The Bonehill Curse

by Jon Mayhew

  And then, in an explosion of light, it vanished. The scream turned into a deafening roar that filled Ness’s ears as she was hurled against the dormitory wall. Windows shattered, glass showering over her. Beds bounced across the room, spilling their sleeping occupants. Mattresses and pillows split, sending a blizzard of feathers into the air. Then, suddenly, the noise stopped. Ness slid down the wall and fell to the floor as darkness took her.

  A freezing coldness enveloped Ness. Her head throbbed and bulged as if it would explode. Smoke billowed and swirled around the room, mixing with the storm of duck down. Ness could just see the slumped outlines of Mollie and Sarah on the floor. But something else floated between her and the other girls. Somewhere in the near distance, the creature shifted and flickered in and out of her vision. It looked like a hideous puppet or a doll.

  ‘I am the djinn of one thousand contagions,’ he said, his voice reedy and mocking. ‘You have freed me. I am grateful. What would you wish for, child?’

  Ness felt the weight of her own body as she tried to shift herself up off the floor. ‘What would I wish for?’ she croaked. Her tongue filled her mouth, raw and painful.

  ‘I will grant you one wish.’ The djinn gave a needle-toothed grin, cocking his tiny head to one side.

  This is a dream, Ness thought. A bad dream. Sweat slicked her palm despite the cold she felt. Her whole body shivered. What would I wish for?

  ‘I wish,’ Ness gasped, the words wheezing through her constricted throat, ‘I wish my parents loved me.’

  ‘Are you sure they don’t already, Necessity?’ The djinn’s face swam closer and Ness could see the crusted scabs around the stitches that closed his eyes; the waxy, leprous skin that peeled from his forehead. ‘Is that what you really want? You could have wealth, power, Miss Pinchett’s head on a stick . . .’

  Bile rose in Ness’s throat. She felt so weary. ‘My parents don’t love me,’ she whispered. ‘They left me here to rot. I wish they loved me and then I could go home.’

  ‘A waste of a wish, Necessity Bonehill,’ the djinn said, leering at her. ‘If that is what you want, so be it. But be warned – people love for different reasons.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ness said, shaking her head.

  ‘You’ll see,’ the djinn said, giving an unpleasant laugh. ‘In seven days’ time your wish will be granted, but it will cost you everything . . .’

  The smoke spiralled and boiled around the djinn as he grew smaller and more distant. His cackling faded into the night and Ness was left leaning against the cracked plaster of her dormitory wall.

  A chill breeze blew in through the empty window frames, making the ragged curtains billow. Ness shook herself. The pain, the roughness of her throat, her throbbing head all subsided as if she had never felt them.

  ‘It must have been a dream,’ she whispered to herself.

  But the wrecked room was real enough. Not a stick of furniture lay intact nor in its proper place. Beds were upended, chests of drawers were on their sides, spilling contents across the scorched floor. Ness stifled a sob of horror.

  There, tangled in their bedding, lay Hannah, Mollie and Sarah. Sweat matted their hair, plastering it to their heads as they shivered feverishly. They stared into the shadows, delirious, panting for breath through blue lips.

  Wincing, Ness crept over to Mollie, and gently shook her shoulder. It was no good. She stared blankly, with no hint of recognition. Ness knelt among her stricken schoolmates and wept, her whole body shuddering. This was her fault. There must have been something in the bottle. And she had let it out.

  Miss Pinchett appeared at the splintered door, her face pale, her mouth wide in disbelief.

  ‘Oh my Lord,’ she whispered, hurrying forward and scooping up Hannah’s frail form. ‘What happened? Hannah? Can you hear me?’ She hugged the little girl to her. Hannah’s head lolled to one side, her breath rattling from cracked lips.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Ness’s voice quivered as she spoke. ‘I opened the bottle and . . .’

  But Miss Pinchett wasn’t listening. She glared at Ness. ‘You did this, Necessity Bonehill,’ she hissed through gritted teeth. ‘You’ve poisoned these poor children and I’ll see you hang for it!’

  Ingratitude is the daughter of pride.

  Traditional proverb

  Chapter Six

  Jacob Carr

  Miss Pinchett’s face twisted with hatred as she spat her accusations at her.

