The Midnight Gate (7 page)

“Is she here?” asked the woman, straining to see past Belladonna.

“Not … not at the moment.”

“Well, we'd like to come in and wait for her.”

“No! I mean, can't she call you?”

“We can't leave you here alone,” said the woman in tones that she clearly hoped were soothing. “Let us in, there's a good girl.”

Belladonna hesitated, but before she could answer, the other figure stepped forward into the light. It was a policeman. He looked stern and was clearly not interested in wasting any more time on this than he absolutely had to.

“Open the door.”

“Don't … um … don't you need a warrant or something?”

“Not if we think a child might be in danger,” said the woman.

Belladonna glanced back at her parents.

“It's alright,” said her father. “Let them in, then phone your grandmother. She'll sort it out. And remember—you can't see us.”

He smiled encouragingly. Belladonna tried to smile back and was just about to open the door when it was shoved sharply from the other side. She stumbled back and hit her head on the stair banister.

“Ow!”

“Constable Dodd!” said the woman, shocked. “That really wasn't necessary. This is a child, not a bank robber!”

She helped Belladonna to her feet.

“That's a lovely smell,” she said. “Has your grandmother been cooking?”

“No … um … I have.” Belladonna winced inside. That didn't sound even vaguely like the truth. Why was she so rubbish at lying?

“Really? How clever! Now, I'm Mrs. Lazenby and this is Constable Dodd. My office received a call telling us that you were living alone.”

“But I'm not. My grandmother—”

“Yes, I am aware that your grandmother is your guardian,” said Mrs. Lazenby. “But this isn't her address, is it? According to our records, she lives on Yarrow Street. This was your parents' house, wasn't it?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what, dear?”

“But … that's her work address.”

“Her work address? But I thought—”

“It
was
her house,” blurted Belladonna, thinking as fast as she could. “But after the … after the accident, she thought it would be nicer for me here, so … we live here, but she still has her business at the old house.”

“Well done, Belladonna!” whispered her mother.

“And what is her business?” asked Mrs. Lazenby.

“She's a … that is … she holds séances and … things.”

“Really? And she can make a living at that, can she?”

Belladonna nodded.

“Do you think you could phone her, then, and get her over here?”

Belladonna tried to look confident as she crossed the hall and picked up the phone, but the knot in her stomach was getting bigger. She glanced back at her parents.

“Don't worry,” said her mother. “Your grandmother will sort everything out.”

Belladonna started to dial.

Mrs. Lazenby smiled and turned to Constable Dodd.

“Have a look upstairs,” she said. “See if it looks like anyone else is living here.”

Dodd nodded and pounded up the stairs. Belladonna listened as her grandmother's phone rang … and rang … and rang. Then there was the familiar click as her answering machine came on: “Hello, you have reached the home of Jessamine Johnson. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I can.”

“Hello, Grandma, it's Belladonna. I'm sorry to bother you when you're probably … busy … but there's a lady here from Child Protection Services and she wants to talk to you. I told her that you do live here with me and just work there at your old house but I don't think she believes me. So … please call.”

She hung up and turned back to Mrs. Lazenby.

“She was busy.”

“Very good,” said Mrs. Lazenby, smirking a little. “And a quick message to make sure you get your stories straight.”

The policeman pounded down the stairs. “Looks like only one room being used.”

“Right. Let's go and see Grandma, shall we?”

Belladonna tried to keep the tears from her eyes as she reached for her coat.

“Don't cry, baby,” said her mother, looking like she was about to start crying herself.

“It'll be alright,” urged her father. “Your grandmother will give them an earful and you'll be back home before you know where you are.”

Belladonna tried to feel confident, but something felt wrong. She walked down the path and out of the gate, and as she got into the back seat of the police car next to Mrs. Lazenby, she couldn't keep the panic out of her mind. What if they took her away? What if they wouldn't let her come home? It was the only place she could see her parents. It was the only place they could be together.

