Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Hans flicked on a low glowing light and pulled a lantern down from the shelf. He looked at the wick and the flame lit right up.
“Here we go,” he said, and opened a heavy, battered door to reveal a dark tunnel. “This is the way to the church tomb. Even now, the archaeologists haven’t been able to find it. It’s hidden deep under the depths of the Garway spring.”
My heart pounded as I stepped into the tunnel to join him. I remembered his tale of being stuck in the tomb when poor Mary was drowned up above him.
We had quite a long trek through the damp depths of the passageway before another bolted door appeared before us. It echoed when Hans opened it, and I leapt back as the glow of the lantern lit up the outlines of Knights Templar tombs. So many grand graves, covered in cobwebs. He pointed to one in the far corner, then gestured me along with him.
“This one was mine.”
It looked so cold in there as he shunted the top stone to the side, even though it was lined with purple silk.
“You slept in here?”
“Yes. For a very long time. Until I could risk being at Edwin’s. People were very suspicious.”
It didn’t matter how in awe I was of the surroundings and the snapshot of Hans’ heritage – I couldn’t let him distract me. He knew it.
“I’m coming to the truth of your past,” he told me. “Don’t worry.”
He guided me to the opposite side of the chamber, and there was yet another door and another tunnel, but this one had tiny muddy steps leading upwards, not downwards. Sharp and steep.
“Be careful not to slip,” Hans said, keeping a firm grip on my hand as he led the way.
All the years I’d been a girl spending time around Garway church felt like they meant nothing as we ascended. I didn’t know this place at all.
But it wasn’t the church itself we climbed up into via the staircase, it was the tower. Disused and abandoned, and now nothing more than a spectacle of times gone by.
Hans moved to the side so I could embrace the location as the cold night wind hit us. I could feel the open sky up above.
“Carry on,” he told me. “There’s someone up here you need to speak to.”
“Up here? On the turrets of the tower in the middle of the night? Are you serious?”
He tipped my face to his and landed a kiss on my lips.
“Yes. They’ve been here for years. A permanent feature since you were just a tiny baby in your mother’s arms.”
I got a prickle of otherworldly senses, like I had done seeing George and Margaret appearing at Regency.
“A ghost?” I asked.
Hans nodded. “Yes, a ghost.”
A round of palpitations hit me as I walked up the stone steps ahead of Hans. The stairs were broken, and crumbling. Mossy underfoot.
I felt someone’s presence ahead of us as we reached the top. I heard them breathing before they came into view, and when I saw a man sitting there, lonely, I got a flood of sympathy. And recognition. Love.
But Hans couldn’t see him. He looked around blankly.
“He’s here, yes?” my lover asked me.
“There’s a man here, yeah.”
With that the man stared over at me. He was broken looking, with small, pained eyes and an expression of pure shock as he saw me there.
Hans stood next to me, still looking around for signs of the invisible person.
“He’s over here,” I said, pointing to the figure.
Hans turned to face the ghost.
“Ah, excellent,” he said. “Katherine, meet your grandfather. And Joseph, hello to you. Your introduction has been long overdue.”
Chapter Thirty
“Katherine?” the ghost asked with a trembling voice, peering through the darkness. “Is that really you? My God, you’ve grown!”
He grew in colour as he got up and walked towards me, bathed in the moonlight. His ghostly presence was cold as he wrapped me in his arms, but his soul wasn’t. I could hear his heart singing loud. I held him back as tight as I could.
My emotions came unbidden. My heart singing as loudly as his.
“What happened to you?” I asked, my thoughts whirring back through old snippets of unanswered questions from when I was a little girl.
What happened to Grandad, Grandma?
An accident.
What kind of accident?
He fell.
Fell from where?
From where the Devil wanted him to fall from…
I shuddered at the memory of her vicious face.
“She doesn’t mean bad, my Rhona,” my grandfather whispered. “She may seem like she does, but she doesn’t.”
I could see the love he had for her shining in his eyes.
“What happened to you?” I asked again. “Hans said that Mum… he said she…”
I had to take a breath.
“Did she murder you, Grandad? Did Mum murder you?”
My ghostly grandad pulled back from me, looked at me with sadness in his eyes. “She didn’t mean to. Lord above, she really didn’t. And believe me, it wasn’t that simple.”