  ‘You horrible malicious girl,’ she snarled. ‘You’ve been trouble ever since you came to this place.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t my fault. I –’ Ness began, stepping back and nearly tripping over a splintered chair leg.

  ‘You made these girls’ lives a misery,’ Miss Pinchett continued, her voice low. ‘You’ve done as you pleased, gone where you liked and now you’ve sunk to this. But mark my words, you will pay dear!’

  ‘Please, Miss Pinchett,’ Ness sobbed, desperate not to look at the poor girls groaning and shivering on the floor. ‘I meant no harm.’

  ‘Toop!’ Miss Pinchett yelled, laying Hannah down and hurrying to the door. ‘Winifred! Send for the constables! Fetch the doctor!’

  Ness’s heart pounded in her chest. For the first time in her life she felt truly frightened – even the encounter with the intruder had been edged with excitement. If Miss Pinchett was sending for the constables they’d take her away and hang her! She glanced around the shattered room. I can’t stay here. Who was it Major Morris said to find? Jacob Carr at the quay?

  Snatching the open bottle and the stopper from the floor, Ness barged past Miss Pinchett and down the stairs. The house was in turmoil. Girls screamed. Somewhere Toop was shouting something to the chambermaids. In a blur of panic, Ness found herself at the front door.

  The cold night air prickled the back of Ness’s neck as the rough driveway stung her bare feet. A few crows disturbed by the chaos flapped and complained above her. Once more Ness ran, only this time she was leaving the Academy for good.

  The cries behind her grew more distant but her own breathing sounded loud and urgent as she pounded down the lane towards the village and the quay. She was sure she could hear footsteps behind her. Had the creature come back to get her? Or was it the intruder with his cruel knife? Every shadow along the muddy lane seemed to move and swirl. Ness stumbled and tripped, crying out as branches reached for her from the hedgerows, snagging her nightdress and hair. She glanced back at Rookery Heights to see that lamps had been lit. Toop or one of the maids would be hurrying behind her to get help from the village. Ness ran on. The lane ran into a path that snaked down to the quay. Ness could see the bulk of a barge, black against the moonlit water.

  A figure loomed out of the darkness, spreading its arms and making Ness scream. She lashed out but found herself enveloped in a tight bear hug.

  ‘Whoa, steady, miss! You’ll lay someone low with those fists of yours,’ the figure said, his voice soft. ‘Now what’s all the hurry and why’s a young lady like you skipping around in the dark in nothin’ more than a nightie?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Ness panted. Nausea pressed at her throat again.

  She looked up at a square block of a man. His flat nose and stocky build made him look like a fierce giant but gentle blue eyes smiled out beneath his stern brow.

  ‘Jacob Carr’s me name,’ said the bargeman, relaxing his grip and extending a palm as Ness dropped back into a standing position. ‘Skipper of the Galopede, fastest barge on the Thames.’ He smiled.

  Ness stifled a sob. ‘Jacob Carr?’ she said, her voice weak. Her head throbbed and her muscles ached from the sprint down the lane. ‘Thank goodness! My name is Necessity Bonehill. I need to go to my parents . . . in London . . . Major Morris said you’d take me.’

  ‘Charlie Morris?’ Carr said, his face growing solemn. ‘Is there trouble then?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ness gasped. The world swam before her. She swayed and grabbed Carr’s shoulder.

  ‘You need to sit down,’ the ba
rgeman said.

  Ness allowed herself to be guided along the rough, overgrown quayside. To her right the marshes lay swathed in darkness and she could only see the shadowy bulk of the barge, sails furled, rigging rattling gently in the night breeze. Carr led her across the gangplank, on to the deck and down into the cabin. He sat her down on the rough pallet bed and squatted in front of her.

  ‘You’re lucky you came when you did,’ he said. His face was weather-beaten, careworn, and flecks of silver streaked his dark, curly hair, but Ness couldn’t have put an age on him. ‘I was about to set sail. If Morris told you to come ’ere, then that’s good enough for me. You rest – you seem exhausted. We’ll ’ave you back in London in no time.’

