Jamie's first thought, as he entered the ballroom, was of the last dance he had attended. It had been the harvest festival, and his uncle had once again barged his way into village tradition. He cleared out one of the barns and decorated them to accommodate the local teenagers. It had not been like this: adorned with the same floral patterns of gold, kitted with a fine bandstand and most of all; there had not been a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling taking up the space of Jamie's old bedroom.
Still, while it might have put that old barn to shame, it captured a strange feeling in Jamie that brought him right back there. He could almost see the large banner across the back, hear the overly loudspeakers blasting the Wurzels' combine harvester and through all that, he could see her.
That was particularly weird because he could see her right now as well, but, in that moment, it was as if she were both the woman in the jeans and hoodie before him now and the young girl in the pale pink dress she had been then.
Jamie was pleased to note that Maggie looked remarkably similar in both visions. Maggie was older now, obviously. Her face had the beginning of wrinkles in her cheeks and forehead. She was definitely skinnier than she had been before, and her face bore the scars of this place in her sunken eyes and thinner hair.
But all he had loved about that young girl was still there, and he felt great pain as he took it all in.
All in all, it seemed that time had been kind to Maggie. It had not been to him. He could not imagine that he measured up to the boy in the checked shirt she had seen at that party.
Maggie noticed him staring and he quickly averted his gaze. He was suddenly deep within himself, feeling every inch of his strange, twisted form. How could Maggie even stand to look at him? He certainly couldn't.
"Dancing at ten o'clock," Sara read off a small sign standing in the middle of the ballroom.
No sooner had she read this that a sound began to echo from the stage. It was the sound of footsteps making their way from the left-hand side of the stage to the centre. They stopped and there was a small cough. As the coughing seized, a small man could be seen apparating into view centre stage. He was a small, round man with a thin moustache and mid-parted hair oiled flat. He wore a fine tuxedo with impressive tails, and in his hand was a conductor's baton. He didn't appear suddenly, like Maligna always did, instead they seemed to gradually come into view as if tuning a television. Even when it seemed they had fully appeared, there was something translucent about him, as if his entire body was made of a pale green smoke.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," the conductor said in a reedy Yorkshire accent, "we would like to welcome you to the Annual Maligna Ball."
Jamie jumped as there was suddenly a cacophony of cheers and applause which echoed around the room. As it did so, a crowd of similarly pale green people appeared all around. They were all dressed to the nines in elegant ball gowns and sharp suits, though whatever fancy colours they may have had in life were lost in their monochromity.
The conductor held out his hands, and the noise of the crowd died down.
"Thank you, thank you," he said, "And of course, it wouldn't be a Maligna Ball without the ballroom dance competition. The rules are simple. Our judges will be ever observant, and if your technique isn't up to snuff, then you will be out. The last couple dancing will win our grand prize."
Upon the stage, a small table appeared, and on it, clear as day, was a small silver key.
"Find your partners," said the conductor, "The competition is about to begin."
The conductor turned to his bandstand and waved his baton. At each section he pointed to, instruments could be heard tuning up—first the strings on one side, then brass on the other, and so on—with the ghostly players and their instruments fading into existence with the music.
Once the entire band had appeared, the conductor silenced their tuning and began conducting a new piece of music. Jamie wanted to call it a waltz, but, in all honesty, he had never been very knowledgeable about... well, anything really, but classical music, in particular, was not his strong suit.
He quickly noticed that the ghosts had all paired up and were beginning their dance. Jamie spun round and found that Sara and Ben had done the same, which meant that the only person left was...
"Hi," said Maggie.
She looked nervous. And why shouldn't she? She was being asked to dance with an horrific monster. Jamie felt the terror in her eyes still as she gazed upon his disgustedly misshapen form.
"I think we better get started," said Maggie, "if we wait too long, we'll be tapped out."
Jamie nodded but he found that he was unable to bring himself to actually begin the dance. He had never known what to do at the best of times, and the thought of contorting himself into some mockery of a hold seemed just too absurd.
Maggie was more determined, however, and she took a hold of his usable arm and did her best to get them into some form of dancing posture. Jamie ended up with his bad hand on Maggie's back and the other in Her's. It was something approaching a dancing hold, but it was far from elegant. Jamie had always been taller than Maggie, but now he had a good two feet on her If he were capable of standing straight, and the length of his arms meant that he had to tuck himself in to hold both her back and outstretched hand. Jamie created a mental image of the scene from the outside, this strange gangly beast trying to squeeze themselves to dance with this grown woman.
