Son, youve got to keep going. Youre still young; theres no point wallowing, his mother urged.
Ill never forget Ethel, Simon muttered. Shes the only love Ive ever known.
A month had passed since Ethels sudden death. Theyd been due to marry, and two weeks before the wedding a drunk driver had struck her as she crossed the road, clutching a wedding dress fresh from the boutique. Shed chosen the most beautiful gown, only needing to pick it upa detail she had managed to tell Simon about on the phone.
That call turned out to be their last conversation. She was buried in that very dress, looking in the coffin as if she might step out at any moment. Simon felt his sanity slipping away. His mothers shrieks as the coffin was lowered were almost unbearable to watch.
Ethel haunted his dreams. Shed smile and keep beckoning him to a lake.
Darling, I wait for you every night, but you never come Theres a lake beyond the woods where your grandmother lives. If we meet there, well be together forever.
Simon drove to his granny Mabels cottage, a tidy little house in the hamlet of Little Ashford, just a stones throw from the market town of Wetherby.
Gran, is there a lake round here? he asked.
Theres one, Mabel replied, wiping her hands on her apron. But its no ordinary pond. Folks say witches once held rites there, and anyone who swims gets dragged down by dark forces. They also swear you can see spirits a sort of portal between the living and the dead. Whats it to you?
Just heard its pretty, Simon said, steering clear of the whole dreambusiness. He tucked the lakes lore away for later.
Ethel appeared again that night, her arms outstretched, tears streaming, waistdeep in water. He wanted to hug her, but something held him back, as if an invisible hand kept him on dry land. The thought of actually seeing her gnawed at him, and his mind turned into a restless kettle, day and night.
Simon, you look knackered, his coworker Ruslan said, tapping him on the shoulder. Those bags under your eyesmaybe you need a break?
Its all right, Simon replied, though the lie tasted sour. I just cant accept shes gone. She keeps popping up in my sleep, laughing one moment, crying the next.
I get it. Give it time. Maybe arrange a service at the parish churchshe could use a prayer.
Her parents werent churchgoers, so they never had a proper burial. Im not really sure what to do.
Simon had been christened, but hed never taken religion seriously; his family never went to StMarys. Still, perhaps a prayer could soothe her soul.
Im waiting for you, love The lake is calm, peacefulonly there can we be together, Ethel whispered in his head.
He jolted awake, heart hammering like a blacksmiths anvil. The clock read eleven. Rain hammered the window. A sudden, reckless urge told him to find that lake.
He threw on a coat, grabbed his car keys, and stepped outside, the sky a dreary grey. Im coming, Ethel! he shouted to the empty street.
After a halfhour of aimless turning, he finally spotted the lake, its surface glassy beneath a waning moon. The rain had stopped, and the world was hushed; even the leaves seemed to hold their breath. The full moon threw a silveryellow glow onto the dark water.
Simon stood at the waters edge and bellowed, Ethel, Im here! Ive come!
From the depths rose a head, then a full figure Ethel, in her wedding dress, smiling and reaching out.
Come to me, love! she sang.
Without a second thought, Simon stepped into the water. A cold hand clamped onto his shirt and hauled him back onto the shore. He turned, bewildered, to see an elderly man in a black overcoat, a crucifix hanging from a rope around his neck.
Stop! Dont go any further! the man warned.
Who are you? Let me go! Ethels waiting! Simon demanded.
This isnt Ethel, the stranger said, eyes dark as the lake. Its a malevolent spirit masquerading as her. This place is a soultrap!
Reality snapped back like a rubber band. The lakes eerie allure dissolved. Shes dead Simon whispered, stunned.
Get in your car and head home. Forget this cursed spot. Many souls have vanished here. Go to the parish, ask for a psalm for Ethel.
Simon started his car, the old man evaporated as if hed never been there. He drove home in a daze, slid into bed, and fell into a restless sleep.
Morning found him with a pounding headache. He called in sick, telling his boss he felt unwell, and set out for Grandma Mabels.
Sweetheart, whats the matter? Mabel asked, offering tea. You look pale.
Simons parents lived a few miles away, but he rarely spoke to them; they were the sort who spent their days at the pub and begged for money theyd soon squander. By contrast, Mabel had raised him almost singlehanded.
I nearly did something foolish, he confessed, Im not sure what possessed me. He recounted the lake, the dream, the old man.
Mmm, dear, that sounds like the old vicar, Father John, Mabel said, stirring her tea. He lived nearby before the lads in the 90s thumped him to death for refusing to help them. They tossed his body in the lake. Legend says his spirit still looks out for folk in trouble.
And that bit about the church, she continued, listen. Ethels soul is restless; without a prayer shell be haunted by that darkness. You should go to StMarys and ask for a service. I can even arrange it for you.
Ghosts, soultraps, a dead vicar I feel like Ive been reading a horror novel, Simon groaned. I never believed in any of this, but maybe Ill give the church a chance. Thanks, Gran.
He drove straight to the parish, booked a short memorial service, bought a simple silver cross, and slipped it around his neck.
From that day onward, Ethel no longer visited his dreams. He took it as a sign that her spirit had finally found peace.
