Curse of the Stag’s Eye (Haunted Hearts)

28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

A fter we returned the loose brick and crates, we headed back up to the museum. The cold fluorescent lights felt stark and disrespectful after the cellar. Inappropriate, somehow. Rhys wiped his eyes. He couldn’t stop smiling. He checked his watch. “Just gone midnight. We cut it a bit fine.”

I pointed to the letter. “I suppose we’d better put this back."

Rhys grimaced. “I hope we won’t get into too much trouble for opening it. Even though it was for a good cause. Not that people will believe it, most likely.”

“What are we going to do now?” I asked.

Dawn blinked in the harsh glare of the fluorescent light. “I don’t know about you two but I’m starving. I wonder if Nikesh has anything in the van…”

“I meant about all this. About everything that happened here tonight. With all of us.”

Rhys’ eyebrow arched. “You have something in mind, do you?”

“I was thinking you could write about what happened tonight in your blog. Maybe it’ll help the lighthouse with its fundraising. Michael might be a bit of a knob but we shouldn’t hold that against the lighthouse. It’s a good cause. And hey, there are bound to be lots of other hauntings we can help out with.” I nodded towards Dawn. “And with our very own ghostbotherer, we might be able to help any number of trapped spirits.”

Rhys rubbed his beard. “It could have been a combination of Dawn, and the anniversary, and the standing stone. It might not ever happen like this again somewhere else.”

I shrugged. “It’s worth a try though, isn't it?”

“And what about your podcast?”

Dawn looked up at me. “You have a podcast?”

Rhys laughed. “Oh, I thought you’d overheard us talking about it! You’re in the presence of the one and only Sheffield Sceptic! The authority on paranormal debunking in the north of England!”

“You never!” She slapped my arm. “You sneaky little tosser!”

I winced and my ears burned. “Alright, alright, I know. I know. I was wrong. Are you happy?” I held my hands up. “I am going to talk about this, though. And I’m going to tell people exactly what happened here tonight. We owe it to Baines and Jessop. We have this letter now, as proof of their relationship. I’m going to make sure people know what really happened with them.”

Rhys sucked in air through his teeth. “Ooh, that won't go down well with your listeners. Admitting you’ve seen ghosts? You’ll lose that big following of yours.”

“Tough. People can believe me or not, I don’t care. I’m not going to lie and pretend it didn’t happen. Tonight opened my eyes.” I smiled at him. “To a lot of things.”

Rhys turned the letter over and over again in his hands. He went to slip it back into the envelope but stopped. Instead, he placed the letter in the display case, open, front and centre. “No more hiding, Mr Baines. You’ve spent too long hiding, and you don’t have to do it anymore."

I took his hand again and squeezed. He lay his head on my shoulder, just for a moment, and then he kissed me gently.

Dawn clasped her hands together. “Aw, you two will make me blush. I’m glad I pushed you two together.”

I pointed at her. “You did not push us together. It just happened.”

“Sure it did, of course.” She gave me an exaggerated wink.

“Hey, we could start a new podcast,” I said. “The three of us. And Nikesh, if he wants to.”

Dawn giggled. “I’m not sure he’ll be up for any more ghostly goings-on. But I am. We’ll need a new name, though.”

“How about Supernatural Sheffield? ” Gaz said.

“Too specific,” I said. “What about The Weird World of Wales? ”

“ The Ghostbotherers? ” Dawn said, laughing.

“I’m not sure if I’ll have time, mind you.” Rhys pressed his lips tight. “What with work and all.”

Dawn tapped him on the arm. “I meant to ask you, why aren’t you selling advertising on your blog? You must get a decent amount of visitors.”

Rhys rocked his head from side to side. “A fair bit. But I don’t know anything about advertising.”

“I do,” Dawn said. “I’m an SEO specialist. Search engine optimisation?"

“I didn’t know you did that,” Rhys said.

“You never asked,” Dawn said. “Yeah, I can set you up, get your blog earning some money. You too, Gaz. It might even be enough to make a living from. Or half a living, at least.”

Rhys hugged her. “You’re bloody brilliant, you are!” He suggested we keep the lantern burning until we got back to the car park. He let me help him with his bags this time. On our way out, I took the old dollar bills from my pocket and slipped them into the collection box.

Dawn pointed to the plastic orb of coins and notes. “You know those aren’t legal tender anymore, right?”

“Oh, bugger.” I jiggled the padlock on the side and took out the old hammer. “Rhys, get your pen knife.”

We crossed the aluminium bridge and took our time climbing the four-hundred-and-twenty-seven-bastard-steps. At the top, we found Nikesh examining the standing stone.

