Hidden Mortality (5 page)

Chapter 5

Cara wanted to cry but her body seemed stuck in a stasis of disbelief. To feel any emotion would mean accepting Nanna’s death. At any moment she expected the grief to hit like a bolt of lightning and tear her heart in two.
Breathe, you can do this. You can get through this.

Nanna’s instructions to her solicitor were for a quiet funeral service. It was typical of her not to want to leave the funeral arrangements to someone else, especially her daughter Anne. For years, Cara had been the go-between where the women were concerned. She hated the role for so long but would cherish it now. Mum had said she was going to come. At the last minute she said she was unwell. Cara wondered if the estranged relationship had finally taken its effect on her mother. Mum was disappointed it wasn’t a church service. Her belief in the church was as strong as Nanna’s belief in magic.

The local funeral parlor seated about seventy. Cara sat in the front row with Aunty Eileen who kept mumbling to herself.

“Are you all right?” Cara asked.

“Of course I am, dear. She’s really glad you came, you know.”

Cara clenched and unclenched her hands. They were cold and clammy as if her body was shutting down. Maybe talking to her crazy aunt might take her mind off what was happening. Eileen claimed she could talk to the dead. The fact that the dead person was Nanna was too much right now. Her aunt offered Cara a lace handkerchief. Nanna had never used paper tissues either. These two ladies always had embroidered lace hankies in their pockets.

Cara looked over her shoulder at the people who had known her grandmother. Most of them were family friends, but there were others who had recently made contact because of the cookbook. Looking down at the handkerchief, Cara saw it had her name on it.

“I found it at the farmhouse,” Aunt Eileen said. “She says she had just finished it and to give it to you.”

To Cara, Love Nanna
. Cara ran her fingers over the fine stitching. The simple words caused the floodgates to open. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Her shoulders heaved as she gasped for air between sobs.

Outside the funeral parlor, people spoke to her. Their faces and what they were saying to her blurred together. The pain was unbearable. She felt as if her heart would physically snap in two. She always thought Aunty Eileen mad, but would give anything to be her right now, and be able to talk to Nanna.

Aunty Eileen took her arm. “You look pale, Cara. Maybe, you should sit down. All these people wanting to talk to you can be overwhelming. Even Kathleen’s gone. I can’t see her anywhere.”

The tears kept flowing. Cara couldn’t draw air into her lungs as her chest tightened. Her aunt was right. She needed to sit down or she would faint. Her legs turned to jelly as everything went out of focus. Someone was holding her. The steady heartbeat reassured her as she leant against their chest. Then, everything went black again.

Aunty Eileen was bending over her as Cara lay on a couch. She didn’t recognize the room, but assumed it was a part of the funeral parlor.

“Thanks so much for helping. If you hadn’t caught her, she might have hit her head. It’s been such a rough day.”

Cara craned her neck, but couldn’t see who Aunty Eileen was talking to and then the door closed. Whoever it was, had left. It was strange. She felt so calm. The tears were gone. The terrible pain in her chest had eased. She wasn’t sure why but she knew she would have the strength to make it through the rest of the day.

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know, dear. I wasn’t expecting so many people today. Kathleen was commenting earlier on the fact. I still can’t see her, but I’m sure she’ll talk to me later. In the meantime, we need to get back to Waterfall House so you can rest before more people arrive.”

Cara didn’t fight as she was helped up, but she didn’t want to rest. She wanted to cook. It always helped.

The farmhouse smelt wonderful. The soda bread, the ham, the chicken and herbs, all the aromas fused together. People kept coming. The kitchen was a hive of activity. Cara could forget things for a while as she made salads, sliced up meat and served people. Someone tapped her shoulder. She dropped her knife. It fell to the floor with a loud noise and just missed her foot. Okay, maybe she wasn’t quite as calm as she thought.

Aunty Eileen stood there next to her holding two large whiskeys. “Follow me, I need to talk to you.”

They walked out of the farmyard and into the field opposite and sat down on the small rise. It overlooked the waterfall from which the farm took its name. Cara took her first mouthful of whiskey and spluttered.

