Read Online Southern Ruby by Belinda Alexandra - Free Book Online Page A

before committing suicide. She survived, and obtained a legal separation from her husband so that she could return to New Orleans to develop property there. Although Maman was fascinated by the savvy Creole aristocrat, she didn’t relate her independence to our lives at all. Maman would think that being described as a ‘shrewd and vivacious woman with an excellent head for business’ was an insult. But I admired Baroness de Pontalba. She had verve — and that’s what I needed too.
    The girl finished her tour by thanking the group, then added, ‘In the 1930s, the city wanted to demolish the French Quarter and replace it with modern housing, but a small group of citizens saw the historic value of the area and fought that decision. I’mproud to say that my mother was one of those preservationists and I’m delighted to have been able to show you around the area today.’
    The tourists gave her a round of applause and slipped money into her hand before dispersing. It looked like she’d made more in tips alone than I had in a day at the ice cream parlour.
    â€˜Do you do this every day?’ I asked the girl, fascinated by what I’d seen.
    â€˜No, only a couple of times a week to help with my college tuition,’ she replied, putting the money into her purse.
    â€˜It seems like a good job,’ I said. ‘You’re making good money for an hour’s work.’
    She smiled sheepishly. ‘I do all right, but my friend Sally, who does the ghost tours, makes more than me. The haunted tours draw bigger crowds.’
    â€˜Really?’ I replied, my mind ticking over. Perhaps I could be a guide? I didn’t know much about architecture, but I did know a lot about the history of New Orleans, thanks to Maman.
    â€˜She’s doing one early this evening if you’re interested,’ the girl said. ‘It starts outside the Cabildo at six o’clock.’

    I waited for Sally outside the museum on Jackson Square. In the fading light the place was eerie and I recalled Maman’s stories about rebellious slaves being hanged in the square as a warning to others. What an atmospheric place for a ghost tour! I was surprised then when a mousy-looking girl in a V-neck sweater and cigarette pants arrived, sold tickets to the dozen or so people who had gathered for the tour, and led us directly to Saint Louis Cathedral without mentioning the square itself.
    She showed us an alley that was supposed to be haunted by Père Antoine, once the pastor of the church. ‘But he’s a very benign ghost,’ she said in a high-pitched, strained voice. ‘Hecame to the city in 1774 as part of the Spanish Inquisition, but never got into the spirit of things.’
    She continued from building to building around the Quarter, telling us stories in a mediocre way. This girl is awful , I thought. If her Northern accent didn’t give her away, you could tell by the flat way she told stories that she wasn’t from New Orleans.
    When she came to the intersection of Royal and St Ann streets, she rattled off the story of ‘Julie’s Ghost’ in the same monotone she’d used for all her other stories. Julie had been an exotic octoroon whose protector had given her a beautiful home with servants and fine jewellery, but it wasn’t enough for her. After her protector’s wife died and Julie was pregnant with his child, she pestered him to make her his legal wife. One freezing and damp December night, when her protector grew tired of her begging, he joked that if she stayed on the roof naked until the dawn, he would marry her. Knowing her love of comfort, her protector never expected Julie to take his dare seriously and he spent the evening playing cards and drinking with friends in the parlour. When he retired in the early hours of the morning, he couldn’t find Julie anywhere. Terrified, he climbed to the roof and found her frozen and naked corpse. The