by Nunn, Kayte
‘Ready to go?’ she asked and Thea gave a relieved nod.
‘Where were you? I looked everywhere.’ Thea hated the neediness in her voice, but she’d been worried.
‘Oh, sorry,’ Claire said. ‘There’s an old stables out the back that’s been fixed up as a studio. A few of us were in there; it was a bit quieter.’
Most people had already left and they were alone as they walked across the field, Thea’s boots becoming soaked by a heavy dew that had fallen in the hours they’d been at the party. She shivered. The temperature had dropped by several degrees too.
They walked on, mostly in silence, both tired now, Thea thinking longingly of her bed at Silk House.
Then, as they were about halfway across the field, a high-pitched shriek sounded from somewhere out in the darkness.
There are certain sounds that carry: a soprano hitting high C, a hammer drilling into rock … and the piercing scream of someone frightened out of their wits. Thea stopped abruptly, all of her senses alert, fearing what might be ahead, beside or behind them. ‘What the bloody hell was that?’ she whispered.
‘Ouch!’ said Claire, not realising that Thea had come to a halt as she stumbled into her. ‘Probably a fox,’ she said, dismissing her concerns. ‘A vixen scream.’
‘A vixen? It sounded human to me.’ Thea was not even slightly reassured.
‘Nah,’ Claire replied. ‘I forgot that you’re not used to our wildlife. They’re fairly common here, don’t worry.’
Only partly convinced that it was nothing malevolent, Thea walked on. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Sure, what?’
‘How well do you know Gareth?’
‘Not particularly. He’s only been at the school for a couple of years, but he’s well liked. Why?’
‘Only, he doesn’t seem to like me very much. He seemed annoyed at our first hockey practice, and barely acknowledged me tonight.’
‘He was the coach of the First Eleven last year. That’s probably why his nose is out of joint. Seeing as how you’re here now, and you’ve played – and coached – at a much higher level than him.’
‘Ugh,’ said Thea. ‘I’m only helping out, it’s not as if I’m going to take his place. I’ve got enough on my plate with Mrs Jackson away to want that.’
‘Mrs Jackson?’
‘The woman who was supposed to be the housemistress at Silk House.’
‘Oh, right.’
It was dark without the torch, but they had the advantage of knowing their way and reached the car without further mishap.
As Claire started the engine, the beam of the headlights barely penetrated the mist. If anything, it was thicker than when they had arrived. Thea tried not to let the dark and the mist and the silence get to her, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she felt a rivulet of sweat work its way down her spine.
They had almost reached the turn onto the main road when, out of nowhere, a shape loomed in front of them, coming directly towards the car.
Claire screamed and spun the wheel to avoid it.
‘What the fuck?’ cried Thea.
With a screech of brakes, the car came to a slithering halt, slewing sideways across the narrow lane.
They stared at each other for a moment, the whites of their eyes showing in the greenish glow from the instrument panel. Seconds ticked away as Thea tried to decide whether or not to look behind her. ‘Do you – do you think there’s something, or someone, out there?’ she asked shakily.
‘How do I know?’ There was a definite waver to Claire’s normally confident voice. ‘I’m too scared to check.’
‘So am I.’ Despite her words, Thea slowly turned around. She craned her neck but there was nothing but swirling mist in the car’s rear lights. ‘Whatever it was, I don’t think we hit it; I didn’t feel any impact.’
Claire turned and followed her gaze. ‘Shit. We’re lucky I didn’t drive into the ditch.’
‘Should we get out and take a look?’ Thea asked.
‘Are you crazy?’ Claire sounded rattled.
‘It might have been – ’
Thea’s words were cut off by the radio, which decided at that moment to crackle into life and they both jolted back in their seats at the unexpected noise.
‘Christ!’ said Thea. ‘What’s going on?’ She reached to turn the dial down, reducing the blaring sound to a burble.
‘Might have been what?’ Claire asked.
