by John Patrick
Elizabeth awoke with a start and sat bolt upright. Instinctively she knew something was wrong. Silver-grey moonlight was flooding in through the windows; spindly limbs of silhouetted trees scratched gently on the glass as if trying to find their way inside. She scanned the room. It was Alice, she was gone. Elizabeth jumped from her bed and began searching, softly calling her name. The bedroom door was open; hadn't she closed it last night before settling? She hurried onto the landing still calling. She stopped to listen. From below she could hear noises, scraping sounds, voices maybe; she couldn't be sure. A shiver ran down her spine, her breathing quickened. Where was James when she needed him? She should have let Brock stay in the house as he'd suggested. She took the candle from the table and leant over the banister, straining to hear over the sound of her own thumping heart. That was a definitely a voice. She remembered the pistol. She hurried back into the bedroom and pulled it from under her pillow. She cocked it how James had shown her. Would the charge inside still be good? She wasn't sure but there was no time to load it again. She crept down the staircase, following the tall dancing shadows given life by her flickering candle. The door at the top of the basement steps was open. A cough came from below. With pistol in one hand and candle in the other, she nervously descended the steps towards the dark wooden door at the bottom. The candle shook. She called softly for Alice again and then eased open the door. She pointed the pistol into the kitchen and held the candle above her head.
A gentle breeze drifted in through the open back door. A dark figure was sitting at the kitchen table.
'Who's there?' demanded Elizabeth 'Where...where’s my girl? I've a pistol here...I'll use it!'
'It's me,' the figure mumbled quietly, 'only me.' The words were followed by a sodden cough.
'Who's me?' demanded Elizabeth again, curiosity dampening her fear. She stepped closer and held the candle aloft again. Sitting at the table was her sister Fran, with Alice asleep on her lap.
'Why Fran, it's you! Why didn't you say?' Elizabeth relaxed, lowered the pistol and placed the candle on the table. 'What are you doing here? Where's the boys? Are they here?'
'No Lizzie, they’re not.' She answered in a whisper.
'Where are they? Did you leave them at home?'
Fran heaved a heavy sigh. 'You could say that.'
'What do you mean?'
'The boys ...the boys are gone, Lizzie.'
'What d'you mean, 'gone'? Gone where?'
'I mean gone, Lizzie. Dead. My boys are dead.'
'What? How...'
Tears streamed down Fran's haggard face. 'It was so quick Lizzie, so quick. I tried me best but I couldn't do nothin'. I had a bit o' potion but it was never enough. I tried bringin’ ‘em ‘ere so’s they could ‘ave more, but they'd blocked the streets and sealed us in. I couldn’t get nowhere ‘til tonight.' She coughed violently then went on. 'The life ran from 'em so fast Lizzie. They was like...like water slippin' through me fingers. First it was Zac what was ill, then Matt, ' she paused to cough more '... 'e was so sick ‘e couldn't move a muscle, me poor darlin’. An’ they was hot. So, so hot. An' the sores... I knew what was happenin'. I prayed God just leave me one of 'em. Just one, just leave me little Billy. But then 'e began to cough an’ ‘e got fever. I sat there for hours and watched 'em getting worse an' worse. I gave 'em water; I 'ad nothin' else. I just sat an' watched...watched the life seep out of ‘em, watched ‘til each one had took their last breath.' She swiped at her tears and cleared her throat again. 'After they was gone I tucked ‘em up in bed like they was just sleepin’, like they was gonna wake up tomorro'. I even told me little Billy a story. He loved stories.' A momentary smile flickered across her face. 'But they ain’t gonna, Lizzie. They ain't gonna wake up no more.'
A brief silence was shattered by Elizabeth. 'And then you come here!' she roared 'And hold my Alice!' She reached forward, seized Alice's arm and yanked her from Fran's lap. Alice dropped to the floor like a rag doll and then began to bawl. Elizabeth hoisted her up onto her hip.
'But... but we're family Lizzie. Where else am I gonna go? '
'You wanna kill us too, is that it?'
'No Liz, it aint like that. I’m not sick!' she coughed again and stopped to get her breath 'Not real sick. I thought... I could stay 'ere an' you could give me some o’ that potion.'
Mary and Samuel had been woken by the voices and now stood watching from the door.
'Mary! Samuel! Get back upstairs, NOW!' Elizabeth screeched the words out. She turned back to her sister and tried to compose herself again. 'You can have some of the potion but you can’t stay here. I’ll put some in a bottle and then you go, you leave here Fran and you don’t come back 'til this is over.'