She stared out of the window as the car sped through town, willing herself not to cry but unable to keep the tears away. When they stopped at the traffic light at the end of Yarrow Street, she wiped her eyes and looked up. There, on the street corner, sitting on his bike with his friends, was Steve. His jaw dropped when he saw her, and he started to move toward the car, but no sooner were his feet on the pedals than the light had turned and they were gone.

“Do you have a key?” asked Mrs. Lazenby as they pulled up in front of Grandma Johnson's house.

“Yes,” murmured Belladonna, “but I usually ring the doorbell.”

Constable Dodd double-parked the car and they trooped up to the front door. Mrs. Lazenby rang the bell. No answer. She rang again.

“Sometimes it's hard for her to hear if she has a client,” explained Belladonna.

Mrs. Lazenby rang again. No answer. She was about to try again when Constable Dodd reached between the two of them and grabbed the door knocker. He pulled it back, obviously intending to deliver a really loud crack, but the door just swung open. Belladonna gasped. Something was terribly wrong—her grandmother
always
locked the front door.

They stood on the step for a while, then Constable Dodd strode forward and led the way into the house.

“Hello?” he bellowed. “Anyone home?”

“Mrs. Johnson?” called Mrs. Lazenby in somewhat more friendly tones. “Mrs. Johnson? Hello?”

She pushed open the door to the séance room and glanced inside before making her way to the sitting room. The fire was on, but no one was there.

“Mrs. Lazenby,” called Constable Dodd, “come look at this.”

Belladonna trailed after Mrs. Lazenby into the kitchen. There was a bacon sandwich on a plate on the counter next to the teapot. Constable Dodd felt the pot.

“It's warm,” he said. “It's weird. It's like she was just here.”

“Yes, well, she isn't here now, is she? Check upstairs, would you?”

Dodd nodded and strode out of the room.

“Do you have anyone else?” asked Mrs. Lazenby. “Any other relatives we could call?”

Belladonna shook her head. The only other relative she knew of was Aunt Deirdre, but she hadn't been seen since she'd gone off after the Wild Hunt in October.

“Two bedrooms,” said Constable Dodd, striding back into the kitchen. “Looks like only one is lived in, though.”

Mrs. Lazenby looked at Belladonna sympathetically.

“She wasn't living with you, was she? You were staying in your parents' house alone.”

“No, I wasn't!” Belladonna knew that no matter what happened, she had to stick to her story. Perhaps Grandma Johnson had gone to a friend's or nipped out to the shops, maybe someone had broken in while she was out or maybe something worse. But no matter what the reason, Belladonna had to believe that she would come back, and when she did, they had to have a plausible story.

“It's alright,” said Mrs. Lazenby gently. “Losing your parents is a terrible thing.”

“But—”

“Wanting to stay in the house that you shared with them is perfectly normal, it really is. But you can't do that. You can't stay there all alone. You do understand?”

“But my grandmother—”

“She isn't here. And when she comes back, we'll have to have some serious discussions with her.”

“Can I go home now?” asked Belladonna, knowing perfectly well what the answer would be but still clinging to one last desperate hope. “Perhaps she's there. She could have got my message and tried to call back but we'd already left.”

Mrs. Lazenby shook her head and said exactly what Belladonna had known she was going to say:

“No. I'm sorry, Belladonna, but I'm afraid we're going to have to take you into care.”

 

6

Shady Gardens

BELLADONNA HAD BEEN
sitting outside the office for what felt like hours. As soon as they'd arrived at the gray concrete building, Mrs. Lazenby had signed in at the door, thanked Constable Dodd for his help, and led the way back through a maze of narrow corridors and cubicles to a small office with a window that looked over the car park. She hadn't taken Belladonna into the office, though. She'd just smiled and directed her to a seat on a row of plastic chairs that had probably once been colorful but were now rather grimy and depressing.

