The Woman in Black (3 page)

The captain smiled again, about to respond, but Eve’s attention had been diverted.

‘Where did you get those?’ She addressed Tom, the eldest boy, who was stuffing his face with liquorice root from a bag.

‘James gave them to me,’ Tom said, his mouth full.

Eve gave James a stern look. ‘James, you know those are Edward’s.’

‘He wasn’t eating them,’ said James, but his voice lacked conviction.

Eve kept calm. Tom must have taken them and bullied James into taking the blame. She knew James was a decent boy, unlike Tom.

‘Give them back and apologise,’ she said.

‘Yes, Miss,’ said James. He took the bag of sweets from Tom and returned them to Edward. ‘Sorry,’ he said, looking Edward in the eyes.

But Edward made no sound. He didn’t even move as the bag was placed in his lap.

‘Where are you heading?’

It was the RAF captain again. His voice drew her away from the boys once more. She turned back to him. Put her smile in place.

‘Am I being interrogated?’

He returned her smile. His eyes caught the light. ‘Perhaps.’

Eve’s smile deepened. ‘Then I’d like to know your name and rank.’

‘Captain Burstow,’ he said, and Eve almost expected him to salute. ‘But you can call me Harry.’

‘Eve,’ she said. ‘But you can call me Miss Parkins.’

Harry did salute this time. ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Parkins. And may I ask where you’re going?’

‘You may,’ she said. ‘We’re heading to Crythin Gifford.’

He raised his eyebrow once more, in genuine surprise this time. ‘Really? Me too.’

‘And what are you going to do there?’

‘I’m a bomber pilot,’ he said, trying to underplay the words, knowing it would impress her.

She gave a little laugh. ‘That’s what they all say.’

He shrugged. ‘Somebody has to fly the planes.’ His voice had changed, the tone darker, more serious.

Detecting an undertone of hurt to his words, Eve looked at him more closely. There was strength in his manner, and he had a stillness and calm that, to her, suggested a kind of defiance. But there had been something in his eyes. Just momentarily, when he answered her; there, then gone. His defiance seemed to involve some kind of struggle within, rather than the war without. But she’d caught it, and recognised it.

He turned away from her, lit a cigarette.

‘I’m … sorry,’ said Eve. ‘I didn’t mean to …’

He looked back at her, smoke obscuring his features. ‘It’s top secret, so don’t let anyone know.’ He leaned forward, and the smoke dissipated. There was a glint in his eye. ‘Otherwise I’ll have to shoot you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Eve, ‘you can trust me.’

And she smiled at him once more. The smile that, she hoped, made everything all right.

Edward was frightened. He was on a station platform in the country, but nothing was familiar and he could see no one he knew.

Panic rose inside him. He was surrounded by adults, rushing, bumping, their rough, wool coats rubbing against him, their heavy suitcases knocking into him. He was turned this way and that. A leaf in a breeze.

He was lost. Alone.

He closed his eyes, tried to make the world go away. Hoped he wouldn’t see the same thing he always saw when he closed his eyes.

His mother’s smile, her face. Her voice calling to him.

Then:
the hem of his mother’s black coat poking out of a pile of rubble.

He opened his eyes again, shocked and surprised
to find himself where he had been. That people were still all around him, ignoring him, abandoning him.

And then he saw the hand. A woman’s hand. Soft. Friendly. Wanting to help. His heart began to beat faster, his blood to pound. It was his mother. She had found him. She wasn’t dead after all. It was just her coat that he had seen, that was all. His mother had taken it off, she had survived, and she was here now. For him.

He blinked, and a wave of sadness surged through him as he realised that it wasn’t his mother after all. He mustn’t cry, he told himself, because that wasn’t what boys did. They had to be strong. They had to keep mum.

Mum.

Not Mum, no. It was Miss Parkins standing in front of him, smiling. He liked Miss Parkins. She made him feel safe. She hadn’t left him, hadn’t abandoned him. She had come and found him.

