Storm Child

by Sharon Sant

  They walked and walked, but somehow, the woods seemed to be as thick as ever. Charlotte was beginning to tire. She was also starting to wonder if they were desperately lost. She stopped, searching the darkness to see if she could get some clue to the way out, but everything looked the same, long shadows closing in on them all around. Charlotte slid down a tree trunk to sit against it, still holding Georgina close. Georgina seemed to understand that they were in trouble, she held onto Charlotte, shivering and whimpering quietly.

  ‘There must be people searching by now. Someone will find us soon,’ Charlotte said, more to herself than Georgina. But she wasn’t sure if anyone would.

  Then a sound reached her ears, a low growl close by, followed by a terrifying, howl that cracked the night air. Charlotte’s breath was stopped in her throat. Leaping to her feet, she held Georgina close, whose quiet weeping was immediately silenced. Charlotte could feel the fluttering of her tiny heart even through all their clothes and she knew how scared the child was; her own beat just as fast.

  There was no way to tell where the sound was coming from, but it was close. Charlotte was rooted, unable to move. She heard rustling and snuffling, another growl, getting louder and closer all the time, but she still couldn’t tell the direction from which it came. They were trapped. To move might be to run into whatever was out there. Charlotte had a good idea just what was out there and the thought drained the blood from her face. If only she had listened to Mary Matthews, if only she hadn’t taken her eyes from Georgina, if only she hadn’t lost her temper with the girl… but it was all too late to undo now. She wondered about climbing a tree and waiting until it had gone. Could wolves climb? She had no idea. She decided to try anyway, but Georgina’s weight was too much and she couldn’t get them both up there. So they waited and waited, the sounds growing closer, until at last, from out of the darkness, bright green eyes started slowly towards them. The shadow of a huge, shaggy head followed and, moments later, the lean shape of the wolf could be seen in all its terrifying glory.

  Panic squeezed Charlotte’s throat, but she still managed to scream into the night. ‘Help, someone help us!’ She grabbed a branch from the forest floor, ready to hit back when the attack came.

  The wolf stopped and settled back on its haunches, muscles tensed, almost upon them. Charlotte closed her eyes and clung to Georgina. The hand that held the branch shook madly and she dropped it, tears running down her face as she scrambled to find it again.

  With a ripping snarl, the wolf leapt.

  At the same time, there was another sound, a deafening crack which echoed through the trees. The wolf fell to the ground and was still. Charlotte stared at it. Was it dead? She half expected it to leap up again. Then she heard men’s voices and saw tiny points of lamplight coming towards them through the trees.

  ‘Miss Harding?’ Are you alright?’ A face appeared. It was Mr Matthews with a gun slung over his shoulder. Other men followed behind him. His gaze fell upon the dead wolf. ‘Didn’t Mary warn you about this?’ he asked.

  Charlotte nodded weakly but she couldn’t speak. She was shaking all over and just managed to hold Georgina out for him to take from her arms before she fainted.

  Twelve

  They left through the kitchen door, closing it quietly behind them. The chill of the night air was just beginning to bite and Annie pulled her shawl more tightly around her.

  ‘What will happen if he wakes up before we’re back?’ Annie whispered, casting a glance back at the orange lit window of the study as they walked through the gates.

  ‘He won’t wake tonight,’ Polly said. ‘I done it enough times to know how much to give him.’

  ‘Don’t he realise his drink’s been tampered with?’ Annie asked, a note of incredulity creeping into her tone.

  ‘He wakes with a heavy head alright. Thinks he’s overdone the drink, don’t he?’

  ‘Where did you get the sleeping draught?’

  Polly didn’t answer immediately. ‘Best you don’t ask,’ she said finally.

  ‘What if we don’t find Isaac? What if he ain’t in custody like we thought?’

  ‘I know a few other spots we could go lookin’. I don’t fancy ‘em, though, so we’ll try there first.’

  ‘They’re worse than the jail? What spots?’

