The Woman in Black (17 page)

Edward froze. He knew that voice only too well. Flora. At times she had been his only ally, taking his side against the rest of them, standing up for him. Not any more.

He glanced up at her. She looked so sad and hurt. And something else, something even worse. She was scared of him, really, really terrified.

Edward longed to say something, longed even to cry. But he couldn’t. Trapped in the prison of his own body, he just had to stand there while they all discussed him, pretending not to hear.

Ruby, emboldened by Flora’s words, started up again. ‘James,’ she said, alarm in her voice, ‘you spilled his milk.’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said James, trying to shake off her words, but it was clear from his tone of voice that she was getting to him.

Ruby persisted. ‘Yes, you did.’

‘And … and … you locked him in a room, too.’ Alfie was joining in now.

‘That was Tom,’ said James, exasperated. ‘Not me.’

Edward saw Fraser raise his hand, point his finger at James, eyes still wide. ‘You’re next …’

‘Oh, shut up, all of you,’ said James. ‘You’re really, really pathetic. Childish.’

He turned away from them and walked over to join Edward, but Edward couldn’t even look at him. He still felt the touch of that cold hand in his, even though they were miles away. Could still smell the chill and the rot of the house.

‘Listen,’ said James, once he was standing right next to him, ‘I’m … sorry that we trapped you in
the nursery. I didn’t …’ James sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I did nothing. I should have done something and I didn’t. And I’m sorry I spilled your milk, too. It was an accident, I didn’t mean to.’

Edward said nothing. James moved round until he was directly in front of Edward and Edward couldn’t look away.

‘Can we be friends again?’

Edward wanted to answer, wanted to tell him, ‘Yes, of course we can. Let’s be friends, let’s have fun together again. Like it used to be.’

But he couldn’t.

He tried to, but that cold, dead hand tightened its grip on his, the smell of damp and rot growing even stronger. Edward had left the house, but the house was still within him.

‘Edward?’

Edward just turned his head away, stared at the empty, flat horizon.

James, his eyes brimming with sadness, walked away.

It began to rain.

The rain was coming down hard now, hitting the corrugated-metal roof like rapid machine-gun fire.

Eve had marshalled the children into the bunker as soon as the rain started. They were all there, huddled together in the middle of the room. Jean stood at the back of them, arms round the shoulders of the nearest ones, fingers digging into their flesh. Eve wasn’t sure whether the headmistress was making sure they were safe, or whether the children were supporting her and keeping her upright.

The balance of power had shifted considerably within the group. Jean no longer had anything to offer, nothing constructive to contribute. What had happened was beyond her experience, beyond her comprehension. Eve had been put in charge.
She didn’t want that kind of leadership, but she hoped she was up to it. For all their sakes.

The bunker was windowless and depressing. It consisted mainly of a long room, the concrete walls covered with curved corrugated-metal sheets. The sheeting continued upwards, forming a ceiling. At one end was a ladder, leading to a hatch in the roof. At the other was a generator room from where the lighting, heating and incendiaries in the fire baskets were all controlled. Two overhead bulbs threw down a cheerless, sterile light into the room.

Eve looked at the children standing before her, wide-eyed and terrified. Even the Underground air-raid shelters would have been safer than this, she thought. She needed to find something to say that would comfort them, inspire them. Help them.

‘Our train back to London is coming tomorrow,’ she said. ‘So we’ll stay here tonight.’

She found her smile, put it in place. Looking at their scared and tired faces, it didn’t seem to make much difference.

Harry opened a storecupboard in the generator room, pulled out some thin, padded mats.

‘War Office issue, I’m afraid,’ he said to Eve, who had followed him in, ‘but they’ll do for one night. The children can bed down on these.’

‘Thank you.’ Eve smiled. It was a different one from the smile that had failed to comfort the children. ‘I’m sure they’ll do fine.’

As Harry went about pulling out mats and counting them up, Eve had a look round. Her attention was immediately drawn to a battered old photograph propped on the control panel above the generator. She took it down. It showed an air crew standing in front of a bomber, all smiling, fresh-faced and full of life. She looked closer. Right in the middle was Harry.

