The Sceptic, page 8
The last word is said dismissively and Ben flushes. Probably because he’s one of the posh buggers.
“This was about the letters?” he says.
“Mum,” Sofia says pleadingly and Wendy grabs her hand giving it a squeeze. The girl immediately shrugs it away and Wendy gives a little sigh.
“It’s got to be said, Sofia,” she says. She looks at the camera. “Messages started to appear around the house written on scraps of paper. They were just scrawled words at first that didn’t make any sense and then we got one that said, ‘You’re all going to die.’” Wendy stops talking and pats Sofia’s hand again. She hesitates and then says in a rush, “I think the children should be out of the room for this.” Ben nods and she sags in relief. “Go and get your stuff together,” she directs them, and they all vanish in a surge of noise and excited chatter.
Silence falls and then Wendy stirs. “At first, the society was really excited. They filmed everything and sent it all off to a handwriting expert in London. Only when he examined the letter, he decided that it matched Sofia’s writing. There was a huge row and they accused Sofia of faking everything that was going on. They made her out to be a spoilt, bored teenager.” She pauses. “And then they left us,” she says in a tone of absolute incredulity. “They’d seen everything that was going on and they still left us to it.”
“And could Sofia have been behind it all?” Ben asks delicately. Her face clouds with sudden anger and he holds a hand up to stay her. “It’s happened in other cases,” he says softly. “Teenagers finding the attention they get very heady and so doing more and more.”
“Well, that’s not true here,” she snaps. “Sofia admitted to writing the one letter fair and square. She said it was because the society were going to leave, and she was scared and wanted them to stay and sort out Walter.”
“The society don’t believe there is a poltergeist.”
Wendy flushes. “She said she didn’t do anything else.”
“And you believe her?”
She looks at her husband and then turns back to the camera. “I do,” she says defiantly. “She wanted Walter to go away and thought that was the way to get the society to help us. She was wrong but haven’t we all made mistakes?”
There’s a long pause and then Ben gives her his sweet smile and she relaxes. He slaps the table lightly and stands up. “Okay, I think we’ve got enough for now. We might need to fill in some gaps and do some more filming, but for now, we’re done.”
He walks over to me as I switch off the camera. “Okay?” he asks.
I nod.
“What about the other woman?” Will suddenly asks. “When are you interviewing her?”
“What woman?” Wendy asks, standing up.
Will scratches his head. “The one upstairs.”
The room is quiet for a moment, and then several people gasp.
Will looks mortified. “She was looking at us when we stood on the drive,” he says quietly, a note of apology in his voice.
The lounge is suddenly filled with noise as everyone starts talking in loud voices.
“Enough,” Pete thunders.
Everyone falls silent and as if on cue, footsteps suddenly sound from above us and I hear Sofia shout, “Dad. It’s happening again.”
In a flash, Pete charges towards the stairs. Will is on his heels. I grab my camera and follow them, catching up in the upstairs hallway. The kids are standing there looking scared.
“Where’s that noise coming from?” Pete snaps.
“It just started,” Sofia says, her face pale. She’s holding tight to her sister’s and brother’s hands.
“Okay. Go downstairs,” he tells her, and she nods, pulling the children after her.
Pete throws open the first door, looks inside, and then darts to the next.
Will is more measured. Joined by Liam, he methodically searches each room, checking cupboards and wardrobes and under beds while I film them. Ben helps, but eventually, the four of them have to admit defeat.
“No one,” Will says.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” Pete asks in a hostile voice, squaring up to Will. “Where the hell did you come from?”
I lower the camera. “He’s helping us,” I say sharply.
Ben makes urgent gestures at the camera, so after giving Pete another glare, I reluctantly set it back on my shoulder. Will’s gaze connects with mine, but then Ben manoeuvres between us.
“Will is a member of our group,” Ben says firmly to Pete. “Remember I told you one more was coming?”
“He did, Pete,” Wendy says. She gives a pointed glance to where her husband grips Will’s arm.
“Sorry,” Pete says, slowly releasing Will. His expression becomes alarmed as he recognises that Will is six foot five, muscled, and ten years younger than him.
Will gives him a sweet smile. It’s slightly crooked and makes his eyes crease at the corners. “No worries,” he says quietly. “You’re just protecting your family. No harm done.”
He offers his hand, and Pete hesitates before shaking it, giving Will a grudging look of respect, which is more than the rest of us have ever got from Pete.
Ben claps his hands together. “Okay. We can pick this up at another point when it’s not so fraught, and the kids aren’t here. Suffice it to say there are no family members in the house apart from you?” Wendy and Pete shake their heads, and he nods, trying hard to conceal his excitement. “Well, I think if it’s okay with you, it’s time for us to get cracking.”
“Are you sure?” Wendy asks. “Will you be okay, Ben?”
He nods. “I’m sure. Go and have a quiet few days at your mum’s house.”
“And you’ll let us know if anything happens?”
“You have my word.”
We make our way downstairs. The family grab their bags and leave, with only Sofia pausing as she directs a last enigmatic look back at us. Her gaze lingers on Will. I wonder whether it’s because he doesn’t fit in with this clean-cut group of people with his tattoos. Maybe it’s because he’s got secrets in his eyes, and that appeals to a kid with her own hidden depths. Then the door closes behind her, and we all look at each other as the key turns.
