The Black Room (23 page)

He looked down at the girl on the floor of the shed. Because her eyes were closed, he'd been assuming that she was fast asleep, but now he saw that she was listening hard. Her ear was cocked toward them, catching every sound.

“Hope?” he said softly. “Can you hear us? Open your eyes.”

Her eyelids flickered and then opened a crack. Warily, she turned her head toward them, and her eyes moved slowly along the floor. When they reached Helga, they stopped for a long time. Helga wagged her tail and barked once, but it was a subdued bark. She sounded cautious and uncertain.

When the girl heard the bark, she lay very still for a moment, sniffing at the air. Tom let his hand rest lightly on Helga's head to calm her down.

“Easy,” he said under his breath. “Easy, Helga.”

Slowly, the girl sat up, lifting her head so that she was looking straight at Tom. For the first time, he met her eyes directly. But there was no sense of communication. He might as well have been part of the shed. It was impossible to tell how he looked to her, or whether she could make any sense of their rush through the night and the bare wooden floor where she was lying now.

He wanted to talk to her, to speak and hear her answer. And he wanted Robert to hear it, too, so that he understood that this girl was just as real as the other one under the ground. But how could you talk to someone who looked at you as if you were a piece of wood?

He took a step closer to her, keeping Helga's leash very short. “Hope,” he said gently. And then, “Is that your name?”

A small frown drifted across her face, as if she were thinking about a puzzle. “Where everybody,” she said, rolling her tongue around her mouth. “Where everybody knows.”

“Your name?” Tom said. “Where everybody knows your name?”

This time, her smile was brilliant, transforming her whole face. But it wasn't a smile for Tom. It was as though she didn't understand that he was watching her. She was like someone smiling in the dark. The smile flooded over her face and vanished without lingering.

A moment later, she was bending over the blankets wrapped around her, working at the fringed ends with her fingers and frowning as she concentrated. Tom watched her for a moment, trying to pick up the pattern she was making. Red over blue. Brown under red. Blue over blue over blue. It was too intricate for him to follow, but he could see that it was neat and regular, interweaving the fringes so that all three blankets were joined together.

“What are we going to do with her then?” Emma said. “Hand her over to social services? Call the police?”

“We're taking her to the park,” Tom said again. “That's what we've got to do, if she's really Lorn. And she is, isn't she?” He glanced up sharply.

“She
looks
like Lorn,” Robert muttered. “The way Lorn would look if she'd been kept in a hole for years. And her voice is the same—or it would be, if she didn't do that weird thing with her tongue. But that's not how Lorn is. She‘s—”

Tom didn't wait for him to finish. “Lorn's the way Hope
ought
to be,” he said fiercely. “That's it, isn't it? But Hope's had that stolen away. And this might be her only chance to get it back. Even if nothing happens in the park, we've got to
try
!
”

Robert was wavering. Tom could see it. It would take only another little push, one final argument. But what was left to say? What could make the difference?

It was Emma who found it. She had been staring down at Hope, watching her hands move over the fringes. Suddenly, she said, “Why didn't Lorn go with you on that journey? When you came home across the park. Did you ask her to come?”

“Of course I asked her,” Robert said. “But she wouldn't come. She wouldn't take the risk.”

“And do you wish she had?” Emma said it without looking at him. Still staring at Hope's quick, clever fingers.

Robert didn't answer for a moment. Then he stepped sideways, away from the door. “OK,” he muttered. “We'll take her to the park.”

 

THEY HAD TO TAKE ALL THE BLANKETS, TOO. WHEN THEY tried to unwrap her, her eyes widened in panic, and she started to make small, painful noises, clinging onto the blankets with one hand and hitting at her face with the other. Tom couldn't bear to watch.

“Let her have them,” he said. “What difference does it make? We have to get over there.”

They wound her into the blankets, as tightly as they could, and Robert bent down and heaved her off the floor. Tom saw her shrink back, almost imperceptibly, as he touched her, and he wondered if she understood more than she could say.

When they stepped outside the shed, they realized that it was almost morning. It was still dark, but there was a faint, gray lightening in the sky over the city center. As Robert carried Hope through the front garden and onto the pavement, her head lifted and she glanced from side to side, looking wary and perplexed. Tom saw her sniff at the cold air and turn her face up to catch it against her skin, but he couldn't tell whether she was enjoying herself or watching fearfully for some new kind of danger.

Robert glanced quickly left and right, crossed the road, and turned along the front of the park, past the big, locked gates. It was too early to get in that way. They would have to go around the corner and in through the first gap in the hedge.

Tom was close behind him, with Helga trotting at his heels, bright and excited. No use trying to tell her that this was just her usual early morning walk. She knew it was something special, and she was up for any adventure. Tom suddenly realized that it was probably not a good idea to take her into the woods. He'd have to tie her up before they got there. And she wasn't going to like that.

“Sorry,” he said as they went around the corner. “You'll just have to be—”

He didn't finish, because he had a sudden glimpse of a long, gray car driving away from them, down the side of the park. His heart thumped, hard.

“What's the matter?” Emma said quickly.

“I just—” He was going to tell her. But before he could get the words out, he thought,
What will Robert say? Will it make him turn back?
So he mumbled something about Helga and let it go.

Anyway, it couldn't really have been the same car. He was just being paranoid. Mr. Armstrong must have given up and gone home long ago.

It was frosty in the park, and they were the only people there. The grass crunched under their feet, and they left long, clear trails behind them as they walked down toward the woods. Hope let go of her braiding for a second and rubbed at her nose with the palm of her hand.

“Yes,” Tom said. “It's cold. That's frost on the ground.”

