Floods of tears streamed down the face of Sally Greyson as she headed away from the scene.

"What the hell?" Dad moved closer to the open door, and Charlotte waited close by as he peered down the stairs to see exactly what had happened. "No you don't want to see this, Charlotte, take Clem and stay in your room. I'll wait for the doctor."

She watched as Dad headed further down the stairs, and as he turned on the light, she caught a glimpse of something she never thought she'd see. She took a deep breath and headed closer to the staircase.

Bethany's body lay at an unnatural angle at the foot of the ancient stone stairs. Her limbs twisted and bent in painful directions, as the blood that caked through her long dark hair seeped into a pool around her. The hardness of her bloodstained skull could be seen through the deep messy gash. There was no doubt about it, Bethany Greyson's life had ended.

A sudden gasp escaped Charlotte's mouth. Dad who by now stood feet away from Bethany, turned and looked up to see her standing there.

"I thought I told you to stay in your room?!"

He nipped quickly back up the stairs to where his younger daughter stood, and as he emerged from the servants area, he quickly closed the door behind him.

"Charlotte," his voice slowed down to its normal pace and quietened to a decent level, "I am a police officer. I've seen no end of dead bodies. I'm so sorry, you shouldn't have seen that." He placed his warm hand on her shoulder, "please, my darling, go back to your room."

Charlotte pushed open the door to her room, and sat on her bed. Her mind cast back to the last time she spoke to Bethany but the more she thought about it, the more her stomach churned. The last time she'd been with her older sister was the night of the crash, and that was something she'd so desperately tried to forget. Sadness felt like a cold blanket wrapped around her body so tightly that not even a tear could escape. She didn't want to leave her room, but part of her knee couldn't possibly stay there a moment longer. Not just her room, but the castle. All Charlotte wanted was fresh air, to feel something, anything, because at the moment all she could feel was numb.

She stood from her bed, and took a deep breath, as she pulled on a thick purple fleece top and her warmer walking boot socks. Charlotte stood by the door, waiting... listening. Again she inhaled deeply the sweet smells of the beautiful bouquet in her room, drifting up her nose. She placed her hand on the ancient door knob, and opened the door. Instead of walking near to where it happened, she nipped quickly down the stairs. A man headed towards her, a stethoscope draped around his neck. He looked at her, just for a second as they passed, but Charlotte looked away.

A few moments later, she pulled open the front door and stepped out into the fresh countryside. For a second or two she stood and breathed. In and out... in and out. She reached into her pocket, and put her headphones in her ears as she let the music take her away from reality. Her pace quickened, and instead of a gentle walk, it turned into rather a slow jog, as she headed towards the gate.

Tall trees with bare branches that seemed to go on forever that had stood for hundreds of years, lined the picturesque driveway as Charlotte opened the gate and turned down a small country lane on the Castle Stone estate. It was a long and winding track covered by fallen leaves of browns and gold, and broken pebbles. As she walked she felt free. Free to hear her own thoughts, free to think and free to feel. There was something about being in the place where her sister lost her life, that she felt she could cope with. Not now.

The night the two went out together, the last time they were alone, Charlotte's thoughts of Bethany weren't how sisters were supposed to feel about one another, well not the Greyson girls, anyway.

A brisk breeze of chilling air blew fallen leaves across Charlotte's path. She pulled her fleece top fliers around her body as a frosty shiver blew down her spine. She walked further down the pathway, looking at everything around her. The trees swayed in the wind, and the sound of ducks and other water birds on the lake nearby echoed loudly. The sound took her back to Cambridgeshire and to the ducks on the pond that wasn't far away from where she used to live. It didn't matter that they weren't the same ducks, all ducks sounded identical. She thought back to the trips the family went on when the girls were younger. And one specific memory gradually began to return. She noticed a wooden bench under a tree, and for a moment she took a seat as the thoughts came back.

It was a family outing to one of the local farms that was a few minutes drive away from their house. She remembered the picturesque drive through pretty villages, as they progressed out into the peace and quiet of the Cambridgeshire countryside. The music played in the car, a collection of songs from several Disney films, and the old games were being enjoyed. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with P. For three girls under ten, what was supposed to be pigs, quickly turned into other funny things, with Bethany eventually screaming out the word poo, as loud as she could. That thought made Charlotte smile. The sounds and the sights and the peace and quiet made her feel peaceful. For the first time in what felt like forever she finally managed to sit and think. The sadness inside her grew. And soon she found large droplets of tears dripping down her face. Her chin and bottom lip quivered as they flowed freely down her cheeks. She was gone. Bethany was gone. A strange feeling came over here, as it quickly began to dawn on her that instead of three Greyson girls, now there were only two.