He ran to her, taking her hand, pressing himself against her. She smelled like flowers. She smelled lovely. And safe.

‘Edward,’ she was saying, ‘I’ve got you. You wandered off …’

She reached down, stroked his hair. He thought of closing his eyes, but didn’t.

She led him back to the rest of the group, who were still on the platform, waiting. The RAF captain was saying that their next train was delayed by a couple of hours, and his headmistress was looking at the pilot like it was his fault.

Around him, the rest of the children were quarrelling. Flora wanted something, and Miss Parkins, having checked Edward was all right, dropped his hand, went over to see what it was.

Edward looked at the ground. There was a frozen puddle with a big crack running through it. He could see the darkening sky in it, the clouds rolling in.

He thought of his mother and felt alone once more.

The children were tired. Their earlier, fidgety energy had dissipated, and in between bouts of napping they looked out of the window of the second train, seeing a night darker than any they had ever experienced in the city. Their thoughts were written on their faces. Eve could tell they were missing their families, and their homes. The journey was unsettling them, making them more wary about their final destination. It had stopped being an adventure.

Eve wasn’t surprised. The train that they had eventually boarded was considerably more old-fashioned and primitive than the one they had taken out of King’s Cross. It had wooden benches in place of upholstered seats, the windows were stained with smoke and oil, it clanked and creaked, and it was decidedly draughty. And to make matters
worse, blackout regulations meant the train had to travel in complete darkness.

Eve looked round the carriage. In the moonlight, everyone’s faces seemed pale and ghostlike. Edward was next to her, huddled into her body. He hadn’t left her side since he had wandered off on the platform. The RAF captain, Harry Burstow, was in front of them. Eve caught sight of someone on the opposite side of the carriage.

A nurse.

Her breath caught as the nurse slowly turned her head and looked at her. The nurse’s eyes and cheeks were shadowed holes, her skin so bleached out it looked like bone. Eve felt panic rise within her, sudden, sharp, and her hand went to her throat, holding on tightly to the cherub pendant she wore.

Eve’s heart quickened, her breath shortened as she closed her eyes and saw ghosts from her past coming back to life. Unspooling before her eyes like an old monochrome newsreel. And she was back there in black and white. And red. So much red.

And pain. So many different kinds of pain …

No … no …

She closed her eyes tighter. Willed the memory away.

When she felt she could open them again, the nurse was looking out of the window. Eve took her
fingers away from her throat, let the pendant fall back into place.

‘Are you all right?’ Harry leaned forward, concern on his face. ‘You seemed to have a … turn.’

‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ She took a deep breath. Another. He was still looking at her.

‘Can you stop that, please?’ she said, feeling warm despite the cold in the carriage.

He frowned. ‘Stop what?’

Eve swallowed hard. ‘Looking at me.’

He gave a small laugh, looked around as if appealing to the moonlight. ‘I can hardly see you.’

‘Well …’ Eve searched for something to say. ‘Stop trying.’ She found her smile, fixed it in place.

‘I’m only wondering …’ He had raised his eyebrow once more.

‘Wondering what?’

‘What you’re hiding with that smile.’

Eve flinched, the memory of a few seconds earlier flitting through her mind. ‘This is my face for work,’ she said, trying to make her voice match her smile.

Harry looked slightly put out. ‘So you’re not really smiling at me?’

Eve opened her mouth to answer, but couldn’t think what to say without insulting him further. The truth was she liked him, liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. The way
he smoothed down his wavy blond hair when he thought she wasn’t watching him. But she didn’t like the way he focused on her, or the fact that he had seen such pain and fear on her face. And she knew she must never let him see it again.

He lit a cigarette and, in her peripheral vision Eve noticed Jean roll her eyes, shake her head.