“How’ve you managed to do that?” Dawn slapped his arm.

“Ow, stop, I didn’t do it! It must have been struck by lightning or something. Didn’t you hear the thunder?”

The Stag’s Eye, unchanged for hundreds or even thousands of years, silent sentinel of the Stag’s Head Lighthouse car park, had fractured. A deep fissure had opened across the hole, running the length of the stone from top to bottom. A scar across the eye.

“This is what we heard in the cellar. Baines forgiving Mr Squirrel broke the curse and cracked the stone.” I rubbed my fingers across it and shook my head. “I can’t believe that on top of ghosts, I have to believe in bloody curses now.”

“Did you guys find out what Mr Squirrel wanted me to understand?” Nikesh asked.

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that.” Dawn chewed her lip.

“I think,” Rhys said, “that Mr Squirrel was reaching out to you because you were the only straight man in the group. He wouldn’t reach out to Dawn because he was a man of his time and, well, she’s a woman.”

“It’s true, I am.” She wiggled her shoulders and laughed.

“And he probably hated me and Gaz the way he hated Baines and Jessop. That only left you.”

Nikesh leaned his head back, his mouth open. “You’re saying he was a bigoted ghost?”

“A bigoted ghost cursed by an ancient standing stone.” Rhys slapped the Stag’s Eye and I quickly took his hand off it.

“It looks like we broke the curse,” I said, “but let’s not take any chances, shall we?”

“I wonder if, to be on the safe side, it might be worth starting a petition to get the stone moved back to the island?” He took out his notepad and started making notes. “I could draft something up in the morning. I think it would look nice down by the telescope. Or maybe in the gardens?”

I grabbed the pen from his hand. “Moving the bloody thing is what caused the problem in the first place.” I clicked it and tucked it back into the top pocket of his denim jacket. “Just leave well enough alone, will you?”

Nikesh told us the fog hadn’t climbed much past the steps. It had thinned significantly in the past few minutes, revealing a starry sky and bright moon above the rolling, dark sea. Wispy clouds held fast over our heads and the bare trees stood still as we packed our cars.

Dawn’s stomach grumbled and she held it.

“Not more ghosts?” Nikesh asked.

“I could do with something to eat too,” I said.

“Tell you what…” Nikesh climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed closed the door of his van. The window buzzed down and he leaned out. “We passed a twenty-four hour service station on the way here. It has a shop, so we can buy some bacon, a few sausages, some eggs… I’ll cook us a nice, greasy, midnight breakfast.” He slapped the door of the van and he drove out, giving a quick, triumphant toot of the horn as they went.

Rhys took his phone from his pocket. “Only four percent battery. Oh, and one very curt message from Michael reminding me to leave the keys back at his office as soon as possible. I don’t think I’ll be getting any more favours from the Trust. Not if he has anything to say about it, at least.”

“You never know, the podcast might bring more tourists to the lighthouse,” I said. “Which means more money for the Trust.”

Rhys slammed the boot of his little electric car and kept his gaze on the ground.

“Is something wrong?”

He leaned against his car and sighed. “There's been so much excitement and adrenaline around tonight and I worry about what'll happen when it wears off.” He turned away and rubbed his nose. “I worry about you changing your mind. About seeing me again, I mean.”

I kissed him, lingering on his lower lip. “You don't have to worry. I would very much like to see you again, Mr Maddocks.”

“I'm glad to hear it, Mr Gilchrist. Hah . I’ve been thinking about what you said about camping.” He put his hands on my waist and pulled me in closer. “I think I’d like to try it. You can show me what's so great about it.”

I grinned at him and my pulse raced. “I thought you weren’t an outdoor gay?”

“Well, I've never tried it. Not properly, like. You can tell me what I need to bring, I can plan out our route, make an itinerary—”

“Oh no, you bloody won't.” I waggled my finger at him. “You'll bring a sleeping bag and a toothbrush, and you'll leave the rest to me. I’ll pack up my car and we’ll see where the road takes us.”

He smiled, his light hazel eyes sparkling. “That sounds exciting. And a bit scary.”

“You’ve forgiven me, then? For lying? Well, not lying, exactly, just not being entirely up-front about myself.”

“Well, we’re just a pair of liars together, aren’t we?” He chuckled and then kissed me, passionately, meaningfully. “Does that answer your question?”

Rhys’ all-but-silent electric car rolled across the pitted tarmac. I grinned and flashed my lights at him as he passed by and put my car into gear. As I pulled out of the car park, the ancient, moss-marked megalith filled my rearview mirror, solemn and silent as a gravestone, with the crescent moon shining through its scarred and forever blind eye.