The Woman in Black (14 page)

Eve looked frantically round, assessing her options. She saw her only chance and took it, scrambling quickly round Jacob on all fours while he regained his balance and breath after breaking the gate. He sensed immediately what was happening, and bent down to grab her. But she was too quick for him. She managed to wriggle past him, and, pulling herself to her feet, she attempted to run down the corridor and away from him.

Jacob anticipated her move and stuck out a foot. Eve tripped and fell face down on to the floor, winded.

Jacob moved quickly. Eve knew she had to get up. Acknowledging the pain in her chest was a luxury that she couldn’t afford. She crawled as fast as she could down the corridor to the first room. She saw the charred remains of the bonfire and looked round, trying to find something she could use against him. Her eyes alighted on the Judy puppet.

Picking it up as quietly as possible, and making no sound as she managed to get upright, she threw it across the room in the direction she had come from.

Jacob spun quickly round.

Eve, heart pounding, ran for the spiral staircase.

She made it back up to the ground floor, Jacob screaming abuse below her. She hoped the noise he was making would cover her movement as she edged slowly round the broken floorboards, but Jacob heard her, his hands coming up over the edge, trying to grab her, pull her back down with him.

‘You … can’t … go … back …’

Eve reached the door, made it out of the building and ran down the street. She could hear Jacob screaming behind her, but she didn’t stop, didn’t look back. She kept running, running.

Until she collided with another person.

Eve screamed.

‘Hello, old girl. You in a spot of bother?’

Harry.

Eve had never been more relieved to see anyone in her life.

James reached out as far as he could, his fingers finding the rat poison. He pulled the jar closer to himself and began to open it.

Suddenly, he was pulled back from the shelf.

He blinked, as if awaking from a deep sleep, and turned. There stood Mrs Hogg.

‘What are you doing?’ she said.

James looked round the kitchen. He had no idea where he was or how he had got there. He vaguely remembered someone else being with him. Was that right? If so, they weren’t there now.

‘Go and join the rest of the children, please, and leave the toffees alone.’

James, still dazed, nodded dumbly and left the kitchen.

Jean, about to leave, noticed the patch of black mould on the wall. She examined it with disgust.

‘This place is falling apart,’ she said, and followed James from the room.

The Jeep bumped and rolled as Harry floored the accelerator, trying to get back to Eel Marsh House as fast as possible. Eve had told him what had happened in the old solicitor’s house. He had been so shaken by what she said that it had temporarily taken away his fear of driving over the causeway through the rising tide.

Eve held the letter in her hand, Harry’s cigarette lighter illuminating it. ‘Nathaniel died before he turned eighteen,’ she said.

‘So he never read the letter?’ asked Harry, facing front, concentrating on the pitch-black road ahead.

‘No, he didn’t.’ She opened it, held the lighter close enough to see the wording and read it out.
‘ “Dear Nathaniel, I do not have much time. They are sending me to an asylum, so when you read this I shall be long gone.” ’ She turned to Harry. ‘ “They”.’ She kept reading. ‘ “I am writing so you will know the truth.” ’ She read on, silently. ‘Oh, dear God …’

‘What does it say?’

She cleared her throat, read it aloud. ‘ “You were brought up to think that Alice Drablow was your mother, but she is not. Your father is indeed Charles Drablow. But
I
am your real mother. This is the truth. They took you from me and I was powerless to stop them. Please believe what I say and come to rescue me as soon as you can. They would not allow me close contact with you, but I have always watched over you and loved you from a distance. If I have gone mad it is mad from grief over what they have done to me and how they have kept me apart from you. For I was, am, and always shall be, your mother. Jennet Humfrye.” ’

Eve put down the letter and clicked the lighter shut. They both sat in silence, taking in what she had just read. Subconsciously Eve’s fingers began to caress her cherub necklace.

‘He never knew she was his mother. Never knew …’

Her eyes were wet and glistening.

Harry kept his attention on the road.

‘We’ll get them out of there. We’ve got to.’

He pushed his foot down hard on the accelerator. The Jeep splashed through the causeway towards the island.