‘That’s you, isn’t it?’ she asked, showing him the photo.

Harry looked up, his arms full of mats, ready to answer. Once he saw what she was holding, his expression darkened.

‘It was,’ he said.

He turned away from her, went on with his work.

Night fell, bringing with it even more rain. The world became dark and full of static.

The children were still gathered together in the bunker. They had barely spoken, barely moved. Once Harry had unrolled the mats they had all bedded down on them. They were absolutely exhausted but too wired and scared to sleep.
Instead they just lay there, the mats in a circle in the centre of the room. Like a western, thought Eve, all the wagons pulled round together to stop the Indians attacking.

Harry, Jean and Eve were sitting on folding metal chairs behind them. The only sound in the room was the incessant hammering of the rain on the roof.

Edward lay slightly apart from the others, hands clasped across his chest, staring at the ceiling. The other children were trying to sleep, or at least making a pretence of it. Edward was doing no such thing. It looked to Eve like the boy’s body was a prison and he was trapped within it.

‘Try to get some sleep,’ she said.

As soon as she approached him, he flinched, turned away from her. He kept his eyes resolutely on the metal roof.

‘It’s all right, Edward. We’re far away from the house. We’re safe. She can’t get you here.’

He didn’t answer. She studied him. There was anger in his eyes. Anger at her? For what, throwing his Mr Punch doll back into the house? Was that it? Just as she opened her mouth to say something more, Ruby appeared at her side.

‘Miss …’

‘Yes, Ruby.’

‘Tom told us Edward saw a ghost, Miss.’

The statement was so unexpected, it stopped Eve in her tracks. ‘Well, I …’

‘Did he?’

Eve’s first response was to lie, to say that Tom had been talking nonsense. But she stopped herself. Ruby deserved more than that, more than lies. If they were ever to get away, if they were ever going to be safe, they all deserved more than lies.

‘Yes, Ruby. He did. I saw her, too.’

‘Eve …’

Eve looked up. Jean was shaking her head in admonishment. Eve ignored her, returned her attention to Ruby.

‘Yes. I saw her, too. But it’s all right. If she isn’t seen, then she can’t hurt us. We’re here now. We’ve left all that behind.’

Any pretence of sleep was gone. The rest of the children were listening now, all of them staring at Eve in fear and fascination, struggling to process the words, to cope with the information.

‘Miss Parkins, stop this nonsense at once.’

Jean was staring at her, eyes blazing. She turned to the children. ‘These are lies, children. Miss Parkins is trying to fill your head with rubbish and lies.’

‘No,’ said Harry. ‘They aren’t lies. Eve is telling the truth.’

Jean shook her head and sank back into her chair. But before she could come back with an argument, Harry spoke.

‘I’ve had enough of lies,’ he said. ‘Enough of secrets. There are bad things out there. People that want to kill you, to kill all of us. These are dangerous times. And we don’t get through dangerous times by ignoring them or pretending they’re not happening. We get through them by working together. That’s how we stop them.’ He looked round at the group, then found Eve’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘All right?’

Eve smiled at him.

The children said nothing as they took in the information. Eventually Fraser, face screwed up in concentration, spoke.

‘So, Miss, is the ghost Edward’s mum, Miss?’

Eve shook her head. ‘No, Fraser. This has nothing to do with—’ She gestured over at Edward, about to say his name, but stopped dead.

In his hand was the Mr Punch doll. And from the way he was playing with it, it seemed to be talking to him.

Eve stared in horror. ‘But I took that off you. We left it at the house …’ She crossed over to him. ‘Did she give it back to you?’

Edward ignored her. Just kept on playing with the doll.

‘Tell me, Edward …’

He put the doll to his ear, listened, then nodded.

‘Tell me!’

He didn’t answer. Silence fell. Even the rain seemed quieter.

Then, in the distance, Eve heard a familiar song.

Harry stood up, looked round. He could hear it, too. ‘What’s that?’

