Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

‘How do you feel now?'

‘Like I'm being choked to death?'

I pulled at the seatbelt, high and tight around my neck, only for it to snap right back into place, cutting into the flesh at my throat.

‘I'll take that to mean you're doing better.'

Catherine relaxed against the backseat, seatbelt-less, as Barnett, the Bell family's third-generation driver, chauffeured us away from the house.

‘You gave us quite a scare, fainting clean away like that,' she said, lightly combing a strand of red hair out of her face.

‘It's never happened to me before,' I replied. ‘I feel fine now.'

According to my grandmother, I'd passed out in the hallway on the way back from the powder room and she and Ashley had carried me up to my room where I slept the whole afternoon away. I couldn't remember a thing. One minute we were in the library, Catherine casually breaking the news that my name wasn't actually my name and the next, I was out. I didn't even remember getting up to leave the library, let alone making it into the hallway.

‘Must be the jetlag,' she suggested. ‘Or the heat.'

Or maybe my brain had just decided enough was enough and opted to take a couple of hours off, I did not say out loud.

The last rays of the late afternoon sun lit up Catherine's face, bouncing off the silver leaf-shaped pin she wore at the collar of her white shirt and making her eyes sparkle. It looked like an antique, with delicate strands of precious metal woven around one another in an intricate filigree design and a milky white stone set in the centre that hinted at rainbows within, when the light hit it right.

‘As long as you're feeling better,' she said with a perfunctory pat of the hand. ‘Tonight should be a fun time.'

Neither of us had mentioned the argument. I was still upset, still confused, but the sting had gone out of my anger and there was no point in picking a fight with Catherine over choices my dad had made. Catherine and Ashley were the only family I had, the last thing I wanted was for my brand-new grandmother to decide I was more trouble than I was worth and send me away, all alone with nothing and no one.

‘Where are we going?' I enquired politely.

Catherine glanced over at me and smiled.

‘We're going to meet the rest of the family.'

Or at least I thought they were the only family I had.

‘We have more relatives?' I sat bolt upright and my seatbelt yanked me back. ‘Here in Savannah?'

‘We sure do,' she confirmed, eyes sparkling. ‘They're not a very chatty bunch but I just know they're going to love you.'

The drive only took about ten minutes. Our sleek black car slowed down at a four-way stop, a small stone-clad church on the left and a larger red-brick building on our right. Ahead were two tall stone columns, each topped with a sad-looking figure, their solemn heads bowed.

‘Bonaventure Cemetery,' I read aloud as we drove slowly through the gates. ‘ This is where we're meeting the rest of the family?'

‘Where else would they be, honey?' Catherine gave me a questioning glance. ‘It's not as though your ancestors can come to you.'

Visiting a bunch of dead people was not my idea of a good time but she was positively gleeful as the car crawled along the narrow concrete road, moving even slower than we might on foot and leaving plenty of time for me to shudder at the graves as we passed. This wasn't like any other cemetery I'd ever seen. Instead of stark, evenly spaced rows and regulation headstones, driving through Bonaventure felt more like travelling through time and ending up in a fairytale woodland. The statues and monuments seemed to be part of the natural way of things, like they had grown up out of the ground alongside the trees and plants and ferns, all of them different shapes and sizes. Some were sparkling marble and sharp corners, as though they'd been installed yesterday, and others had been softened by lichen and moss, all the edges worn away as the earth reclaimed them for itself. The air held a powdery scent and the fading light cast a muddled, soft green glow over all the grey stone and white marble and, just like downtown Savannah, everything was draped in Spanish moss. It poured over the gnarled branches of the oaks, tickling the tops of crypts and wrapping itself around the necks of angels like long, soft scarves.

Or a noose.

‘Bonaventure has been here as long as we have, it's part of our heritage,' Catherine said, staring dreamily out the window. ‘It's quite beautiful, don't you think?'