“Drink up, Cara. It’ll keep out the cold from sitting on the damp grass.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“She’s back again. She said I had to tell you about what happened and give you something. By the way, I thought you were like me, but you’re not, are you?”

“No, I can’t see her. I wish I could,” Cara answered.

“It’s of no consequence. I was worried about you today. You grieve so and it hurts us both.”

“When you say what happened, do you mean today, or when Nanna died?”

“Both. Today, I thought you were going to hit the step behind you. Then that man caught you. Huge he was, but had a lovely smile. He picked you up as if you were as light as a feather. He carried you into one of the waiting rooms and placed you down on the couch and was gone. I think he thought he was intruding.”

“You said earlier you needed to give me something from Nanna.”

“It’s this letter. She gave it to me a week ago. She said to give it to you if anything happened to her.”

“What really happened then? I was told there was an attempted break-in at the farmhouse. She had a heart attack, didn’t she?”

“She says she knew his face when she opened the door. He’d been at her book signing. She tried to fight him, but he overpowered her. He was going to cut her up and take her power. Her heart hadn’t been well for a while. She just let it stop. She worries he’ll come after you though.”

Cara sipped on her whiskey unsure what to say. It seemed farfetched, but Aunty Eileen appeared convinced it was true. “I’m going back home to Bristol tomorrow, I’ll be safe there.”

“You’re wearing her shamrock, I see.” Eileen took her handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. “Cara, do you know the story of your great, great-grandma Margaret?”

“Just what Nanna told me a long time ago, but not much. She said Margaret was working the streets in Bath when her sister was killed. Margaret believed someone was after her and came to Ireland. What’s that to do with Nanna’s death?”

Aunty Eileen twisted her cardigan between arthritic fingers. “Kathleen says the man who planned to murder her, killed Margaret’s sister, Rosie. Somehow, he’s immortal.”

Cara shook he head. “I’m finding it hard enough to believe in witches. Now, you’re saying people can live for forever.”

“He wanted her witch power because he was getting weaker. That’s why you need a protector. This man will be hard to fight on your own until your power is stronger.”

This is getting more ridiculous by the minute
, Cara thought, or maybe it was the whiskey.

“Your Nanna’s gone again, but I wanted to say something to you. When I pass on, don’t come back here. I’ve had enough of this gloom and doom. I want you and your friends to get together and have a whiskey on me. A good one mind, I’ll be watching.” The wicked glint was back in Aunty Eileen’s eyes.

“That will be a long time off yet.”

“Not as long as you think.” Eileen’s hand went up, stopping further discussion. “Now, listen here, Cara. I know you think this is all gibberish. You can humor an old woman now, can’t you?”

“Yes.” They hugged and Aunty Eileen held her tight. Had she seen her own death as well? Cara didn’t want to know.

Cara gave her a kiss and then watched as Aunty Eileen waddled away to her car with her son Tim. Sneaking in through the front door, she peered into the sitting room and then the parlor. Both were full of people. She crept past hoping no one would call out her name. She grabbed the unopened cards from the hall table and made her way upstairs. At the top of the twisting staircase, she saw a set of large doors.

Opening them, she found the single bed inside that filled the whole cupboard. Nan used to call it the snug. Cara remembered sleeping there as a child, pretending she was in a cave, or on a ship at sea. She turned on the light and looked at the envelopes. Her name was written on one from Nanna. The sight of it made Cara bite her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. She opened the envelope and read the letter.

My dearest Cara,

I’m so glad you’re here. Don’t worry about your mother. I honored your Grandpa’s wish to bring the children up Catholics, but my heart was never in it. I’m sure Anne picked up on it the day she met your father. He was her way out of here. I love your Aunty Eileen. But I don’t think she’s going to be able to help you with what’s to come. If my vision was right, my killer didn’t attain my power.

Love, Nanna.

Panic was coming back again. Cara’s breath caught in her throat. Grasping to get a hold of something solid, her hand touched the greeting cards spread out on the bed and her breathing eased. She might be an inexperienced witch but there was power here amongst the cards. It was calming her.