He found himself laughing at his imagined image, under his breath at first but increasingly audible as he struggled to control it; this seemed to be the permission Maggie needed to let out her own giggles that she had been evidently hiding. The two of them struggled to get themselves under control as Maggie cleaned up the hold a little.
"Right," she said, calming herself, "This is a waltz. I can count the steps, but the man has to lead."
"That's very patriarchal of you," Croaked Jamie with an ease that surprised him.
Maggie herself seemed a little taken aback by the quickness of the comment, but she wouldn't be on the back foot for long.
"Oh, Please." She said, "This village was backwards in the 90's. Imagine what they were like a hundred years before that. You lead."
"Yes, Ma'am," croaked Jamie.
Maggie gave him the look. The look of amused annoyance that had always been Jamie's goal. Whenever he had remembered Maggie, she was always giving that look.
Maggie was true to her word and gave quite detailed instructions as they muddled their way through the steps. This was evidently not a complex routine: left together, back together and so on and so forth, which was good because Jamie was not the most elegant of dancers. He had actually become quite adept with his strange body over the years. He had learned to use his spindly limbs and thin frame to move about the manor with speed and something approaching grace. But that had required a complete change in how he operated and involved taking on a form more akin to an ape or spider to accommodate the new shape of his body. Now, he was trying to make his odd proportions move in a more human way, and it was far from easy.
But Maggie was patient, and before long, they were in something of a rhythm.
"There you go," she said, "You'll be a dancer before you know it."
Jamie smiled politely.
"How did you get to be such an expert," he croaked, "I don't remember you being much of a dancer before."
"You mean that one time in your uncle's barn," said Maggie, "That was hardly the space for... elegant dancing."
"We must have danced more than that," said Jamie.
"When would we have done that?" Maggie asked. The only places we hung out were behind the bike sheds and outside Tesco's. And I wouldn't call anything we did there dancing."
Jamie tried to think of another time but drew a blank. He supposed he had just relived that moment so many times it had felt like many.
"I guess not," said Jamie, "But still, I reckon you didn't know all this stuff back then."
"No," Maggie admitted, "I learned most of this stuff from Strictly Come Dancing."
Jamie's lack of recognition must have shown on his face because Maggie quickly clarified.
"It's this show where celebrities learn to dance with professionals," she said, "I'm not sure it would be your thing, but it's... fun."
"I'll take your word for it," croaked Jamie.
They continued their steps, and Jamie struggled with the question he wanted to ask. He knew exactly what it was, but every time he felt the urge to say it, the words died on his tongue. Once asked, it couldn't be taken back.
As they danced on, they passed close by Sara and Ben's gliding waltz. It was actually a little embarrassing how, despite his bad leg, the young Ben was still a more controlled partner than Jamie.
"Look at that," said Maggie.
"Yeah, they're not bad." said Jamie, "They're actually pretty good kids."
Maggie smiled.
"Yeah, they're not too bad," she said.
"Sara called you Aunt Maggie," said Jamie, "So that would make them..."
"Rickie's kids," said Maggie, "Yeah."
Now, that was something. Jamie attempted to age up his mental image of that shy little boy and found It impossible. He would forever be frozen as Maggie's little brother.
"How is Rick?" Jamie asked.
It was an absurdly casual question for their circumstances, but Jamie soon realised that he had stepped idly on an exposed nerve.
"Rickie actually... passed away earlier this year," she said.
The news caught him off guard, sliding through a soft spot he was only now aware of. He had not liked Ricki for reasons he could not make sense of, except that he was small and consistently hilarious in any attempt to fight back. He was never an aggressor, and yet Jamie always found him to be aggravating. There were no regrets when Rickie was around; they just had to wait till after. Then Jamie would be sorry and resolved to set things right next time. Next time never came. And now it never would.
Jamie could have said all this, but he wouldn't. No one, especially Maggie, needed any more evidence of his monstrosity. So, he resorted to a different tactic.
"Oh, I'm sorry," seemed a good start and then, "I had no idea, "which was stupidly redundant.
"How could you?" Said Maggie, "It was... It's been really hard."
"Was it... Sudden?"
Maggie searched for a moment.
"Ricki was...," She stumbled, "Ricki had... He had problems. With what happened, I think we both felt like the world was against us. I hid, but Rickie got angry. He thought I was dragging us all down. That our parents were indulging me and leaving him out in the cold. There was always an argument, and Mama was the only one who could keep the peace. When she died, Ricki just lost it. He started screaming about how it was my fault that I was such a burden that I had weighed her down. Then he left and I wanted to reach out, I wanted to make things right, but I was always too scared. Then I got a call earlier this year, and he..."
Maggie couldn't speak anymore. She began to sob quietly as the words faltered away.
