It's been almost a year now since grandmother died. I still miss her, but not as much as I did before. Mother said it means I'm growing up.
Cesare's still taking me for walks in the middle of the night. Lately he's taken a fascination with the second floor closet between wings. It's one of those places in the house that's supposed to be haunted.
Angelina and Rudolph said they heard whispering in the closet, and when they opened it, the whispering stopped and no one was in there. I've never been brave enough to go into the closet alone. And I deliberately avoid passing near it. I don't want to hear the whispers in my sleep either.
Cesare doesn't care; he insists on walking past that closet in the middle of the night and in the early mornings when he makes me walk around the house with him. He said something is in there, but from what I've seen, nothing's in there. Except maybe a ghost. Uncle Roger said it had to be a ghost. I believe him. Cesare said Uncle Roger was a drunken liar.
Now Cesare has me out of bed before the help again. We've been pacing up and down the second-floor halls, always past that closet. There are no whispers coming from it now. That's good; I don't want to hear whispers in the dark when I'm the only one awake.
Cesare and I stayed up, sitting on the marble bench in the foyer, until first light. The kitchen help are always up first. They ignore me whenever I'm up before them. Sometimes I hear them talking about me. They say I'm weird like Grandmother and that I'm cursed. Idle mouths, Father calls them.
When the morning light shone through the second-floor balcony doors, Cesare hopped down from the bench and made his way to the closet. I didn't have to get close to hear it. The sharp whistling of whispers.
Let's go.
"Go where?"
In there child.
"You want us to go in the closet while it's whispering?"
Your slow-wittedness knows no bounds.
We went into the closet. It wasn't like the other closets; it was small and cramped. There was an old stool, an armoured coat, a helmet, an odd lantern, and a leather satchel.
Sit on the stool and close the door.
"Cesare, I don't want to be stuck in here with a ghost."
There are no ghosts. Do as you're instructed.
I sat on the stool and closed the door. The moment the door closed, the whispering started again, and the pattern on the coat began to glow. A blue, glowing beetle popped out of the lantern and traced another pattern on the coat.
There is your whispering ghost, child.
"The beetle?"
Yes, now memorise the patterns!
"What do they mean?"
For me, freedom.
ns 18.68.41.141da2
