‘Casimir Pulaski? He was a hero in the revolutionary war.’
I shook my head and she gave a gentle tut.
‘A blindspot in your education that we can surely correct,’ she replied. ‘But nothing to worry about. There are so many monuments around town, it will take some time to learn all of them, and they’re almost always those absurd phallic things, as if we didn’t know.’
We turned a corner onto another gorgeous square, tall houses,tall trees, lots and lots of people. It was like looping through a movie set, the same but different.
‘That’s another problem with Monterey Square,’ Catherine commented as a group of camera-wielding tourists sprinted in front of us. I watched them race up to a large red-brick house and start snapping away. ‘I do not care for all the ghouls who come to ogle at Jim’s house.’
‘What’s so special about Jim’s house?’
It was big and grand, pretty enough, but very square and not nearly as elegant or impressive as Bell House.
‘The Mercer-Williams house is infamous in Savannah,’ she replied, the gleeful promise of gossip in her voice. ‘It was quite the scandal. Jim Williams, the owner, shot a boy named Danny Hansford in the study. Killed him. Jim claimed self-defence but most of us believed it was a crime of passion. That’s just my opinion of course, the courts had another.’
There were so many people, all straining to get the best selfie outside the murder house, it made my stomach turn. I’d never been a fan of the creepy or macabre. Horror stories were not my thing.
‘Did you know him?’ I asked, watching someone compare a black and white photo on their phone with the house in front of them.
‘Jim? Oh yes.’ Catherine nodded readily. ‘We were old friends. He threw the best parties in the county. Until they took him away, that is.’
Her tone was so breezy, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right.
‘There was a very big court case, someone wrote a book about it naturally. They even made a movie. Filmed it right there in the house if you can believe it, so tasteless.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Jim was acquitted in the end as rich men so often are. But it didn’t do him any good, he died of a heart attack just a few months later.’
‘I guess karma doesn’t care if you’re rich or not,’ I said, feeling a little queasy. ‘It gets you in the end.’
My grandmother smirked in agreement. ‘Justice is always served one way or another.’
She pointed towards the downstairs windows on the left side of the house. ‘People say if you pass by Mercer House at the stroke of midnight on the first of May, you’ll see Danny’s ghost enter the house, looking for Jim.’
‘Sounds like something they made up to bring in the tourists,’ I said as I held my locket tightly in my fist. ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’
‘You’re in the wrong town if you believe that,’ Catherine replied, laughing at my ashen face. ‘Savannah is one of the most haunted cities in the world. But you needn’t worry, Emily. As long as you’re with me, you’ve nothing to fear from the dead or the living.’
‘And if I’m not with you?’
We stopped right in the middle of the street and all the oncoming traffic slowed to a standstill as my grandmother placed her hands on either side of my face, oblivious to the chaos around us.
‘Wherever you are and whomever you are with, always remember this,’ she said, green eyes boring into my own. ‘You are a Bell. Nothing and no one can hurt you now.’
And even though I knew she meant to be reassuring, I couldn’t help but think her words sounded like a threat.
Chapter Four
Virginia Powell’s home on Madison Square wasn’t nearly as big as Bell House but it was still impressive and fancy enough to stun me into silence. A housekeeper answered when we rang the bell, ushering us inside right away. She directed Catherine straight upstairs and sent me to the parlour where I perched on the edge of a hard, high-backed loveseat, keeping my hands to myself. Whoever had designed this room was not concerned with making people feel at home. The walls were painted a stark white, ready to show up any and all fingerprints, and every carefully displayed object in the room just about screamed ‘do not touch’. It was all so breakable. The stray dog feeling wandered back into my head and I half wished Catherine had left me tied to the railings outside.
‘And what do we have here?’
Standing in the doorway was a girl. She looked like she was about my age with a puff of corkscrew curls that surrounded her like a halo and wide laughing eyes that filled her heart-shaped face. The neon pink of her outfit set off her clear brown skin and I couldn’t tell if I was more intimidated or obsessed. Without knowing a single thing about this girl, I was onehundred per cent certain she was one hundred per cent cooler than me.
‘As I live and breathe,’ she declared, crossing the room with an easy grace I couldn’t even dream of. She definitely lived here. ‘If it ain’t the legendary missing Bell baby.’
‘Also known as Emily,’ I said, jumping up to my feet. I stuck out my hand, feeling more awkward than ever. ‘Most people call me Em. Nice to meet you.’
‘Lydia Powell.’ She took my hand and shook it firmly, dipping into a low curtsey. Was I supposed to reciprocate? I had no idea. ‘Pleased to finally meet you too, it’s only taken sixteen years. You know you’re the talk of the town, right? How does it feel to be a local celebrity?’
When she let go of my hand, I wrapped my arms around myself to make myself as small as possible.