Joyce was seriously worried. She had come downstairs after seeing Edward standing in the doorway to the upstairs room. She knew something was wrong with him, desperately wanted to tell Mrs Hogg about it. But every time she had tried to do so, Mrs Hogg had brushed her off in an irritated fashion, and now it was bedtime.

Mrs Hogg watched over the children as they climbed into their beds. Joyce tried hard not to look at the empty bed where Tom had been. She was sure the mould had increased around it.

‘Chop-chop, children,’ said Mrs Hogg, ‘come along into bed.’

Just the sort of thing she herself would say one day when she was a teacher, thought Joyce.

They heard the sound of a Jeep approaching
and sprang to attention, looking at one another, suddenly excited.

‘Settle down,’ said Jean, heading towards the door. ‘I want everyone in their beds by the time I get back.’ She hurried out of the room.

Joyce was concerned. Mrs Hogg usually seemed to be in charge all the time. No matter what was going on, she dealt with it in a calm and unruffled manner. Tonight she seemed distracted and nervous, almost running outside when she heard the sound of the Jeep. That wasn’t like her.

Most of the children, Joyce noted with disdain, had ignored Mrs Hogg and, instead of getting into bed, made their way to the window to see what was going on. Joyce had to admit that she wanted to do the same thing, but Mrs Hogg had given them an instruction and they had to put aside what they wanted to do because Mrs Hogg knew what was best for them. So Joyce crossed over to the window with the others, ready to tell them off, while snatching a quick look at what was happening for herself.

As she walked past Edward’s bed she noticed, next to that revolting Mr Punch doll, that his drawing was there, the one of a mother and son. The one that Tom had taken from him.

She picked it up and walked over to Edward,
who was looking out of the window with the rest of the children.

‘How did you get this?’

She held it out towards him. Edward turned, surprised. He glanced down at the drawing then back up at her.

‘Tom had it in his pocket the night that he died. How did you get it back?’

Edward didn’t answer. The children had stopped watching the Jeep pull up, and Miss Parkins and the RAF captain get out, and decided this was more interesting.

Joyce nodded, her mind made up. ‘I’m going to tell Miss.’

Edward snatched the drawing from her and hurried back to his bed.

Joyce left the room. Mrs Hogg would have to listen to her now.

Eve could hear a rushing, roaring sound, but she wasn’t sure if it was the waves starting to encroach on the causeway and the muddy shingle of the beach, or the blood hurrying round her body as her heart pounded.

She and Harry were standing beside the Jeep. They hadn’t managed to get inside the house as Jean had marched out to meet them, her expression
as impassive and unmoving as an ancient marble death mask. Eve had been trying to tell her what had happened in the village, impart what they had discovered, but Jean wasn’t making it easy.

‘Whenever she is seen,’ Eve said, starting again, ‘a child dies. That’s her curse. She lost her own child, so she took revenge on the village by killing all their children. And now we’ve arrived here, it’s started again …’

Jean shook her head, face still expressionless but her eyes blazing. ‘Oh, don’t be so …’

At that moment, Joyce ran outside the house.

‘Mrs Hogg, Mrs H—’

‘Get back inside!’ Jean screamed at the girl.

Joyce, momentarily stunned, her bottom lip quivering, went back inside.

Eve took the opportunity to press her point home. ‘We have to leave now. Right away. Before the tide comes in.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Jean. ‘We can’t cross a flooding causeway in the dark.’

‘Harry can drive us, then,’ said Eve. He gave a small nod.

Jean turned to him, her mask slipping, her voice hissing. ‘This is none of his business,’ she said.

‘Look, Jean,’ said Eve, trying to recapture the headmistress’s attention. ‘Edward saw her in the
nursery yesterday and Tom died. And now I’ve seen her. Today. So that means—’

‘You,’ said Jean, pointing a wavering finger in Eve’s face, ‘you need to think straight …’

Harry turned away from both of them and looked up into the night sky.

Eve dropped her voice, trying to be reasonable. ‘Please, Jean, I’m telling you that—’

‘No!’ Jean shook her head once more, clenching and unclenching her fists. She began to walk round in tight circles, her shoes crunching on the gravel. ‘I have survived this war by being rational. And more than ever, that is what these children need. A rational voice. That is what we
all
need.’ She stopped right in front of Eve, face to face. Her voice was shaking with emotion. ‘Is that … is that clear?’