A half an hour later and there was nothing. The cards were all the same.
We are sorry for your loss.
It showed Nanna was well loved, but it didn’t help with what was going on here. There were just four cards left. One was from Nanna’s solicitor, another from her publisher, another from an admirer of her food. The last one made Cara’s fingers tingle as she picked it up. It wasn’t signed and simply said.

From someone who will always be there to protect your family as was promised long ago.
That was all she needed, Cara thought, someone else being cryptic.

As the plane took off back to Bristol, Cara tried to make some sense of the funeral, the note, the card and the talk with Aunty Eileen. No sense came, just confusion she could only explain if she believed in the unbelievable.

Her flat was cold after the crowded farmhouse. Daniel had left soup to be heated up. It was her favorite, potato, bacon and leek. She grabbed her nightgown and fluffy slippers. Then, she turned on the heater to take the chill off the place. Daniel would be fascinated by the family stories. He was into the supernatural. The trouble was some of this stuff felt a little too real right now.

Cara went to the bathroom and found her makeup mirror and took it back to her bedroom. She picked up the card from the mysterious protector and placed it next to the mirror. Sitting cross-legged on the bed she created a protective circle in her mind.

“I don’t want to see my own death. I don’t want this to be my last breath. Show me what you mean to me. Help me find my history.”

The mirror remained clear, reflecting what was around it. That was the way things were meant to be and it was good. Then it went hazy. Cara held her breath but she couldn’t turn away. She had to know. The picture in the mirror became clear as she stared. She was naked in the arms of her dream lover. She would love it if he was real, and she would love it if Nanna was still alive, but she wasn’t.

Her imagination was working overtime because of the crazy stories and weird notes. She had been so long without a guy, it was no wonder she was making one up. He wasn’t real and her grandmother had just died from a heart attack. Cara knew she would just have to accept it even if it still tore her up inside.

Cara wriggled her feet on her wheat bag. It was only nine o’clock. Yet her eyes drooped like it was two in the morning. Eventually sleep came.

The night air-cooled the sweat on her skin as she sat up. For a moment she didn’t know if she was still in the dream or this was her room. The dream had been so vivid. Her cousin Tim was driving around a corner. Aunty Eileen sat in the back of his old station wagon. Then a truck had come from nowhere, headlights blazing in the dark. It missed the car. A long plank of wood flew from its stack on the back of the truck and smashed through the windscreen.

Tim’s neck was bent at a strange angle. The plank of wood hit him with such force that his head was bent round. He stared with dead eyes at his mother. The right side of Aunty Eileen’s face was splattered on the plank and inside of the car. Bone, blood and shredded pieces of skin were all that was left of her smiling face.

Cara clutched her hand to her mouth. She ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Waves of nausea passed over her as she retched until there was nothing left. It just had to be a bad dream. She kept repeating those words to herself like a mantra. It worked until the phone rang.

Chapter 6

Cara surveyed her flat and her efforts at cleaning. Her place wasn’t big. It was cozy, with two couches opposite each other and a large beanbag at the end against the wall. The couches were covered in big floppy cushions and there were throw rugs on the floor. Photos and large colorful pictures covered the walls. It was colorful organized clutter as far as she was concerned.

Daniel didn’t see it that way. The kitchen was big with lots of preparation surfaces. The small table made for intimate dinners. The spare bedroom made a great office and storage space. It would have been good to be on the ground floor, but the stairs were brilliant for exercise, or so she kept telling herself.

Daniel wanted to attack the place. He would have done a great job, but she had had enough change in her life right now. Her bedroom was clean, but disorganized with clothes everywhere. It didn’t really matter as no one had been invited in there in a long time. Daniel arrived first. He held a basket of soda bread to go with the Irish stew she made. He lifted the lid to her large pot on the stove.

“Oh my God, that smells good, so much better than nibbles. Better for soaking up the whiskey, and it’s just what I need to warm up my insides, apart from Jeff that is.” Daniel winked at her.

