The Good Sisters. Helen Phifer
and put it on the table.
‘My mum would be so proud if she could see me now.’ He winked at Kate, who laughed. For a priest, he was a funny guy.
‘So, Kate from the other side of the woods, it’s time to talk serious. Do you believe in ghosts? Spirits? Zombies? The undead?’
‘I suppose so. I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it. What has that got to do with my house?’
‘For want of a better word, I’ve always been fascinated with anything that wasn’t quite normal. I wouldn’t usually disclose that to someone who I’ve only just had the pleasure of meeting; however, I get the impression that you need my help so I’d be grateful if you could keep this between us. I loved reading and hearing about ghost stories when I was a kid, then as a teenager I used to go on ghost hunts with my friends. Granted, most of the time we were pissed and wouldn’t have heard a ghost if it had been screaming in our faces, but we did it. You name an abandoned building and we would go, in the dark with a crappy old camcorder and a torch. Any old hospital, church, cemetery, you name it we went there.’
‘I don’t understand. How do you go from being a ghost hunter to becoming a priest?’
‘Because, Kate, this is where it gets serious. I saw some scary stuff that I couldn’t deny existed and if that exists then so must God. In fact, I scared myself so much I couldn’t stand to be on my own. So I figured the best way to get over it was to become a priest – plus you get a free house and it’s not the worst job in the world.’
He laughed that infectious laugh. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you my deepest, darkest secrets when we’ve only just met, but there’s something about you, Kate. You remind me of myself a little. What I’m trying to say in the most ridiculous way ever is that sometimes things that go bump in the night can’t be explained in a rational way. Of course, we should always, always look for ways to debunk stuff – that’s a given – but when things can’t be explained then we need to look for other explanations. These incidents you’ve told me about, I find a little worrying.’
‘So you think my house is haunted then?’
‘No, I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is just because it doesn’t sound rational don’t discount it. You’re doing a lot of renovating by the sounds of it so it could just be the house settling at night or it could be that all this work you’re doing has disturbed something that had once been at peace. However, there are different types of haunting. There are your benign spirits who just want to stay where they were the happiest, or they might not even realise they’re dead. I look at it this way: they are still living their life in a different time frame to you and I. Sometimes we get caught up in each other’s worlds, usually only for the briefest of moments, but it does happen. And then there are the real, scary, serious hauntings of either a person, place or even an object. I don’t want to scare you, but if there is something in your house calling your name and mimicking your friend; well then, you need to be very careful because this isn’t a residual haunting. It’s intelligent.’
Kate shuddered. The thought that she might have spent her money on a haunted house was not an attractive one. She sipped her tea, wondering if she’d made a mistake coming here or whether she’d been led here by someone who was looking after her. Her first thought would be Amy; her friend wouldn’t want her putting herself in any danger, be it spiritual or conventional.
‘I can see by your face you’re not impressed with me, Kate, and I’m sorry. I just believe in being honest. I don’t want you to spend months hoping it will go away if there’s another reason for it.’
‘No, it’s not that at all. I just never expected my walk in the fresh air to clear my head to end this way. It’s all a bit bizarre.’
‘Maybe you were meant to find me. After all, that took some determination to cross the jungle out the back. Why don’t I give you a lift home – save you ripping what skin you have left on your hands to bits – and I can take a look at the house for you? I’ll make some enquiries and be back in touch as soon as I find something out. How does that sound?’
‘Bloody marvellous. Thank you so much, Joe.’
He nodded and stood up. ‘To be honest, I was stuck and was just about to lose my life, so maybe you were sent to save me from that bloody game that has taken over everything.’
He picked up his keys from the dresser in the hall and she followed him to the front door. An old VW camper van painted pale blue and cream was parked outside.
‘Wow, I’m impressed. You don’t see many priests driving one of those.’
‘Thank you; to be honest, you don’t see many priests like me. I like to be different and besides she’s been on many a ghost hunt with me. She knows how things work.’
He opened the door for Kate and she climbed in, wondering what exactly Ollie would think when he saw her getting dropped off in this by a man half her age who wasn’t wearing anything that remotely resembled a vicar’s outfit. Joe jumped in and started the engine, which sounded like a tank.
‘She’s a bit noisy, but you soon get used to it.’
Kate nodded. Her hands were stinging now. She needed to go home and wash the scratches before they got infected. She just wanted to put her pyjamas on and drink a bottle of wine to blot today out. Clear her mind of what happened earlier, of thoughts of her ever-growing crush on Ollie and of her newfound, slightly crazy friend. Could today get any stranger? She hoped not. She didn’t think she’d be able to cope with it.
As she directed Joe to the drive of her house, she saw Ollie hanging out of the first-floor window shouting up at Ethan who was hanging out of the one above. Her heart lurched. Good job health and safety didn’t visit often. She watched as Ollie turned to see who was driving the camper van. He lifted his hand to cover his eyes and squinted. As they got nearer, the surprise on his face when he realised she was in the passenger seat made her heart beat faster. Stop it now, woman.
‘I see what you mean. This house does look a lot like the vicarage. I didn’t even realise it was here. There’s certainly some connection. Don’t you think?’
‘Yes, now that I’ve seen it I think there is. Are you coming inside?’
She looked at his face, which had lost all the ruddiness from earlier; there was a fine film of perspiration on his forehead as they drove nearer to the front door.
‘No, I can’t. Not this time. I’ll just drop you off if you don’t mind. I’ll be in touch as soon as I find something out about the history of the house. Is that okay with you?’
Puzzled, she nodded her head. Why wouldn’t it be okay? She barely knew the man; he didn’t owe her anything. He stopped the van to let her get out, some distance from the entrance.
‘Thanks again for the lift and erm, I’m sorry about the trespassing.’
He smiled at her then began to reverse, not even answering. Strange young man, she thought to herself. Then again you didn’t get many men his age wanting to become priests, did you? She stood watching as he drove away in a plume of black exhaust fumes.
The sun was beginning to set in the sky and she wondered how late Ollie would stay tonight. She wished he would stay here all night. How nice would it be to know he was there? Hell, she wanted him to stay in her bed. She wanted to make love to him then lie next to him, just knowing that he was there. It had been so long since she’d had anyone to snuggle up with. Martin had never been the snuggling type.
Christ, she needed to stop comparing him with the useless idiot who was her soon-to-be ex-husband. Ollie was nothing like him. There was no comparing the pair of them. She let out a loud sigh. Instead she would spend tonight on her own, trying not to think of what Joe had been talking about, scaring her half to death. She would lock herself in her room with her earphones in listening to music or watching a nice, romantic film until she fell asleep and couldn’t hear any footsteps or smell old leather or burning flesh. Then she would wake up in the morning, ready