"I'm sorry," said Jamie, "I shouldn't have... but it's not your fault. You can't make yourself responsible for other people. It's hard enough being responsible for yourself."
Maggie didn't stop crying, but the sobs slowed a little. She gave Jamie a weak smile.
"That was actually pretty good," she said.
Jamie blushed, which showed brightly on his pale complexion.
"I kind of cobbled it together from stuff my counsellor used to say," Jamie admitted.
"Well, thank you all the same," said Maggie, "and don't be sorry. I need to talk about it."
The two were silent for a few more steps but there was something about that last thing that Jamie really couldn't let go.
"You said you haven't spoken about it with anyone," he said, "Does that mean you don't... You haven't got a... or...."
Maggie gave an awkward laugh.
"No," she said, "No I haven't got any sort of... partner. Just me at home dressing the saints."
"I'm sorry," said Jamie.
This time, though, he wasn't. It was selfish; Jamie was well aware, but he couldn't deny how happy it made him that Maggie was still... available. Jamie knew he didn't have a chance anymore, but he wasn't sure he could deal with her being with someone. It was wrong, of course. Why should she not be happy without him? She deserves that much, at least. But Jamie couldn't deny how much it pleased him to hear.
"After that night," she said, "I was a wreck. I didn't speak for days, and after that, I just became so scared all the time. My parents sent me to so many therapists, but it never worked. They always tried to explain the 'irrationality of my fears' because they thought they weren't real. They tried to get me to accept that what happened on that night was some kind of delusion. Ricki told them what they wanted to hear so he could get on with his life, but I couldn't. There are monsters in this world. Real monsters, and they were out to get me. How could I do anything knowing that? I couldn't go to school. I couldn't barely get a job. Jamie, I haven't left the house in over twenty years."
Maggie's sobs returned, and she was struggling to hold together.
"If it makes you feel any better," said Jamie, "I also haven't left the house much recently."
Maggie looked at him wild-eyed, and Jamie was honestly worried he may have said something terribly wrong. Her sobs rose in volume and seemed to be choking her. Then they shifted slightly, and Jamie realized she wasn't sobbing anymore—she was laughing.
Jamie couldn't help it. He began laughing, too.
The two of them did their best to keep the pace and rhythm of their dancing but they were both quickly breaking down. It was all they could do to keep moving, but after a while, they managed to regain some control again.
It had been good, though. Jamie hadn't laughed in a long time.
"Well, it'll all change soon," said Maggie.
"What do you mean?" Asked Jamie.
"Well, when we get out of here," said Maggie, "Then you'll be able to go wherever you want."
She had said it so casually that you might have thought it was the easiest thing in the world.
"I don't know," he croaked, "We still have a long way to go."
"I'm not stupid," said Maggie, "I know it's hard, but we have a chance. I think we need to believe that."
Jamie did believe it. He had been here for a long time, and where they were was unprecedented, partially due to his own actions. He wanted that for them, but...
"I don't know If I can leave," he croaked.
"What?" Asked Maggie, "You want to stay?"
"No," Croaked Jamie, "I just don't see a way I can leave."
"You're playing the game," said Maggie, "Same as us. If we win..."
"It's not about the game," croaked Jamie, "I don't belong out there anymore."
"That's ridiculous," said Maggie, "Of course you do."
"Maggie, look at me," croaked Jamie.
"I am," she said, "I know, but we can..."
"I'm a monster," croaked Jaime.
"I don't care how you look...," said Maggie.
"It's not just how I look," croaked Jamie, "It's what I am. It just shows now. This place..."
"It's changed all of us," said Maggie.
"No," croaked Jamie, "It hasn't changed me. I'm not a good person, Maggie. I never was. Maligna used me, but he didn't make me do anything. I did terrible things to people outside of here. They were scared of me, and I liked it. When he made us race, I... I tried to trap Ricki here. I would have trapped him here rather than me, and as much as it tears me up inside, I still wish I had. Maligna asked me to trick all those kids, lead them to their deaths to save what little I had left. I agreed immediately, and when the time came, I didn't hesitate. I still see them, Maggie. All the time I see them. Each one I remember, clear as the last. I know every name and everything they ever told me. But I still did it. Every time."
Maggie's grip on him tightened as she looked away.
"Not every time," said Maggie.
"So what?" croaked Jaime.
"So what?" said Maggie, "Jamie, they would be dead if it wasn't for you. I probably would be, too. I know you've done bad things..."
"They're not just bad things," said Jamie, "I did evil things, Maggie I...."
