Rebecca stroked his hair.
‘Don’t worry.’ She smiled. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’ Gently, she tilted back his head.
The knife went through his neck.
He was choking and drowning all at once.
Michael held his hand. Mother kissed him on the cheek. But where was Eliza? Eliza was close. Roses and old books. He had to give her the book. Her book. She needed. He needed. He promised. His mouth filled with blood.
Rebecca’s smiling face became preternaturally clear then blurred as he slipped away to the sound of her counting.
35
Dawn was breaking as Eliza and Ben returned to the estate. The sky grew warm with a golden-pink tinge. Today would be beautiful. They parted at the carriage house. The grave she had dug yesterday would be useful after all. Eliza took the long way round to the kitchen. Crossing the garden only made her think of Ruth, and right now she didn’t want to think. She wanted to rest.
When she spotted Rebecca waiting for her in the kitchen, Eliza rushed inside.
‘Rebecca!’ She threw her arms around her and held her close. Rebecca returned the hug with equal ferocity. ‘Are you alright? She didn’t hurt you, did she?’
‘I’m fine, Eliza. Where is Mrs Pollard?’
‘Oh, she’s gone, dearie. She’s gone. And we’ll never have to worry about her again.’
‘Did you kill her?’
Eliza kissed her hand. ‘Let’s get some rest. I’m exhausted. You must be, too.’
‘Because it’s alright if you did. Some people deserve to die.’
‘It’s nothing you ever need worry about. Now, we’ll rest today, and tomorrow Mr Drewry is going to help us return to London.’
Rebecca led her out of the kitchen. ‘I made you a present while you were gone.’
‘Really?’ Eliza yawned. ‘Can it wait till tomorrow?’
‘But I’ve already put it in your room. Go on. Go and see!’
‘Alright, then.’
The smell of blood was embedded in Eliza’s clothes. She wanted to change, take a warm bath, but most of all she wanted sleep. She wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep until the afternoon. Today, she felt she’d earned it. Yet she owed this to Rebecca. She could no longer be selfish.
Eliza opened her bedroom door. Between the shock and exhaustion, she could not scream. She could only stare at the mutilated body, his skin and clothes soaked in damp blood, his cloudy eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. The half-finished scarf lay neatly across his chest.
She did not run to him. There was not even a chance he was alive.
‘Peter . . .’ Her hand felt bare.
‘Do you like it? I made it just for you.’ Rebecca smiled, and Eliza felt herself tumbling into the quarry.
‘You . . . you murdered . . .’
‘Yes.’ Rebecca cocked her head to the side. ‘And?’
‘I loved him.’ The fog reached up and took her in.
‘He came to take you away.’
Eliza backed down the hall. Rebecca followed.
‘You’re not allowed to leave, Eliza. Mrs Pollard wanted to kill you, and I very much disliked that idea. She could be very queer sometimes. But now you’ve taken care of her, we can live here together with the master. Carry on his good work. Doesn’t that sound splendid?’
Eliza noticed Rebecca was carrying her hands behind her back. She caught the silver glint of a knife.
‘But, Rebecca,’ she said, ‘why would you want to stay here when we can go home to London? Don’t you like London?’
‘Well, it’s alright. Perhaps we can visit every now and then. But why should we leave when this whole manor is ours now? Thornecroft can be our home. We’ll have our own bedrooms and bathrooms and no one to bother us!’
‘A house like this, it’s too much work for just the two of us.’
‘That’s why we hire girls to help. Mrs Pollard showed me how it works. She showed me everything. Doesn’t the collection remind you of Father? All their faces look so peaceful as they sleep. Father’s face was peaceful, too.’ Rebecca pulled the burnt address book from her pocket. ‘Now see, we hire them, they work, then we give them to the master. Our own place. Isn’t that what we’ve always wanted?’
Eliza neared the main hall of the east wing. Her eyes darted for an escape. Rebecca noticed.
‘You don’t want to stay, do you?’
‘I think we need to sleep on it, weigh our options.’
‘You want to lock me away and forget about me. Don’t you? You’re always happier when I’m not around. Admit it. I found the address for that hospital amongst your things when I cleaned your room. Mrs Pollard told me what kind of hospital it was. I didn’t want to believe her, but she was right, wasn’t she? Mrs Pollard is always right.’
