about three o'clock.
The heavy bell went past three and struck twelve; then stopped. Twelve. But it had been past twelve when eventually she'd closed her eyes and gone to sleep. The clock was wrong. A damn pigeon must have got into the works. Twelve. This was going to be all over the news and she'd have to listen to everyone witter on about it for weeks until something equally as trivial occupied them.
There was no way time moved backwards.
She reached to her bedside table and checked her mobile phone. Twelve. Frowning, she looked at her radio-controlled clock. It lit up and confirmed the time.
Twelve.
"This isn’t happening," she said, "there is no way I’ve slept the day away… no way. Someone would have called."
But maybe she had.
No, her, Edwina Charlotte Dickens sleeping in and missing a day? Never. It would never, could never happen. And on the few occasions she was sick she’d always phoned in and then worked from her bed. But this wasn’t work she was missing, but a hen night.
She could see herself subconsciously sleeping through it. But there was no way that Mel would allow her to miss it. And she wouldn't let Mel down. Edie had promised to do this for her. And she didn’t break promises.
Edie scrambled out of her bed, and groped towards the window. Which was frosted. In June.
She rubbed the frost off with the sleeve of her pyjamas; nothing unusual. It was just very foggy and extremely cold. Global warming? Freak weather? Time standing still? But the street was silent; no hysterical people running round like headless chickens so probably not a major global catastrophe.
Then she must have got the time she went to sleep wrong. Mustn’t she? She hated this feeling of being out of control, of doubting her own mind. Her mind was the one thing that had never let her down
Her stomach clenching in trepidation, Edie climbed back into bed again, her mind spinning. Thoughts racing; too many strange things were happening.
“There must be some logical explanation,” she said to herself.
Jessica's ghost bothered her the most. Although she had spent most of the day ignoring the memory, it still festered there in the back of her mind.
And another Spirit was due…if Jessica was to be believed. Had it really come to this? She was taking the word of a see-through former person?
Big Ben chimed again.
Edie checked her phone, it shone and showed 00:15. Forty-five minutes to go and logic said Edie would be left alone. It was the twenty-first century… people didn’t get haunted the way they used to. It just wasn’t done.
She lay on her side in bed, knees curled protectively towards her chest.
"Ding dong!"
"Half past," she muttered as she reached out and checked her phone yet again.
"Ding dong!"
"A quarter to," Edie whispered into her pillow, her hands clutching it tightly.
"Ding dong!"
"One o’clock," she said out loud, her body relaxing, “and not a strange visitor in sight!"
Edie didn’t bother looking at her phone; the quarter chimes of Big Ben were good enough for her. And once the hour bell had sounded, she would be getting some sleep.
How stupid had she been? Believing some dream she had last night.
“Terms and conditions. I mean, really.”
Edie bashed her pillow into shape and pulled the duvet up to her chin as the hour bell sounded a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy one.
As the sound ended, light erupted in the room, as if a thousand camera flashes were going off at once.
With a small scream, Edie catapulted upright in bed. Her eyes were blinded by the flash of light. Rubbing them she tried to rid herself of the black spots. Opening them again, she was confronted with a visitor.
She rubbed her eyes again.
Opening them still showed the same visitor.
What was a six-year-old flower girl doing in her bedroom?
The child was dressed in a pink dress; the bodice heavy with embroidered flowers and seed pearls, the skirt fell in folds like a fairy princess. On her blonde and curly hair sat a circlet of sweet peas and roses with bits of baby’s breath, gypsophila, peeking out here and there.
Clutched in her hands was a flower basket but instead of flowers the basket held the light that had blinded Edie earlier. It lit the whole room, a blue white light shooting up from the basket to hit the ceiling like a thousand spotlights. Nothing could hide from that light, it illuminated all shadows.
Solemn blue eyes stared at Edie. Eyes too old for a six year old and like the light, they scorched bright. They tore through Edie’s outer layers and the mask she showed the world to see what was hidden beneath. Edie’s soul shrank and tried to hide but found its darkest corners exposed.
“Erm…” Edie’s voice faltered and faded under the child’s stare. Why did it have to be a child? Edie never knew what to say to them.
“So little girl, are you the Ghost that Ms Marley told me about?” Edie tried to smile encouragingly at the youngster, but it felt more like a grimace.
The child raised an eyebrow, shook her head and sighed.
“I might look like a six-year-old but you don’t have to talk to me like I’m stupid,” the child Wraith replied.
Just my luck, thought Edie, I’m being haunted by a precocious poltergeist.
“But yes, I am the Ghost that Jessica Marley told you about.”
The Ghost had a soft voice and low but it echoed as if it were at a distance.
“And who and what are you exactly?” Edie asked her body tense for the next shock heading her way.
"I am the Ghost of Weddings Past."
"Like history past?" inquired Edie. It was bad enough going to weddings but to have to go through some sort of history lesson as well.
"No. Your past and the pasts of those close to you."
Oh.
“Well, while you do that could you turn down the light?” Edie said.
“Turn it down?” the child swung the basket as she put both hands on her small hips. “Turn it down? This light doesn’t have a dimmer switch you know. It isn’t to be commanded and leashed like you do everything else.”
Edie’s eyes watered as the light shone in them and her skin stung where it hit her as if caught out in the sun too long.
“I’m sorry, Edie you’ll just have to get used to it.” And with that the Spirit folded her arms,