"Jamie!" Said Maggie, "What do you want me to say? That I hate having to think about what you've done. That it hurts to have to see you like that. To know what you are capable of. Maybe I should. Maybe it would be better if I just accepted that you were a monster and leave you behind, but I can't. Because I know you. I know that you can do good things. You could then, and you are now."
"Then why did I do It," said Jamie, "They should have escaped. All of them deserved a chance, but I never gave it to them. I'm supposed to feel good about myself now that I changed my mind. I can't just be free, Maggie. I can't have what I stole from them. I want you out of here, and I will make that happen, but it won't make things right for me. I'll never be able to do that."
Maggie glared at him, and it soothed as much it burned. But he could tell it was not a look of anger. Her hazel eyes shined bright, illuminating Jamie's own hollowed sockets.
"That is not your decision," she said. "You say there's no good you can do. Nothing that will make things right, but I think that's an excuse. Because you're still scared, Jamie. You're scared to live with yourself. But you're not done yet."
Her hand slipped from his and clutched at her neck. As she rubbed it, Jamie could see the glint of a golden crucifix. Last he had seen, it was given a prideful place on the living room wall next to the photo of her first holy communion. He had never known her to wear it.
"I've struggled," she said, "To Believe. That God watched over that night. That he saw a creature like Maligna and couldn't stop him. It never made sense. But you're still here. Despite everything, you're still here, and I can't believe that's a coincidence. I think you can still do something good. I think you are doing something good."
Religion had never been a big part of Jamie's life, but the way Maggie said those words struck him hard. They were the honest words of a believer, and it was enough for awe inspiring terror to flood him for just a moment. The question of genuine Divine forgiveness suddenly felt real to Jamie, and it was not necessarily a comforting thought.
"What if I can't," said Jamie.
"Then you try," said Maggie, "and you don't give up. Because let me tell you something, James Hargreaves, you are leaving here whether you like it or not. I can't leave you. Not again. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Jaime.
Maggie gave him a look. It was different from the look she had given before. It was stern but with a light that warmed Jamie deep within.
"You asked me to look at you," said Maggie. I have. I've been looking at you since I first saw you, and I don't see the boy I loved when I was a girl. But I don't see a monster either."
She took her hand out of hold and touched Jamie's face. He almost pulled away, but she softly guided him closer to her.
"I see you," she said,
Then they kissed. For how long, Jamie wasn't sure. There seemed no point in wishing it would never end because it felt eternal. For a brief and beautiful moment, it was just him and her. Not the boy and girl at the village dance or the woman and monster in Maligna's ballroom but themselves, as they truly were. Reunited at last.
There was a loud cough that suddenly brought the world back in around them. At first, Jamie was worried that this was them being tapped from the game, but as he quickly glanced around, he saw that all the ghostly spirits were gone. All that was left was Sara and Ben standing in front of them.
Jamie and Maggie, quite hurriedly, tried to get into a less intimate hold, but Jamie's strange limbs got them a little tangled, and the whole movement came out considerably less slick than they would have liked.
All the while, the kids were laughing at them.
"Err, what happened to the game," said Maggie, quickly changing the subject.
"It's over," said Sara, "It's been over for ages."
"We won?" asked Jamie.
"No," said Sara, "you lost like straight away."
She held up a small silver key.
"We won," she said.
"Oh," said Maggie, Giving Jamie the side eye, "Wow. When did you guys get so good at ballroom dancing?"
Sara suddenly became quite shy.
"Oh, you know," she stammered, "It's really not that hard, you know, just one foot in front of the other."
"Sara made us get ballroom lessons a few years ago," said Ben.
"Shut up," hissed Sara.
"She wanted to meet Anton Dubeke," said Ben.
"So, you did you, you little twerp," said Sara.
She took a swing at his arm, but Ben dodged it and hobbled out of the room laughing. Sara took chase.
"Guys," Maggie shouted after them, "Guys, please just... ay Dios."
She looked over to Jamie with a smile.
"We should probably go after them," she said, "You know, before they tear up the place."
Jamie nodded but didn't reply. He was once again full in his body with all the awkwardness that came with it. Maggie's smile waned slightly as she looked him over. She came in close and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Come on," she said, "Let's get out of here."
She made her way out of the room, but Jamie didn't follow. He just wanted to stay there a moment longer. This room held things that he wasn't sure he could ever really have outside of it. If he could have, he might have stayed there forever.
But he couldn't. There was still the next room and whatever lay beyond. Try as he might, he would still have to face it.
Jamie began to make his way towards the door, and as he did, he found himself humming a tune. It seemed familiar but since he hadn't listened to real music in so long, he found he was struggling to place it.
It was only as he saw Maggie again near the staircase that the memory finally clicked into place. It was Combine Harvester by the Wurzels.