‘I don’t know … a deer?’ But in the split-second before they drove through it, Thea thought she had seen the shape of a woman. With a pale face and fair hair, wearing a gown that trailed along the road. Much like the one Claire had told her about earlier.
But that’s ridiculous, she scolded herself. If anything, it said more about the power of suggestion than anything real. Nevertheless, she braced herself, then wound down the window and leaned out. The mist almost seemed to invade the car, curling against her face, and she couldn’t see a thing in the pitch black. She quickly wound it up again.
‘I’m too scared to move,’ said Claire.
‘Come on,’ said Thea, her voice still wobbly. ‘There can’t really be anything out there.’
‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Claire didn’t sound convinced.
‘Would you like me to drive?’ Thea asked.
Claire shook her head. ‘That would mean we’d have to get out of the car to swap places.’ She turned the key and started the engine again. ‘And I’m not game for that.’ As she revved the engine and put it into gear, the car’s tyres slipped and spun on the muddy road, eventually gaining traction. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ she said and pressed her foot down hard on the accelerator. ‘Before anything else tries to jump in front of us.’
TWENTY-TWO
Now
When Thea woke on Sunday morning, she wondered for a minute if she had imagined the near-miss the night before. It hadn’t been real, had it? If not, what was it? An apparition? The result of an overwrought imagination? Tiredness? Spiked wine? All of the above? It couldn’t have been the drinks, because Claire had seen it too and she had stuck to a couple of beers. In the daylight it all seemed rather foolish to have been so badly frightened and she was sure there was a reasonable, logical explanation.
The hum of breakfast and the restorative power of waffles and pancakes dispelled Thea’s lingering uneasiness. The weather was looking fine, she was pleased to see, and she was looking forward to the day’s hike.
As an idea occurred to her, she got up from where she’d been sitting and went back to the kitchen. Three women were at work there, one loading a dishwasher, another cleaning pots and a third standing by the bank of refrigerators.
Thea approached the one at the fridges, the one she remembered serving her earlier in the week. ‘I was wondering if I might get the girls to help make some lunch that we can take with us on our walk? Just some sandwiches, fruit …’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ she replied. ‘Where are you thinking of going?’
‘Grovely Wood.’
The three women stilled.
‘Don’t be getting lost,’ said the one who was washing pots, her scrubbing brush suspended in mid-air.
‘It can be treacherous,’ warned the other.
‘As long as you can read a compass,’ said the first woman she’d spoken to, closing the fridge and turning to her. ‘And make sure you’re back well before dark.’
‘Of course,’ she reassured them as she left the kitchen and went to speak to the girls, all the while trying not to roll her eyes. It wasn’t as if there were any dangerous creatures to be worried about – no deadly spiders, snakes or crocs in the English countryside.
They set off later that morning, each carrying their lunch and drink bottles in their backpack. They were dressed in shorts and long-sleeved T-shirts, for it was a bright, sunny autumn morning, and walked along in groups of twos and threes. Thea brought up the rear of the group as they entered the woods, falling in
to step next to Fenella, content for the moment to enjoy the scent of the pine trees, the cushiony softness of the needles underfoot and the chatter of the girls ahead – they were bright, sparky individuals, nothing like the spoiled princesses she had feared they might be, and she was fast becoming fond of each of them as she got to know them a little better.
They came to a long avenue of oak trees, their heavy branches causing the sunlight to dapple and fracture on the path in front of them. Crisp brown leaves collected around their ankles and crackled underfoot. There was no sign of anyone having walked this path for days. At the end of the avenue, Thea stopped and suggested a break. Everyone went quiet as they drank from their water bottles and she became aware for the first time of the stillness of the forest; even the birdsong had grown distant. In that moment she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone or something was watching them. She took out her phone, telling herself that it was likely the result of the scare on the road the night before and a lack of sleep, perhaps even what she’d read about the Handsel sisters, rather than anything concrete. They were so deep into the forest now that there was no signal, but before leaving the house that morning she’d taken a screenshot of a rough map she’d found online. She showed the phone to Fenella. ‘Tell me where you think we are,’ she encouraged.
