The Ghostly Past

Chapter 14

When Monday morning came, Clara had to physically force herself out of bed, still exhausted and a little feverish. Mrs Barker tutted at her as she handed over breakfast. "You should be in bed." She said disapprovingly.

"I have work." She munched on her toast. "I'll take it easy."

"I'd better drive you in then." The old lady scowled. "You know Warren would have given you the day off, dear. I'd have made sure of it."

"Thanks, but I'd rather still go."

It was pouring down with rain, bouncing off the ground, puddles forming rapidly, as the fields flooded and water poured out. The sky was swollen with grey clouds as Clara ran from the car and up the steps to the Academy.

Warren stopped her as she pushed her hood back. "Miss Fitzroy, I wasn't expecting you today. Mr Carew told me what happened at the weekend. Dreadful business." His eyes watched her coolly. Warren Ford knew then, about the ghosts.

"I didn't think you were from the village originally, Mr Ford."

"No. But I settled here as a young man, and you can only be here so long before being taken into confidence, as I'm sure you know." His eyes travelled over her. "Take it easy today." He headed off into the distance.

Harriet caught her as soon as Warren left. "It's been a while since I've seen him look that serious. What's happened?" She looked at Clara properly. "Wow, you look terrible! Are you sick?"

"It's..."

"What the hell are you doing here?" James said pushing into the conversation. "You should be in bed!" His hair was wet, flopping around his face like a shaggy dog, water trickling down his nose. "I told Warren you wouldn't be in."

"Hi James." Clara said, a little sarcasm creeping into her voice. "How are you today?" Harriet blinked at her biting tone. But she couldn't not be a little more familiar with the guy after he saved her life, right?

James took a step back, and then his familiar laugh broke from his lips. "And there's the person Max met the first night! He told us you were a firework. Believe it or not, I'm still tired after Saturday's all nighter. And I'm still pissed at you." His phone buzzed. "Damn, I need to go. You realise Max will kill me if he finds out you're here?" He called over his shoulder as he hurried off.

"What just happened?" Harriet shifted her giant backpack, gazing after him. "What did I miss?"

Clara sighed, massaging her temples. "So I was hanging out with them Saturday night, and I left on my own and got hit with one of those insane cold spot things they keep going on about."

"You're kidding!" Harriet took her arm. "You're lucky to be alive!"

"I know." Clara shivered. "They sorted a search party, found me just in time."

"You 're sure you should be here?" Harriet asked.

She let out a breath. That was the question she received all morning, from student after student. Lots of the teachers, most of whom were aware of the state of things in the village, also stopped by her classroom to ask if she was okay.

Truth was, she wasn't. Yes, she felt relieved to know that she wasn't crazy, pleased to be included in the secret, to be treated like a friend instead of an outsider. But she kept seeing Philip's body when she closed her eyes, his wife's crazed eyes. She felt herself slipping away, dying. She felt those emotions, the apathy, the fear, the guilt and the fury. They didn't belong to her but they lurked in the back of her mind, in her dreams, alternately coursing through her body.