by Lucy Strange
I could not see the asylum yet, but I knew I was getting closer to that hideous tomb of a building with every step down the driveway. I thought of snakes and ladders. I had rolled the dice, landed on the wrong square and was now slithering helplessly towards my doom.
Helldon emerged slowly, sliding into view from behind the trees like a painted stage set. There was no turning back now. The main doors were standing open. And welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws, I thought.
A nurse met me in the cold entrance hall. She held a bunch of keys in her hand. Her hat looked like the sail of a ship and she wore a pair of thick spectacles.
‘Can I help, Miss?’ she said.
‘I’m here to visit my mother,’ I said. ‘Mrs Abbott.’
She walked to a desk in the corner and opened a large ledger. ‘Mrs Abbott, admitted yesterday . . . Yes, she’s in room four. No visitors, I’m afraid – for the time being at least.’
‘But . . .’ I started, and I fought the tears that were already starting to well in my eyes. ‘If I could see her – just for a moment . . .’
Behind her thick spectacles, the nurse rolled her eyes. ‘Wait here while I ask the doctor, please, Miss.’ And she disappeared down a long dark corridor. I thought of the Minotaur’s lair and wondered if I should have brought a ball of string with me.
I looked around. The entrance hall was cavernous. A wide staircase led up to the floor above. At the top, where the stairs met the first-floor landing, there was a high metal gate. A young man in pyjamas shuffled past the gate, muttering and shivering. A nurse guided him into a room and closed the door. That must be where the patients are. Up there. I looked at the gate and thought of Mama’s locked door at Hope House, and then it was as if something finally woke up in my mind and I knew exactly what I had to do. The nurse had gone to ask a doctor if I could see Mama – that doctor was probably Chilvers. I needed to get Mama out before he could stop me. Something caught my eye on the desk in the corner. Next to the ledger, the nurse had left the bunch of keys.
I hurried up the stairs, taking care to be as quiet as possible. I fumbled with the keys, my fingers in a trembling panic. This one – no – this one. The biggest key fitted the lock of the metal gate, it clicked and the greased hinges swung open silently. The first floor smelt different from the floor below. It smelt of carbolic soap and something sharp and pungent – a caustic smell that reminded me of the science laboratory at my old school.
Room four – the nurse said room four . . . I glanced to my left and right. The corridors were deserted. Left, I thought. The floor was smooth and highly polished – in my hurry to find Mama, I nearly slipped. Room six, I saw . . . room five. . . And then Mama’s door was in front of me. Locked. The smaller keys were numbered. Number four slipped through my fingers twice before I could grip it and turn it in the lock. Then I was there in her room and I saw her immediately – sitting up in a high narrow bed. She was awake.
‘Mama!’ I ran to the bed and put my arms around her. She was wearing a long green nightdress I hadn’t seen before and, on top of that, the white straitjacket Doctor Hardy had put her in that held her arms tightly across her body. My fingers struggled with the buckles. My thumbnail tore.
‘Come on, Mama,’ I said, unwrapping the long sleeves and freeing her arms.
She looked at me and her eyes were huge with fear.
‘Come with me, Mama. Hurry.’ I took her hand. Her fingers were cold, white and bloodless. ‘Please, Mama . . .’
But she wouldn’t move.
What could I say? What could I do? I couldn’t drag Mama down the corridor or carry her down the stairs. I looked into her eyes again and a strange, frightened woman stared back at me. I knew Mama was inside there somewhere, lost in the dark maze of her mind just as we were both lost in the depths of Helldon. I had to reach her somehow . . .
‘Let’s go to the sea,’ I whispered, remembering the look on her face as she had stood on the clifftop yesterday. ‘To the lighthouse, Mama.’
Recognition flashed across her face. She looked helplessly towards the tiny barred window.
‘No – this way,’ I said. ‘I’ll help you.’
She took my hand and, very slowly, rose from the bed.
We made our way together towards the staircase – shuffling and unsteady. We went through the gate and I locked it behind me, leaving the keys so I could use both hands to help Mama. Slowly, painfully slowly, we descended the stairs. One. Step. At. A. Time. Her eyes couldn’t focus properly on her feet and she kept misjudging the depth of each stair. Twice I had to grab her thin arm to steady her. I thought dizzily of the attic stairs in our London house and imagined long fingers of flame reaching out for us as we descended. My skin prickled, every inch of me was burning, listening for voices or footsteps, but everything was eerily quiet. Was it some sort of trap?