  ‘Isaac and me lived on the streets before Ernesto took us in and we seen a lot of bad places, mixed with a lot of bad people. You and Georgina, you just got your mama and then the workhouse. Trust, me, there’s a whole world out there you don’t know about and if you know what’s good for you, you don’t want to know about.’

  Annie fell silent as they hit the road into Uxmouth. Polly was quiet too, scanning the surrounding landscape with a keen eye as darkness crept across it. The occasional lantern posted at the side of the road threw a weak pool of light over them as they passed under it, but not nearly enough to make them feel safe.

  Miles had passed and Annie finally broke the quiet. ‘What are we goin’ to do when we get there?’

  ‘I’m thinkin’ about that,’ Polly replied.

  ‘You don’t know?’

  Polly halted. ‘Why is it up to me to think of everything?’

  Annie shrugged and trotted to catch up as Polly began to walk again, long, determined strides. ‘It’s just that you always seem to know what to do, I suppose,’ she said.

  ‘Well, sweet, I don’t this time.’

  ‘Do you know where the jail is?’

  ‘I know where that is alright,’ Polly replied darkly.

  It was then that they both heard a girl’s voice calling out across the heath. Polly’s head shot up and they stopped dead, listening intently.

  ‘It’s coming from that way,’ Annie said, tilting her head in the direction of a distant spread of trees.

  ‘We ain’t got time to make it our business,’ Polly answered.

  The voice came to them again, carried as a whispering echo across the flats of brackens and ferns.

  ‘That sounds like Georgie’s name!’ Annie said.

  ‘It does, but your sister ain’t the only nipper named Georgina. Besides, how’s anyone but you goin’ to know what her name is?’

  ‘She sounds upset. Like she’s lost someone.’

  ‘Maybe she has, but so have we and if we don’t get a crack on he’s goin’ to stay lost.’

  The girl called again and then a howl let loose, somewhere from the same direction. Annie looked at Polly, her face unreadable in the shadows. Before Polly could stop her, she was tearing across the heath.

  ‘Ruddy ‘ell!’ Polly sighed and took off after her.

  Stumbling over roots and into divots in the near blackness, Polly called out for Annie, but already she could see no sign of her.

  ‘Fourteen an’ she won’t see fifteen at this rate,’ Polly muttered as she halted to survey the landscape. Her eye was drawn to a tiny point of light, bobbing on the horizon. It couldn’t be Annie, who had no lantern, but if Annie had seen it too, that’s where she’d be heading. Polly decided to take a chance and struck out towards it.

  Further on she caught sight of a shadow standing proud of the heath, one that could only be Annie. She quickened her stride to catch up. Seconds later, she saw the shadow disappear again. She ran to the spot, calling softly. ‘Annie, you dimwit! Where are you?’ There was no reply. ‘Annie?’ she called again, louder this time.

  The sound of a voice reached her, but it was not Annie.

  ‘This way, lads…’

  It was the voice of a man. Polly turned about to see a new collection of bobbing lights headed their way.

  ‘We’ll catch him tonight, eh, Mr Matthews?’

  ‘We’ll give good chase, that’s for sure,’ the first voice replied grimly.

  Polly felt a hand on her arm and spun around to find Annie standing next to her.

  ‘What d’you go and do that for?’ Polly snarled.

  ‘I fell over and when I got up I couldn’t see where she went,’ Annie breathed.<
br />
  ‘Hold on,’ Polly answered in a low voice, ‘looks like these coves are out looking an’ all.’

  ‘For the girl?’

  ‘For the wolf by the sounds of it.’

  ‘What about Georgie?’

  ‘You don’t even know if that’s her out there,’ Polly said, a note of vexation creeping into her tone. ‘If we don’t go an’ get Isaac out soon we’ll run out of time and Ernie will wake up.’

  ‘But –’

  As Annie began her reply a crack echoed across the heath, then a cheer went up from the direction of the trees.

  ‘Get down,’ Polly hissed, pulling at Annie’s arm as she flattened herself to the ground.

  ‘Does it matter if they see us?’ Annie asked as she followed instructions and flattened herself against the heath.

