The wine had gone around twice and the bread was almost gone. Paul had been trying to remember a surname — the couple whose house they‘d been to see — and it hadn‘t come.

“Fogarty,” Daniel said.

“It’s not Fogarty.”

“I’m fairly sure it is.”

Elise put her hand on his arm without looking at him.

“It’ll come,” Paul said.

Ruth refilled her glass. From above came the sound of the children — a thump, then laughter, a voice that was probably Sophie’s. Ruth listened for a moment.

“I told Sophie’s mum no rush,” she said. “She’s always late.”

“The gutters are what you’d want to look at first,” Daniel said. “Everything else you can do in stages.”

“We haven’t made an offer yet,” Ruth said.

“I know. I’m just saying.”

Paul picked up his glass.

*

Upstairs, Sophie had opened Ruth’s wardrobe and arranged the shoes along the skirting board: six pairs of heels, two ankle boots, one pair of kitten heels in a dusty pink. Nora was sitting on the bed with the wedding veil. It had gone slightly yellow and was much longer than she expected, pooling on the carpet when she let the ends go.

“She actually wore this.”

“It’s a veil,” Sophie said. She was working her foot into one of the ankle boots. “That’s what it’s for.”

Nora draped it over her own head, and Sophie came and adjusted it. They both looked at the result. Sophie got the second boot buckled and stood and walked from the bed to the window and back, arms slightly out for balance.

Ben was sitting with his back against the wardrobe. He had looked at the shoes when they came out, and at the Communion dress on its hanger — white, with a satin sash and a collar that buttoned at the throat — and at a photograph on the dresser: his parents at some wedding before he existed, his mother in a green dress he’d never seen.

Ben stood up. The corridor beyond the door was dim, the bathroom at the end, the stairs to his left. To his right a door stood partly open onto the storage room. Through it he could see the attic ladder, not fully pulled back up. His father must have been up there for something.

He went in and climbed.

*

Downstairs, Paul tried “Fitzpatrick” with some confidence. Ruth looked at him. He thought about it. “No,” he said.

“Fogarty,” Daniel said, and Ruth laughed first.

“It is absolutely not Fogarty.”

He laughed. Elise refilled her own glass.

*

The attic smelled of old timber and cardboard. Boxes along the walls — Misc. Misc. Kitchen. Xmas. Misc. — and in one corner four dining chairs that matched nothing downstairs. Two suitcases, the airline tags still on.

He found a box labelled Games: wooden tiles in a rubber-banded bag, something handmade with coloured counters, the top half of a Connect Four frame. He set it aside.

Against the far wall, rolled inside a plastic bag, were three or four posters. He pulled one out and unrolled it. A band name in lettering like something melting, and underneath it an image of bones and figures in black, the kind of thing designed to disturb parents. He unrolled another. More of the same. On the back of one, in handwriting he recognised from birthday cards and school permission slips: RUTH POWER // KEEP OUT, written in blue biro, with a small drawing of a skull beneath it.

He set it with the others and went back to the Games box. He lifted the Connect Four frame aside. Underneath was an old Ouija board. He pulled it out and set it on the floor beside the posters.

“Come up,” he called through the hatch.

*

Downstairs, Ruth had started collecting cups. Daniel said he was fine. Elise changed her mind and asked for coffee after all. Ruth put the kettle on.

*

Sophie came up first, then Nora. Sophie looked at the poster Ben was holding and went still.

“Is that your mum’s?” Nora said.

“Apparently.”

Sophie took it and looked at the name on the back and laughed. Nora looked at it, then at Ben, who shrugged. They stayed with the posters for a minute, turning them over, reading band names aloud. Then Sophie crouched down and looked at what else was on the floor.

“I know what that is.”

“Everyone does,” Ben said.

He put the planchette in the centre of the board. Two fingers on it; the surface worn pale and smooth in the middle. He moved it in a slow circle, not seriously, then lifted his hands.

“Doesn’t do anything. These never do.”

Sophie crouched beside him. Nora settled across from them. Nobody discussed it. Each put two fingers on the planchette.

Ben was watching Sophie’s fingers, not his own, when it moved.

Sophie said he’d done it; he took his hands off the planchette to show her he wasn’t pressing. Nora said she hadn’t touched it either. Ben insisted he hadn’t pushed it either. They were still arguing about it, Sophie starting to laugh, when Ruth’s voice came from the foot of the stairs.

“Sophie. Your mum just texted. She’ll be here in ten.”

“Okay,” Sophie called.

Sophie picked up the planchette and set it back in the centre. Nora put her fingers on it. After a moment, Sophie did too, then Ben.

“Who’s there?” Sophie said.

Nora watched the planchette move to D, then A, then back to D. For a moment all three of them stayed bent over the board, looking at the letters. Sophie laughed once and shoved it aside with her knee, already getting up. “What the —” Ben started. Nora stood. Ben was at the hatch.

They went down.

*

They came into the kitchen louder than they meant to. Elise looked up.

“We were in the attic,” Nora said, before anyone asked.

“Nothing up there,” Paul said.

Sophie’s mum came twenty minutes later and Sophie got her jacket and said goodbye and went out, and the door closed.

After the car left, the house was quieter. Her parents were still at the table with Paul and Ruth. Daniel was tilting one of the bottles toward the light, checking what was left, saying something to Paul at the same time.

Nora looked at him for longer than she meant to.

“You tired?” Elise said, from beside her.

“No,” Nora said.

© Copyright 2026 Alessandro Alessio. All rights reserved.