Mrs. Lazenby had gone into her office, removed her coat, sat at her desk, and picked up the phone.

Since then, there had been a great deal of to-ing and fro-ing, all of which Belladonna had been able to see through the large glass window in one wall. One woman had come with a fat folder, which Belladonna assumed was her file. Mrs. Lazenby had looked at this, then made several phone calls, none of which appeared to have been answered. Then another woman had arrived, smiled briefly at Belladonna, then gone in and talked with Mrs. Lazenby for what seemed like ages. While that was going on, a very young man had come and asked her if she'd like a cup of tea or some juice. She declined.

The woman left, then returned with a stack of folders. She and Mrs. Lazenby talked for a while, then started making phone calls. These calls seemed to be answered, but judging by the expression on both women's faces, they weren't getting the results they were hoping for.

Belladonna squirmed on the chair. The seat was really hard. Why couldn't they provide cushions? She glanced up at a clock on the wall. If her grandmother had gone out, she'd be back by now and have heard her message. But if that was the case, Belladonna knew the old lady would already be here, storming the halls and hauling her granddaughter back home again.

“What happened?”

She jumped. For some reason, she hadn't expected to see a ghost here. Though, of course, there was no reason why she shouldn't. She turned slowly and looked at the boy. He was younger than her and wore a dark green sweater that had holes at the elbows. He was wearing the gray shorts children used to wear back when her grandmother was young, and his knees were a mottled red and blue from the cold. Gray socks wrinkled around his ankles, and his brown shoes were scuffed and worn. His face was round and a little mournful.

“My Mum and Dad are gone,” said Belladonna. “They can't find my Grandma.”

Neither of these was exactly true, but Belladonna couldn't think of what to say. How could this have happened? How could she be here?

“Hmm,” said the boy thoughtfully, “that's what happened to me. Sort of.”

Belladonna didn't find this at all comforting.

“What d'you mean?” she asked quietly, after glancing around to make sure that no one could see her talking to the air.

The boy sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. The youngish man came scurrying along the hall with another fat folder and took it into the office. He smiled at Belladonna when he left.

“My Nan died,” began the boy.

“I'm sorry,” said Belladonna.

“That's alright,” said the boy, smiling slightly. “She'd been very poorly. I was poorly too. I had a sister and they were trying to find her.”

“Did they?” asked Belladonna, knowing the answer but wanting to be friendly.

“No.” The boy shook his head. “I had to go to the hospital. They said I had p-new … p-new…”

“Pneumonia?”

“Yes. There's a
p
in it somewhere, though.”

“You don't pronounce the
p
.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, I died of it.”

Belladonna smiled in what she hoped was a sympathetic manner and glanced up into the office. Mrs. Lazenby was on the phone again.

“But why did you come back here?” she asked finally. “Couldn't you have picked somewhere nicer? Did anyone explain that you could only haunt one place?”

“Course they did,” shrugged the boy. “I just thought she might come. My sister.”

“But she didn't.”

“Not yet.”

Belladonna stared at him, her sense of gloom growing.

“I'm not getting you down, am I?” asked the boy, attempting a smile. “It's okay here, really. They have a color television in the break room. I'd never seen a television at all before I died and now I watch color television all the time.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Belladonna, would you come in here for a moment?”

Mrs. Lazenby was standing in the open doorway.

“Off you go, then,” said the boy. “I hope they find your Grandma.”

Belladonna nodded to him in what she hoped was a discreet manner and joined Mrs. Lazenby.

“Were you talking to someone, dear?”

“No,” said Belladonna. “Just … you know … telling myself a story.”

Mrs. Lazenby nodded but looked unconvinced and a little worried.
Great,
thought Belladonna,
now she thinks I'm a loony
.

“Have a seat.”

Belladonna sat in the only other chair in the tiny office.

“This is Miss Kitson,” said Mrs. Lazenby. “She's a colleague of mine.”