  ‘We don’t know who they are… for all we know catching wolves might not be the only thing on their minds…’ Polly offered no more explanation. They watched and waited and a few minutes later the bobbing lights returned. The dark shapes of men went with them, two of them seemed to be carrying heavy bundles, one of which sounded like a toddler, crying pitifully.

  ‘Mrs Harding will be worried out of her mind for these girls. I don’t know what Miss was thinking of, out on the heath at night with a little one and that wolf on the loose. I told Mary to warn the village children.’

  ‘That’s one we’ve ridded the country of, Mr Matthews.’

  ‘Aye, there is that. We’ll go back for the carcass in the mornin’ see what we can do with it. Could do with a new rug,’ Matthews laughed.

  The voices gradually quietened as they moved away. Polly turned to Annie, whose breathing was fast. ‘What you all worked up about? They’re on their way now.’

  ‘It’s just… I was scared, that’s all.’

  ‘No need to be scared with me; I’ll always see you right, you know that.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You were scared because you think that was Georgie?’

  Annie hesitated. ‘No, not now that I think about it. I was scared, that’s all, because I thought it might be a wolf comin’ to eat us. You’re right, there are loads of nippers with that name; it couldn’t have been her.’

  But Annie’s hesitation was all Polly needed to confirm her suspicions.

  Thirteen

  Even though Charlotte still had her eyes closed, she realised she was home. Wrapped in a soft blanket, the room smelt of warm bread and hot chocolate, and she could hear the cracking of the low burning kitchen fire. She moved slightly to get more comfortable and a soft hand touched her hair.

  ‘Charlotte?’

  She opened her eyes. Her bed had been moved into the kitchen and she was lying near the fire. Mr Matthews was at her mother’s side.

  ‘You gave us quite a fright, young Charlotte. What on earth were you doing out there at night with a wolf on the loose?’ His words were stern, but his beaming face betrayed that there was no real anger there.

  Charlotte suddenly sat up. ‘Georgina…’

  Her mother put a gentle hand on her arm. ‘She’s sleeping, look.’

  Charlotte looked to where her mother was pointing, and smiled as she saw Georgina tucked up at the foot end of her bed. She lay back down and closed her eyes. ‘I’m so very tired…’

  ‘You’re bound to be.’ Charlotte’s mother said.

  ‘Are you angry with me?’ Charlotte asked, her eyes still closed and dreading the answer.

  ‘No. But I would like an explanation,’ she said. ‘Later,’ she added. ‘It will wait until you’ve had a nap. I’m just glad to have you both back safe.’

  Charlotte’s eyes opened again. ‘I’m sorry. It was all my fault….I didn’t watch Georgina properly and she wandered off. I was angry, you see, and I left the door open…’

  Charlotte’s mother put a finger to her lips. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m proud of you for going to find her, and being so brave out there.’

  ‘Really?’ Charlotte frowned. She couldn’t quite believe that she was getting away with no punishment.

  ‘Really.’ But then a mischievous smile crept across her mother’s face. ‘Don’t think, young lady, that being proud will stop me from giving you the mountain of chores I have listed to make up for being so careless.’

  Charlotte closed her eyes again. No amount of chores could ever take away the happiness she felt right now being safe at home again with Georgina and her mother.

  Fourteen

  Annie slipped the knots on her laces and took off her boots. She had been silent for the rest of the journey into Uxmouth, her mind teeming with what she had witnessed on the heath earlier that evening. She was certain that it was her Georgina who had been in danger and she was gripped with fear for what she had done to her sister. What if, by sending Georgina away, she had only put her in greater danger? And now she couldn’t be there to protect her and had no idea from day to day whether she was alive or dead. It was all Annie could do to stop herself running back to the cottage and reclaiming her. But the occasional odd glance she caught from Polly reminded her that danger lurked in the home of Ernesto Black too. So far Polly had not mentioned the incident again and had asked no more questions regarding her sister’s whereabouts and Annie felt it best not to remind her. Annie would have to live with the decision she had made and hope it was the right one.

