‘I will help you,’ Janet decided at last. ‘As you helped me, Mistress.’
So it was decided, and all Nell had to do now was play out her part in the charade. She lifted a hand in farewell as Tom and Ralph left. At the entrance to the passage, Tom gestured to Ralph to go ahead, and he turned to exchange a last look with Nell. Her eyes were fierce in reply.
Soon, my heart, they told him. Soon we will be together always.
Tess sucked in a ragged breath as she found herself jolted back into the present. She was still holding onto the dashboard and Luke’s gaze was flickering worriedly between her and the traffic.
‘I’m back,’ she said with an attempt at a smile.
He didn’t smile back. ‘This is happening too often, Tess.’
‘I know.’ Tess took her hands away from the dashboard and made herself sit back in her seat. ‘It’s as if Nell is speeding up somehow.’ Worriedly, she fiddled with the seat belt. ‘I get the feeling I’m coming to the end of her story.’
She told Luke about Tom’s return. ‘It’s good news, and she’s so happy to see a way out of her dreadful marriage to Ralph, but I’ve got this awful sense of foreboding . . .’ She trailed off, chewing her knuckle. ‘Something’s going to go wrong, I know it is. Well, it’s obvious it’s not going to go well, isn’t it? Nell wouldn’t be haunting me . . . possessing me . . . whatever she’s doing to me . . . if she’d lived happily ever after with Tom, would she?’
Luke shook his head. ‘It would be nice to believe that but no, I don’t think so. Do you think we should call Ambrose again?’
‘Or the church?’ Tess’s eyes were fearful. ‘Maybe it’s time to see if a priest can help Nell rest? I’ve still got the vicar’s number somewhere.’ She dug around in her handbag until she pulled out the card Pat French had given her. Holding it between her fingers produced a strange mixture of yearning and revulsion in her head, and the cardboard seemed to sear her fingertips.
‘Nell doesn’t want me to call in a priest,’ she said slowly. ‘She doesn’t want to rest yet. There’s something else she wants me to know.’
‘I could call,’ said Luke, braking for a red light. He put on the handbrake and turned to Tess. ‘Why don’t you give me the card and I’ll call for you?’
It was the obvious thing to do, but Tess’s hand trembled under the dead weight of Nell’s will. It was just a dog-eared business card, but it burned between her fingers. No, Nell said in her head. No, no, no. Don’t do this.
When Luke reached out, she tightened her grip, and actually gasped as he tugged it free. Tucking it into his jacket pocket, he released the handbrake and put the car back into gear as the light turned green, while relief and desperation warred in Tess’s head.
‘Do you want me to call her now?’ Luke asked.
‘Yes . . . no . . . I don’t know.’ Tess hugged her arms together. Nell was very close. She could feel her, swirling in her head, pounding at her will. She wished she hadn’t given Luke that card, and at the same time was relieved that he had it. Luke wasn’t susceptible to Nell’s power. It felt safer knowing that he was there and would know what to do. ‘I think we’d better pick Oscar up first. Maybe you could come back to the flat with us and call from there?’
Luke looked as if he was about to argue, but in the end he just nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you want.’
Gradually, Tess let her rigid shoulders relax. One thing at a time. She needed to get Oscar, then go home, and then she would worry about what to do about Martin. And Nell. Right now, Tess wasn’t sure which of them was the bigger threat.
‘I’ll wait here,’ said Luke as he drew up outside Vanessa’s house. ‘I know Vanessa isn’t my biggest fan, and you’ve got enough to worry about right now without a scene.’
Tess tried to shake the feeling of foreboding as she walked up Vanessa’s immaculate path to the front door. There were roses, perfectly trimmed, on either side. Everything would be fine, she told herself. Luke would call Pat French, Pat French would exorcise Nell, or do whatever she had to do to make her release her grip on Tess’s mind. As for Martin, she would have to be careful for a while, but she would keep a record, just as the police had advised. It felt good to have made some decisions and be taking control.
But still, there was something unchancy in the air. The light seemed to be shifting around her, and she had to focus hard to press the bell.
