Page 32 of The Clifftop Cottage

Then checked it.

Then checked it again.

Just in case.

12

Erica found herself the next day sitting in her car at the bottom of the hill, staring at her phone.

Signal.

The digital world hummed back into existence as she seized the moment. She downloaded music, podcasts, films. Anything to keep her entertained once she was sealed back inside the cottage. Sealed was the right word. Once she passed the last flicker of signal, that was it. Cut off.

She’d slept hard the night before. Eventually.

Sleep hadn’t come easily. Every gust of wind, every scrape of loose ivy or debris against the wooden frame had set her nerves jangling. But when she had finally given in, it had been a deep, dreamless surrender, like falling straight through it where neither Steven or the wreckage of her old life could follow.

Now, away from the cottage, Erica felt restless. It was an itch beneath her skin, something crawling just under the surface. She needed noise. Distraction. Something to keep her from thinking.

She opened her inbox.

There it was again.

Jenna Armstrong: Follow-up – GhostLoreUK opportunity!

Another pitch. Another eager request to “collab” or “jump on a quick Zoom”. Erica didn’t even open it. She clicked Jenna’s name and watched the chain of emails unfurl, dozens of them stacked like a tower.

Delete.

Gone.

She closed the tab, trying to steady herself.

Then another notification popped up.

Bennett & Lowe LLP

Her stomach dropped. The preview vanished before she could read it, but the name alone was enough. The last time she’d opened one of those emails, she’d ended up on the cliff, staring down at the waves, her mind a blur of panic and static.

Not today.

She shut her laptop, switched off her phone, and let it fall onto the passenger seat. She had enough downloaded to last the night. Though if she wanted to sleep, she might still need whatever Leah had passed her with a raised eyebrow and a “don’t tell anyone”.

She snorted softly at herself.

A rational, grounded woman had no reason to fear ghosts, witches, or creaky old cottages. The only thing she should fear was her ex-husband and his legal team. They were far more likely to haunt her than anything supernatural.

And yet.

She found herself driving into town.

The shop window was just as cluttered as before. Bundles of dried herbs hung from hooks like upside-down bouquets. Jars of dark, viscous things lined the shelves. Crystals glinted beneath dim bulbs. A fan of tarot cards lay beside a skull carved from green stone.

And there was the cat.

The enormous tabby sat upright this time, its golden eyes fixed on Erica with unnerving intensity.

She paused on the pavement, inhaled, then held her breath.