‘Nearly there, Mama,’ I whispered, and our feet finally met the stone floor of the entrance hall. She shivered. She looked almost childlike in that baggy green nightdress – I cursed myself for not bringing spare clothes or shoes for her. I listened again for voices or footsteps but there was only the tomb-like silence of Helldon. Most old buildings creaked and sighed, but Helldon was a building that held its breath.
We made our way to the open front door. We were nearly there – we were nearly free – but my stomach was leaden with fear. This would not be a swift escape as it had been with Piglet. I had been terribly frightened at the Hardys’ house, but, looking back now, rescuing Piglet seemed such an easy thing to do . . . I could not carry Mama in my arms. We would have to go at her pace. And she was much, much weaker than I had thought.
‘We’re going to walk a little further, Mama,’ I said. ‘Do you think you can walk a little further?’ She nodded and I thought I saw something in her face – the tiniest glimpse of my old Mama – clever, determined.
We were outside the building now. The sky had darkened further and a cool drizzle dampened the air. We started walking towards the tree-lined driveway. The old grey serpent curled away in front of us. Thisss way, it hissed. Thisss way . . . But I had another plan. We would cut across the grass. It would be quicker, and the grass would be kinder to Mama’s bare feet. We had just made it to the shelter of the first tree when a voice called out loudly behind us, cutting through the wet air like a knife. I froze.
‘Miss Abbott,’ the voice called. It was not an angry or aggressive voice, it was perfectly calm, and that made it all the more terrifying. I looked around.
A man was walking across the grass towards us. He was short, handsome and dark-haired and was wearing an expensive-looking suit. He looked like an actor in a moving picture. His hands were in his pockets and he was walking quite casually, as if he were simply taking a stroll around the grounds.
‘Taking your mother for a bit of fresh air, I see?’
I swallowed painfully and nodded. I turned away from him and urged Mama to take a few more pitifully slow steps. The drizzle gave way to heavier, steadier rain. Mama’s feet were getting wet and muddy. ‘Just keep walking, Mama,’ I breathed. ‘Just keep walking.’ The route back to the main gate was a long sweep of rain-drenched grass and trees. Walking so slowly, against the slope, against the rain, it would take us fifteen minutes at least . . . With no effort at all, the man was soon strolling along beside us.
‘So you’re Henrietta,’ he said.
I didn’t say anything. My eyes were fixed on the gate – a black smudge beyond the heavy curtain of rain. Mama was leaning on my shoulder now, I could feel her losing strength with each step.
‘I’m Doctor Chilvers, perhaps you’ve heard of me . . .’
I blinked with confusion, but kept walking. Chilvers? My thoughts scrambled like pieces on an overturned chess board. But if he is Doctor Chilvers, who on earth is the limping man – the man who has been creeping around Hope House? I couldn’t make sense of any of it. The only thing I knew was that if this was Chilvers, Mama and I had to get away from him.
&n
bsp; ‘Doctor Hardy has told me all about you, Henrietta, and I’ve been most eager to meet you. He says you claim to be friends with a dead woman called Mrs Young – is that right? And you wander about in the garden, talking to the ghost of your dead brother? I should love you to tell me about these visions of yours, Henrietta. I could help, you know – I could make it all go away . . .’
I shook my head and angry tears ran down my cheeks, lost amongst the raindrops. I was panting for breath now – from despair, and from the effort of keeping Mama upright and moving forwards. Another voice boomed behind us. Doctor Hardy.
‘There you are!’ His voice was thick with rage. I didn’t look back – I didn’t need to. I pictured his heavy frame lumbering across the grass towards us. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Henrietta?’
‘Now, now, Hardy,’ said Doctor Chilvers. ‘We’re just having a little walk together, nothing to be worried about.’ He used words in the same way that a surgeon uses a scalpel – deft, confident.
I heard Hardy wheezing. I felt the tremor of his heavy footsteps. ‘Just having a little walk?’ he gasped furiously. Then he snorted with laughter. ‘Ha! I see. Excellent, Chilvers, excellent!’
