Free The Body at Auercliff by Amy Cross

I'm sad, I'm crying because I'm happy. This is a beautiful moment. We're reconnecting with the spirits of the past, Becky. We're communing with the soul of Auercliff itself.” She smiles, despite the tears running down her face. “Don't you ever cry because you're happy?”
    I pause, before shaking my head.
    “You will one day,” she continues. “I promise. That's part of growing up and...”
    She stares at me for a moment, before placing a hand on the side of my face. The way she's staring at me, it's almost as if she's seen something in my eyes, something that has really caught her attention. I wait, not wanting to interrupt her, but I really don't understand what's wrong with her. Mum always says that Aunt Emily is a little weird, and for the first time I'm starting to think that might be true.
    “You look so...” Her voice trails off.
    “So what ?” I ask cautiously.
    “I...” She tilts her head slightly, the way a dog does when it's trying to understand something. Her lips are trembling, as if she can't quite get the words out. “I just...” She pauses. “Maybe there's someone you should meet,” she continues finally. “I think you'd get on very well.”
    “Who?” I ask.
    She sighs. “It's difficult to explain. I think I should just -”
    “You two!” Mum barks suddenly. “What are you up to?”
    Startled, I turn and see that she's making her way toward us. I should come up with an excuse, but instead my mind goes completely blank.
    “Did you get your aunt all emotional?” Mum asks, grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet. “Well, it's not hard to do, but still...” She sighs. “Emily, what's going on here? Are you trying to teach my daughter to form a spiritual connection with the house's brickwork? Trust me, Becky's not the hippy type. She's got far too many braincells for that.”
    “I was just talking about the history of Auercliff,” Emily replies as she gets up, wiping tears from her cheeks. “There's so much history all around us, it's in the air we breathe and it's -”
    “Lovely,” Mum says with a loud, exaggerated sigh. “And here was me, thinking the only thing in the air we breathe around here is dust. I mean, Jesus Christ, Emily... Would it kill you to get a little old lady in to dust the place?” She turns and starts leading me back toward the garden furniture, where Dad is setting out some bowls on one of the tables. “What did I tell you about talking to your aunt?” she hisses. “She's mad as a fruitcake, Becky, and the last thing we want is to set her off. Trust me, if you let her, she'll spend the whole weekend talking about ghosts, fairies, spirits and the healing power of bells and crystals.”
    “But -”
    “But nothing!” she adds as we reach the table. Grabbing a cigarette from the ashtray, she takes a drag and then exhales slowly.
    I step back, hating the smoke in my face.
    “Your aunt isn't well,” she continues. “She's sick.”
    I feel a thud of shock in my chest. “Is she dying?”
    She shakes her head, but for a moment she seems lost in thought. “Of course not,” she adds finally, “don't be stupid, she's just... It's something in her mind, Becky.” She taps the side of her head. “In here, you understand? She might say things that sound silly, and that's because she's sick. Also, if you ask her too many questions, you might make it worse. You don't want to be responsible for your aunt's health deteriorating, do you?”
    “What does deteriorating mean?”
    “It means going down the fucking pan,” she snaps. “Alright? If you ask her too many questions, you could make her very sick, Becky. She might even die.”
    “I don't want her to die!” I stammer.
    “Then leave her alone a little. You're a little girl. You can't understand, but leave your aunt alone.” She eyes with with suspicion for a moment. “Got it?”
    I nod.
    “She'll be fine if you stop bothering her,” she continues. “Besides, it wouldn't be good for you, either.