She didn't give any sign that she'd heard him, but a moment later, he heard her muttering the word into her blankets.
Fross, fross, frossssssssss
... She had finished the braiding by then and pulled herself down inside her wrappings, so that only the top half of her head was visible. When Robert shifted her weight across his body, she made a tiny protesting noise and wriggled around so that she could still see where they were going.

When they reached the hedge at the bottom of the park, Tom looked for a place where he could leave Helga.

“Sorry,” he said as he tied her leash to the leg of a bench. “The woods are not a good place for dogs just now. You'll have to stay and keep guard.” She gazed up at him, whining and straining at her leash, and he said it again, very clearly, so that she knew exactly what he meant. “Stay, Helga. Stay.”

The others were already in the woods. When he followed them through the hedge, he saw them picking their way carefully along the side of the overgrown ditch. Hope had turned around now, and she was looking over Robert's shoulder.

“Hi,” Tom said. “Here I am again.”

He gave her a grin, wondering if she had been looking for him. Willing her to respond. For a second he thought there was ... something. Then she turned around, to see what was ahead.

It was only a few days since Tom had last walked along the back of the hedge bank, but it was already different. The green plants had a sickly, winter look, and the dead ones had been beaten down by rain and trampling feet. He couldn't tell anymore how to find the cavern entrance.

But Robert didn't hesitate. He stopped just before it and knelt, lowering Hope onto the ground. Then he pulled a little white paper bag out of his pocket.

“Oh well done,” Emma said. “You've brought them something to eat.”

“Not really. Just a few nuts.” He tipped them into the palm of his hand, and something else fell out, too. A tiny roll of fine, white cloth, like a strip cut from a handkerchief. “But I've made this banner. I did it yesterday.”

He unrolled it so that they could see. The ends were glued to matchsticks, to make it easy to handle, and in between the wooden ends were three words, written in black ink.

“Can she read?” Emma said tentatively.

“How should I know? But maybe someone can. Anyway, it was the only thing I could think of.”

Robert tipped the nuts onto his lap so that he could use both hands to roll the banner up again. Hope's hand darted out of the blankets and snatched up one of the nuts.

“No,” Emma said. “They're not for you, Hope.”

She reached out to take the nut back, and Hope clutched it tightly, turning away from them all.

“Let her alone,” Robert said. “We don't want a fuss. And it's only one nut.” He finished rolling the banner and put it back into the bag with the rest of the nuts. Then he stretched up and snapped a twig from the hedge. “Let's see what happens, then.”

He began to push the stick carefully into the little tunnel in front of them, and Emma and Tom leaned forward to watch. After a second, Robert pulled the stick out again.

“The tunnel's clear now,” he said. “But we're letting in the cold air. I'd better put this in quickly, before they all freeze.”

Rolling the bag neatly, he slid it into the tunnel. Then he reached for the stick and started to push. He had almost finished when Hope spoke from behind them, in her small, strange voice.

“Shhh,” she said. And then again,
“Shhh.”

30

MR. ARMSTRONG WAS STANDING JUST BEHIND THEM, ON the other side of the ditch. He was looking at Hope.

“What have you done to her?” he said accusingly. “Why have you brought her here?”

“She's all right,” Emma said. “We're looking after her.
We're
not going to shut her up in a hole.”

Mr. Armstrong didn't bother to answer the taunt. “Get out of my way,” he said. “I've come to take her home.”

Hope was peering at his face in the half-light, watching every movement he made. Once or twice her mouth twisted soundlessly, copying one of his words. Tom saw her lips forming the shapes.
Here ... get out ... home ...

“I'm afraid you can't have her,” Tom said. Very cool and polite. “We won't let her go back to that horrible place.”

“I think there's been a misunderstanding,” Mr. Armstrong said smoothly. “It was just a game. She likes to play hide-and-seek.” He moved forward, to step across the ditch.

Emma stood up and blocked his way. “You don't expect us to believe that rubbish, do you? Go away, or we'll call the police.”

Stupid,
Tom thought.
Stupid, stupid.
It was a bad mistake to make him angry. What they had to do was keep him talking and spin things out as long as they could.

To give Lorn a chance to come out of the cavern.

Emma's dramatic gesture was completely pointless, anyway. Mr. Armstrong stepped straight over the ditch, pushing her away contemptuously. “Stop interfering,” he said. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

Emma staggered sideways, and Hope gave a funny little squeal. Then she thrust her fist into her open mouth so hard that Tom heard it thud against her teeth.

She's terrified of making a noise,
he thought suddenly.
How did he teach her that? What did he do to keep her quiet under the floor?

For the first time, he felt seriously frightened. All they knew about Mr. Armstrong was that he kept his daughter under the floor. And that his son was terrified of him. Now that they'd found Hope, he was in grave trouble. They had no idea how he might react to that or what he would do to get her back.

Tom wanted to lift her off the ground and run away, before any more horrible things could happen to her. But if he did that, they'd never get her back into the woods. They had to stay where they were, by the hedge bank. Waiting.

Why didn't Lorn come? Where was she?

Shuffling closer to Hope, Tom slid his arm around behind her, ready to hold on tight if there was any attempt to snatch her away. But Mr. Armstrong didn't lay a finger on her. Once he was over the ditch, he folded his arms and took a step back, staring down at them all. Hope looked away from him, gazing down at the nut she was holding.

“Stop that,” Mr. Armstrong said. “Put that dirty thing down and come here.”

Where is Lorn?
Tom thought again. And then, worse,
Was it just a fantasy after all?

Robert was still half turned toward the bank, trying to watch the cavern entrance without making it obvious. But Mr. Armstrong wasn't interested in him. All his attention was directed at Hope. She hadn't moved at all, except that her fingers had curled tightly around the nut, hiding it away.

“Come here,” Mr. Armstrong said again. “Stand up and walk.” This time there was an edge to his voice. A hint of something very cold and determined.