Fenella squinted at the image on the screen and moved it a fraction to the left then zoomed in. ‘I suppose this could be it – if those are the oaks,’ she said, pointing towards a path that cut through the green shading on the map.
‘Excellent.’ Thea noticed her colour at the praise. ‘Trust your judgment.’
‘Miss, what are these?’ Joy, who was standing next to a fallen log, pointed to something growing on it. It seemed to glow in the dim light, as if it were phosphorescent.
‘Don’t touch!’ Aradia called, coming closer. She knelt down and peered at the log. ‘Ghost mushrooms. Poisonous. To humans and some animals.’
‘Are they common in English woods?’ Thea asked.
Aradia shook her head. ‘Rather rare, actually. It’s a surprise to see them here.’ She got out her phone and took a few photos. ‘What?’ she asked as she noticed the rest of them looking at her curiously. ‘Mycology’s an interest of mine.’
‘Miss …’
Thea turned to see Sabrina limping towards her. ‘Blister?’ she guessed.
The girl nodded.
‘No worries.’ Thea reached into her daypack. ‘I’ve got some Band-Aids here somewhere.’
Sabrina unlaced her shoe, leaning on Aradia for support and wincing as the sock came off.
‘You should have said something earlier.’ Thea inspected the blister, which was raw and bloody. ‘No point in suffering in silence.’
‘Sorry, Miss. I didn’t want to cause a fuss.’
‘We’ll have you patched up in no time.’ She unzipped the first-aid kit.
‘Miss?’ Aradia asked. ‘I heard one of the boys saying that this wood is haunted. It’s not true is it?’
‘Well, there is a story …’ Thea began to tell the girls. ‘There were four of them,’ she said. ‘The Handsel sisters. They were originally from Denmark. In 1737 there was a smallpox outbreak in the villages on the edge of this wood. No one knows exactly why, but the surviving villagers became convinced that the sisters were responsible – perhaps because they were foreign – and accused them of consorting with the devil.’
‘Witchcraft, you mean?’ Sabrina asked, wincing as Thea applied the sticking plaster.
Thea nodded. ‘Before they could be properly tried, they were brought to the wood and bludgeoned to death. Their bodies were buried here, far enough apart that they couldn’t arise and conspire against the villagers.’
‘Really, Miss?’ Aradia asked. ‘That’s kind of unbelievable.’
Thea smiled. This was just the kind of story that teenage girls lapped up. ‘Somewhere near here are four old beech trees, and local legend has it that they mark the burial place of the dead sisters. But I’m not sure it means that the wood is actually haunted. There you go,’ she said to Sabrina, handing her her shoe. ‘That should make walking easier.’
‘Thanks, Miss.’
‘You mean like those over there?’ Joy asked.
They all looked to where she was pointing, and Thea stared. How could she have missed them? About thirty metres away stood four trees, as if at four points of the compass, their thick gnarled trunks topped by a cascade of copper and crimson leaves, dead leaves and shadows darkening the ground around them.
Thea held her breath. ‘I think so,’ she said, leaving the girls and going over to the trees. When she reached them, she placed a hand on each of the trunks in turn, feeling connected to the story despite the centuries that had passed. A shiver went through her. This could definitely be a starting point for her study.
‘It happened a lot in those days, didn’t it?’ Fenella asked, drawing close.
‘If you mean to women – especially those who were a little different, or who appeared to have some medicinal or herbal knowledge – then yes, I’m afraid it did. Superstition, ignorance and a fear of what could not be readily explained or understood, was rife. Don’t forget, most people had little education. And those who did – well, they were just as ready to lay the blame on women, especially those who couldn’t properly defend themselves.’
‘It still happens now,’ said Joy quietly. All of the girls had joined her.