  ‘Hurry up,’ Polly whispered as she bent down and Annie clambered onto her shoulders. Slowly and wobbly, Annie gripping the wall as best she could, Polly stood. Annie peered through the tiny barred window. Sitting with his back to her in the dimly lit room, was the unmistakable figure of Isaac.

  ‘He’s in this one,’ she breathed. Polly lowered herself and Annie leapt down. ‘What now?’ she asked as she tied her boots back up.

  ‘Hush, I’m thinking.’

  Polly began to prowl, back and forth beneath the window as Annie watched her. They had arrived in Uxmouth much later than they had intended, but it had turned to their advantage in the end as the streets were now near deserted – apart from crowds around the taverns and the less salubrious alleyways, all of them too drunk or too busy to care what a pair of scruffy teenage girls were doing wandering around after dark, they had made their way to the police building largely unnoticed.

  ‘We need a diversion,’ Polly said. She walked around towards the side of the building, Annie following. There, she began to tear down the posters showing the faces of notorious criminals and public notices. Annie’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘I’m goin’ to set ‘em alight,’ Polly grinned.

  ‘It won’t burn for long,’ Annie observed.

  Polly hesitated. ‘You’re right.’ She cast around and her gaze rested on a pile of straw swept into a corner. ‘These’ll do as a spill and we’ll set that lot off,’ she whispered. ‘Once we got it goin’, you run into the building and shout fire – make a real big dramatic fuss. I’ll slip in while they’re busy and get the keys.’

  ‘They’ll have the keys on ‘em, won’t they?’

  ‘Bound to be a spare set somewhere. Her Majesty’s constabulary are such a bunch of dolts that they lose them all the time and need spares.’

  ‘You sound like you know this from bein’ in there yourself,’ Annie replied.

  ‘Sweet, I keep tellin’ yer not to ask. You don’t want to know where I been in the past. Keep ‘em busy as long as you can. Swoon or somethin’ if you see ‘em coming back inside.’

  Annie nodded and watched as Polly went round to the front of the building to the gas lamps. Reaching up, she groaned as her hand stopped inches away from the top of the glass. ‘I can’t get it,’ she breathed as she returned to Annie. ‘You’ll have to help me.’

  Annie followed her around and clasped her hands together for Polly to stand on. Polly held the brick column as she reached for the lamp, this time her paper finding the flame within and catching in seconds. She leapt from Annie’s hands and flung the burning paper into the pile of straw. It didn’t take long for t
he flames to start licking the base of the walls, setting their faces aglow.

  ‘Now, get in there an’ scream!’ Polly ordered. She ducked behind the far wall of the building and watched as Annie raced inside. A few seconds later she heard the cry go up and three men rushed out, followed by Annie, who glanced briefly in Polly’s direction before getting involved in the fray, making herself as big a nuisance as she could. Polly shot out from her hiding place and slipped into the building.

  Inside, a small office space housing a scuffed wooden desk and a wooden cabinet, along which was ranged various bottles of liquor, led to a narrow corridor. Polly hurried down there to find the cell that held Isaac. He shot up from his bed as he saw her approach, a grin spreading across his face.

  ‘Poll!’

  ‘Where do they keep the spare keys?’

  Isaac looked puzzled for a moment. ‘I dunno.’

  ‘Fat lot of good you are. You of all people should know that’s the first thing you find out.’ She made her way back to the office and began pulling at drawers, desperately rifling through each one. ‘Come on, you got to be in here somewhere,’ she muttered savagely.

  The sounds of Annie, now squealing hysterically, reached her ears and the search became reckless, flinging objects out of her way and scattering them over the floor as she went. Finally, her hands fell on something cold and metallic and she hauled out a bunch of rusty keys. With a smile, she lifted them to her face to kiss them, pirouetted towards the corridor, and then stopped dead in her tracks.

  The three guards were standing in the doorway of the building with Annie held fast.

  Fifteen

  Polly groaned. ‘Nice work, Annie.’

  One of the guards stepped forwards. ‘Right then, Missy. You want to tell us what you’re up to?’