The angle of the warm sun shining through the window finally reached Molly’s face, where she laid asleep on the daybed. It was mid morning as she stirred from a deep sleep. Drowsily, she rolled over and bumped her head against the upright caste iron bars that make up the back of the daybed. Sleepy and disorientated, she stared at the wall, taking in where she actually was. This was the first night she had slept in The Attic. Molly laughed at herself when she realised what was happening and turned over, getting out the other side of the day bed, her bare feet touched the rough texture of the rag rug in the middle of the room as she walked over to the window.
“Another beautiful day in paradise,” she said out aloud. “Good morning Will, my beautiful soul, wherever you are! And good morning Grace, I shall be back after breakfast.” Yawning, she stretched her body, walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Staring out the back window Molly saw the old chicken house and rundown pen. ‘Is it time to get some chickens? Nah, not yet,’ she thought to herself. She and Will planned to do a few more road trips and weren’t ready to make the commitment of having animals just yet. But it will be nice….one day…
The whistling kettle brought her awareness back to the kitchen. “Righto Myrtle! Coming,” she sang. Like most things Molly owned, they all had a name. Screaming Myrtle was the kettle, Henry was the car (because he is a Ford), Mr Mac is her laptop, to recall just a few.
With tea made, she took the tray containing her breakfast, the tea pot and two cups, up the stairs to The Attic. There it was again, that odd feeling as she walked up the stairs. It was hard to describe, a mixture of cold chills and warm fuzzies, it felt like walking through a curtain of static electricity. This morning it was even stronger. Opening the door, the phone in her back pocket made a chiming sound letting her know that her morning text from Will had arrived. She smiled, placing the tray on the sea chest, sat back into the arm chair and read his message. With breakfast and messages finished, Molly sat at the desk, lazily swinging the captain’s chair from side to side before she began her morning meditation. It was glorious outside, warm, sunny and just a slight breeze. The occasional bird made its presence felt, peeping at her through the panes of glass curiously. Having slept in, Molly had missed the beautiful morning chorus they provide in the earlier hours.
After meditating for 15 minutes, she opened her eyes to find that the room was filled with darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust, but still there was a grey light. The curtains were drawn, but she had not done this! Throwing open the curtains and letting the light back into the room, she was interrupted by a voice, “It is much easier to see me in the half light.” It was Grace Forrest! Molly looked over at the armchair from where the voice had come and captured a glimpse of Grace. Quickly she closed the curtains again, walked over to the fireplace and stood in front of the arm chair. Grace’s presence took on an almost human form, light radiated out around her creating what looked like an aura. She was Grace personified in human form today. Molly was mesmerised, in awe of her almost-physical appearance, emanating an energy that was tangible, breathtaking! This amazing being did remind Molly of her guardian angel, her spiritual mentor, her wise councillor, her advisor, protector, whom she herself had once called Grace, and she was beginning to sense the connection a little more. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks as she sat back in the captain’s chair, spellbound by an ancient memory stirring within her. Could this be possible? That the Grace who was her guardian angel, could now also be in this house in a location she had not even grown up in? Was it possible that this same being was now coming to her as the spirit of Grace Forrest? Could it be that the previous lady of the house, once alive over one hundred years ago could be one and the same? And that she, Molly Ferguson had once been her spiritual muse? So many questions flooded through her mind, but where was she to start? Lost for actual words, she began her written correspondence with a casual, “Morning Grace”. But the reply that came was not in writing, it was audible.
“Morning Honey, thanks for bringing me a cup of tea. I’ll work on being able to drink it next time!” Grace chuckled.“Isn’t this grand, being able to visit the Physical World again? And you can see me, yes?”
“Oooh yes!” exclaimed Molly, her eyebrows raised unable to contain her surprise at the audible communication she was having with Grace.
“Now, there are a couple of guidelines you need to be aware of. Firstly, I am only able to be here with you in this room, no other parts of the Physical World, not even in any of the other rooms within this house, unless there is a greater purpose required. Secondly, Will cannot see me. He may sense my presence from time to time, you know, when I play with the lights, TV or the computer to get your attention. You will both know that is me. He will eventually be able to see me. Thirdly, only a selected few in the Physical World can visit this room. And finally, I want you to help me turn my journal into a novel. All good with this?”
“Absolutely!” Molly answered, having found her voice.
“Grace, can I ask you something?” Molly asked politely.
“Sure Honey, you can ask me anything, whether I will answer or not depends on the question!” Grace replied candidly.
“Are you the same as what I knew as my guardian angel?”
“Yes,” Grace replied simply.
“Are you the ghost of Grace Forrest?”
“Yes. Now maybe you can ask something a little more interesting?” Grace teased her.
“Oh sure, ummm…Why am I here, in this house?” Molly asked.
“Because you wished it, and because I wished it. I knew you would be coming when I was…when I had a body. I wrote about it, remember? My journal was the reason why the room had been locked up. My dear sister Meg was terribly superstitious and after going through my belongings up here in this room, she came across the journal. Well, my understanding of the concept of spirit communication confirmed in my writings and a little personal visit, made her leave the room in such a hurry. All she wanted to do was lock the door and throw away the key. So she had all of the furniture moved into this space by the bottom of the stairs and the false wall built. Everything was sealed off until you moved in. Right people, right time, right place, and the Wheels of Destiny had begun to move.”
Grace paused for a moment before continuing. “Molly, there is much to be remembered from when you were in the Spirit World, before your birth into this life time. There is so much that is forgotten in the process of spirit incarnating into a physical body. All with purpose of course. You used to visit me here, as my guardian angel, my Muse. It was you who helped me when I prayed for it, after Callum died. God sent you. You would come to me as I do now for you. It was then that I began to write the story, with your help. You knew that you would be coming into this life, in this way. And now it is my turn to help you write your stories, and together turn this journal into a novel. And…it was you I have named the house after. Oh there are so many more of us here, whom you are yet to meet!” Grace said, pleased with the progress they were making.
Their conversation continued throughout most of the day. During the following weeks whilst Will was away, they began to explore the magic that The Attic was made of, as a doorway between Heaven and Earth. Sometimes Grace would be visible, but mostly in these early days, their communications were through Molly’s writing. Each morning she would have breakfast and then go upstairs to The Attic. She smiled at the casualness growing between them now. How was she going to explain this to Will? But he was more ready for this than she was aware of.
The Attic 