“Well,” Ben says brightly, excitement burning in his eyes. “That’s it. We’re in lockdown for three days, folks. Just us and Walter.”
“Oh joy,” Will mutters.
CHAPTER FIVE
WILL
I follow the group into the lounge, where they sprawl on the sofas. Jem waves me into a chair, and after finding nowhere else to sit, he settles on the arm of the chair. I shift in the seat, very aware of the heat of his body and the smell of his cologne. When I look up, everyone is staring at me.
“So, this is Will,” Jem says. His voice is ever so slightly sharp, as if waiting for someone to be rude to me, but I’m pretty sure they won’t be. They seem to be a friendly group on the whole. Still, his protectiveness warms me inside.
Ben sits on the sofa with the two women on either side of him. Liam is perched on a chair, and I notice that Ben’s gaze often strays to him.
“Welcome to the group,” Ben says, his voice sincere.
The others murmur agreement, and I consider with interest the man who seems to inspire adoration from those who know him. He’s small and lean with shaggy blond hair, a long nose, and very full cherry-red lips. On his right cheek is a tracery of fine silver scars, and I wonder how he got them. He isn’t conventionally pretty, but he still stands out from everyone else. His intelligence shines through, as well as a kind, but rather distracted, air. He reminds me of a boy Blue and I had known in the squat—he could happily forget you for days and then turn around and give you his last bit of food because you were hungry.
Ben cocks his head to one side. “So, this woman you saw, Will?”
I want to groan and run out of the house, but instead, I nod. “She was standing in the window as clear as day, looking down at me on the drive. I thought she was Wendy, which is why I was so confused when the interview began and I realized Wendy was someone different.”
The group exchange glances.
“So, who was it, then?” Mia asks, her face full of excitement.
“A ghost probably,” I mutter. Jem nudges me, and I remember that I’m supposed to be sceptical of psychic phenomenon. I sigh. “Says no one ever,” I add firmly. Jem snorts softly, and I try to think of something that a sceptic would say but come up short. “It was probably the curtains,” I finally say, hopefully ending this conversation.
No such luck. Everyone begins to speak, talking loudly and over the top of one another.
Ben whistles, and silence falls. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he tells me, giving me a kind smile that Liam’s glance seems to linger on. “We need someone like you. It’ll be great to have someone to question things and rock the boat.”
If they need that, then they’re definitely on for a loser. It’s the exact opposite of how I live my life.
Ben looks around the group. “Let’s talk about the interview. I’d like to know Will’s opinion since he only met the family for the first time today.”
Everyone looks at me, and I run a finger under the neck of my T-shirt. “Erm, let me see.” Jem turns an encouraging face and mischievous eyes towards me, and I consider pushing him off the chair. His lip quirks and I just know he’s guessed what I’m thinking, and it amuses him. Laughter and enjoyment of life seem to cling to him.
I focus back on the group. “I think they’re telling the truth,” I say slowly.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a sceptic?” Mia says a little snidely.
Jem stirs. “That doesn’t mean that he believes in nothing, Mia. Just that he questions everything first. Never get into a debate with Will. He’ll slay you. He lives to argue.”
I suddenly want to laugh badly and cover it up with a cough. “The family is terrified. You can’t fake that.” Fear is something I can always sense. It’s like a perfume that comes off people’s skins. “Sofia bothers me,” I continue, and Jem looks expectantly at me. “She’s hiding something.”
Mia huffs. “Other than faking death letters? Surely that’s enough? And you know that just by meeting her once? Wow.”
“Haven’t you noticed?” I say incredulously, and she subsides. “It comes off her in waves. I don't know what it is, though.” I hesitate. “Could she have really done all the other stuff?”
Liam looks thoughtful. “Some of it maybe, but not all. She seems to have been the only one around when most of the objects were thrown, and then everyone else came running. So, she could have been throwing things herself and said she saw them flying. She could also have found the perfume bottle herself too.”
“And when the kids were at Wendy’s mum’s, the house was quiet.” I’m getting into this sceptic outlook now. “Maybe it was quiet because she wasn’t here.”
“What about the knocking and the cupboard flying at Wendy?” Lottie asks.
I shrug. “I seem to remember reading that scamming psychics could produce that knocking noise at will in the Victorian times. The cupboard, not so much. Maybe it was on a string. I can tell you that Sofia’s very interested in the paranormal, though.”
“How do you know that?” Lottie asks.
“She has a shelf full of books on the subject in her room.” Everyone looks surprised, and I narrow my eyes. “I noticed them when we checked her room earlier. Didn’t you see them?” I ask slowly.
Liam shakes his head. “We’ve been busy setting up. That’s only the second time we’ve seen the bedrooms, and it must have escaped our notice.”
Too busy looking for ghosts than observing the living, I think. Jem rolls his eyes as if sensing my thought.
“But she’s scared too,” Mia says stubbornly.
I can already tell she’s the type who wants there to be ghosts so badly she’s prepared to twist everything to prove their existence.