'Go where? I ain’t got nowhere. I can't go back to my ‘ouse Lizzie. They ain’t lockin’ me up in there with me dead boys!'
'I’m real sorry for your boys Fran, I loved 'em too, but no one’s bringin’ death in here to my family, not even you.' Elizabeth placed Alice on the floor at her feet and then picked up the candle. Alice clung to her leg, still sobbing. 'Go on, leave, now. I’ll put some potion on the step.' She pointed the pistol to the door.
Fran remained motionless.
'Get out!' Elizabeth kicked the table leg.
Fran didn’t move.
'You leave now or...or I’ll use this gun, God help me! You won't bring plague in here!'
Mary and Samuel retreated to the top of the steps. Elizabeth reached her leg back and kicked the door shut behind them.
'She’s gonna shoot her Mary!' hissed Samuel. 'You gotta stop ‘er!'
'How?' Until recently Mary had barely heard her mother raise her voice and she was lost to know what to say to calm her now. 'She wouldn’t hurt ‘er, not Aunty Fran.' she said, trying to reassure herself as much as Samuel. 'I'll... I'll go and say... somethin'. See if I can settle 'em down.' She reluctantly headed back down the stairs.
'I could ‘elp you look after the kids. I could ‘elp a lot.' pleaded Fran 'An’ that stone; it’ll keep us all safe. Please Lizzie, I ain’t got nowhere else.'
'I mean it Fran. I’m gonna keep my family safe. You’ve got to go.'
Fran shrugged her shoulders. 'Well you may as well shoot me then. Go on, shoot me, 'cause I ain’t got nowhere else to go.'
'How can you be so damned selfish?' Elizabeth screamed. 'Your boys are dead an’ now you want us dead too! You want to see Alice and Mary and Sam buried in one of those God-damned pits? Well it’s not bloody happening!' She raised the pistol and aimed it directly at Fran’s chest. 'It’s not my fault you couldn’t protect your boys!'
Fran looked at the wild expression in Elizabeth’s eyes, at Alice hugging her leg and screaming. There was nothing to be gained from staying here. She might as well wander the streets and take her chances. She couldn’t face the thought of going back home to be locked away with the corpses of her sons, and the idea of giving their young bodies away to be thrown into the stinking pits was even worse. She’d leave them where they lay, as if they were just sleeping. She'd take her belongings and drift along the dark streets and see where fate took her. She rose to her feet. Her rolled blanket and the few mementos of her boys were on the sideboard behind Elizabeth. She cast a wry smile at her sister, stepped forward and reached for her belongings.
‘Get away!' screamed Elizabeth. She closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger on the pistol. There was a flash and a deafening crack. When Elizabeth opened her eyes again the room was in darkness, the candle flame extinguished by the blast from the gun.
With faltering hand, Mary pushed the kitchen door open and brought the feeble light of her candle into the room. Lying in the gloom, face down was Fran, a dark pool radiating like a halo from her head. Mary threw a hand to her gaping mouth and dropped the candle, plunging the room back into darkness. She turned and stumbled back up the stone steps.
'What happened?' begged Samuel 'Is Auntie Fran alright?'
Mary reached the top of the stairs and vomited.
Brock charged
in from the driveway followed by the inn-keeper clutching a carriage lantern.
'Who fired that shot? Are you hurt?' shouted Brock.
'An intruder' replied Elizabeth. 'It was an intruder, but we’re safe now, thank you Mister Brock.' Elizabeth felt no urge to kneel down and roll the body over, no desire to see the face and say goodbye to the big sister that had cared for her and played with her through her childhood, the sister who had guided her through her teens after her mother’s early death, had shared in the excitement of her finding first and only love. This was no longer that person. This was a diseased body capable of killing her and her whole family; a Trojan horse in their midst.
'Please would you dispose of it Mister Brock?' Elizabeth turned her back on the corpse and headed back up the black stairway.
Only young Alice slept that night. Elizabeth spent the hours trying to justify her actions to herself, blocking any opposing thoughts like a boxer parrying punches. There were no tears.
Mary and Samuel lay awake too.
'But she might not be dead. ‘Ow are you so sure she’s def'ly dead?' argued Samuel between sobs.
'I saw ‘er Sam, she was dead, I'm tellin' ya.' replied Mary quietly. 'She killed 'er.'
'We should go down an’ check. She might be alive. We could make ‘er well, like Mister Shipton.'
'They took ‘er body Sam. She’s gone. Not even the potion can save 'er now.'
Chapter 30