Frost Hollow Hall (18 page)

‘She’s a strange one, all right,’ said Will. ‘I bet she’s got some secrets up her sleeve.’

‘She in’t all bad,’ I said, but in truth I didn’t know what to believe. ‘Though this séance seems to have rattled her, good and proper. She’s been right against it from the start.’

Will grinned. ‘What I’d give to be listening at the keyhole tonight!’

But I didn’t see much to smile about. The very thought of the séance made my stomach turn. What’s more, I’d be flayed alive if I didn’t get back inside.

‘I’d better go,’ I said.

Before we could say any more, Gracie appeared in the doorway.

‘What you hiding out here for?’ she cried to me. ‘We need you back inside. Dorcas is having kittens!’

Then she saw Will.

‘Oh!’ she flushed. ‘Beg pardon.’

I realised how it must’ve looked – Will and me stood so close that our heads were almost touching. Trust Gracie to get the wrong end of the stick.

I hurried out into the yard to collect my bucket. As I turned to say goodbye to Will, I saw he was talking to Gracie. He’d got back on his horse and she was smiling up at him, twisting a strand of hair around her finger like a simpleton. And I knew the look on Will’s face, all right – all dancing eyes and flashing grin. He often looked at me like that.

‘Gracie!’ I snapped. ‘You coming?’

‘Sorry!’

She scurried over. I slammed the door behind us.

‘He’s smashing, that Will Potter is,’ sighed Gracie, as we made for the kitchens. ‘He in’t your sweetheart, is he?’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘No he flippin’ well is not!’

‘All right, just askin’,’ she said. ‘No need to bite my head off.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, Gracie. I’m just a bit on edge today.’

What I didn’t say was that seeing her with Will had made me feel a whole lot worse.

28

The Séance

The first tray of sandwiches went up at seven. Dorcas came back down looking tense and pale.

‘The medium’s arrived.’

‘What’s she like?’ said Gracie, who was sat by the stove and under strict orders to stay there.

Dorcas pulled a face. ‘Vulgar. Calls herself
Madame Martineau
to sound foreign, when everyone knows she’s just Mrs Martin from the next village.’ She turned to me. ‘Take your tray up quick, they’re about to start.’

I went upstairs with cake and little silver dishes of ice cream. My hands shook so hard the spoons rattled. It was a wonder I didn’t spill the lot.

Jiggling the tray onto my hip, I knocked at Kit’s door.

‘Enter.’ Her Ladyship sounded nervous, high-pitched.

I went in. The room was hot and dark, and as I felt my way to the nearest side table, I heard the chinking of teacups, and a voice I didn’t know.

‘Are we all ready?’ it said.

‘Yes,’ said her Ladyship. ‘Please leave us, Matilda.’

I could just make out three figures sat together in a circle. Lady Barrington was on the edge of her chair. She wore the brooch on the front of her dress; I doubted that she ever took it off. Next to her had to be the medium, Madame Martineau, dressed in a too-tight bodice and still wearing her hat. In her lap was a little notepad and pencil. The third person was Mrs Jessop. My guts clenched at the sight of her. She didn’t look at me. She sat stern and straight with her eyes fixed on the wall.

I went to go. Behind me came a rustling of skirts and the thud of a chair tipping over like someone had stood up too fast. I turned round to see Mrs Jessop on her feet.

‘I cannot be a part of this,’ she said, wringing her hands. ‘Please forgive me, but I cannot stay.’

Lady Barrington hissed, ‘Sit down!’

‘I cannot.’

‘It is an order. Sit down!’

Mrs Jessop breathed in sharply. ‘Then it’s an order I cannot follow.’

Any second they’d notice me still here. My feet seemed rooted to the spot.

‘I need you here, Mrs Jessop,’ said Lady Barrington. ‘Those silly girls below stairs just wouldn’t do. I need someone who will hold her nerve. And you must know what this means to me, you of all people!’

Mrs Jessop stood ramrod straight, though her chin quivered slightly. ‘Indeed I do, your Ladyship, and for that reason I cannot stay. Good evening to you.’

She bobbed her head and swept past me for the door.

‘Let her go,’ said Madame Martineau, patting Lady Barrington’s arm. ‘If she’s not willing, it’ll upset the circle. The spirits only come to those who believe.’

‘But there’s only two of us now. You said we needed at least three.’

Madame Martineau motioned to me. ‘Come forward, there’s a good girl. You can be our third.’

