‘Hello,’ he smiled at her, but instead of answering, she cringed.
‘I want to go home.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘You go home, dear.’
‘Really? I can go home?’
‘Of course, unless you’re lost?’
‘Aren’t you going to eat me?’
‘Why would we eat you?’ Timmy asked.
‘Because you’re monsters.’
‘We’re not monsters. Look at me. I’m just like you,’ Katie bent down beside her, but the child squirmed away.
‘Go away. You’re horrid.’
Katie started to cry, and Elizabeth picked her up.
‘Am I a monster, Elizabeth?’
‘Not at all,’ Elizabeth reassured her. ‘You’re the prettiest little girl in the whole wide world.’ Turning towards the living child, she spoke curtly. ‘Please go home now, child.’
The others backed away as Jenny got up, and limped towards the bushes. She turned before crawling through.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
They ignored her, all busy fussing over the little girl. Except one, he was looking at her, the boy-monster.
‘I’m really sorry.’
He nodded, and waved to her.
Jenny crawled into her own garden and looked back into the graveyard. They had all gone, disappeared. She pulled the leaves aside to get a better look and came face to face with two glowing, red eyes.
‘Hello, little girl.’ Black Jack reached through the bushes and tried to grab her.
But she was too quick. She ran down the path towards the back door screaming for her mother, willing to trade one monster for another.
****
Bob Richards had just finished with his last complainant and was outside the door saying his goodbyes, when they heard the screaming. They ran towards the sound, just as other doors opened and the neighbours peeped out. No one answered the doorbell and they ran around the side of the house and through the open back door. They found the child huddled shaking and crying under the kitchen table, and the mother shouting at her to come out.
‘What on earth happened?’ Bob asked. He crawled under the table. Jenny remembered the nice man who had winked at her and allowed him to put his arms around her.
‘What happened?’ he asked, but she couldn’t answer. She could still see the big, red eyes and the white hands that tried to catch her.
‘She’ll need a doctor. Something has scared her badly,’ he said, noticing her blood-stained sock. His stomach lurched. Dear God, no! Surely she couldn’t have been attacked. Not out here, in the middle of nowhere.
Helen’s condition did not allow her to pick up the child, so Bob carried her upstairs to wait for the doctor. He tried to ignore the mother’s feigned mutters of concern as she followed closely at his heels. Jenny was trembling and her small fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly. They had to prise her away from him, so the doctor could check her over. Bob went downstairs and waited with a few of the neighbours, each thinking the same thing, that this was the work of a paedophile. Already their idealistic little world was starting to crumble.
The sobbing from overhead filtered down to a gentle crying, as a sedative took effect. The doctor appeared, shaking his head. Bob got up and went to meet him.
‘What happened?’
‘Are you the father?’
‘No, I’m ah … a friend.’
‘Very well,’ the doctor misconstrued his meaning of the word. ‘She says she saw a monster.’
‘A monster, are you sure?’
‘Well that’s what she said; very strange.’
‘Yes, very.’ Bob’s mind was racing; freezing cold, doors opening and closing, and now monsters.
‘I’ll call back later.’
He realised that the doctor was speaking to him. ‘Yes, yes, of course. Thank you.’
The neighbours had all filed into the hall, waiting for an explanation.
‘She thought she saw a monster,’ Bob told them. ‘Probably fell asleep in the garden and had a bad dream,’ he shrugged, smiling. ‘Children, eh?’ Then he realised he sounded as insincere as the child’s mother.
The residents walked away in silence. Those with children would keep them indoors until the truth was known. Bob went upstairs and looked in on the sleeping child. Her mother was busy filing her nails, but looked up smiling when she saw him.
‘Little terrors, eh?’ she nodded towards the bed. ‘I was having a lie down, I need my rest. It was her screaming that woke me.’
‘Yes, gave us all a fright. Will her father be home soon?’
