Rania Algafari never asked to be different, and when she escaped the war in Syria and moved to the UK, her only goal was to live her life in peace. Get up, go to work, avoid talking to the dead - that sort of thing.
But not everyone dies quietly, an...
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I knew something was wrong the instant I reached the ornate iron gates of Daylesford Hall. Not because I could see the crowd next to the front doors or the police officers traipsing in and out, but because the spirit perched on the moss-covered boulder at the top of the winding driveway told me so.
Lucy had been sitting in the same spot since a carelessly driven carriage clipped her in 1883, causing her to lose her balance and hit her head on that very rock.
"Rania! You'll never guess what's happened."
I checked around for watchful eyes, then smiled. Lucy was one of the few spirits I'd come across who didn't make me want to run screaming. Not that I ran out of fear—more from frustration.
"What?" I whispered, careful not to move my lips.
"Something big's happened. Six cars with flashing lights have driven past this morning, and a big yellow van, but that left a while ago."
"Flashing lights... Do you mean police cars?"
"The lights were blue, and the cars had words on them."
As a servant girl, Lucy had never learned to read, and with Daylesford Hall hidden away at the end of a winding lane in the sleepy English village of Enderby, she wouldn't have come across the police too often. So why were they here?
"How long ago did they arrive?"
"This morning, a little after first light."
At this time of year, late November with patches of snow still left on the ground, that meant around eight a.m. The cold snap started in October and hadn't let up since, and while I'd been fascinated by its icy beauty at first, the novelty soon wore off. Crisp white sheets turned to grey sludge, and the walk from the bus stop down the road took twice as long and left me with a bruised ass on one occasion. Back home in Syria, the flurries lasted a day or two at most, and the snow rarely settled.
"I'll take a look and see what's going on," I said.
"Please, tell me. I do wish I could see for myself."
If the situation was serious enough to warrant six police cars and, I presumed, an ambulance, it probably wasn't something either of us wanted to see, but Lucy loved to gossip and I was the only person she had to talk to now. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining her back in Victorian times, very much alive and chatting with the other household staff in the huge old kitchen at Daylesford Hall. I hadn't met any of them myself, but in the summer months when the evenings were warmer, Lucy had told me about her life in bite-sized chunks, a minute or two each day.
"I'll give you an update on my way out," I promised.
She smiled, and when I glanced back, I saw her settle onto the boulder again—an illusion, because she could have passed right through it if she'd chosen to. At least ghosts didn't feel the cold.
