Spirit by Graham Masterton

familiar? It was almost as if Elizabeth had known her all her life; and yet she knew for sure she hadn’t.
    It was only when she reached Main Street and saw the sign across the street saying Walter K. Ede & Son, Mortician, that she was seized with the most horrific of thoughts. She turned, and stared back down the street, and she was so frightened that she felt as if centipedes were crawling in her hair.
    â€˜Peggy,’ she whispered. Then she screamed out, ‘
Peggy?”

 
    Â 
Five
    Laura was already in the billiard-room when Elizabeth got back. She was sprawled lanky-legged on the sofa eating a sugared doughnut and leafing through a copy of
Glamour
. She didn’t look up when Elizabeth came into the room and dumped her schoolbooks on the end of the coffee table.
    â€˜Well?’ said Elizabeth.
    â€˜Well what?’ retorted Laura, aggressively.
    â€˜Well – what do you think I ought to do?’
    â€˜What do I think you ought to do about what?’
    â€˜Your story, of course. That’s what.’
    Laura gave her a sulky, challenging stare. ‘
Be
a snitch. Go on. See if I care.’
    â€˜But Laura, it was so
rude
. Where did you learn all of those words?’
    â€˜I just heard some of the boys talking, that’s all,’ said Laura. She pushed almost half of the doughnut into her mouth at once. ‘They’re always saying things like pecker and muff.’
    â€˜It’s awful.’
    â€˜Why should it be awful?’ said Laura, with her mouth crammed. ‘You say “woodpecker” don’t you? And women say they wear muffs in winter, and nobody gets upset.’
    â€˜That’s different. You shouldn’t write stories like that.’
    â€˜Says who?’
    Elizabeth was about to answer when the door opened and her father came in. He had become thin as a rail and very grey, like a man who has been standing for hour after hour in a shower of fine wood-ash. The girls had grown used to his emaciation and premature ageing; but his appearance was aconstant reminder of Peggy’s death; as if her shadow had fallen across him for ever. He still spoke just as firmly, and the Candlewood Press was doing reasonably well, and making a bit of money, but losing Peggy had taken so much of the meaning out of his life.
    â€˜Hi, Elizabeth,’ he said. She went up and put her arm around his waist. His sand-coloured trousers drooped because he was so thin. He scarcely ate, and wouldn’t touch drink these days because it gave him nightmares. Nightmares of snow, nightmares of ice. Nightmares of Peggy rising out of the pool. ‘How was school? Do you have much homework?’
    â€˜Only geography, the Rockies, and that’s easy.’
    â€˜Listen . . .’ he said. ‘I had a call this afternoon that granpa’s sick. I have to go to New York tomorrow. I really have to. Do you think that you two could stay home and take care of mommy for me?’
    â€˜Is granpa going to die?’ asked Laura.
    Their father shook his head. ‘It’s his heart. His heart’s weak. He has to have tests for his blood pressure.’
    â€˜It’s all right,’ said Elizabeth. ‘We’ll look after mommy.’
    Their father ruffled her hair. ‘Thanks, Lizzie. I’ll call the school before I leave, and tell them why you’re taking the day off.’
    â€˜Okay, sure thing,’ said Elizabeth.
    â€˜Mommy should have a nurse,’ Laura protested.
    â€˜Laura –’ Elizabeth retaliated. But her father said. ‘Ssh, she’s probably right. It’s just that I can’t afford a nurse right now. Besides, you know how difficult your mother can be. Too difficult for most nurses.’
    He was about to leave when Elizabeth said, ‘Father – ’
    Laura sat up and glared at her furiously, staring daggers. Long-bladed daggers with elaborately-decorated handles, just like the cartoons.
    But Elizabeth had