I didn’t think I’d heard right.

‘Well come on, then! Quickly!’

She meant me.
Me!

I felt sick and uneasy. But what could I do? I put down my tray and stumbled forwards. Lady Barrington rolled her eyes. Here I was, a silly girl from the kitchens, but it seemed she had no choice. I picked up the fallen chair and placed it back in the circle. My knees were shaking now; I was glad to sit down.

‘You aren’t a giddy girl, are you?’ said Madame Martineau to me.

‘No ma’am.’

‘And do you believe in the spirit world?’

I swallowed. ‘I do, ma’am. And I sense spirits here in this house.’

‘Then you are a welcome addition to our little circle,’ said Madame Martineau, smiling. ‘Now, take the hand to your left.’

Lady Barrington snatched up my hand and gripped it tight. I squirmed, thinking how rough it must feel to her.

‘And now the hand to your right.’

Madame Martineau’s palm was sticky and warm. As I took hold, she jerked in her seat. ‘You’re a live wire, aren’t you?’ she cried. ‘The spirits are drawn to you, I can tell.’

Lady Barrington looked at me then, like she’d seen me for the very first time. I was glad when Madame Martineau instructed us to shut our eyes.

She cleared her throat, took a long breath through her nose. ‘Our purpose tonight is to contact Kit, most beloved son of Lady Barrington,’ she said, her voice silky like she was soothing a wayward horse. ‘This must be our one and only thought. If our minds wander, it will divide the circle and the spirits won’t feel wanted. What’s more, we must be patient. No grasping or fawning or forcing the spirits to come.’

Lady Barrington’s hand twitched in mine. The room fell silent. I sat still, head bowed, listening to the blood pounding in my ears.

Would Kit really come to us?

Last night the spirit had left me all alone in this sad, sad room. I still couldn’t shake off the emptiness I’d felt here; I only hoped the ghost was listening now.

No one spoke. The fire crackled in the grate. Nothing was happening. After a while, my mind began to wander. I had an itch on my leg and was dying to scratch it. I could smell the food on the table behind me. Somewhere outside, a fox barked.

Of a sudden a coldness seized me. I started to shake. The hands holding mine gripped tightly. My eyes flew open. Her Ladyship was looking about her nervously.

‘Gently now,’ said the medium. Her head was tipped back, her eyes still shut. She seemed to be speaking to the spirit. ‘You’ve come far to be with us and we’ve waited a long while. Take your time.’

The hairs on my arms lifted and my heartbeat quickened. Yet mixed with my fear was a kind of relief. For tonight, something was different. The spirit wasn’t waiting outside the door. This time it was here inside the room.

Madame Martineau’s fingers felt ice-cold. She fell back in her seat with a gasp. When she spoke, her voice was strange, all high-pitched, like a girl’s. ‘Have you come to play?’

The drapes at the window began to sway.

‘Then play nicely with us, there’s a good . . .’

On the table behind me, the china rattled. I began to feel sick. Lady Barrington’s mouth fell open. She stared in horror at something above my head. I turned slowly in my seat, dreading what I’d see. Nothing looked amiss on the table. I glanced upwards.

And froze.

Floating inches above my head was a cup. A
cup
! So close, I saw the maker’s stamp on the base of it. Could reach out and touch it. Make it stop. But my arms were heavy. They wouldn’t move. I stared and stared, transfixed.

I was dimly aware of Lady Barrington, gasping and sighing in her seat. And the medium’s queer girlish voice, saying, ‘Listen to the spirit, Tilly. Ask what it wants.’

I blinked. Swallowed hard. ‘Spirit,’ I said. ‘Why are you here tonight?’

The cup seemed to quiver. I held my breath. Then, like some fairground trick, it whizzed over our heads, smashing to pieces in the hearth. The fire hissed and spat. The room fell silent again. It was an eerie, dangerous sort of quiet. Lady Barrington started to weep. My mouth turned dry as the fear in me grew.

‘We bring you love, child,’ said Madame Martineau. ‘Please hear us.’

But the spirit wouldn’t reply. An icy draught blew around us, making the lamps flicker and sigh. We’d all dropped hands by now. Her Ladyship’s face was deathly pale and streaked with tears. My own heart beat so fast, I feared I’d faint.

Madame Martineau swayed in her chair. ‘Do you have a message?’

Silence.

Lady Barrington cried, ‘Anything! A sign! A word!’