  Ness laid her head on the pillow while Jacob disappeared up top. She could hear him calling orders to someone, feet thumping on the deck above. The barge began to creak and Ness knew they were moving away from Rookery Heights and its horrors. A tear squeezed itself out of the corner of her eye. She gritted her teeth and tried not to think of the other girls, shivering and fever-ridden. It was too horrible. Her throat tightened as the realisation dawned on her once more. It’s all my fault – I opened that bottle . . .

  ‘Don’t cry,’ Ness told herself, hugging the pillow. ‘Don’t you dare cry.’

  Ness awoke to the pitch and roll of the barge. Daylight filtered in through the hatch above her. The smell of tar and the sea filled her nostrils – she could almost taste them. She glanced around the tiny, cluttered cabin. Charts spread across the table lay pinned down by pewter mugs, lanterns and books. Boxes filled one corner, stacked and leaning perilously over the table. It was a wonder everything didn’t come crashing down. There among the clutter sat the bottle. Unstoppered. Accusing her.

  Her body ached and a deep sadness seemed to weigh her down. On a stool by the bed lay a pile of clothes. She moved slowly, dragging the clothes on. The thick woollen skirts and jumper were a little musty and moth-eaten but they felt warm. A pair of small boots with a hole in the soles stood next to the stool. With one of Carr’s thick jackets pulled over her, she clambered up the ladder to the deck.

  It was a bright day but the breeze chilled her. The river stretched off into the horizon as the barge skipped across the water, rust-red sails snapping in the wind. Ness listened to the creak of wood and rope and the hiss of the river as the vessel cut through the water. Jacob Carr stood at the helm and a small, angry-looking man scurried about securing ropes and pulling on the tarpaulin that covered the cargo on deck.

  ‘Mornin’, Miss Bonehill.’ Carr smiled. ‘I hope you’re feelin’ better.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mr Carr, considering all that happened last night,’ Ness said, shivering.

  ‘You found the clothes I left for you?’ Jacob said. ‘The last of my daughter Susan’s gear. A bit old now but they’ll do the job.’

  ‘They’re very . . . warm,’ she said with a weak smile.

  Something in his open manner made Ness want to share what had happened. She found herself telling Jacob Carr everything, even about the bottle and the djinn in her strange dream. It all came out in a torrent, every detail. Carr listened, his face impassive.

  Finally Ness gave a sigh. ‘It all sounds so fantastical. You probably think I’m mad.’

  Carr shook his head. ‘I’ve plied these ’ere waters for long enough to know there’s more to the world than what’s in front of you. I only hope Morris is faring well. He knows how to look after himself though. Manny and I ’ave seen some rare old sights in the past, eh, Manny?’

  Ness turned with a start. The angry-looking man had been standing closer to her than she’d realised.

  He gave a snort. ‘Cursed, she is,’ he snapped, his steely blue eyes glaring at her from under bushy eyebrows. ‘Watch her.’ He stalked off, tugging at a few ropes as he passed them.

  Ness stared after him. ‘Cursed?’ she murmured. ‘What did he mean by that?’

  ‘Don’t mind Manny.’ Carr grinned. ‘He don’t mean no harm. Just a touch melodramatic, that’s all. We once rescued a young girl, just like you, from the water and Manny was all for throwin’ her back. Reckoned she was a mermaid.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Besides, you’re wearing a pair of his old boots so he doesn’t think you’re all bad. We’ll have you back safe with your parents in no time.’

  Ness nodded. When they heard what had happened perhaps her parents would be so relieved she was unharmed that everything would be all right between them again. And what if the djinn had granted her wish? They would welcome her with open arms, surely!

  The morning wore on and Ness watched the distant riverbanks float by. She tried not to wonder what was happening at Rookery Heights or where Morris was, so she concentrated instead on the hissing and splashing around the bow of the barge. At one point Ness glanced behind her and felt a chill. In the distance, to their starboard side, a triangular sail fluttered.

  ‘Mr Carr,’ she called up the barge, ‘what kind of boat is that?’

  Jacob squinted at the sail in the distance. ‘Can’t rightly say,’ he called back. ‘Not like anything we usually see on the river. What d’you reckon, Manny?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Manny scowled, shading his eyes with his hands. ‘Small. Fast. Peculiar.’

