A Pocket Full of Posies (Book 2)

Chapter Five

Trying not to blame myself for my entire family's deaths isn't really going great right now. After Ava's vocalisation of her theory, I sort of just clammed up, while everyone else started questioning the whole thing. I can't say it didn't make sense. She reassured me that it was just one of many possible theories, but children are more easily manipulated by dark influences than adults, which seems pretty textbook. If I'd come into contact with one that saw how rare, and potentially useful, the opportunity of having me on their side was, it wouldn't have hesitated to try and influence me. And I'm not exactly known for my strong, stable mind.

The next ferry off this island isn't until eleven forty-five tomorrow night, so we find another hotel to stay in. This whole trip must be costing Ava's parents a fortune, and a few of us have offered to pay towards our keep, but we've been shot down every time. My offer would be on behalf of the government anyway, considering the only money I have is a student loan.

I'm stuck in a room with Tom and Jamie again tonight, which sounds like my worst nightmare right now, so I'm sitting in the small hotel's reception area. I'm trying to catch up on the lectures and seminars I've missed over the past week or so, but despite the fact lectures are recorded and uploaded online, all materials and notes are available with one click, and a fair few of my lecturers respond to emails all hours of the day, all I can do is stare at my laptop screen.

What if I couldn't see spirits? Would my dad not have been so estranged from the rest of my family? Would my aunt's panicked phone calls to Mary never have been a thing? Would she, and everyone else, still be alive? I imagine myself as Mary had assumed me, a silly little kid who can do nothing of any significance whatsoever, and it really makes me want to hit something. I can't get back into that headspace. I can't. I know I can't. Not now. I'm useless if I'm like that. I realise I'm digging my nails into my leg, so take a breath, and lean my head back against the hard armchair I'm sitting in.

Don't go there, I tell myself, just don't go there.

Once I lower my head back down, sitting on the chair opposite me is Lucy. One thing I've come to appreciate about her is she rarely scares the crap out of me. Annabel loves to randomly shout in my ear about something or other, or stand behind me and wait for me to turn around and have the fright of my life. Lucy looks much like she did the night we first met, a bored expression on her pale face as she twirls a bit of hair around her finger.

"You look more dead than me," she comments before dropping her hair and leaning forward slightly. "Do you have Instagram? I had eight-thousand followers, you know. Crazy, right? Could've made a career out of that. Mum was about to buy me a new phone too."

I laugh a little. "You should probably miss your mum more than your phone, kiddo." I pick my own phone up from the table beside me. "I do have it. Barely use it, but I'll follow you if it makes you feel better. Give you eight-thousand and one."

"Ugh, no point now. It's not the same." She manifests herself beside me so she's peering over my shoulder. "Lemme see your feed, I bet it's shit."

"Definitely not seeing it after that unholy language," I say with a smirk as I put my phone in my pocket.

"You swear all the time!" Lucy pouts.

"Who? Me? I would never," I reply as she manifests herself back onto the chair opposite. "You youngsters and your foul language. When I was your age, I was singing hymns and feeding the homeless."

"I'm fourteen, not four," Lucy mumbles with her arms crossed.

I know I have more important things to do than wind up my sister's dead teenage friend right now, but it's a good excuse to not do uni work or think about the enormity of my family's fate. We're using our free time tomorrow to delve into figuring out what happened to Lucy, and I'm pretty sure her bugging me is to do with the fact she doesn't want to wait that long. I'm a bit concerned she's more focused on her phone than how the hell she ended up dead, but hey, I'm ignoring the fact I feel wholly responsible for my entire bloodline being wiped out, so who am I to judge?