It’s 2am and I am sitting at my desk reading through the Google information on Ashford castle I have collected. My mind feels like I have taken an upper… it won’t stop spinning or darting from idea to idea, from verdict to verdict. Unsure what is real and what just exists in my head anymore, I’m officially completely confused. But at the same time, I feel clarity, as if there is something I know but am just missing that final missing jigsaw piece that will show me it clearly. I click on another link as I try to find old plans of the castle to try and work out where that staircase I knew about led to.
How did I know that was there?
If I knew the family crest without realizing, I must know other stuff, too. I know it’s there in my head, I just have to find it.
Why is it in my fucking head in the first place?
Why did Alastar send me the drawing pad and the letters? Why those particular things?
I flick though my notepad of lead pencil drawings, and I study each one of them carefully.
There is no such thing as a doodle, Alastar had said when he first saw this pad. What if he was right? What if the things I drew were true? This family crest—I had no idea what it was when I was drawing it, and yet it turns out that it is connected to me in some way. The staircase… where did the staircase lead?
Fuck, think, Emerson, think. I flick through my notepad again to look at the barn and the farm. I tap my fingers on the desk as I study it. I turn the page to the little girl. Who the hell is she? Is she dead? My eyes widen.
Is she a dead child?
Oh my fuck, I’m getting delusional now. I sit with my head resting in my hand and think as I flick my pencil back and forth with my free hand. Who would know history? Who would know the history of the castle? Where would I get old plans from?
I take out my notepad and carefully write myself a list of things to do tomorrow.
Contact Ashford Castle and see if they have an historical society.
Track down plans for Ashford castle.
Search deaths of people who lived in the castle.
Try and find out who the little girl is.
Contact a psychic and see if this thing is real or in my head.
Search records for Ashford Castle cemeteries.
I narrow my eyes as I think. I just wish I had taken photos of the women’s things in Alastar’s basement because then maybe I could have tracked whose things they were? I add to my list.
Find out the history of Alastar’s house and find out when the basement was soundproofed. (God knows how I do that.)
What else? Hmm, I write one last thing.
Ring Alastar and demand an explanation. I want to know what he’s capable of.
* * *
Exhausted, I finally climb into bed, only to toss and turn all night. With thoughts of castles and staircases and a little girl staring up at me, I drift in and out of a troubled sleep.
* * *
4pm and I am at the London Library. I have been here since the early hours of this morning, only stopping in my research for coffee. My phone rings and I shuffle around to answer it. I have been waiting for this call all day.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hello. May I speak to Emerson please?” the kind female voice asks.
“Speaking,” I breathe nervously.
“Yes, hello, this is Maryanne from the Ashford Castle historical society. I have been asked to return your call.”
I smile. “Thank you so much. I know it’s a Saturday.”
“Oh that’s okay. I work weekends. How can I help you?”
I scramble out for my piece of paper. “I was wondering if you could help me with some research I’m doing? I need to find some old plans of the castle.”
“How old?”
I scrunch up my face because I really have no idea. “As old as you have, I guess.”
“Let me see.” I hear her typing and I wait as patiently as I can. She seems to take forever to come back to me “I have records going as back as far as 1692,” she replies.
My eyes widen. Shit… that far? “Okay, that would be fantastic. Is it possible that I could get a copy of them?”
“Yes, I can email them to you if you like. Do you want the full castle plans?”
Wow, this is easier than I thought. I smile broadly. “Yes, please. Thank you. How do I find out more of the history of who lived in the castle?”
“You will have to speak to our historian Charles for that information. He isn’t in until Monday. I do know there is a full history in documentation.”
I smile. “Fantastic. Thank you so much.”
“You are most welcome. What is your email address?” she asks.
I tell her, spelling out each letter of my address so she is sure to get it right first time.
“I will get this over to you tonight. We have a wedding in this afternoon and I am too busy now.”
My heart drops. I would have been married a week today. I blow out a depressed breath. “That’s fine, thank you for being so helpful.” I hang up.
* * *