“She’s scared, but is it because she’s set this off, and it’s gathering speed so quickly that she can’t stop it?” I say thoughtfully. “Think of it. They were in the papers, we’re here filming, and the psychic society was involved.” I look at Ben. “How important is the psychic society? Does their opinion carry a lot of weight?” Neither Blue nor Tom has ever mentioned them.
Ben grimaces. “They’re called Umbra and they’re the most eminent private paranormal society in Europe. They were formed in Victorian times, and they’ve had amongst their members former prime ministers, high-ranking diplomats, famous actors and actresses, and it’s even rumoured that Queen Victoria herself was a member. Their library is the best in the world and their resources are second to none.”
He stares into space as if imagining those very resources and then shrugs. “Anyway, they won’t be giving any more help to the Preston family which I see as a blessing. They’ve done enough damage as it is leaking everything to the press. And they call my YouTube channel lowbrow.” He grunts in disapproval. “Landon would give anything for my viewer figures.”
“Landon’s the head of the society,” Jem whispers to me, and I nod.
Ben huffs. “We’re going to prove Landon’s wrong,” he says with a rather zealous note in his voice. “He’s going to wish he’d stayed because we’ll be the ones with the scoop of the century.”
“I’d have thought you’d all work together,” I say carefully. “You’re all interested in the same things after all.”
Ben rolls his eyes. “That’s never going to happen. I tried to speak to them, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. Landon thinks we’re small fry compared to them, and he hates our YouTube connection, but he’s absolutely terrible with people. Apparently, the confrontation over the letter was rather unpleasant. It’s why Pete was in such a bad mood. He says he's sick of people in his house.”
“He’s sick of being out of control and feels abandoned,” Jem says.
Ben hums contemplatively. “I got the impression that Umbra was going to leave anyway even without the letter. The house had gone quiet which often happens with poltergeists and Landon doesn’t have much patience. But we’ve already had more incidents than they ever did. You saw that woman, Will, and we all heard the footsteps today.”
“Maybe they were a trick too and the family are part of it,” Lottie says tentatively. “Sofia could easily have done it, or it could even have been a group illusion. It does happen where people convince themselves of something.”
“I don’t think I’d be a part of any group illusion,” I point out. “I’m not much of a one for group activities, and anyway, I hadn’t even set foot in the house before I saw the woman, and I didn’t know any of you yet.”
“Maybe you imagined it,” Ben says.
“You sound more of a sceptic than I do.” Maybe he could do the job, and I could go home.
He jerks. “I do, don’t I? Oh, that’s not good.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with scepticism,” I say quickly. I hesitate and then return to the subject of Sofia. “Sofia didn’t admit to doing the rest of the things, did she? I mean the throwing of glasses and plates and everything else?”
Ben shakes his head. “No. Just the letter.”
“Then none of what this Landon bloke says makes any sense. Surely, if she was doing the tough job of telling her family she lied and forged a note, then wouldn’t that have been the time to admit the rest? You’re already in trouble, so just go the whole way and tell everything. You can get all the trouble out of the way at once.”
“I somehow know that’s been your mantra for many years,” Jem murmurs.
I grin at him before turning back to the group. “She didn’t say anything about the other stuff. Maybe that’s because she didn’t do it. The psychic society can say what they want, but I don’t believe she did all those things. I just don’t.”
“But she could have done some of them,” Lottie points out.
Ben shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time. In some of the most famous cases involving poltergeists, the kids have been found to have made up some of the events. And sadly, once that happens, the credibility of the entire incident goes out of the window. In the Enfield case, the girls admitted to doing some of the things just for fun to keep up interest.”
“And the footsteps,” Liam says suddenly, breaking from his quiet watchfulness. “What made those footsteps?”
Everyone is silent and then Ben says, “I don’t know, but I think we should begin to get things ready. I’m hoping that the quietness will be over soon, and maybe we could be in for a lively night.”
The members of the group rise and begin talking as they leave the room. Jem stands up and pulls me to my feet.
“You seem concerned about Sofia?” he says.
I shrug. “I don’t like unfairness. Sofia seems to have got the blame for everything which has made her a scapegoat and a laughingstock in the press. I don’t like that.”
“Why are you so interested in her getting a fair deal?”
“I like fairness, and I fucking hate people being wrongfully accused of shit.” It’s true, but Sofia also reminds me a little of myself. I don’t know her, but something about how she sat at that table, supposedly one of the family but also set aside and isolated in a way no one could see, was very familiar to me. “The thing that bothers me most is something that no one else has even mentioned.”
“What?”
“If she wrote that letter as she said she did, why did it say everyone in the house would die?”
He stares at me for a long second and then shivers. “Shit. Don’t say stuff like that,” he grumbles. “So now we have a possible poltergeist and a potentially homicidal teenager?”
“To be honest, she just wrote down what a lot of teenagers think at some point in their lives.”
“Did you ever wish your family dead?”
I shrug. “No, never. The reverse was probably true, though.”
I stop dead, unable to believe that I just told him that. He watches me for a second and I see the moment when he decides to let it go. He seems able to sense it every time with me.