Tess listened to the ding-dong echo inside. It reverberated inside her head, and she felt that sliding feeling that signalled a rush back to the past. Not now, Nell! she thought in panic, gritting her teeth against the sensation. Please, not now!
It was like standing on the edge of a sand dune, feeling the grains slide away beneath her heels, frantically trying to keep a grip. Tess put out a hand and pressed her palm against the brick until it hurt. She couldn’t let Nell win this time. She had to get Oscar and go home.
‘Tess!’ Vanessa’s expression of mingled surprise, guilt and dismay took a little while to penetrate.
‘Hi.’ With a massive effort, Tess pulled herself together. ‘Sorry I’ve been a while, Vanessa. It’s a long story, but I’ve been at the police station for what feels like hours. Is Oscar ready to go?’
‘Didn’t Martin tell you?’
There was a moment of frozen stillness, of utter clarity. To Tess, it was as if she was standing outside herself, thinking quite precisely: Let Vanessa not have said that. Let it be a second earlier, to give her a chance to say something different. Let this not be the moment when everything, everything changes.
Vanessa’s words hung accusingly in the air.
‘Martin?’ Tess croaked.
‘He said he would ring you on your mobile. I gave him the right number so I’m surprised he hasn’t called you yet. I’m so pleased to hear that you’re getting back together,’ Vanessa rushed on, but the corner of one eye was twitching with guilt. ‘He seems so nice.’
Tess clutched at the frayed edges of her control. ‘Vanessa, what do you mean? Where’s Oscar?’
‘Why, Martin’s taken him, of course.’
‘No . . .!’ Even though at some level she had known this was coming ever since Vanessa opened the door, Tess’s knees buckled in despair. ‘No, please, Van! Tell me you didn’t let him take Oscar!’
‘Tess, really, I think you’re overreacting,’ said Vanessa defensively. ‘Martin’s not going to do anything to Oscar. For heaven’s sake, he’s his father!’
Tess was backing away, shaking her head. ‘I told you I didn’t trust him. I told you I didn’t want him near Oscar.’
‘What’s going on?’ It was Luke, solid and steady beside her. Tess clutched at him.
‘She’s let Martin take Oscar! Oh God, Luke, what am I going to do!’
‘Honestly!’ Vanessa huffed. ‘What a fuss! I’m not surprised Martin finds you difficult to deal with, Tess. I found him absolutely charming and reasonable. He said he’d had coffee with you and you’d talked, and how else would he have got my address? And I could hardly refuse to let him take his own son, could I?’
‘Yes, you could have refused!’ Tess’s voice rose. ‘Oh God, oh God . . .’ She was stuck in panic, her wheels spinning uselessly, so horrified by the knowledge that Martin had Oscar that she couldn’t think.
The anger, and the eerie calm she had felt confronting him face-to-face, had evaporated, leaving her to lash herself for her stupidity in believing even for a moment that Martin had accepted defeat. She should have known he would do something like this. He had told her he knew about Vanessa. She should have come straight to get Oscar instead of wasting time at the police station, wasting time deluding herself that Martin might have changed.
‘If you ask me, it’s a good thing Martin has come up to York,’ said Vanessa defiantly. ‘You’ve got to admit that you’ve been acting very strangely, Tess. We’ve all been worried about you: me, your mum and Martin. And Luke’s been encouraging you,’ she added, shooting him an unfriendly look.
/> ‘Martin’s doing his best. He told me that he’s taking you off on a second honeymoon so you can relax and get over the strain of the last few weeks. He’s so caring! I wish Graham thought about me the way Martin thinks about you. He obviously adores you, Tess, and quite frankly, I don’t think you deserve him! I’ve been saying all along you need to talk about your problems instead of running away, and Oscar needs a father.’
Tess was barely listening to her. ‘How was Oscar?’ Her voice wobbled. ‘Was he OK?’
For the first time Vanessa’s certainty wavered. ‘Well, he was a bit uncertain, but that’s only to be expected. He hasn’t seen his father in such a long time, he must seem practically a stranger. But he certainly didn’t scream or make a fuss.’