She sat and thought, and she looked around at the beautiful nature around her. The path was littered with pine cones and the air contained a whiff of water. Charlotte stood, and moved from the bench. She knew there was a lake at Castle Stone but wasn't that certain where it was. With no signal on her phone, and with the map of the grounds still on the dressing table in her room, the only way she could find it was to see where it was. She walked further through the dark three lined pathway at a slow pace so she could take in all the scenery around her. It was funny, she knew how much Bethany loved water, she was a brilliant swimmer and loved being outside. Well, she did. The more she thought about Bethany, the more she wondered if she really knew her at all. She thought back to the argument she overheard and to the words Bethany yelled at her father. Was she really a Greyson after all?

Charlotte knew her mum well, they were very close in fact. Although she often confided in her about boys at school, or celebrities that she may or may not have had a small crush on, never did Mum mention any of her ex boyfriends. As far as she knew, Dad had always been the only man in Mum's life. Mum wasn't like her sister, Aunt Allie, so many boyfriends in so long, yet she could still remember every single one of their names, even their siblings. Where and how they met, and even what they all smelt like. Charlotte remembered one day when her sisters and her aunt tried to see how many of her ex boyfriends they could all remember, with Mum asking the questions. During that afternoon, Charlotte managed to ask her how many boyfriends mum had in the past, but aunt confirmed they're only been the one, Dad. So any suggestion of Mum having a fling, and becoming pregnant by another man was just simply out of the question.

If Mum wasn't someone who had a lot of previous partners, then how was Bethany not a Greyson? It didn't make sense. Charlotte walked further down the path and was used to inhaling the breeze and the refreshing scent of the freshwater. She looked across and watched as pretty boats bobbed up and down with the river current. They weren't huge boats, far from it, just little canoes and the odd barge. The sound of ducks quacking as they swam in the clear water echoed through the silence. She watched as huge white swans glided across the water. She thought back to her feathered friends back in Cambridgeshire and remembered something her old teacher told her. His voice, loud and clear, echoed through her mind. Never give a duck, swan or goose bread. Apparently it was so bad for them that so many of the poor things died every year.

Bethany would never see the ducks again. She'd never heard their peaceful voices or see the laughter on Charlotte's face as she fed them seed by hand. A small tear lingered in the corner of her eye, and the more she thought about her sister, the more they began to fall. Soon she found herself swathed on a nearby wooden bench, tears now flowing freely, taking her mascara down her cheeks as they ran. She'd been away from the castle for what seemed like ages, but although the skies began to darken, she was quite ready to go back. Not yet. Just a bit longer. She thought about turning back. She thought about walking back in the opposite direction but no. She didn't want to bump into the undertakers as they carried her sister's corpse out of the castle doors. She thought she'd give them a little bit longer. Anyway, there was plenty more of the grounds of Castle Stone that was left to be explored.

As far as she knew there used to be a small shop in the grounds. Whether or not it was still there, she wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was and perhaps she'd be able to buy something to eat and maybe a can of coke.

She stood from the bench and started walking, her legs now began to ache slightly but there was no was she would turn round. The further she ventured into the deep thicket of trees, something caught her attention. There, stretched across the vast stretch of water, was an old wooden bridge. Her pace quickened, and she hurried towards it at rather a slow jog. It looked as if it had been there for years, and for all she knew it could have. As Charlotte took a closer look, she couldn't help but notice a small brass plaque was nailed to the wooden post. The letters that had once been clearly engraved had gradually faded with time. But still, as she leaned forward, and shone the light of her phone on the plaque, the letters became clearer. It was her, the same name the girl in the hospital told her about. The poor young girl, bullied and jeered to death in the castle grounds.

In memory of Betty Bottomley, aged thirteen

Charlotte reached out her hand and gripped onto the railing of the old wooden bridge as she pulled her weight onto the platform. It wasn't a very high bridge, far from it, but long enough to allow her to cross over a wide stretch of water. She couldn't help but wonder how deep it was, but with her breath now visible, it certainly wasn't the right day to find it. The old wood moaned and groaned as if it was in pain as she carefully began to venture across. As she walked, an unusual sight came into view.

It looked like something fresh out of an old horror film. The bank was bare, no grass, no trees for several feet. Sizable heavy logs lay across the dirt ground as if around a campfire. Twigs, branches and smaller logs were piled in front, blackened and burned beyond all recognition. A saucepan sat upon it, metal plates and steel cups littered across the site.

Charlotte removed her fleecy top and placed it on one of the logs before slowly lowering herself down. Her mind began to wander and she thought back a few nights as she recalled Betty's story. She could help but wondered what happened there, and why the campsite was never used again.