‘I think it's a cemetery,' I replied, goosebumps prickling up and down my arms. How could a patch of land full of dead bodies be beautiful? ‘I'm not really a big fan.'

‘We treat death a little differently here,' she conceded as we passed a large parcel of land full of identical small white slabs. ‘People who have passed over are still part of our family. Years ago, we Savannahians treated Bonaventure more like a public park than a regular place of rest. Families would picnic here, spend time with their departed loved ones, even court their beloved on these grounds. Would you believe it's still to this day one of the most popular places for proposals in the whole state of Georgia?'

‘I'm starting to think I'd believe anything about this city,' I murmured as we drove on. ‘They really let people drive around it? Isn't that disrespectful?'

‘Only if disrespect is your intention.'

She straightened the folded-back cuffs of her shirt as the car slowed to a stop. ‘To answer your other question, visitors are welcome to drive around the cemetery during daytime hours but our commitment to the preservation of Bonaventure has always been appreciated. As such, our family is afforded special privileges. Thank you, Barnett, we'll walk the rest of the way. You can circle back and wait for us at the entrance.'

I gave Barnett a polite nod when my car door opened but all I really wanted to do was slam it shut and beg him to drive right back to Bell House as fast as he could. Catherine might have other ideas but cemeteries left me cold. Even though Dad didn't leave a will, he'd always made it clear he didn't want to be buried and left alone in a place like this so I'd scattered his ashes over Llyn Y Fan Fach, one of his favourite lakes in the Brecon Beacons. It was beautiful, somewhere I knew he'd be happy to spend eternity, and not trapped in a box in the cold, hard ground.

‘It's so peaceful,' Catherine murmured as Barnett drove away, leaving us stranded. ‘So calm.'

‘That's because everyone here is dead.'

She laughed loudly, too loudly for a cemetery.

‘Aren't you just your father's daughter?' she chuckled before setting off down the path with a distinct skip in her step. ‘This way, little spitfire. I want to introduce you before the sun sets.'

My grandmother, Savannah's leading cemetery enthusiast, took a leisurely approach to her tour, giving me a history lesson as we walked. Bonaventure sat at the edge of the Wilmington River and covered more than one hundred acres. Hundreds of residents rested here and Catherine lovingly pointed out her favourites as we strolled by. Every so often, a violent burst of colour would appear, blood red or hot pink flowers hiding around a muted grey corner, waiting to stun you when you least expected.

‘Even though they say Bonaventure is one of the most haunted spots in all the world, I've never encountered a ghost here,' she said, pausing to admire a marble statue of a young girl. ‘You'd think the place would be crawling with spirits but not for me, not one single sighting in all these years.'

I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my fingers, reluctantly glancing at the statue. She looked too real, in her pretty party dress and neat shoes.

‘You sound disappointed.'

‘Darn near devastated,' Catherine replied and I couldn't tell whether or not she was joking. ‘Maybe you'll have more luck than me.'

It was enough to send an icy shiver down my spine.

We continued on, the pale outline of a rising full moon appearing above us in the dusky sky as we stopped at a huge slab of granite with the name Vogel inscribed in big block letters. At the side of the monument was a small green dome, popping up out of the ground like a copper mushroom that had been left out in the rain.

‘See that little old thing?' she asked, pointing to the Vogel grave. ‘It's a bell. Do you know why it's there?'

‘In case Mr Vogel gets hungry and wants to order a sandwich?'

‘Close. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, people were accidentally buried alive. That bell would have been attached to the resident's foot inside his casket. Should he happen to wake from a particularly deep sleep all he had to do was wiggle his toes and help would come running.'

‘What if no one was around?' I asked, horrified at the thought.

‘Oh, someone always was,' Catherine replied as she moseyed along. ‘Where'd you think the phrase "graveyard shift" comes from?'

I stared at the bell until I was almost certain I saw it move. A whisper of wind blew through the branches of the nearest tree, a soft tinkling sound on the air as a strand of moss fell across my face.