‘Yeah, any time now. She’s always had a very active imagination,’ she jerked the nail file up at the rockets and spaceships dangling overhead. ‘She’ll be fine in the morning, don’t worry about her.’
‘That’s good. I’ll be off so.’
‘Good of you to take the time.’
Nodding, he almost ran down the stairs and out to his jeep. He felt safer once inside and relaxed when he heard the comforting thunk of the locking mechanism. The place now seemed very quiet, even for a suburban housing estate where most of the couples went out to work.
A gust of wind sent a shower of leaves scratching against the window of the jeep and Bob almost screamed. The engine sprang into life as he turned the key. Easing the jeep away from the kerb, he reminded himself how ridiculous it was for a grown man to act this way. For a moment, just for a fleeting moment, he felt that if he looked in his rear view mirror, Jenny’s monster would be staring back at him.
EIGHTEEN
October 1846
The journey home took two days. Their weakened state made the walking arduous, and it was a great relief when the tall chimneys of the Hall finally came into view. They separated, having made plans to meet again that evening.
Elizabeth needed to find somewhere to sleep before she made the trip back to the docks. She had to skirt around the outside of the Hall, afraid of seeing Carey, and crept along walls and behind sheds until she reached the kitchen. Opening the door, she peeped inside. Annie and Thomas were dozing in front of the fire, and it wasn’t until she was almost on top of them, that they realised she was there.
‘Get away at once,’ Thomas said, struggling to stand.
‘It’s me, Elizabeth. Don’t you know me?’
She had no idea how much she had changed, and would have been alarmed to learn that she had become one of the walking skeletons she so dreaded.
‘My lady?’ they gasped.
‘The letter, did my letter arrive?’
‘Yes, my lady. It came last week.’ Annie eased herself up from the chair. ‘Please sit and I’ll get you something to eat.’
‘The letter, Annie.’
‘I’m sorry, my lady. The master took it.’
‘No! Oh no! Please, this can’t be!’
They helped her into a chair and covered her with a blanket. She had thought, after the workhouse, that she had no more tears left, but she was wrong. Sobs shook her thin frame and she held herself as she rocked.
‘Please my lady, don’t take on so,’ Annie was crying too. ‘I tried my best. I watched for it each day and when it came I hid it in my apron, but the master caught me and took it. He opened it in front of me and after reading the note inside took the money it contained. I’m truly sorry, my lady.’
‘I know, Annie. It’s not your fault.’
‘My lady,’ Thomas held out a piece of paper to her. ‘I found this in the waste. Believe me, I have never done anything like this before.’
She looked up at him for a moment, not comprehending what he was holding. Her hands shook as she took it from him and read the words.
Andrew Farrell Esq.
14 Gardener Grove
Manhattan
New York
September 2nd 1846
My dearest Cousin,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and ready to start your journey to us. T
he children arrived here yesterday, tired, but in good spirits. Their ship had been held in quarantine for over two weeks, but they’re none the worse for it. They arrived in the company of a sailor. A most agreeable fellow who refused to take anything for his trouble and asked to be mentioned to you when I wrote, which he strongly urged me to do as soon as possible.
I enclose the sum of forty pounds to cover any travelling expenses and assure you of the warmest welcome when you arrive. The children will write as soon as they are rested.
My dear wife, Martha, is overcome with joy at having them, and they seem to have taken quite a shine to her as well. A ship sails for England tomorrow and from there to Ireland. So weather permitting you should be here with us before Christmas.
Fondest regards,
Andrew
They were safe, her girls had made it to America. As long as they were all right, she could take anything life would throw at her.
‘Here, my lady, try to eat,’ Thomas put a plate of stew and a glass of milk in front of her.
The smell of the food was overpowering. She ate slowly, believing nothing had ever tasted so good. Annie dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. Their mistress had no idea how bad she looked, and smiled, when she caught them staring.
‘I’ll be on my way soon.’
