‘Jealous?Of that little brat?’Harrison sneered.
‘Mate.C’mon.You only call her Princess because she’s got more money than you.She’s never given you any other reason for that nickname so if it’s not coming from jealousy, where’s it coming from, eh?’
Terry huffed but remained silent.
‘Neither of you have bothered to get to know Evie because it’s easier to hate this idea you’ve created than it is to know the real person.Why don’t you let go of how you feel and admit that maybe, you’re wrong.’
Harrison played with the buttons on his camera, avoiding Vincent’s gaze.
‘She wasn’t perfect and she came from a completely different world than you, than all of us.Which means you may not have had a lot in common with her but that doesn’t mean she deserved the shit you put her through.And she never once batted an eyelid at the things you said, never rose to the bait, never said an unkind word about either of you, all of that goes to show that she was and always will be better than the both of you, better than all of us.’
It took everything Vincent had to turn and walk away without breaking anything (including Terry’s nose) but a warm feeling rose up from his heart and out through his veins.He wasproudof himself.
‘Vincent.’
‘Evie?’Vincent spun around to see Evie’s face in the crowd and although she was blurred, her features smudged, he could tell that she was smiling.Then the world fell away again.
3
The Hopeless House
Vincent walked through darkness until the black faded to grey then the grey merged into blue and walls started to form around him.He continued down what emerged as a long corridor and saw paintings and mirrors materialise around him.At the end of the corridor Vincent saw a black door with a large silver knocker in the shape of a squirrel’s tail.The walls squirmed and rippled, causing panic to rise in Vincent’s chest, but as he finally stumbled to the door, he began to feel calmer.The silver squirrel’s tail curved satisfying against his palm and he swung it against the door fast, three times.Knock, knock,knock.
‘Come in,’ said a small voice.
Vincent couldn’t see a doorknob so he pushed against the wood, but the door wouldn’t budge.He strained his shoulder against it and the hinges gave a soft creak.Then, he slammed his weight against the door and it finally cracked open, black paint chips and wood splintering into the air.Vincent still had to kick the bottom of the door with the heel of his boot to open enough of a gap to get through.
The room on the other side was grey like the corridor but the fireplace in the corner brought a welcome burst of colour and warmth.The two armchairs either side of the fire looked comfortable and inviting.Once inside, brushing the wood from his coat, Vincent noticed small white spots appearing on the black of his sleeve.Holding the fabric closer to his eyes he realised they weren’t appearing, but landing.It was snowing.Only faintly, with the flakes melting on impact, but it was most certainly snowing.Cold and crisp.
‘Snow.’He smiled.
‘I’d prefer it if you called me Eleanor.’That voice again.Weak and tinged with sadness, it was coming from one of the armchairs.Vincent let his eyes adjust to the dark for a moment before replying.
‘Eleanor?You’re Evie’s mother?’He stood, stock still.
‘Evie,’ she whispered.
Vincent could now see her silhouette against the flames, small and fragile, her lips pursed.He walked towards her slowly.
‘I —’ He began to speak before realising he didn’t know what he wanted to say.‘Why am Ihere?’
‘Probably because my daughter can’t let you go.’Eleanor rolled her eyes.She was in a formal grey suit but it looked faded, washed out, as though it was once a different colour.Her skin was only a shade lighter than her suit, her hair was white and her eyes were black.Vincent saw that she was sitting in a puddle of pale blue, like someone had spilt a whole can of paint on the grey armchair.She was entirely drained of colour.
‘Then the feeling’s mutual,’ Vincent said.
‘Hmm.’She eyed him, taking him in for the first time.‘Seems that way.Why else would you be here?’Vincent gestured questioningly to the armchair and she nodded so he sat, uncomfortably adjusting himself several times before settling.
‘I don’t actually know why I’m here.’Of all places, why am I here?He cursed whoever or whatever force had brought him face to face with a woman he disliked without ever having met.He looked around, hoping to spot a clue that would tell him why the universe wanted him to speak to Eleanor Snow, of all people.I wonder if this is hell after all,he thought.
‘Neither do I.I’ve been stuck here ever since I died and no matter what I do, the corridors of this house always lead me back to this room.’Eleanor flung herself out of her seat sharply and started pacing, her gaze drifting from wall to wall.‘I’m not sure I’ll ever leave,’ she whimpered.
This was the first time Vincent had met Evie’s mother and from what he knew of her, she was cold and unfriendly.Although the woman in front of him seemed both of those things, there was also a tinge of vulnerability in her that Evie had never mentioned.Either it had been there all along and well hidden, or it had developed during Eleanor’s time in this strange house.
‘Mrs Snow?’Vincent asked but Eleanor remained focused on the room.‘Why did you treat your daughter the way you did?’
Eleanor’s head whipped round at him.
‘Excuse me?’ she spat.