Madame Martineau’s eyes snapped open. She seized her Ladyship’s arm. ‘Hush now, please. You’ll frighten it away.’

Once again, the room fell silent. Lady Barrington sat still, though her earrings trembled against her neck. I gripped the sides of my chair and waited.

Nothing.

The medium leaned towards me. ‘Perhaps you should try, dearie.’

Lady Barrington looked bewildered. ‘But you said . . .’

Madame Martineau gave a solemn shake of the head and indicated me. I sat forward in my seat. It had to be worth a try.

‘Please, spirit,’ I said, steady as I could. ‘Do you have something to tell us?’

For I was beginning to realise. Last night’s empty room had been a message for me. Tonight the spirit had another person in its sights.

Madame Martineau had picked up her pencil, her notepad now open on a blank page. She was poised, ready.

All was still.

‘Try again, Tilly,’ she said. ‘I sense it is listening.’

‘Do you have a message for one of us?’

I’d barely finished speaking when a strange tapping sound started. It came from over by Kit’s bed. The taps were slow and steady, like a ball bouncing, and seemed to inch forwards towards our circle. I fell back in my seat, snatching my feet up from the floor. Her Ladyship twisted round to face the noise. It stopped at her chair. She breathed sharply and turned her huge eyes on Madame Martineau.

‘It’s me, isn’t it? It wants me.’

Madame Martineau nodded. ‘The spirit has a message for you.’

And her Ladyship seemed so full of joy, I could hardly bear to look.

‘Oh my darling boy, it’s you!’ she breathed. ‘At last!’

But Madame Martineau was frowning and shaking her head. The air felt charged with spite.

How could this be Kit? Dear, sweet Kit?

My head spun with dreadful thoughts.

What if he harmed us? What if he wanted some sort of revenge?

The tapping started again, moving away from Lady Barrington towards the table full of Kit’s books. This time the noise was faster, urgent. I hardly dared breathe. Just as it had started, the tapping stopped. The quiet was thick. No one moved. Our eyes fixed on that table. We waited. Nothing seemed to be happening. Then, ever so slowly, one of the books began to move. Only the pages fluttered, first one way, then the other, like they were caught in a breeze. I knew which book it was, all right. Even from my seat, I could see the angel drawings and the page of fancy lettering at the end: ‘To my dear . . . To my dearest . . .’

It was a job not to gasp out loud.

Kit’s message!
To his own dear mother!

Unsteadily, Lady Barrington got to her feet and made her way to the table. The lamps flickered. She reached out, and as her hand hovered over the fluttering book, its pages stilled. Fingers shaking she began to turn each one, with agonising slowness at first then faster as her face lit up. I was mesmerised. My own heart stirred.

A message to his mother. At last.

But as her Ladyship reached the final page, her hand flew to her mouth. She turned to us. Her look now was one of absolute horror.

‘What is it?’ I cried. ‘What’s wrong?’

Lady Barrington touched her forehead. She looked about to swoon. Then she summoned strength enough to take the few steps to Kit’s bed. I expected her to collapse onto it. Instead, she crouched down before the little bedside cupboard.

Madame Martineau cried, ‘No!’

I felt it too. A jolt ran right through me.

Lady Barrington didn’t seem to hear us, or if she did, she didn’t respond. She opened the cupboard and pulled a drawer halfway out. For a moment, she swayed. She put out a hand to steady herself. Then she took something from the drawer. At first, I couldn’t quite see what it was. But as she stood upright again, she held it before her. The object was flat, the size of a tea tray, and wrapped in brown paper and string. Her Ladyship stared at it like it was poison.

Madame Martineau slumped in her seat, exhausted. One by one, the lights brightened, and the air in the room grew warmer. It was Kit’s bedchamber again; a strange, sad place, but nothing more. My racing heart began to slow.

The spirit had left us.

Madame Martineau blinked like a person waking from a long sleep, then wrote something down in her notebook. Once finished, she squinted at the page and drew a long breath.

‘Good girl,’ she said to me. ‘The spirits respond well to you.’

Then she called to Lady Barrington, ‘Please join us. Our visitor from the Other Side has revealed its name.’

‘Oh?’ Her Ladyship didn’t seem to be listening. She was turning the package over and over in her hands.

‘Yes, it’s a short name – three letters, in fact.’

My chest went tight.

Her Ladyship dropped the package and flew across the room. She snatched up the notebook, eyes flitting across the page. Her mouth fell open. Again that look of utter horror. She flung the pad back at Madame Martineau.