‘You’ll wash and change first, m’lady?’ The servants acted as though she had just come in from a walk and would need to change before dinner.
‘Is he here?’
‘He’s not expected back until late. You’ll have plenty of time to change. His mother is snoring drunk by the fire. She’ll not bother you.’
She followed Annie up to her old room. The bed had been remade, and there was no longer any sign of the atrocity that had been committed there. Her brushes and comb lay, as always, on the dressing table. Her dressing gown was draped across a chair and the fire had been set, ready for lighting. It was as though she had dreamed the last few months.
A gentle tapping on the door heralded Thomas’ arrival with a pitcher of warm water. Annie poured some of the contents into a bowl on the washstand and helped Elizabeth out of her rags, stifling a gasp at the skin stretched tightly over her ribs. The only sign of flesh was on her belly, which was slightly swollen. The dress Annie was holding was much too fine for what she required, so she asked for something simpler.
The older woman returned with one of Elizabeth’s better wool, riding dresses. Elizabeth was surprised to find two sixpenny pieces and several pennies in a drawer. These would come in handy when she paid for the next letter to Andrew. During all this time, she listened for a warning clash of hoofs below. When she was finally ready, she pulled on a heavy wool cape and ushered the old woman back to the kitchen. She would find Timmy and perhaps get shelter from his parents, until she decided what to do next. She would have to write back to Andrew soon. Thomas had left a flour sack on the table for her.
‘It’s just some bread and cheese, m’lady, but it will keep the hunger at bay.’
‘You are both so very kind. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘Do you know where you are going, m’lady?’
‘It won’t be far, for now, and I’ll be back from time to time.’
‘The door will always be open to you, m’lady,’ Thomas assured her. ‘You will always be mistress here as far as we are concerned.’
Elizabeth was afraid she would cry again at their kindness. Picking up the sack, she began to walk away, and then paused, ‘Thomas, do you remember the stable boy, Timmy?’
‘Yes, m’lady, a small dark-haired boy, I remember him.’
‘Do you know his family?’
‘Yes, indeed. That was very tragic.’
‘Tragic, what do you mean, Thomas?’
‘It’s the same all over, m’lady.’
‘Do you mean …? Surely not!’ Without another word she was out the door. ‘Timmy,’ she whispered, running across the yard and out towards the fields. ‘Oh, dear God, no.’
****
Once they had left Elizabeth, Timmy and Katie walked across the fields that skirted the Hall. He had told her so many stories about the place that she begged him to stop for a moment, so she could see it properly. They were on a hill high above it, looking down at the main house. The watery afternoon sun glistened on the early frost and the Hall seemed to shimmer.
‘Is it a castle?’ Katie asked.
‘No, it’s just a very big house.’
‘I wish I lived there.’
No you don’t, he thought, not now that Black Jack owns it.
‘Three little girls did live there once. Do you want me to tell you about them?’
‘Oh, yes please!’
‘Come on then. I’ll tell you while we walk.’
They set off hand in hand towards his home. He tried to ignore the numerous ruined cabins of his neighbours, but when he came to his best friend, Martin’s, he stopped. The thatch on the roof had been burned completely, as had the shutters and doors. Debris littered the front yard. He picked his way carefully into the shell of the cabin, almost expecting the family to still be living there. Even the whitewashed walls had been blackened and scarred by the flames. He closed his eyes for a moment and remembered the laughter, and Martin’s father’s look of love and pride. He felt a lump rise in his throat. Then a feeling of panic took over – if this had happened to them … Rushing back outside, he grabbed Katie’s hand and hurried her onward. Just a few more yards and his home would come into view.
‘Please God, let them be safe,’ he whispered, as they rounded the final bend. ‘Aw, God no. Sweet Jesus, no.’
Dropping Katie’s hand, he ran forward towards the pile of rubble that had once been his home. Unlike Martin’s house, this one had been torn down. He had only been away for perhaps six months, what could have happened in that time to cause this? Perhaps they had gone to a different workhouse? He would wait for Elizabeth and ask if she had learned where they had gone. Sitting down on the garden wall, he lifted Katie up beside him.