“Did I hear someone say my name?” Jeff walked in carrying six cans of Guinness, and a bottle of Glayva scotch.

“I think it was a compliment, but with Daniel you can never be sure.” Cara tried to smile knowing that wakes are occasions when you want to remember good times. The reality was that at one minute numbness chilled her to the core, the next emotions stripped her bare like a raw wound.

Jeff placed the booze on the breakfast bar. He gave her a cuddle. Her eyes watered. “Don’t get me started again, I’ve only just stopped.”

Once her cousin Shona arrived, Cara had a feeling she would be a blubbering mess. She needed to share some of the crazy things that were happening or she would burst.

Jeff touched her arm. “That’s funny, because Daniel said that’s what tonight was about. His precise words were and I quote, “we will get pissed and cry our eyes out.” Then, again he’s been known to be a bit of a drama queen.” Jeff gave a sideways glance toward Daniel who raised one eyebrow, blew him a kiss and then whacked Jeff’s backside as he walked by.

Cara reckoned it had caused more pain to Daniel than Jeff’s rear.

“Truth always hurts.” Jeff grinned back at him.

Daniel started to get out the plates while Jeff sorted through the glasses. Cara sat at the breakfast bar with her tumbler of whiskey. She stared at Jeff and Daniel. These two men were so different. Daniel was slight and fair. Jeff was this gentle black giant who ran his own IT Company. Talk about opposites attracting. They were happy though and at least they proved love was possible.

“You know you’re supposed to drink that, and then you might look slightly less like a coiled spring.” Daniel smiled and touched her chin with his forefinger.

Cara nodded and took a drink, spluttering on the first mouthful.

“Don’t blame me. You asked for it straight.” Daniel shook his head.

Cara wiped her lips. “I had strict instructions from Aunty Eileen. She never drank it watered down.”

Daniel poured himself a large drink. “Here’s to Aunty Eileen and let’s hope her hangover remedy works. More importantly, why wasn’t I ever introduced to her?” Daniel gulped back and then started to cough. “Oh my God, my throat’s on fire. Now I know why I stick to a nice glass of red.”

“I’ve never known you stick to a glass of red. A bottle maybe,” Jeff laughed. “I think I’ll start with a Guinness. Someone’s going to have to stay a little sober around here.”

Cara dabbed the soggy tissue to her eyes again. Her tummy hurt from laughing. Her eyes were red from crying and the room spun from too much booze. Jeff kept coming over with intermittent glasses of water and coffee. He was her savior. They had eaten and sat down again. It wouldn’t be long before they tried to squeeze things out of her.

“Okay, what happened in Ireland?” Shona leant forward and picked up the whiskey bottle and poured what was left into their cups of coffee.

Cara remembered drunken nights trying to drown the sorrows of losing a baby, and Tony leaving her. She wouldn’t have made it through without Shona. Cara wished she had the same devil-may-care attitude as her cousin. The eclectic mix of jewelry and clothes Shona wore made her look like a gypsy. She lived life to the full. She always had lots of men around, saying she was having too much fun playing the field because she wasn’t ready to settle down with just one guy.

“I’ll just get some cream.” Daniel stood up, swayed and sat down again.

“I’ll get the cream, and you can stick to my straight black.” Jeff took Daniel’s coffee away and replaced it with his own.

“Have I ever done anything else? I love it when he’s bossy,” Daniel giggled.

“I heard that,” Jeff called from the kitchen.

“You were meant to,” Daniel countered.

Jeff sat back down. Silence. They were waiting for her to talk but what would she say. Cara’s stomach turned and it wasn’t the whiskey.

“I don’t know what happened, really. I mean, I know what happened. I just don’t understand it.” She knew she was waffling. Her mouth was dry despite the alcohol and coffee.

“So tell us, and we’ll try to unravel the mystery.” Shona pulled her legs up on the couch and spread out her tiered skirt.

“It wasn’t a mystery. It’s just a bit strange that’s all.” Cara bit on her lower lip.