‘Unfortunately, it does, albeit sometimes in subtler ways,’ agreed Thea, impressed at her insight. ‘But we are getting better at raising our voices, at calling it out.’ She almost mentioned the list she’d found at the back of the book – that there’d been the name of a former maid at the house, but thought better of it, for she didn’t know them well enough yet to determine how they might react. And they’re only sixteen and seventeen, she reminded herself.
In the time since they had stopped, the wind had begun to gust, bringing with it scudding grey clouds, the smell of rain, a distant rumble of thunder and a sky that looked like trouble. Thea calculated they had another hour’s walk until they reached the lookout, and then a couple of hours more to get back to the house. She really didn’t want to turn back before they reached their objective. ‘All right, then,’ Thea said a little doubtfully. ‘Let’s push on until we get to the landmark – it’s only a couple of miles away.’
They stowed their bottles and began to walk deeper into the woods. Crossing her fingers that it would only be a brief shower at worst, Thea led the girls onwards.
The way became sharply steeper, and after a steady climb that left Thea’s thighs burning, they reached the summit and stopped to catch their breath. Though the rain so far had held off, in the distance the sky was ominously dark, clouds now massing towards them.
At the top of the lookout was a tall stone spire, at the base of which was a partly obscured symbol. Thea pulled aside a clump of weeds to reveal a carving of a quiver of arrows.
‘What’s that, Miss?’
‘It’s a monument to Artemis,’ said Fenella, reaching them. ‘Goddess of the hunt. It was erected in the 1900s by a local landowner, in tribute to his sister.’ She pulled her phone from her pocket and took a quick snap.
Thea blinked at her. ‘Very impressive.’ The girls were sharp, there was no doubt of that.
‘I did some research the other day, after I saw the patterns on the house keys,’ Fenella shrugged. ‘It’s also a secret symbol of female empowerment,’ she added, raising her eyebrows in wry amusement.
Thea took a long pull from her water bottle, her mind flashing back to the symbol on the underside of the kitchenhand’s wrist. She ignored the nagging feeling that she was missing something, that there was some kind of connection, and instead suggested they stop for lunch. The hill was exposed, the wind whipped their hair about their faces and cut through the sweatshirts that most of the girls were now wearing, but no one complained, though they were quieter than they had been earlier on the hike.
A rumble of thunder caused Thea to look up from her sandwich. Rain blurred the horizon and the wind had increased its strength. Joy pulled her hands into her sleeves and Thea realised that her own fingers were numb. She didn’t want to risk any of them getting hypothermia, which was a possibility if they stayed much longer, especially if they were hit with the freezing rain that was now undoubtedly on its way to them.
They packed up and scrambled down the narrow track that led away from the lookout. Walking in single file, they maintained a steady pace, the wind at their backs driving them along. It was some time later that Thea stopped and did a quick headcount. She scanned the group of girls strung out behind her. ‘Has anyone seen Sabrina?’ she called.
‘She was trailing me,’ said Aradia.
‘I think her feet were hurting again,’ said Fenella.
‘Perhaps she stopped to rest?’ Joy suggested.
Thea ground her teeth. ‘Well, she should have told someone. Come on. We’ll have to retrace our steps. Hopefully she’s not too far back.’
There was some grumbling at this – ‘Can’t we wait here for her, Miss?’ – but Thea was adamant. ‘We can’t lose her.’ Not the headmaster’s daughter, she said to herself, feeling the cold slice through to her bones.
As they began to walk back uphill, the rain started to fall, softly at first, but soon in sheets that soaked them through. Thea cursed herself for not insisting they all bring waterproof jackets despite the extra bulk that it would have entailed.
When they’d walked about half a mile, she noticed a flattened section of bracken; the dry, rusty fronds to one side of the path had been trampled. The terrain sloped steeply here and was thick with trees, but she stopped and peered downhill. Far below she could just make out a bright flash of colour among the undergrowth.
‘What’s that down there?’ she asked, pointing towards it as her stomach tightened. ‘Is that a water bottle?’