The Ghostly Past

Chapter 24

Mayor Vella had just released her, when Oliver caught sight of Clara. She was already emotionally wrung out after kissing Max, being caught in the vision, being rejected and then Leo's father had all but begged her to help them.

Oliver looked distraught, his eyes at first unfocused as he first walked into the ballroom. She watched him notice her, his eyes widening and then narrowing. He crossed the room towards her with single minded determination.

Clara braced herself as he took her arm, "I need to talk to you." He said without preamble, pulling her to one side. She examined his face. He looked as if he wanted to cry.

"What is it?"

"I..." his voice cracked.

"They told you." Clara knew, saying it aloud.

"Yes." He nodded desperately.

"What did they tell you?"

"Some ridiculous tale about ghosts and curses and reincarnation!" His voice rose in agitation. "Tell me it's a joke, Clara. I know you're not in league with them. Tell me it's not true!"

Her eyes pricked with tears. "The ghosts are real, Oliver. I've seen them. They almost killed me." She remembered the icy cold she'd felt the night she lay on the pavement, dying while visions of the past overtook her.

"What about the rest?" His eyes were intense, his grip on her arms almost painful as his fingers dug into her.

"People are watching." She murmured. The craze in his eyes, his rising voice, were drawing eyes. People always seemed to have a sixth sense for an argument. One of the waiters was moving in their direction.

"Clara, what about the rest?" Oliver ignored them in his fearful frenzy.

She wrested herself free, tugging him onto the dance floor. "Dance with me." She told him. "It'll attract less attention."

He couldn't do much more than hold her and sway in his present state but with the music and the others whirling around them, it would be harder for anyone to hear their conversation.

"Yes, I know the rest." She told him quickly. "It's all in the village's history, in the archives. But Max told me it all tonight." His name caused her pain but she kept talking.

"You think it's true?" A tear threatened to spill. "I don't understand Clara. They just tried to turn my entire world on its head. Why would they do that?"

"Because they believe it." Clara replied.

"I don't want to believe it." He had stopped even the pretence of swaying. "They think they're going to die. They told me that they're all going to die and they're going to kill me with them!" His face was damp with nervous perspiration.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. They're crazy. It's like that Simon Pegg film, the one where he's the police officer and all the villagers are nuts for the greater good. I have to leave."

On the edge of the room, she saw Max and Leo out of the corner of her eye. Max was still in his uniform. Both looked tense, their eyes fixed on Clara and Oliver in the middle of the dance floor. Leo was trying to catch her eye and she steadfastly avoided it.

"They're waiting to catch you as soon as you get off the dance floor." Clara told him, still standing in position, forcing him to sway with her.

"Oh god." His voice was raw. "I have to get out of the village. Tonight, Clara. I'll send for my things at a later date, I'll make some excuse to the university, change my research focus, whatever it takes. I'm going home to Liverpool and I'm not coming back."

"Will they let you?" Was the first thing that flew from her lips. "Oh god, they're coming over."

"I can't talk to them!" Oliver said in a rush, "I can't. They'll try and talk me out of leaving. They'll probably lock me up somewhere." He gave her a long look. "Sorry, Clara. Just play along. You can slap me later."

Before she could respond, he leaned in, one hand cupping her cheek as his lips crashed into hers. Her eyes closed automatically, her body responding despite her lack of feelings. His face was damp with tears against hers, his hands shaking. He kept it going just long enough, and then broke away.

She stared at him in astonishment. He was looking around them shiftily. There were people nodding and laughing in their direction. One drunken man gave them a small round of applause.

Max and Leo had vanished however. Oliver's distraction had done the job. He took her arm, leading her to the side. They took a seat by a table.

"It worked." Oliver took a breath. He looked at Clara's incredulous face. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't think of anything else that would work. I figured they'd think we were having a romantic moment and think maybe I was coming to terms with all of this nonsense."

"Well it worked." Clara nodded. She felt a pang of both regret and satisfaction that Max had seen her with Oliver. "When will you leave?"

"Tonight. It has to be tonight." Oliver said to her. "Like I said, they can send my things on. I won't be back. Come with me, Clara."

"It's not me in the prophecy." She pointed out, "They don't care about me."

"Can you really say you're safe here?" Oliver protested.

She thought about it. The ghosts, the visions that plagued her, and then what had almost happened tonight. The terror, the moment she found herself looking into the dark depths of the well, the guilt and horror that did not belong to her. The way they had all subtly spied on her, manipulated and lied to her. Max, who had kissed and then rejected her. What was there for her here?

She needed time and space to think. She'd put a leave of absence in to the Academy, go home for a few days or for a holiday, clear her head.

"No, I'm not safe here." Maybe away from there she would be able to sleep without nightmares of people she didn't know, or of Philip's body, and his wife with her blade.

"So you'll come?" He asked her.

A little drunk, and far too emotional to be making decisions, Clara nodded. "Let's get out of here."

They ran hand in hand into the hall, passing Harriet who put out her hand to stop them. "I didn't know you two were..." She looked confused, a frown creasing her forehead. Oliver stopped in his tracks, gazing at Harriet in regret. After all, he'd spent most of the time since they'd met flirting with her. She'd clearly seen them on the dance floor.

Clara gazed between them, stricken. "It wasn't like that!" Oliver blurted out, flushing. "Oh god I'm making a mess of things tonight."

"Head outside Oliver." Clara cut in before he started ranting. "I'll be just a second."

"What is going on Clara?" Harriet asked, the moment Oliver left. "I thought you and Max were pretty much a thing. And then you and Oliver are making out in the middle of the dance floor. Now what? You're going home with him? That's not like you." She looked concerned.

"It's...it's not like that." Clara stammered. "Oliver and me, there's nothing going on. It's a ruse."

"What?" Harriet looked even more confused. "What is going on?" She said through gritted teeth.

"I can't explain." Clara said regretfully. "Not tonight. There's not enough time. I'll call you tomorrow. But for now I need your help. I'm sorry."

"What can I do?" She said immediately. Clara smiled. She didn't deserve Harriet.

"If anyone asks where Oliver and me are, stall them." Clara asked. "Don't let them know that we've gone. They'll figure it out eventually, but we should be out of the village first."

"Out of the village?" Harriet gaped. "Where are you going?"

"I'm not sure yet. But we can't stay."

"Clara, you've both been drinking." Harriet reasoned, "I don't think you should be doing this."

"I know." Clara shrugged helplessly. "But Oliver needs me right now. As a friend."

"Just...be careful." Harriet hesitated as Clara hurtled past her and out into the night.