I was still urging Mama to keep moving. It was hopeless, I knew, but what else could I do? The rain was pouring down now – it battered the grass, pounding it into a grey swamp. The green nightdress clung to Mama like seaweed. We were drowning together. Mama’s foot slid in the wet grass and her ankle turned beneath her. She gasped and I caught her as she staggered.
Then Hardy wheeled in front of us – a vast, dripping megalith. ‘Where exactly do you think you’re going?’ he spat scornfully. ‘Do you think you are helping your mother by doing this, Henrietta? She needs to be here, for God’s sake! We are doctors! We will make her better.’
Even then, knowing all I did about Chilvers’ experiments and Hardy’s ambition, the obedient child within me wanted to give in. I wanted so much to trust these grown-ups, but I knew that I couldn’t. My heart told me that if I left my mother here, she would never come home.
Chilvers tried a different strategy. ‘This weather’s taken a turn for the worse, hasn’t it, Miss Abbott?’ He chuckled, blinking up into the rain and the glowering skies above. He took his hand from his pocket and placed it warmly upon my shoulder, steering us back towards the drive. ‘Why don’t we all step inside and have a nice cup of tea and a chat? Let’s get your mother into some dry clothes, shall we?’ He was cleverer than Hardy, I had to give him that. He was much cleverer.
If I attempted to struggle on, I knew that they would force me back into Helldon whether I wanted to go or not. They would lock Mama back in her room – she would be a prisoner again and I would be their prisoner too . . . My mind spun around like a cornered rat.
Chilvers offered Mama a gentlemanly arm. She took it and, just for a second, the doctor’s kindly mask dropped away. Something like greed glittered in his eyes.
‘No!’ I shouted, pulling Mama back towards me. Chilvers smiled dangerously. Then several things happened all at once. Hardy lurched towards me, and I backed away. My heel caught on the edge of the driveway and I stumbled, falling backwards. There was a whirring and clattering and a shrill, frightened whinnying. I twisted around in terror. Four sharp hooves danced on the road and the huge wheels of a cart were spinning towards me. Mama screamed.
Then Mr Berry was there, bending down towards me, his face white with shock, but someone else was with him – I squinted dizzily through the downpour – there was a woman too. She stood a few yards away, blurred behind a veil of rain.
‘Are you all right, Miss?’ Mr Berry said, helping me to my feet. He was ignoring the doctors completely. ‘I saw you standing at the gates and . . . well, I decided to come back and see if you needed any help. I’ll be bblowed if I’m letting that little ’un go into Helldon all by herself, I said to myself.’ And he wrapped a blanket around me. ‘Met your Aunt Susan on the Hawkham Road – seems she was on her way here too.’
I stared at him. Aunt Susan? But I didn’t actually have an Aunt Susan – that had been a lie to bully the Hardys into giving Piglet back . . .
The mysterious figure walked through the rain towards me. She was dressed in a long dark coat. It was only when she was right in front of me that I could see her face. Moth! Her wild hair was swept up beneath a broad-brimmed hat. Her eyes shone like steel.
‘Let’s take you and your mother back home, shall we, Henrietta?’ she said, helping us both up into the carriage. Mr Berry took another blanket from the back of the trap and wrapped it around Mama’s shivering shoulders.
The two doctors had been silent all this time, watching the whole pantomime with folded arms. Chilvers finally stepped forward, smoothing his wet hair down with a neat paw. ‘Good Lord,’ he said, squinting into the rain. ‘Is that Sergeant Berry? Never thought we’d see you again, S-Sergeant. I see you made it through the rest of the war, then . . . How’s the st-ststutter, eh?’ He and Doctor Hardy chuckled.
Mr Berry took a deep breath. He turned to face Chilvers. As he spoke, his eyes twitched, but his voice was as steady as a rock.
‘I’ll be taking Miss Abbott and her mother home now, Doctor Chilvers,’ he said.
We all squeezed into the trap together.
‘You can’t just go, I’m afraid,’ snapped Doctor Hardy. ‘There are papers that need to be signed in order to discharge Mrs Abbott. She is legally under our—’
‘I’m sure my father will be happy to discuss everything with you when he returns,’ I managed to say.
Chilvers laughed out loud.
