‘You need Ivy’s ability to talk to the dead,’ Winter snapped. ‘You don’t need me.’
‘You’re wrong about that. If you think things in the Order should change then tell us and we can look at implementing those changes. You know this is right. You know your place is with us.’
‘I’m not staying away from the Order because I’m sulking or because I want you to make me a better offer,’ Winter said. ‘I can do just as much good on the outside as I can on the inside. Except on the outside there will be less bureaucracy and less chance that innocent people will be hurt in the hunt for your supposed greater good. There’s nothing wrong with independence.’
Even I could see that the Ipsissimus was growing desperate. ‘We’re all on the same team.’
‘Good,’ Winter declared. ‘So let’s work together and find Blackbeard. We’ll get justice for the Dorset coven and we can do it by working together. I just won’t have that piece of paper stating I’m in the Order.’
The Ipsissimus splayed out his hands in defeat. ‘Do I have any choice?’
Winter shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘I suppose not.’
‘Then that will have to do.’ The Ipsissimus gave us both a benevolent smile. But even I could hear the unsaid ‘for now’, which was tagged on the end of that sentence.
Chapter Ten
Clare Rees lived – or had lived – in a nondescript little terraced house in the picturesque town of Weymouth in Dorset. We found it with no trouble and, even more helpfully, just as we reached the door Clare herself reappeared, gazing morosely at the pavement. ‘They don’t care,’ she said.
I looked at her askance. ‘Who?’
‘My family,’ she said. ‘My family don’t care that I’ve gone. They’re just getting on with their lives as if nothing’s happened. My mum is still helping out at the Salvation Army, my dad is still going to all his local darts matches with his drinking buddies. They’re laughing and joking. They don’t care. My sister, the person who I was closest to in the whole world, is planning a round-the-world trip for three months. She’s not seen me since May and yet she doesn’t care. No one’s so much as mentioned my name. It’s like I don’t exist. What the hell is going on?’
By now Winter was getting used to my sudden silences as I listened to my phantom friends. He stopped and waited while I gave Clare a sympathetic look. I could well understand what she was going through. When I die, I expect copious weeping. In fact, not just weeping but renting of clothes and gnashing of teeth. I want my funeral to take place in Westminster Abbey and to include at least two renditions of Tragedy – the Steps version and the Bee Gees one. While I lounge back in final rest, everyone else can do the hard work. I will demand elaborate outfits with lacy black veils for both the men and the women. Maybe I’ll force my remaining family members to perform a contemporary dance number to express their dismay at my passing. Considering how often I seem to be close to death these days, this is probably something I should sort out. I ought to make a will and make my last wishes clear. Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after. Next week at the absolute latest. It is important to be prepared, after all.
‘You could look on the bright side,’ I suggested to Clare. ‘At least they’re getting on with their lives. They’re not wallowing in misery or letting grief ruin what’s left of their days. In fact, they might not even know that you’re dead.’
She wrinkled her nose as if I were spouting nonsense, probably because I was.
‘Yeah, screw that,’ I said. ‘They’re bastards who never deserved you in the first place.’ At least that raised a small smile.
Winter cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to hope that’s Clare and that she can tell you there’s a spare key hidden somewhere.’
‘Under the flowerpot,’ she muttered.
I pointed down. Winter bent over and retrieved it. Clare watched him with a downturned expression until he put the key in the lock and sudden fear flashed across her face. ‘What is it?’ I demanded. ‘Clare? What’s wrong?’
Winter froze.
‘I live alone. I’ve had other things on my mind and I’d forgotten that I was in a rush before I left for the last time. I think my dirty underwear might be strewn across the floor.’
I gave her a wise nod. ‘It’s the best place for it,’ I agreed. ‘You just have to be careful to keep it in localised piles otherwise you can trip on a loose bra strap in the middle of the night, go flying and end up in casualty with several contusions and a broken tibia.’ I paused. ‘Or so I’ve heard.’
‘I don’t want him to see my smalls!’ Clare half yelled.
‘Huh?’ I glanced at Winter. Oh. ‘Don’t worry. We virtually live together now. He’s seen much worse from me.’
‘Ivy, please. Just let me check. There has to be something sacred left to me. I have to have some privacy.’ Her panic was so palpable that there was nothing I could do but nod.
‘Wait, Rafe,’ I said softly. Clare stepped through the door, her spectral form passing through its solid oak veneer as if it were air. ‘Clare just needs to check on something.’
Winter gave me a confused frown but he did as I asked and took his hand from the door.
‘There’s not much dignity in death,’ I said, doing what I could to explain. ‘Clare won’t be on a metal table with her body exposed to uncaring eyes. She won’t be in a battered locker or jiggled around in a coffin. But that doesn’t mean that the next days aren’t going to involve strangers rooting through her life and passing judgment.’
‘She can’t stop that from happening, Ivy,’ he said. ‘And she can’t throw away any embarrassing pornography or secret letters or anything like that. She can’t physically touch anything.’
I stroked his arm. ‘She knows that. I think she just wants a moment to herself to come to terms with it.’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘Where are your embarrassing pornography and secret letters? You might as well tell me now before I stumble across them post-mortem.’ Winter rolled his eyes and snorted. I grinned. ‘You can find mine hidden at the bottom of…’
Clare’s head emerged from the door with wide-eyed alarm. ‘Ivy! Something is wrong!’
I whipped round towards her. There was a panicked note to her voice that went beyond anything I’d previously heard from her, something that suggested dire straits and horrendous consequences. Almost unconsciously, my arm shot out in front of Winter as if to protect him from what might be about to happen while I waited for Clare to explain.
‘There’s something strange attached to the door,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it is and I definitely didn’t put it there. Someone has been inside my house and has messed around.’ Her voice rose further. ‘In my home, Ivy.’