Camping. Cold weather, leaky tents and doing their business behind a bush, wasn't something Charlotte called a happy relaxing holiday. Her sisters would swim in the pools nearby, Dad would fish and mum would try to tell him gently that she wouldn't cook it. Charlotte hadn't really enjoyed any of their camping trips, but now, as she sat in a disused campsite, her thoughts headed back to those long forgotten memories. That last holiday three years ago, was really the last the Greyson's would have as a family, and that brought tears to Charlotte's eye. Her heart felt heavy of regret, holidays were for fun with family, not reading thick novels in a tent alone.

A cold wind blew called leaves across the site, a frosty breeze forced an ice cold shiver down her spine. Charlotte felt the tiny fair hairs on her arms and on the back of her neck as they rose. She breathed deeply, and pulled the fleece from under her bottom as she put it back on.

It looked just like the awful Scottish weather, the icy wind and the sudden drop in temperature. But this wasn't the first time Charlotte Greyson had get such a thing and she was determined this time she would not be so afraid.

"Hello?" She said, "I know you're here."

But not a single word replied.

Charlotte stood from the log, "Betty?" This time she spoke her name, "Betty Bottomley, are you here?"

The wind stopped blowing, and the fallen leaves froze to the ground. Charlotte blinked and rubbed her eyes.

Come on... come on...

Then she saw her. A pale almost white figure, dressed in a khaki shirt top with knee length sandy colour shorts. Her thick green socks were pulled high over her knees and her hardy leather boots were caked in mud.

The girl looked a little bit younger than Charlotte, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old. Her rusty colour hair was short and curled, styled into two bunches at the side of her head. Her thick rimmed lens glasses within heavy frames was enough to confirm her identity.

"You can see me?" She spoke softly with just a hint of a southern English accent that reminded Charlotte of her Cambridgeshire roots.

Charlotte nodded, and after summoning up enough courage, took a step closer. Betty stayed still, frozen to the bone like a rabbit caught in the headlights.

The long dead girl cast a gaze over her shoulder, first the right, and then the left.

"Are they coming?" She said, "Are the rest of the camp coming?"

Charlotte moved her hair back over her shoulder, "camp? No, there's no one here, just me. I'm Charlotte. Charlotte Greyson."

Fallen twigs snapped like bones breaking under the weight of heavy human footsteps. Birds flew up into the sky, their wings taking them up and away from danger. A loud voice called through the forest, and the sound of footsteps running in Charlotte's direction became louder, faster, and as quickly as it took for Betty to arrive, within a blink of an eye, she was gone in a puff of smoke.

"Hey,"

Charlotte turned to see a familiar shape standing nearby. Clem stood, her hands rested against her thighs as she rapidly breathed in and out.

"You're out of breath," Charlotte commented.

"What are you doing out here? It's freezing."

Charlotte pushed her hair back behind her ears and wiped a small tear away from her eyes.
"I can't be there. Not now. Not yet."

There was no right or wrong way to grieve. While most of her family were up at the castle dealing with the heartbreaking reality of Bethany's untimely death, Charlotte had a question that no one else could answer. But one person, just might be able to help. At that moment in time all Charlotte Greyson wanted to know was what happened next?

"I need your help."

Clem breathed deeply as she finally caught her breath. She headed closer to her cousin and took a seat on the log nearby.

Charlotte, knowing her cousin's experiences were similar to that of her own, hoped more than anything that someone could help.

"Me? Help you? How?"

Charlotte sniffed back the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks and take her makeup away with them.

"She's dead. Bethany's dead. I saw her, Clem. Laying there at the bottom of the servants stairs like a rag doll that had just been dumped. Her neck was broken. I don't know what to do." She paused and wiped a tear away from her eyes. "What happens, you know... when someone dies?"

"I can't possibly begin to understand what you're going through, Char. I'm truly sorry for your loss, but I don't have the answers. I don't know how any of this works. Fucking hell, I wish I did, but I don't. I don't know why we see dead people. I only know what my Aunt told me, and well, you know what she's like."

"I wish I'd spent more time with her, Clem." Charlotte took her phone from the back pocket of her dark denim jeans, and began to flick through happy pictures of the three Greyson girls before they moved. "I mean I know we shared a room together," she continued "but we never really spoke much, not as sisters. Not as much as we should have done. "This was what she wanted us to be here together as a family. But, now look. This is so fucked up." Charlotte wiped a tear from her eyes but the second one went, more back to fall, "we're here, she's gone out of our lives. Forever. What will we do without her, Clem? I've lost my big sister."

The chill in the air grew colder as the clouds above turned grey. Soon small droplets leaked from the darkening clouds, which would soon fall heavily.

Clem looked at the changing weather, and the blackening clouds in the far distance.
"We'd better go," she said, "I really don't want to get stuck in that."

Charlotte felt grateful for having someone by her side. There were a lot of similarities between the cousins, but Bethany was her sister, and the deep sense of loss wasn't going to fade any time soon.

I'm still here, Charlotte...