‘When he returns?’ Hardy guffawed. ‘You think he’s coming back? I’ve seen a fair few cases like this over the years, Miss Abbott – happens all the time – some people just can’t cope – they run away from their problems. Your father has gone. If he ever comes home, I’ll eat my hat . . .’
Moth spoke now. Her voice was stone cold. ‘I’m sure my brother will be home very soon,’ she said. ‘Just as Henrietta says. And I shall return shortly to sign the necessary papers – I will be bringing along the royal nerve specialist I mentioned on the telephone earlier. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours.’ I noticed Moth angled her head very carefully as she spoke, so that the brim of her hat covered as much of her face as possible.
Doctor Hardy was purple with rage. As he looked at Moth, though, his face started to change. ‘Have we met before, Madam?’ he said. And then took a step towards us. ‘I think, perhaps—’
‘There are those,’ Moth said to Hardy, her voice louder now, ‘who believe your methods are medieval, Doctor Hardy. You are blinded by ignorance and ambition. You see only symptoms. You do not see people, and you do not see the damage you do to them.’
‘Poppycock!’ exclaimed Chilvers. He laughed but he was trembling with anger. Doctor Hardy was staring at Moth now. He must have recognized her . . . She tilted her head up a little and looked straight back at him. Her eyes glared, cold and metallic, but I saw that her lips were bloodless and were pressed tightly together. She was frightened.
‘Let’s go, Mr Berry,’ I hissed. ‘Quickly!’ And, with shaking hands, he turned the pony around.
The doctors stood side by side, underneath a tree dripping with rain – a purple giant and a white dwarf – like a comical drawing from a newspaper.
‘Mrs Abbott has been committed to this asylum,’ Doctor Hardy shouted impotently. ‘She is insane! I don’t know what exactly this ridiculous charade is supposed to achieve.’ He pointed at Moth: ‘And if you’re Henrietta’s Aunt Susan, I’m a monkey’s uncle!’
‘If the cap fits, Doctor Hardy,’ I called back to him from the safety of the carriage, and I saw then that there was fear and confusion in his eyes as well as rage. He had been present at the inquest, he had witnessed the signing of the death certificate for Mrs Young – and now here she was, right in front of him, as large as life!
‘Such a pleasure to see you again,’ Moth called, removing her hat t
riumphantly and turning to wave at the doctors. ‘Goodbye!’
‘Trot on, Bert,’ called Mr Berry. The brown pony was moving quickly now. Moth’s arm was around my shoulders. We were following the snaking driveway back towards the tall iron gates, and Helldon was behind us.
Ilay on Mama’s bed, facing her, my back to the window, our foreheads almost touching, our knees drawn up together. From above we might have looked like the white wings of a butterfly. I spent the first few hours of the night wide awake, holding her hand, talking to her softly. The rain continued to fall, steadily, heavily. The sky flashed a few times and I heard the low rumble of distant thunder.
It must have been past midnight when I heard the creak of a floorboard on the landing, and the door to Mama’s room swung open. I turned to see a figure standing in the doorway, a figure wrapped once more in her familiar blankets and holding a key in her hand. Moth.
‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ she whispered. ‘I had to come and see . . .’ She walked towards the bed. ‘How is she?’ She gazed down at Mama, and stroked the hair from her forehead, checking her temperature.
Mama’s eyes opened then. ‘Oh!’ she said, smiling sleepily. ‘Oh, I thought, perhaps, I had dreamt you . . .’ and her face became as radiant as a child’s. ‘My nightingale . . .’
There was a noise from further down the landing. A distressed cry, a door opening and closing, soft murmurs . . . Piglet was awake and Nanny Jane had gone to her. Perhaps she was having a bad dream about the Hardys, or perhaps it was just the thunder.
Something changed in Mama’s face. It was an expression I hadn’t seen before – a longing. Her eyes filled with tears. Moth smiled gently and took her hand. ‘Come with me,’ she whispered. She led her from the bedroom to the secret attic door. I took the candle from Mama’s bedside table and followed close behind. What an odd procession we must have made – Moth in her ragged blankets at the front, and Mama and I in our ghost-white nightdresses, climbing those dusty stairs by candlelight. I noticed how Moth’s feet trod the most worn patches of carpet: she had walked these steps many times before.