Unlike you, was the unspoken addition.
Of course Oscar wouldn’t have made a fuss. He would have done exactly as his father told him, but Tess knew that he would have been frightened. He would have made himself as small and as quiet as he could. Martin might have charmed Vanessa, but Oscar knew what his father was like.
She couldn’t bear to think of him turning into that tense little boy again. ‘Did Martin say where he was taking Oscar?’ Luke asked when Tess covered her face.
‘Back to the flat. He said you’d forgotten to give him the key, so I let him have the spare.’ Vanessa seemed to take in Tess’s distress for the first time and she wriggled her shoulders uneasily. ‘It’s not as if he’s planning to whisk Oscar out of the country or anything. I really think it’s time you accepted that you’re the one with the problem. They’ll be there when you get back. You can sit down and sort everything out. It’ll be fine . . . Tess? Tess?’
But her voice was fading as Tess felt herself sliding once more, back into the darkness.
‘Quietly,’ Nell breathed in Meg’s ear. ‘Don’t make a sound.’
Together they tiptoed down the stairs, stopping to help each other over the fifth tread from the bottom, the one that had cracked and groaned for as long as Nell could remember. It cost them precious time, but they couldn’t afford to wake anyone with an unexpected noise.
How odd to think that she would never hear it again. Nell’s mind kept fastening onto trivial details like that. She had tried to imagine life in the New World, but the idea was too huge, too unknown. She could only think about small things, like a creaking board, or whether anyone would remember to pot up the butter she had churned that day.
Nell worried about how the maids would fare once she had gone. Eliza and Mary were long married, but she had new servants in their place. Her dread was that Ralph would use them as he had used her, but Tom had quashed her idea of taking them with her as well. They had families to protect them, he had pointed out. ‘You can’t tell anyone, Nell. You must save your daughter, and yourself.’
So it was just the two of them creeping towards the front door.
Ralph was fast asleep, thanks to the draught she gave him in his wine. That had been Janet’s idea. She would go to the wise woman on the common, she whispered. Just a concoction to help him sleep while you get away. Nell could hardly believe it when he had drunk it down unsuspecting. Even then he slumped in his closet. She had stood and listened to him snore before she went to wake Meg.
It was now or never.
If Nell had any doubts that she was doing the right thing, they were routed by the way Meg’s face had lit up when Nell had roused her and told her that they were leaving. They had helped each other to dress warmly, fumbling with nerves, and Nell checked the purse hanging from her belt, which she had filled with as much money as she dared. Drawing out the garnet ring, on an impulse she slipped it back onto her finger where it belonged. The jewellery Ralph had showered on her she left in a box on the table. She wanted none of it.
The house slumbered, silent but for the familiar sound of old timber shifting and settling, and snoring from the servants’ chambers. In the distance, a dog barked. Holding their skirts high, Nell and Meg made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was pitch-dark, but they knew the house so well there was no need of a candle.
They crept down the passage and paused by the door. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, Nell turned the great key in the lock as carefully as she could. It fell into place with a clunk, and they both froze, but there was no shout of alarm. Shakily, Nell let out a breath. Now there was just the latch to lift, and the door to open. She mustn’t hurry, or she would make it worse.
Only when they stepped out into the yard did she let herself breathe easily again. Now there was just the gate at the end of the passage to negotiate. Another clunk of the key, and this time the latch clattered under her hand. Immediately George Watson’s dog next door set up such a barking that Nell’s heart stopped.
‘Quickly!’ she muttered under her breath to Meg, and they walked as fast as they could along the mid part of the street. Nell had never been out in the streets this late before. Dark clouds had swallowed up the moon that shone earlier, but that was all to the good, she told herself. It was not far. Just down to the bottom of Stonegate and past St Helen’s churchyard, where little Hugh was buried. Then along Coney Street and Ousegate and down to the staithe, and Tom would be there.
With an oddly detached part of her mind, she marvelled that this was really happening. They really were leaving. That was the last time she would ever walk down the stairs in the house, the last time she would hear that cursed dog bark. This was the last time she would walk down Stonegate. She would never pass John Harper’s stall again, never feel his eyes pulling the laces free of her bodice, or sliding the sleeves down her shoulders.
