luigi, and Noah are still raucously drunk, and they run to the staff kitchen with her to find some bottles of liquor. Shirley stays with us and we make our way to the second floor.
I can’t help it, I count the steps on the stairs. Now that I’m aware the house is probably more haunted than I first thought, I notice the little details. Like the light turning on by itself in the hallway, or the quiet groans of the building.
“She’s more expressive at night, when the guests are asleep,” Shirley says, noticing the way I look around.
“Bloody hell.”
“Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. She’s our secret.”
She. Are sentient houses like boats, all females? Or did they just gender the house for fun?
Was it the house who closed the door on us while we were trying to see what was in the basement the previous day? I thought it was a ghost, but what if the house was trying to hide its secrets?
“What’s in the basement?” I blurt out.
Ewan’s eyes widen, and he looks at us both as we enter the large common room, the one with colourful carpets and a multitude of chairs and couches. The place is dark and empty, but a fire is burning bright in the hearth. Who’s been feeding the flames since we left?
I'm plagued with questions tonight.
Shirley frowns, dropping her coat on a leather chair.
It feels strange to see her wearing her party clothes in such a peaceful environment.
“The basement? Random stuff. Bottles of wine. Old furniture. Things the previous occupants didn’t know what to do with.
We have a mould problem, so we don’t go down there. It’s bad for the lungs.”
“A... mould problem,” I repeat.
“Yeah. Lana called specialists three times, but they can’t figure out where the mould is coming from. They couldn’t find a leak. They cleaned the entire basement once or twice, it cost an arm, but the mould always comes back. So, Lana just forbid people to go down there.”
I share a glance with Ewan. This could be paranormal activity. But he already looks shaky from what happened in the club, so let’s drop the subject.
“Shouldn’t you be with Luigi?” I ask her as I push Ewan to sit on the large couch in front of the fire.
I noticed how the man has been pursuing her relentlessly.
Shirley shrugs. “He’s nice, but I’d rather make sure you guys are okay.” She sits on Ewan’s left side and drops her head on his shoulder.
I feel a pang of gratitude for her. She still doesn’t know what happened in the club to spook Ewan, but she’s here for him, no questions asked.
We talk about our night out for a few minutes, hanging on to normalcy to banish the dark, until Lana arrives with a tray holding four mugs and a plate of club sandwiches she must have prepared while the kettle boiled.
“Why four?” I ask. “Where are the others?”
Lana snorts. “I opened the library for them on my way to the kitchen. They wanted to find books for the night,” she air quotes. “I dare say we won’t see them again tonight. The Lady in Red will have her fun with them.”
“The three of them?” Ewan asks, his voice a little too high.
“Yup,” Lana says, making the letter P pop.
I laugh when I notice Shirley’s face.
“They better clean after themselves,” she says.
The four of us sit on the floor around the tray to eat our sandwiches and drink our tea.
The firelight dances on Ewan’s face, and he looks at peace, at last. We are still drunk from our night out, and none of us can seem to act normal.
Lana almost chokes on a slice of ham and drops her mug on the carpet.
The seven cats all appear one by one and find spots to nap on the many chairs around us.
For once, I’m unbothered. I’m warm and in pleasant company, sobering up in the best way possible, with a warm cup of tea and Ewan’s shoulder touching my thigh.
He stayed on the floor after eating his sandwich.
Shirley is sitting by his side, and Lana by mine on the couch. We’re like four peas in a pod.
I’ve been travelling all over the UK for a few years now, going from one odd job to the next, the anxiety of my twenties dodging my every step.
I want to experience it all, have fun, meet new people.
Thinking about finding a place to live and put down roots is daunting.
What if I miss opportunities because I stayed put for too long?
I won’t lie, sometimes this life is exhausting, and I feel like I’m never really taking time to breathe. My parents are divorced and I don’t have a childhood home to go back to.
But maybe home isn’t a place. Maybe home is where your weird friends are, I think as I watch Ewan and Shirley play with one of the cats. Two ghost hunters hanging out with a couple of colourful women living in a haunted house.
I chuckle. Booze makes me sentimental.
I watch the flames as we’re bathed in gentle heat. None of us have fed the fire, and yet it’s still burning bright. Is the house watching over us?
Lana drops her head on my shoulder. “I love this house,” she says, voice drowsy. Maybe she’s been thinking about the same thing as me. “I won’t let it crumble.”
I nod and let my cheek touch her head. “We’re here to help.”
To my horror, one of the cats jumps on me. It’s the white one, Misty. She watches me, purring like an engine, then curls on my lap. Now that I know the felines are probably part of the house, I can’t help but to think maybe she approves. I don’t shoo the cat.
The other two are winding down, too, and Ewan’s head rests on my thigh now. I slide my fingers in his hair and stroke it gently. He melts under my touch.
The four of us drowse in front of the fire, this moment so perfect I want to make it last forever.