‘Wait up!' I yelled, swatting it from off my skin and running to catch up to my bemused grandmother.

‘Here we are. The Bell family monument.'

I wasn't sure what I was expecting after our long stroll through the cemetery, but this fenced-in, sombre block of solid grey stone wasn't it. There were so many more elaborate crypts, memorials and tombs, and I'd assumed the esteemed Bell family with their two-hundred-year-old home, entire floor of unused guest suites and on-staff driver would have chosen something a little fancier for their eternal resting place. The only interesting thing about the monument was a statue, a beautiful angel that sat on top of the six-feet of stone, its face tilted down to watch over the Bells, living and dead.

‘Should I say hello?' I asked as Catherine opened a low metal gate and stepped onto the plot. With great reluctance, I followed.

‘Be my guest,' she replied. ‘Or rather, their guest. No need to be shy, you're among family.'

When I said I'd always wanted a family, this wasn't exactly what I was thinking. I scanned the plot, so bare compared to some of the others, no plants or trees or flowers, just the solid grey monument, the angel statue, and a slab of concrete on the floor. Engraved into the stone was one name. Emma Catherine Bell.

‘Not at all creepy seeing your own name on a grave,' I said, a queasy feeling in my stomach. ‘Even if I did only just find out it is my name.'

‘Would it help to know it isn't technically a grave?'

Catherine produced a shiny silver flask from the pocket of her neatly tailored pants and raised it first to the ancestors then to me and my look of confusion. ‘It's a grotto chapel.'

‘Sorry, a what now?'

‘A grotto chapel,' she repeated. ‘This concrete is only a few inches deep, underneath it are boards covering the entrance to the chapel below.'

Above, the moon grew brighter as I stared down, imagining exactly what was below.

‘There's a whole chapel down there?' I shuffled back until I felt the metal fence against the backs of my legs. ‘Like an entire little church?'

Catherine unscrewed the cap from the flask and took a sip.

‘In the early days of the cemetery, it was quite common for wealthier families to build their own underground chapel. I believe there are a dozen or so here at Bonaventure. After regular services at the church, the preacher would perform a private service for the families. You know, spend a little extra money, get a little extra salvation. It's quite lovely, not at all what you're picturing, I'm sure.'

‘You've been inside,' I realized as she drank again. ‘You've been down there.'

‘For my grandmother's funeral. It has everything you might expect: pews, a pulpit, some even had electricity and running water although ours used oil lamps. More reliable.'

‘That is so creepy.' I forced myself to relax and moved a little closer to the monument. Yes, I was extremely freaked out but also undeniably curious. If I was a cat, I'd be down to my eighth life for sure. ‘I'm glad they filled it in.'

‘It's not filled in, just sealed,' Catherine corrected me. ‘The city doesn't allow them to stay open the way they used to but we can still unseal it to inter a body. Every Emma Catherine Bell who ever lived in Savannah has the honour of spending eternity here. There are still several seats inside.'

An involuntary shudder shook every bone in my body. Seats for every Emma Catherine Bell. Seats for my grandmother and seats for me.

‘I sure wish your daddy could have been buried here. Not in this exact chapel, naturally, but we have another plot across the way for our relatives. He should have been laid to rest where we could be close to him.'

She looked so sad and the reality of it all hit me again. I wasn't the only one whose life had been turned upside down by the accident. I'd lost my dad but Catherine had lost her son, a son she hadn't seen in years, and been forced to take in a teenage granddaughter she didn't even know. I made a silent vow not to make things any more difficult for her. I wouldn't get mad at her for my dad's actions and, just for the time being, I wouldn't tell her about the strange things I'd experienced at the Powell house or in the square. The further removed they were, the less real they felt. Catherine was probably right when she said the jetlag and Georgia heat were getting to me.

‘Is that where my mom's ashes were scattered?' I asked as she replaced the cap of her flask. ‘Dad told me she was cremated.'