Ignoring them both, she looked down at Edward. From her seat on the other side of the aisle, Flora had been smiling at him, and when he didn’t return it she had then waved at him. But Edward didn’t return the smile or the wave. He just stared at her. Expressionless.

It seemed like the skeleton of a station, picked clean and left to rot. The buildings were soot-blackened brick, the roof tiles were loose and missing, the windows broken, the wood rotten. A chill wind whistled through them, high-pitched flute-like. Discordant notes playing an unwelcome tune.

As the steam from the departing train melted into the mist of the night, Eve, Harry, Jean and the children huddled together for warmth on the platform as a limping figure, his outline weakly illuminated by the flicker of the oil lamp he held, made his slow way towards them.

Eve felt the children shrink away from the figure,
gasp as he neared them. Even Jean had become tense.

His face loomed at them, out of the mist.

‘Miss Hogg, I presume?’ he said.

Jean bridled, stepped forward. Whatever fear she might have experienced at the man’s approach had vanished. ‘Mrs,’ she said firmly, a hint of indignation in her voice.

The man laughed, gave a small bow of the head. ‘Excuse me. Dr Jim Rhodes. Local education board.’ Up close there was nothing scary about him. In fact he appeared quite avuncular.

The children, sensing no threat and seeing their headmistress was dealing with things, relaxed slightly.

Eve felt a hand on her arm. She turned. Harry gestured to the road behind the station, then back to her.

‘Nice meeting you, Miss Parkins. I’ll … come and visit when I can.’ His manner was formal but friendly, yet it seemed to Eve that there was more he wanted to say.

‘Please,’ said Eve, ‘call me E—’

Jean gave Eve a stern look. ‘Come on. We’re already late for our bus.’

Eve followed her down the platform, then turned back. But it was too late. Harry had already gone. Just another brief encounter, she thought.

The bus was almost as ancient as the train.

It made its way from the station, headlights off, over the flat landscape. Clouds obscured the moon and stars. The whole of the countryside looked like it was smothered by a huge Army blanket.

Jim Rhodes drove with Fraser, Flora’s little brother, sitting next to him. Out of all the children, he was the only one who hadn’t been scared when Dr Rhodes limped out of the fog. Curious, but not scared.

‘Why do you limp?’ asked Fraser, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Eve leaned forward, touched the boy on the arm. ‘Fraser …’

Jim Rhodes smiled. ‘It’s all right.’ He glanced down at the boy, trying not to take his eyes off the darkened road. ‘Got it in the last war. Too close to a shell.’ He returned his attention to the road ahead of him. ‘I was lucky.’

Eve sat back and looked out of the window. Her eyes had adjusted and she was able to pick out varying shades of black and grey. She realised they were coming into a village. She could make out winding, cobbled streets, stone cottages up ahead. She looked harder. Something was wrong. Something was missing.

There were no people.

Eve turned round as Joyce tugged her sleeve. ‘Where is everybody?’

Joyce’s eyes were wide open, head cocked to one side, quizzical.
Grown-ups have all the answers
, thought Eve.
Grown-ups know everything.
She sighed.

‘Maybe …’ Eve looked out of the window once more. ‘Maybe the village was cleared. For the war.’

Joyce still wasn’t convinced.

‘Abandoned years ago,’ said Jim Rhodes. ‘Economy probably took a turn for the worse.’

‘Or … or …’ Fraser was jumping up and down in his seat. ‘Or maybe everyone got the plague …’

The other children perked up at this, began to take an interest in their surroundings, preparing to voice their own theories. Eve knew how this would end and had opened her mouth to stop them when Jean beat her to it.

‘That’s enough. No more questions for the rest of the journey.’

The children fell silent immediately. Crisis averted. Jean’s expression showed that the whole situation was Eve’s fault for encouraging them. Eve ignored her.

Edward, still clinging to Eve, sensed the atmosphere between them and clung on harder, when there was a loud bang.

The bus rocked from side to side. The children screamed and hung on to their seats.