Eve stepped away from her, stunned by her reaction. She had never seen Jean behave like this in all the time she had known her, never known her to be so close to losing control. Before she could speak, Harry turned back to them.

‘We can’t leave,’ he said.

Jean gave a smile that was more of relief than triumph. ‘Thank you, Captain,’ she said.

Eve frowned, placed a hand on his arm. ‘Harry …’

He pointed to the sky. ‘Listen,’ he said.

They did so and heard the familiar sound of a distant drone accompanied by a series of dead, dull thuds.

Eve turned back to him. ‘But that sounds like …’

‘A raid,’ he said, ‘yes.’

‘What, all the way out here?’ asked Eve.

Harry looked quickly round. ‘We need to get to a shelter.’

‘We don’t have one,’ said Jean.

Harry kept scanning the area. Anywhere underground, anywhere …’

‘Well, there’s the cellar,’ said Jean.

‘No,’ said Eve. ‘We can’t stay here. And we certainly can’t go down there.’

Harry placed his hands on her arms, looked right into her eyes. ‘It’ll have to do,’ he said. ‘Now come on, we don’t have time to argue.’

The three of them hurried inside.

The sound of the approaching planes became louder.

When they heard Jean hurry into the dormitory the children ran for their beds, except Joyce, who was already in hers. After Mrs Hogg had shouted at her she had come back into the room and got straight under the covers, not wanting the rest of the room to see how upset she was. That was it, as far as Joyce was concerned. She wouldn’t speak to Mrs Hogg until she apologised to her.

The fact that Mrs Hogg wasn’t cross with them for not being in their beds demonstrated that something serious was happening. Once she explained that there was a squadron of German bombers overhead, the children, grabbing their gas masks, knew exactly what to do.

‘Down to the cellar,’ said Jean, as they milled about, ‘quickly.’

Eve entered the room with Harry. ‘But why would they attack us? There’s nothing here for miles around. Is it the airfield?’

‘I doubt it,’ said Harry, watching the children hurry from the room. ‘Any bombs they haven’t used on the cities they just drop on the way back. Pot luck, I’m afraid.’

Edward, in his haste to leave, had left Mr Punch behind.

‘No time for that,’ said Jean, grabbing his hand. ‘Come on.’

The puppet was left on the bed, its broken-toothed grin leering at them, its once pristine braided tunic and hat now becoming as black and mouldy as the walls. Eve was glad the toy was staying where it was. Something about it unsettled her.

However, she didn’t have time to dwell on that as the children had to be taken down to the cellar.

One by one they went, through the kitchen and carefully down the slippery steps. Jean led them from the front, torch in hand. As Eve and Harry brought up the rear, herding the children before them, they heard Joyce shriek from below.

‘Miss! Miss! It’s all wet! And it stinks!’

Eve arrived at the bottom of the steps. Joyce was right. The water level in the cellar was even higher
than earlier. It covered everyone’s ankles, made its way up their legs.

‘It will have to do,’ said Jean, addressing the group. ‘Everybody find something to sit or stand on. That should help. I’m afraid I can’t do anything about the smell. The house is old; decay is everywhere. You’ll just have to get used to it.’

The children, theatrically holding their noses and making gagging noises, clearly didn’t agree.

Ruby put her fingers on the nearest wall and felt the dripping, wet mould. ‘It’s horrible here, Miss. Even the walls are crying.’

Eve gave Harry a quizzical look. ‘It’s worse than before,’ she said. ‘It’s no good, we have to get out of here.’

‘We’ll be fine if we stick together,’ he said. ‘Look out for each other.’

Eve nodded reluctantly.

‘Come on, please,’ said Jean, appearing at their side. ‘Help the children.’

As Eve had expected, Jean was trying to cope with the stress of the situation by falling back on practicalities and routine. Her features were as impassive as they had been outside when Eve and Harry had told her about Jennet Humfrye. She organised everyone, making sure there were enough places to sit or at least stand in relative comfort.

‘I suppose the encouraging thing is,’ Jean said to no one in particular, possibly herself, ‘that we don’t have to be down here all night. Once the planes have passed, the danger should be over.’

No one answered. From above ground, they could hear the distant sound of falling bombs.