Daniel shook his head. “A bit weird. The woman forecast her own death and said your Nanna stopped her own heart. Then there’s the whole murder thing and immortals.” Daniel did a fake shiver as he sipped his coffee.

“Nanna had a heart attack. It was just coincidence they had a crash. Trust me, Tim was a crazy driver.” Cara could sense the blood drain from her face and didn’t need to close her eyes to relive the dream of their death again.

“But you said your Nanna Kathleen’s recipe book arrived the day after her death and it had a note inside.” Daniel reminded Cara.

“Yes it did. The note said. ‘
Dear Cara, Use my recipes wisely
.’ It’s just coincidence. That kind of stuff isn’t real. It’s only in books and on TV.” Cara couldn’t look at any of them for fear they could see the doubt in her eyes. Shona wasn’t convinced. Cara knew it from the way her cousin peered at her.

Shona took her hand and squeezed. “Tell us what happened. We’ll work it out with our alcohol-befuddled brains.”

It all spilled out and no one interrupted. Cara described the dream and how she saw their deaths before it happened. They probably thought this was just like an episode of
Supernatural
and all very interesting. She didn’t mention the picture of the dead woman at
The Evening Post
and the other dreams, horrific or erotic. Or the fact she had started to try and perform some spells. She did mention the necklaces though.

“Have you had any more dreams?” Shona asked.

“No,” Cara said.

Shona raised an eyebrow as she glanced over. “Really?”

“It’s a pity, because if you really were starting to foretell the future, I’d get you to find out what the Lotto numbers were for this weekend,” Daniel piped in. “The businesses could do with some topping up.”

“I keep telling you to let me invest,” Jeff said.

“And I keep telling you I don’t like to mix business with pleasure,” Daniel replied, elbowing Jeff in the ribs.

“That wasn’t pleasurable.” Jeff winced.

Shona interrupted. “So where are these necklaces?”

Cara went to her bedroom and grabbed the necklaces off her bedside table. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to wear hers in the last week since Aunty Eileen had died.

She sat back down on the couch as Shona held up the shamrock. “That’s not unusual. It’s to do with St. Patrick teaching about the Holy Trinity. My good Catholic mother would be so proud of me, even if she isn’t so proud of the fact I haven’t been to church for six years. It also symbolizes the three females of Wicca, the maid, the mother and the crone.” Shona shrugged and handed it over to Daniel.

“The whole witch thing is a bit too close for comfort for me to discuss right now.” Cara said.

“Your Nanna believed that stuff though, even if you didn’t.” Shona said. “Pity my side of the family is so boring.”

“So what does this one mean then?” Daniel picked up the stag necklace.

Cara smiled, as she looked at it. “Nanna said I must find the one to wear it. He will protect me till I become stronger as a witch. How melodramatic is that? My life so far has taught me there are no white knights on chargers coming to protect me.”

“I prefer black knights.” Daniel winked at Jeff who shook his head in dismay.

“Protect you from what? A bad menu plan or a mass murderer,” Shona asked.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like either of those scenarios,” Cara answered.

“I’d offer, Cara, but I have my hands full with lover boy here,” Jeff answered as he put his arm around Daniel who snuggled in and looked as if he was falling asleep.

Shona held up both necklaces studying them. She was slightly cross-eyed tonight. Whiskey did that to her every time.

Shona finished her coffee and said. “Listen Cara, I know its crap. People don’t talk to the dead and see their own deaths, but you might be psychic. These psychics in magazines make shit-loads of money. Most are just people on the dole doing it as a fill-in job. If you’re the real deal you’d do well.”

“I’m not psychic. I accept I may have some skills but without Nanna around, I’m not doing anything. I’m just emotional at the moment.” It was true and as good an excuse as any. The real truth was she was petrified.

“If you come to Bath, the bookshop, W.H. Smiths has a display in their window all about witches, immortality, death and things that go bump in the night. You could have a look.”

“Honestly, I’d rather let it all rest, Shona. Bad things happen in people’s lives. I have to accept it and move on.” The conversation turned to other things and Cara was glad. When they all left, she went to bed. She cried herself to sleep holding the necklaces in her hand.