She would be free.
The city was silent and yet not at the same time. There was a deadening quality to the darkness, but Nell’s senses were so attuned she could hear the snorts and mumbles of her sleeping neighbours. A cough, a sigh, the grunts of bed work. The thin wail of a babe, quickly shushed. A drunken mumble and a sharp retort.
A breeze puffed down the street and set the shop signs swinging and creaking. All the better. They needed a wind to fill their sails. It was cold, though. Meg shivered and drew her cloak around her.
The sounds of the night were like no other. Nell could feel the streets breathing around her. It was a different city in the dark. It belonged to the cats slinking along the gutters, to the rats scuttling in the sewers.
To the evil spirits that slipped through the walls and danced in the dark.
Meg gasped and shrank away, and Nell grasped her arm, her blood hammering with fear. ‘What is it?’
‘I trod on something.’ Meg’s voice trembled. ‘Something that moved.’
‘Do not think of it,’ said Nell in an urgent whisper. ‘We are nearly there. Think about Tom waiting for us.’
They were not the only ones breaking the curfew. They passed a vagrant slumped in the entrance to a passageway, barely more than a bundle of rags. Two drunken sots reeled from one side of the street to the other, but Nell and Meg shrank into the deeper darkness of a doorway until they could slip past unnoticed.
Cautiously, they turned into Coney Street. The street was well paved and they could hurry, but another dog bayed as they passed. It woke another and another until it seemed every house had a dog barking out a warning that Nell and Meg were escaping, that they mustn’t get away. Nell took Meg’s hand and they started to run. Along Coney Street, dogs were sleepily cursed, but no one rose and unbolted their door. No one peered from their casements.
Still, Nell’s heart was pounding as she practically dragged Meg down the slippery cobbles to the staithe. She was too desperate now to care about making a noise. All she wanted was to get on that boat and sail away.
She could smell the river, fresh and sour, and hear it lapping against the staithe. Where was Tom? Where was the boat? She peered through the blackness. The water was the faintest of gleams.
‘Mistress!’ The whisper made Nell whirl round, her hand to her throat.
‘Oh . . . Janet!’ She could barely make out the
other woman’s shape in the darkness. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I thought I’d best come and make sure everything went to plan.’
Nell swallowed. ‘Where’s Tom?’
‘He’s waiting out of sight in the master’s warehouse.’
That was like Tom, Nell thought, laughing a little shakily. Only he would be reckless enough to hide in Ralph’s own property.
‘Come, I’ll take you to him,’ Janet murmured.
‘Can’t we wait on the boat?’
‘Tom has agreed a password with the mariner. Best you go with him.’
‘I suppose so.’ Nell’s pulse was still thumping from their run through the streets. She wished they could just get on the boat and be done, but she let Janet lead her into the warehouse. The heavy door clunked shut behind them.
At first Nell could see nothing. A candle was burning inside, its flame so bright in contrast to the darkness beyond the door that she had to screw up her eyes. Blinking against the candlelight, she could make out a figure over by the bales of white cloth.
‘Tom?’
Beside her, Meg stiffened. Nell looked at her daughter, seeing an expression of such horror on her face that her own blood ran to ice and she clutched at her bodice. ‘What? What is it?’
But already she was turning to follow Meg’s gaze over to the bales, and although her eyes had adjusted fully to the light, she couldn’t comprehend what she saw at first.
She didn’t want to comprehend.
Tom was lying on the bales, staring up at the rafters. Why was he lying there? Nell wondered. Why didn’t he leap up and greet them?
‘Tom?’ she said again, or maybe she didn’t. Her mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Her body seemed to belong to someone else. Jerkily, it moved over to the bales.
The dark blue eyes were open as Tom looked up at her, but he didn’t smile.
His ruff was red, his shirt too.
His head was tilted at an odd angle to his body. It must be uncomfortable like that, Nell thought.
The Memory of Midnight Page 33