Page 6 of Spellbinding Spirit

“Oh brilliant,” I say, rolling my eyes. “That sounds completely normal.”

Her grin widens, and for a second I forget about the investigation, about Sally, about everything except the way she looks at me. Like I’m someone worth having around.

The attic rooms at Greenview Manor feel different from the rest of the hotel. Downstairs everything is polished wood and carefully curated grandeur, but the attic is bare and unused. The air has a chill to it and the faint smell of dust lingers, like the place hasn’t quite shaken off the past. Housekeeping storemattresses, duvets and other spare stock up here. I know staff tend to not come up here on their own and I’ve always thought that was silly. I guess I will find out soon enough if I was right or if staff have a reason to be scared.

“This is it,” Cat says, her voice echoing slightly as we step into the room where Sally is supposedly seen most often. It’s small with sloping ceilings and a single window that looks out onto the grounds. The wallpaper is faded, the patterns barely visible anymore, and the floorboards creak underfoot. There’s a chair in the corner, placed oddly as if someone had been sitting there and just... left. Plastic covered mattresses are piled high next to the door.

“You’re sure about this one?” I ask, setting down the case of equipment I’ve been lugging around.

Cat nods, pulling her notebook from her bag. “This is the room. There’s plenty of reports from people who’ve said they’ve seen a figure standing by the window or felt someone brush past them when the door was closed.”

I glance at the window. It’s small and warped with age, the glass cloudy, but I can see the dark sky outside. “Not exactly inviting, is it?”

“That’s why we’re here,” she says, her tone matter of fact. She crouches to open the equipment case and pulls out a small motion detector. “Let’s get set up.” Cat wanted to get everything ready today and give it a bit of a test run. But we won’t stay long. We both need a good night’s sleep so we can tackle a full investigation tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long to turn the room into a mini ghost-hunting lab. Cat works with quiet efficiency, placing the motion detector near the chair and setting up a digital recorder on the small side table. I help by sticking reflective tape in the corners of the room for the thermal imaging camera, though I’m not entirely sure what it’s supposed to capture aside from us.

Finally I pull two of the mattresses down and get a couple of the duvets. If I have to sit here all night I’d like to be comfy.

Cat frowns and mutters something about the EMF meter not calibrating properly. I watch her as she fiddles with it, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You know,” I say, leaning against the doorframe, “you’re pretty good at this. Like a proper ghosthunter. Who do we call…” I sing the lyrics of the famous song.

She glances up, giggling. “Thanks, Sebastian, but I’m not a ghost hunter I’m a paranormal investigator. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Well, Ms Paranormal Investigator, tell me what to do. I'm all yours to command,” I grin.

She laughs and there’s a warmth in her eyes that lingers for a moment before asking me to unpack more tech stuff.

Not all of the attic is accessible. One section just down the corridor is blocked off because it’s part of a private flat where a staff member lives. The door to that area is locked and Cat glances at it from the room we are in.

“Shame we can’t check in there,” she says. “Sometimes these stories bleed into other spaces.”

“What, you think Sally’s popping in for tea with our head gardener?” I joke.

Cat gives me a mock glare. “You laugh but it’s possible. Spirits don’t always stay put. They go where the energy is.”

I shake my head, smiling. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

She blushes faintly, which isn’t something I see often. It makes me feel like I’ve just uncovered rare treasure.

The room that’s supposedly Sally’s hotspot is at the far end of the attic, well away from the flat. Beneath it is an unused guest room which means we don’t have to tiptoe around or worry about scaring anyone with our experiments.

Once everything’s set up Cat insists on running a preliminary EVP session, or electronic voice phenomenon as she explains for my benefits. “We just ask questions,” she explains, placing the recorder on the mattress. “See if anything answers.”

“Right.” I take a seat next to it, feeling slightly ridiculous. “Do I need to... address her directly? Like, ‘Hello, Sally, I’m Sebastian and I’ll be your paranormal investigator this evening’?”

Cat rolls her eyes but laughs. “You can if you want but maybe keep it simple.”

She presses record and the room goes still. Even the creaking of the old floorboards seems to stop, as if the house is holding its breath.

“Sally,” Cat says, her voice calm and gentle. “If you’re here we’d like to talk to you. My name’s Cat and this is my friend Sebastian. We don’t mean you any harm.”

There’s a long silence which is only broken by the faint hum of the recorder.

“Can you tell us if George is with you?” Cat asks softly.

I glance at her. There’s a kindness in the way she speaks, as if she’s not talking to a ghost but a friend. For a moment I forget to be sceptical.

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