That confirmed the burial spot. I chewed on the corner of my thumb.
“Why didn’t Rohit move?”
“How would I know? Maybe he was afraid his wife’s body would be
found. Maybe he couldn’t afford to leave. Maybe the idea of moving never
occurred to him.” Sonia snorted. “Whichever way, according to the legend,
Shreya saw justice from beyond the grave. Rohit’s body was found when he
didn’t show up to work on Monday. They cut him down. Someone noticed
the ground below him had been disturbed, and the grass hadn’t yet covered it
again. They dug it up and found Shreya’s body. Then traces of her blood were
found under her bedroom window, and the story was pieced together. It was a
media sensation. No one could talk about anything else for weeks
afterwards.”
“So Shreya continues to haunt the Marwick home?”
“Allegedly. Mind, I’ve never seen or heard anything supernatural in that
house. But you’ve got to say it is remarkable how quickly its residents come
and go.” Sonia broke off a corner of the cake and popped it into her mouth.
“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t get too attached to that new lady. She
won’t last long.”
I thanked Sonia and left. She’d given me a lot to mull over, and I spent
some time standing on the sidewalk, looking from my own building to
Marwick House. The day was cool, and thin cloud cover dimmed the sun.
Autumn had finally given way to winter.I put my hands in my pockets and returned to my home to wait for Lucky.
I pulled bowls and spoons out of the cupboard without any idea of
what I wanted to cook. I only knew I wanted to make something .
Cooking had always been a comfort for me. I’d given it up during the
years I’d been looking after my mother—she would have insisted on eating it,
and the sugar would have made everything worse—but now that I had
freedom, I spent too much time and too much money pouring batters into
tins.
I’d promised Lucky brownies, but I wanted to cook them closer to his
arrival so that they would still be warm. There was time to make something
else first. I shuffled through the cupboards, looking for ingredients to inspire
me, while my mind churned over Penny’s story. I thought about Shreya’s life
and how isolated and helpless she must have felt, then I pictured the sallow,
dark-haired wraith that had appeared behind Ruby. I shuddered.
My fingertips landed on a cold porcelain container. I stared at it, shocked
that I’d drifted to this cupboard, the one I normally never opened, without
even thinking. The little white jar looked so innocent, as though it could have
held anything—herbs, tea, sugar. If anyone else saw it, they would never
guess its significance. I pulled back and shut the door firmly.
Flour rained from my sieve to create a pillowy mountain in the bowl. I
still didn’t have a recipe, so I didn’t bother measuring ingredients. The cake
would be a surprise for everyone, including me. After the flour came sugar.
Brown sugar, I decided. I wanted something rich and dense and too sweet.Nutmeg, cinnamon, ginger. Baking powder. Cocoa powder. Dried fruit—not
enough to make a fruitcake, just something that would create a pop of
surprise. I mixed the dry ingredients then went to get the liquids.
Ruby’s doll still sat on the windowsill. The eyes were too detailed. They
looked dead, but at the same time, they followed me. I ignored it the best I
could as I collected eggs and milk.
I added the wet ingredients indiscriminately. I didn’t feel like creaming
eggs and butter, so I didn’t. A line had been crossed when I’d mixed cocoa
and dried fruit, so I pushed further, adding in any ingredient in my cupboard
that caught my fancy. Vanilla extract. Mint. On a whim, I added chilli flakes.
That’s what the fancy chefs are doing now, isn’t it? Mixing sweet and spicy?
I could do that, too.
The batter was a lumpy, runny mess when I poured it into an ungreased
tin. I didn’t care. I threw it into the oven at a too-hot temperature. Let it burn.
I pressed my back against the oven’s handle, breathing too fast for the
energy I’d expended. Cold sweat made me shiver. What am I doing? Have I
gone insane?