  The sail grew larger but the craft kept a distance so Ness could only just make out the dark figures of its occupants.

  ‘Well, they look to be passin’ us and leavin’ us alone,’ Carr said gruffly.

  Ness watched the sail gradually disappear up the river ahead of them.

  The river grew busier as it narrowed. Other barges skipped through the waves, their captains waving to Carr. Larger vessels came into view and the air took on a smoky, tarry taste.

  ‘We’re nearly in London,’ Carr announced.

  Ness stared at the pall of black smog in the distance. She hadn’t been home for at least five years. Her heart fluttered. What will Mama and Father say? How will I explain what’s happened? They must know something about it all – about Carlos and the bottle. She bit her lip.

  More boats and barges, ships and skiffs cluttered the river. Solid brick-built quays began to replace the earthen reed beds that had lined the river’s edge. Manny scurried about, securing stays on the cargo, calling waspishly to other craft that came too close. Soon they were tying up at a dock that was overshadowed by tall warehouses.

  Ness sniffed at the smoky air. London, she thought.

  Part the Second

  London

  Death Drives a fast carriage.

  Traditional proverb

  Chapter Seven

  A Shocking Discovery

  ‘We’ll be here for a few more hours before we head back to the coast in case you need us, miss,’ Jacob said, as they stood on the dockside. Gangs of burly men swarmed over the Galopede, offloading sacks and crates.

  Ness smiled. ‘Thank you, Mr Carr, but once I’m home I’ll be fine.’ He’d been too kind already, even sharing a meagre breakfast of ham and eggs. Jacob hadn’t seemed to mind, but Manny’s glare had drifted between his old boots and the tiny flake of meat on his platter.

  ‘Well, take care. Are you sure you won’t take the price of a cab to get you home?’ Carr said, a frown creasing his tanned face.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Carr, but my parents are more than able to pay for it. I wouldn’t dream of taking any more from you,’ Ness said, laying a hand on Carr’s arm. ‘And thank you again.’

  ‘Keep that bottle safe,’ Carr said. He’d given her a sack to wrap it in to protect it from prying eyes.

  ‘Best be off then.’ Manny scowled at her over Jacob’s shoulder.

  Jacob laughed and patted Ness’s hand before turning to bellow at one of the dockers who had dropped a crate.

  Ness watched the men scurrying about for a moment; bewhiskered sailors elbowed through a gang of Chinese workers heaving on black-tarred rope as they winched a bale over the side of a barge. Rigging and masts formed a dense jungle that pressed against the blackened brick of the do
ckside warehouses. Shouts and laughter grated on her ears. It had been five or more years since she had been in London and the memory of the silent, desolate marshes seemed unreal in this churning mass of humanity. At least the air at the Academy didn’t choke me, Ness thought as she put the sack on her back and squeezed past a street seller hawking caged birds.

  Taverns and nautical outfitters lined the streets leading up from the dock. Old seamen nursed their flagons and chewed on pipes, eyeing passers-by suspiciously, while toothless women in gaudy silken gowns with ribbons drooping in their hair called out to passing sailors.

  Searching around for a hansom cab, Ness caught a glimpse of a boy about her age. He was dressed in a rather military style tunic and a turban covered most of his black hair. For a second, their gazes met. Ness instantly recognised his fierce glare. She lunged forward, ready to challenge him, but the boy threw himself into the crowd and vanished from sight.

  Ness hurried on as the streets widened and she marched away from the river. ‘Not a cab to be found,’ she tutted to herself, glancing over her shoulder. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t dare attack with so many people around. The odd carriage or coach did clatter past but each was occupied and the drivers ignored her calls.

  The clothes of passers-by became cleaner, more genteel. Ness nodded and smiled to a group of ladies who stared straight through her in her scruffy river-girl’s clothes.

  At last a hansom cab stood by the roadside. Its horse drooped and slumped in the middle. The driver, wrapped in a huge weather-stained coat, slouched in the sprung seat at the back of the carriage, picking his bulbous red nose. Ness gave a cough and the man gazed down from his seat but continued burrowing with his finger.