The voices grew louder, echoing round the metal walls of the room. The children were all sitting up, fear etched on their faces.

All except Edward, who just lay there.

Eve’s heart was hammering. ‘She’s here. Oh, God. She’s here …’

Harry still held her hand. ‘But nobody saw her. You said she only appears if …’

Eve looked down at Edward, still playing with the Mr Punch doll. ‘She’s come for Edward.’

Jean was on her feet. ‘Now stop it. You’re scaring the children.’

Eve turned to her. ‘Did you not hear that?’

Jean stared back at her, ready to argue.

‘You did, didn’t you? What was it then? What were those voices?’

Jean’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Before anyone else could speak or move, there came the sound of machinery rumbling into life from outside.

Harry ran into the generator room. The switches and dials on the control panel had come to life and turned themselves on.

‘Someone’s set the pyros off.’

‘Pyros?’ asked Eve.

‘The fire baskets outside.’

He made to grab the controls, but before he could the board short-circuited and sparks flew out from it. Harry shielded his eyes. He reached out, tried the switches once more. Nothing responded.

‘They won’t turn off …’

In the main bunker, one of the overhead bulbs blew. The children screamed, hugged each other. The remaining bulb began to flicker and fizz.

The bunker was almost in darkness.

Around the walls, in the corners and the crevices, the shadows grew.

Jean looked at Harry and Eve, standing by the control panel, talking to each other, deciding what to do next. Not even consulting her, pretending she was invisible. Or, worse, stupid.

‘What do we do?’ asked Eve.

Harry ran back into the room, having given up trying to alter any of the switches and dials by the generator. ‘Stick together. That’s the best thing we can do.’

Jean had had enough. ‘Oh, please,’ she said. ‘You’re being ridiculous. Quite ridiculous.’ Her voice was becoming shrill and hysterical. She took a couple of breaths. ‘Superstitious rubbish. It’s just a … a fault. An electrical fault. We’ll get out of this by being rational, not giving in to—’

‘Everyone hold hands,’ said Eve, ignoring Jean.

Eve and Harry moved the children into a circle. Eve made sure Edward was next to her, and took a firm hold of his hand.

‘Right,’ said Eve, trying to sound calm. ‘We’re all holding hands. If anyone lets go, two of us will know about it.’

Jean kept her hands at her side. ‘Miss Parkins, this is—’

‘Jean, please,’ said Eve, cutting her off.

Jean felt anger rising within her. ‘Don’t be so—’

‘Do it!’ Harry shouted at her.

Jean, speechless and cowed by the authority in the young man’s voice, meekly did as she was asked.

They stood in the circle. Unmoving, hardly breathing.

The ghostly nursery rhyme started up again.

The children all looked terrified. Eve wasn’t letting herself feel the same way. Someone had to stay calm and rational, think of a way out.
Concentrate
, she thought,
ignore it and concentrate
 …

‘Jacob,’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘He was the only survivor … Blind … What did he say? He survived because he couldn’t see her …’ She looked round the rest of the group. ‘That’s it. Close your eyes. Everybody, close your eyes …’

‘Now,’ shouted Eve. ‘Do it now …’

They all closed their eyes, even Jean. She felt ridiculous doing it, but something nagged at her, told her it was the right thing to do. Collective hysteria, she thought, going along with everyone else. But she didn’t open her eyes.

‘Miss,’ said a voice that Jean identified as Fraser, ‘Miss, I’m scared …’

Before Jean could answer, Eve said, ‘It’s all right, Fraser. Let’s say our bedtime prayers. That’ll help.’

‘Don’t let her get me … please …’ James was sobbing.

Jean tried to open her mouth, speak, say something authoritative that would calm the situation down, but found that she had no words.

‘Come on, everybody,’ said Eve, ‘all at once … “There are four …” ’

‘Come on,’ said Eve, ‘ “There are four corners …” ’

The children joined in. ‘ “… to my bed, four angels round my head …” ’

‘Louder,’ said Eve.

The children chanted louder. ‘ “One to watch and one to pray …” ’

‘ “And two to bear my soul away …” ’