Embarrassment and regret coloured her beautiful face as she slid it back into her pocket.

‘I don't know,' she confessed. ‘Your father scattered her ashes someplace special to the two of them and refused to tell anyone, even Ashley and me. I guess I should have realized our relationship wasn't in the best shape back then but it all happened so fast with poor Angelica, I was still reeling with grief.'

‘He said she got sick after I was born and her health went downhill very quickly,' I told her, trying to remember the story exactly, word for word. It was so long since we'd last spoken about it, the details were fuzzy. If I'd known I was going to lose him, I'd have asked again and again until I had it all memorized. It was a hard lesson learned.

‘All of that is true.' Catherine rested one hand against the angel's cold marble foot. ‘But the whole story is a little more complicated. All through her pregnancy, Angelica lit up like she was carrying the sun itself but after you were born, there was a dark shadow over her. She was never quite the same woman. If I'm to be completely truthful, we were all so obsessed with you, none of us noticed how sick she was until it was too late.'

What felt like a rusty nail scraped all the way down my spine, digging into every knot and stabbing at every nerve.

‘She wasn't sleeping well so your daddy would get up to feed you in the night to let her rest but one time, when he came back to bed, something was wrong. She was awake, her eyes were open, but she simply wasn't there. I wanted to help her at home but Paul insisted on taking her to the hospital and right away the doctors there moved her to Atlanta for specialist treatment. I never saw her again.'

There it was. A fear I'd always had but never dared say out loud.

‘So it was my fault,' I replied, my mouth dry as a bone. ‘Something went wrong after she had me. My mom died because of me.'

Catherine took my hands and held them to her heart, her eyes soft and pleading as I stared blankly at my future grave.

‘Don't you ever think that,' she admonished gently. ‘Angelica lived because of you. Your mama thought the sun came up just to see you smile. You were everything to her, the very reason she was put on this earth, she was sure of it.'

‘But if she hadn't had me, she wouldn't have gotten sick,' I protested, too many feelings rushing up inside of me at once, feelings I'd been fighting to keep bottled up ever since I set foot in Savannah. ‘She and my dad would've stayed here and he wouldn't have been in Wales so he wouldn't have had the accident. They would both still be alive.'

‘Emily, no, you can't torture yourself.' Catherine pulled me, sobbing, into her arms. ‘We can play the "what if" game until the cows come home. What if I'd paid more attention? What if I'd realized Angelica was sick sooner? What if I'd insisted your father keep her at home instead of taking her to the hospital? Destiny is destiny, fate is fate. We can make anything our fault if we want to but what's meant to be will be and not one of us has any say in the matter.'

‘There's so much I don't know about my own family,' I mumbled as she wiped my tears away. ‘There's so much I don't even know about myself.'

She lifted my chin to look into her green, green eyes.

‘All you need to know is this. You are my granddaughter and you are exactly where you're meant to be. Here with me.'

The wind whistled a soothing song and high in the sky, the light of the moon shone down on her like a spotlight. Catherine's expression was so certain, so without doubt, I couldn't help but believe her. Behind the Bell monument, I watched as a long, delicate tendril of Spanish moss slipped over the branch of a nearby oak tree and caught the breeze, wending its way down towards us almost as if it knew what it was doing. Familiar whispers began to fill the air and I raised my hand to greet it as Catherine's breath caught in her chest.

‘Emily,' she said, her soft embrace shifting into a steel vice. ‘Do not move one muscle. Stay exactly where you are and do not turn around.'

Immediately, I turned around.

The strand of moss fell away as I staggered backwards. There was something on the other side of the gate. In the shadowy half-light of the cemetery, I saw the dim outline of an animal, large and grey, saliva dripping from open jaws as it tore up the footpath with sharp, ugly claws, shredding the concrete like it was tissue paper.

It was a wolf.

And its golden eyes were set on me.