Page 93 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘I’m out of options, Rose. I’ll call you when I get home.’ I disconnected.

An uneasiness settled in me. I’d avoided arguments with Aunt Ruth and Raven, then invited one with Rose. Maybe I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure of my intentions after all.

It was only ten o’clock, and I had the rest of the day to fill in before having to be at the airport. One of the airports. London had five scattered around; one of them was Heathrow, and that had five terminals itself. I wasn’t burdened with luggage. What should I do?

Sightseeing. I could see something of London before leaving. One of the art galleries? No, that made me think of Raven. I’d do something else.

After a few minutes’ deliberating, I caught the tube to Tower Bridge and lined up with other tourists to visit the Tower of London. I’d seen photos of it before, so it was eerily familiar even though I’d never been there. It was so old. A thousand years old. History was baked into its stone walls and cobblestones. And dungeons.

I marvelled at the ancient stone castle and grounds. There must be ghosts here.

The famous Tower ravens strutted around on the grass and appeared unafraid of the visitors.

I approached an official guide. ‘Excuse me? Why don’t the ravens fly away? What’s keeping them here?’

‘Ah, madam, you’re asking about the rumour that if the ravens all left the Tower grounds, London would fall. Am I right?’

‘Yes. I’m curious.’

‘Yes, madam, at the Tower, we take that rumour extremely seriously. That’s why we clip their wings to prevent them from leaving.’

So simple. So matter-of-fact. As I watched the crippled birds parading in the courtyard, I couldn’t help think of Raven. What would he think of me now after our conversation last night?

I might never know.

A flood of guilty thoughts overcame me. I muffled a sob. Aunt Ruth and Raven had been kind to me, and how was I treating them? With disrespect, that’s how. Running away without even saying goodbye, telling myself it was the best thing for everyone. Well, it wasn’t. It was the easiest thing for me. It was wrong on many levels, yet I was going ahead with it.

A pain thumped in my head.

To distract myself, I joined a queue of people to pass by the Crown Jewels. It wasn’t possible to stop moving—there were too many tourists for that. Security guards were everywhere.

‘It’s amazing these are displayed for the public,’ I said to the woman in front of me.

‘They’re replicas,’ she said. ‘They’d never put the real ones in here.’

‘Really? I’d never have guessed from the look of them.’

‘No. And being fake doesn’t stop us from queueing up to see them, does it?’

Fake. Just like the ravens in the courtyard outside.

And me. Wife. History teacher. House guide. Friend. Witch. All fake.

I had wanted to get away, but no matter how far I ran, I couldn’t get away from myself.

It took only a few minutes to view the fake crown jewels, and then I was back in the courtyard. There, a young woman sat alone with her back to the stone wall of the tower. Everyone ignored her. She was richly dressed in a wide billowing brown dress that spread over her legs and the ground. Some tourists even stepped on it. A beaded bonnet covered her hair, and a pendant of gold hung from her neck. Her face was pale.

She caught sight of me staring at her and beckoned me. I had no doubt this was one of the Tower’s ghosts. But whom? Anne Boleyn? Lady Jane Grey? Arbella Stuart? I’d seen their faces in an art book. But which one was it? I wracked my memory. Damned post-op brain fog.

I went over and sat next to the ghostly figure. She was only a teenager. ‘Hello. How are you?’

She turned to face me, expressionless. ‘I hast been a disembodied spirit for nigh an eternity.’

‘I know.’ That was obvious from her outfit. Close up, I recognised her from the history books. ‘You’re Lady Jane Grey. You’re a fascinating historical figure.’

‘Thee know of me?’ A spark of curiosity showed itself in her face. ‘Pray tell, how art thee aware of me? ’Tis an art reserved for those who practice witchcraft. Take heed, for if thee discloses thine abilities, thy life may be forfeit to a fiery demise.’

I shook my head. ‘That doesn’t happen now, thankfully. Are you lonely, or do you have company?’ What a stupid question. The Tower of London must be crammed with ghosts.

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