Rebecca’s eyes went black and dead. Her face contorted into a twisted snarl, revealing the vicious beast she was inside.
‘Let’s calm down,’ Eliza said. ‘Be reasonable.’
‘I am perfectly calm. Dearie.’ Rebecca leapt at her with the knife. Eliza dodged it then ran.
‘Run, rabbit, run!’ Rebecca shouted.
She headed for the kitchen, but Rebecca pounced on her. Eliza felt the knife sink into her shoulder as she fell to the floor. She got to her knees and threw herself against the wall, knocking Rebecca off. She pulled out the knife, dropped it and kept running. Outside on the lawn, she shouted.
‘Ben! Ben!’
The sun peeked above the horizon as Rebecca’s grey figure continued advancing towards her. Kasey galloped in from the other direction. He went straight for Rebecca, grabbing her by the leg. Rebecca swung the knife at him, but he refused to let go. When Ben appeared round the corner, he saw Kasey attacking and ran to Rebecca’s aid.
‘Ben, no!’
He reached the pair.
‘No, Ben. Let him!’
He looked at Eliza in surprise, and Rebecca stabbed him in his hand. The knife stuck. Rebecca abandoned it and retreated, limping through the damaged wall into the garden. Eliza rushed to his side as he removed the knife.
‘I’ve lost her. She’s mad. She’s killed . . .’ Eliza used her handkerchief to bind his hand, and pushed the fog away. ‘The sedative you used for Kasey. Is there any left?’
‘Some. But it’s only meant for animals.’
‘It’s all we have.’
They hurried to the carriage house. The mare, unperturbed, watched as Ben extracted a vial from the first-aid kit and drew the liquid into the barrel.
‘She could be anywhere in that house,’ he said.
‘Then we’ll have to smoke her out.’ Eliza took the syringe. ‘Get Mr Kyffin, then burn it to the ground. All of it. She can’t call it home then.’
She threw a length of rope over her shoulder and headed out into the garden. The dawn light made it easier to see but cast strange shadows over the ground. Her shoulder bled sluggishly as she crept through the hedges, remembering the games of hide and seek they would play in Gran’s garden. Eliza always won.
Eliza peeked round the fountain. The latticework doors were open. She approached cautiously and saw drops of blood leading inside.
Thornecroft was silent. She inched her way through the house, following the bloodstains to the north hall. When she reached the staircase, she heard a familiar creaking. Mr Kyffin’s wheelchair. The sound quickened until he appeared at the top of the stairs. Eliza was powerless to stop the wheelchair as it was pushed over the edge.
Both Mr Kyffin and the chair tumbled. Eliza leapt to the side, but not far enough. The heavy metal contraption landed on her leg, pinning her down. Mr Kyffin continued to breathe, though Eliza saw how badly broken his body was. She manoeuvred herself so she could hold his hand.
‘I found her,’ she whispered. ‘I found Victoria. She’s at peace now. She said you don’t have to wait any more.’ Eliza kissed his hand. Mr Kyffin sighed, and his pain finally ended.
Rebecca looked down on them from the top of the staircase.
‘Did you hear that, Rebecca? The collection is gone. I destroyed it.’ Eliza pulled her ankle free. Already it started to swell. ‘Mrs Pollard, Mr Brownawell. I destroyed all of it. You have no home here. No purpose.’
‘Liar!’ Her voice boomed through Thornecroft’s empty halls.
‘Yes, but not this time.’
Rebecca ran at her. Eliza rolled out of the way, leaving Rebecca to punch the floor instead. She cried out as her hand met the hard surface then ran off down the hall, cradling it to her chest.
Eliza pulled herself up by the banister, wincing as soon as she placed weight on her ankle. Ben ran into the room, tried to get her to sit.
‘There’s no time,’ she said. ‘Light the fires. We’ll keep her contained. Go!’
He paused over Kyffin, crossing his chest, then hurried off. Eliza hobbled in Rebecca’s direction. She would never be able to run her down now. Ahead of her, she heard a door close, followed by whispers. Rebecca was counting again.
‘Eighteen!’ Eliza shouted. ‘Twelve! Forty-three!’
‘Stop it!’ Rebecca screamed from the opposite side of the door. ‘One two three four five—’
‘Twenty-two!’
Rebecca cried out. Eliza heard her run away from the door. She opened it just as Rebecca disappeared behind another.
‘One two three four—’
‘Six seven eight nine!’
