“Oh, hon, I. . .” To my surprise, tears slide out and pool around the base of Jess’s nose. She takes her glasses off and pulls the sleeve of her red hoodie down over her hand to wipe them away. “I need to show you something.”
“Show me what?” My stomach clenches and I can taste the bitter coffee I hastily downed on the way to the hospital this morning. I haven’t eaten anything since last night and combined with the scant amount of sleep I managed between speed writing and nightmares, I’m feeling light-headed.
“It wasn’t Will who attacked me last night.” Jess sniffs, dabbing her eyes again before replacing her glasses. She takes a deep breath and reaches over to take my hand, wincing as she leans on a damaged rib. “Niamh, it hasn’t been Will this whole time.”
“So, who was it, then? Jasmine? That little witch,” I say.
“No, she has nothing to do with it,” Will blurts, reddening slightly. “Jess told me you saw our names in the special collections log. I was just . . . helping her. With the scholarship essay.” I raise an eyebrow. “She’s very persuasive.”
“Then who?” I ask in a small voice.
“I need to show you,” Jess repeats. “That’s why I brought you here. There’s something you need to see.”
“I don’t understand.”
I don’t. It feels impossible, ludicrous. My vision starts to blur and I watch through pinholes as Jess rips open a packet and places a biscuit in my hand. “Here, eat this.”
The sugar hits my system almost straight away and the edges of the room start to come back into focus. I eat it in silence, ignoring the part of my brain that’s asking me how I can think of eating at a time like this, and accept the second one that Jess thrusts into my hands. She watches me like a hawk until I finish that one too and I lick the melted chocolate from my thumb. She nods.
“Good girl. Will, put some sugar in her tea. No arguments, Niamh.”
“OK.” I accept the mug from him gratefully. Heat floods into my hands, chasing away the pins and needles and I start to feel human once more.
“Are you sure?” I say.
“Yeah.” She pulls her hoodie tighter around her. I notice the end of a hospital bracelet poking out from under one of the cuffs.
He put my friend in the hospital. I trusted him.
“But why?”
“I’m not certain.” She turns back to the microfilm again. “But I have an idea. There has been some pretty weird stuff happening, hasn’t there?”
“Supernatural happenings,” Will intones heavily.
“Will, this is the problem,” Jess snaps. “You skulk around here, keep showing up in the worst places and then you come out with comments like that.”
“The theatre,” I interrupt, thinking of the Grey Man’s burning eyes in the stalls.
“Er, that was me,” Will says guiltily.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah.” Will rubs the back of his neck with one gangly arm. “I was only trying to help. The same as when you saw me outside your place, I was trying to protect you.” He at least has the grace to look sheepish as I clasp my mug tighter, hearing it creak under the strain.
“You scared the life out of me!”
He doesn’t reply, just looks at the floor.
“Anyway,” Jess breaks the silence. “He’s right. Weird – supernatural – stuff, has been happening.” She swivels around on her chair to face us. “You know, I always thought I wanted ghosts and stuff to be real. Now? Not so sure.” She sighs and pauses, swinging back to resume scrolling. “Here. I still don’t know if I do believe my own eyes, but – well, you tell me what you think.”
She clicks a few times and a grainy black-and-white image sharpens. It’s a Victorian street scene. “Look.”
I lean in and squint. As if by magic the scene clarifies itself, and I realize she’s playing with the filters.
“Tell me what you see.”
I don’t have to. I’ve spotted him straight away, or someone who looks an awful lot like him. He’s standing in the corner of the frame, dressed as a paper boy, holding a newspaper in the air.
