The Ghostly Past

Chapter 18

She coloured her lips with gloss, turning them a dusky pink shade, lining her eyes with kohl, flicking eyelashes with dark mascara. The dress she'd ordered online fitted fine, a figure hugging gown of periwinkle lace, lined with a sheath of darker blue satin. She wore silver heels, moving a little clumsily in them, her hair curled and pinned up, a dark plait sweeping around it.

Clara was ready for a party.

She hadn't slept really, just thinking of the implications of the things she had seen. She wanted to be wrong, to take back what she knew.

Her friends were cursed. And if the cycle ended as it normally did...they would die. How could she just watch that happen?

Everyone must know too. She thought of some of Kim's choice insults to Jess, that night when the boys had been discussing the curse without her. The professors at the Academy, looking at James in pity, Margaret Barker's face of sorrow when she said the only way to end the ghosts was to end the cycle.

It was like they'd all just given up.

Clara Fitzroy didn't give up on things, especially not the first real friends she'd ever had.

Margaret was going to the ball too, though she didn't drink alcohol, so had offered to drive the two of them there. "You look lovely, dear." She greeted her.

"So do you." She replied, meaning it. The old lady was dressed in a beautiful dark green dress, her silver hair fastened in a clasp.

In the car, she could feel Margaret's eyes on her, occasionally drifting over. "You've been working very late recently, Clara. And you've been very quiet today."

Clara shrugged. "I just have a few things on my mind. It doesn't matter."

"You can talk to me. You know that?"

"I know." Clara said unwillingly, but kept her mouth shut.

Grey Gardens looked beautiful. The gatehouse was staffed for once, a man checking invitations as guests arrived, directing them to the parking lot. There was still time before sunset, the sky a warm blue, tinged with the first pinks of evening.

There was light everywhere, the porch glowing with it, the street lamps that lined the drives of the estate all lit. People gathered beneath, flitting between them like moths, drifting from one conversation to brighter ones.

So much wealth in one place, she smiled at the tuxedos and suits and beautiful dresses, gold and silver jewellery twinkling beneath chandelier lights as she took tentative steps into the hall. The steady current of guests propelled her down the house, past locked rooms set aside, and into what had been the ballroom, cleaned up and emptied again for its annual use.

A string quartet had assembled and were already playing by the time she arrived, couples dancing a foxtrot across the polished floor. She recognised a few faces but it was largely strangers. Waiters and waitresses drifted by dressed in black with trays of wine. She grabbed one as a guy passed her. She was reasonably sure he was a student from the way he smiled at her in recognition.

"Looking good, Miss Fitzroy." A familiar voice called as Harriet stepped up next to her, tray in hand.

Clara's eyes widened. "I didn't know you were working here."

"Can't all be guests. The pay is good for one night's work. Can't beat a bit of extra cash." Harriet grinned, "Besides, I told you yesterday. You did look half asleep in that conversation however. Are you sure everything's okay with you?"

"I..." She got ready to make the same old excuses and stopped herself. "Not really. I found out some things that don't make sense, and other things that aren't pleasant and I don't know what to do and..."