‘Stop it! I hate you. I hate you!’ Again she ran.
Eliza limped into Abigale Hall just in time to see the door to the Ancestral Parlour slam shut. On the other side she heard weeping.
‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’
‘Rebecca?’
‘Stop it! Stop it. Stop stop stop! One, two, three . . .’
‘Open the door, dearie.’
‘Four five six!’
‘We don’t have to fight.’
‘Seven eight nine!’
‘Sisters aren’t supposed to fight, remember? It’s against the law.’
Rebecca stopped counting.
‘I know you like it here, Rebecca. Let’s talk about it. We can work something out. Like grown-ups. You’re all grown up now, aren’t you?’
There was a long pause.
‘You’re not angry at me for what I did to Peter?’
Eliza let the coldness numb her. ‘No, of course not. I could never be angry at you. Please, let’s talk.’ She waited.
The door handle turned. Rebecca’s face appeared. She looked calm again – the Rebecca who had been scared of Aunt Bess, not the one who stabbed Peter Lamb to death – but she remained in the doorway.
‘Will your shoulder be okay?’ Rebecca asked.
‘I’m sure it will heal fine.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, only I was angry.’
‘We all get angry now and again. Now, may I have a hug?’ Eliza outstretched her arms. ‘I love you,’ said Eliza.
Rebecca hesitated then came forward to embrace her. She held her a moment. She let the syringe slip down from where it was hidden in her sleeve and jabbed it into Rebecca’s neck, pushing the plunger in one fluid motion.
Rebecca shoved her away and yanked the syringe from her neck.
‘You . . . you fibbed.’
‘You’ll be alright now, Rebecca.’
Rebecca staggered into Abigale Hall, her face contorting once again into the monster. Her eyes glazed over as she struggled to remain on her feet, her breathing becoming laboured, and she fell to the floor beneath the dome. Eliza gathered her into her arms.
As dawn shone through the dome, the hall was filled with reflections of light, the unique pattern of the bevelled glass creating unusual round spheres that danced in mid-air.
‘Hush now, it’s alright. Shh. Look, Rebecca. Look, the sun is coming up. Look how it shines through the dome. And we’ll be the last people to ever see it. Isn’t it beautiful?’ She stroked her sister’s hair until she fell unconscious. Gently, Eliza used the rope to secure her arms and legs. She lifted Rebecca into her arms as the smell of smoke drifted in from the east wing. Ben had lit the first fire.
Epilogue
‘It’s called a transorbital lobotomy. We take one of our surgical instruments – an orbitoclast – and insert it under the upper eyelid, against the top the of the eye socket. Then we use the mallet to gently drive it into the brain here – the frontal lobes.’
Eliza watched Rebecca sketching on a piece of paper. It was difficult to even notice her. Her white pyjamas blended in with the white walls, the white floor. Everything was so very clean and white here. Not a speck of dirt or coal dust could be found.
‘Will it be painful?’ she asked, clutching her handbag. She loved the white, but the smell of disinfectant was beginning to bother her.
‘There will be some minor discomfort, but she’ll hardly remember a thing.’
‘How soon can you do it?’
‘You should take some time to think about––’
‘How soon?’
‘I believe the operating theatre is available on Friday.’
Eliza nodded. ‘Friday then. No later.’
‘Miss Haverford, I must say, while this procedure is at the forefront of mental health treatment, the outcome is always uncertain. This could cure Rebecca’s condition, but she may never be your sister again. We can’t guarantee any miracle cures or happy endings.’
‘Happy endings are for fairy tales, doctor. I only want this to end.’
Rebecca turned, saw Eliza and waved. The new sedative they were using worked remarkably well. Eliza smiled back as she took the clipboard and signed the papers.
‘Goodbye, dearie.’
Outside, the harsh sun blinded her. It was the hottest summer England had seen for years. It made Eliza uncomfortable. Made her dress itch against her dry skin. Made her feel dirty. She wanted rain, just some soft rain to cool her. A fog to block the harsh rays. She walked across the airless car park, the blood overheating in her veins as she opened and closed the latch on her handbag. Open and close. Open and close. Open and close. Slow and methodical. Once for each of the girls in Mr Brownawell’s collection. By the time she reached the car where Ben waited, the fog had descended within her, cooling the blood, and making her feel so much better.
Abigale Hall Page 32