‘Where’s your ma?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll wait and see if Elizabeth knows. Don’t worry she’ll soon be here.’
‘It’s very cold.’
Despite the layers of clothing she shivered, and he knew they would need to find somewhere more sheltered to sleep. Above all, he mustn’t panic. There was a simple explanation for his missing family, and if finding them meant a couple of more days walking, then so be it. Standing up on the wall, he shielded his eyes and looked across the fields to see if Elizabeth was coming. He thought he saw movement among the trees, but wasn’t sure.
‘Look, horses,’ said Katie, pointing towards the horizon.
He spun round to see two riders approaching. His heart skipped a beat when he recognised Black Jack. It wasn’t until they were almost upon him, that he identified the other rider. It was the master, but looking very different from when he’d last seen him. He was balding, and his skin seemed to have a yellow tinge, but Timmy thought that might be caused by the glare of the setting sun.
‘Well, what have we got here?’ Black Jack looked down from his horse, as Timmy pulled Katie closer to him.
‘Well I’ll be damned, if it isn’t the little stable boy!’
Timmy saw that Black Jack looked very different in fine clothes and was even speaking differently, like a gentleman.
‘Where have you been, boy?’
‘The workhouse.’
‘The workhouse, sir.’
Timmy looked up at him with raised eyebrows.
Hiding his annoyance at the boy’s impudence, Black Jack con-
tinued, ‘You might as well return there, boy. There’s nothing here for you now.’
‘I’m trying to find my family. Do you know anything of their whereabouts?’
Black Jack turned to Charles with a laugh, ‘Perhaps we can be of some assistance to the boy.’
‘Indeed, we can,’ responded Charles.
Timmy looked from one man to the other.<
br />
‘But first,’ Black Jack said, ‘a question for you.’
‘Yes, anything.’
‘Did you see anyone in your travels; the mistress, perhaps?’
‘I’ve been in the workhouse. The mistress would hardly be there.’
Black Jack looked at him for a moment before deciding he was right. He had checked for her name on their register, she wasn’t there. Pulling his horse’s reins, he was about to ride away when Timmy stopped him.
‘My family, what do you know of my family?’
‘I know you have something they haven’t,’ Black Jack sneered.
‘What do you mean? What have I got?’
‘Life, boy, life, your family are dead. You’re standing in front of their tomb.’
Timmy turned to look at the pile of rubble.
‘I believe your mother was the last to go. They say her screams could be heard for miles.’
‘No, you’re lying. My mother is not dead.’
‘Ask around, if you can find anyone. I did them a favour, saved them from a pauper’s grave. You should be thanking me.’
‘Lying cur!’ Timmy launched himself at the man’s legs, trying to pull him from the saddle.
‘Get off me, boy. Let go!’ Black Jack kicked out, sending him flying.
Timmy landed with a thud against the wall and sat there for a moment, winded. Picking himself up, he tried to renew the attack, but Black Jack was too fast for him and veered the horse out of his way. The boy fell flat on his face and stayed that way, sobbing into the grass.
‘And get off my land!’ Black Jack called over his shoulder, as he rode away. ‘I won’t be so understanding next time.’
Elizabeth had been hiding behind a tree and witnessed this exchange. As soon as the riders were out of sight, she ran forward and knelt on the ground beside the fallen boy. ‘Come on, get up,’ she tried to lift him.
‘Did you hear?’ he sobbed.
‘Yes, I heard.’
‘I want to die. I’ve let my mother down. I said I would live for the children, that I would protect them, and now I can’t.’
‘Timmy, listen to me. Your mother was speaking about all children. Not just your sister and brothers, but every child you come in contact with. You said yourself that she was a woman of vision and you were right. You helped the children in the workhouse, didn’t you?’
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