Deadlight-Hall(22)



He would have to go in there to tell the twins to let Sister Dulce go. But there was no handle or latch on the door – there was only a big square lock with a keyhole. Leo pushed against this, but the door did not move. It’s locked, he realized in horror. They’re locked in there. I’ll have to tell someone what’s happening.

But this was the twins, his dear Sophie and Susannah, and Leo could not begin to think what kind of punishment they might get. And it seemed as if anything he did would be too late, because they had got the door of the furnace open – Leo did not know how, but Susannah was holding a long hooked rod, and one of them must have used it to unbolt the furnace cover and pull it open. Heat, fierce and almost blinding, was blazing out, smearing the glass window so that Leo could only make out shapes moving back and forth. But after a moment or two a small piece of the window cleared, and as Leo stared in, the whole scene, blackly dreamlike already, spun itself into the worst nightmare ever. The two girls were holding the helpless woman, and they were thrusting her head-first into the open furnace. Utter terror gripped Leo, and he shouted and banged on the glass, but either the twins did not hear or they did not care.

He pushed uselessly against the door again, then began to have wild thoughts of running to the main part of the house to call for help. But his legs were so weak and the floor kept tilting, and he was not sure if he could even stand up for much longer, never mind run for help.

He thought for a moment there was someone else in the room with the twins, but it was only a smeary kind of shadow, and Leo thought it was simply a drift of smoke.

And now it was too late. The furnace roared up greedily, and there was a massive clanging sound as the iron door of the furnace was slammed back in place. And that woman – Sister Dulce – was inside. Burning. Sick dizziness closed over Leo in a huge engulfing wave, and he fell against the cold stone wall of the passage, his mind spinning. She was in there, that woman who had hurt Susannah and threatened to hurt Sophie, and who might have been going to feed them to the Ovens. But she had been fed to the Ovens instead, and she was burning alive. Leo knew that burning alive was the worst thing in the whole world. He crouched shivering in the darkness, wanting to wrap the shadows around him so no one could see him, wanting them to smother the pictures in his mind.

But the pictures were there in his head – he thought they would always be there – and the pain in his head exploded. A shuddering, uncontrollable sickness swept over him, and he bent over, retching helplessly, his eyes streaming, unable to see or hear or think.

When at last he managed to straighten up and wipe his face with his handkerchief, the room was in darkness and the iron door was still locked. All he wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, but he could not leave the twins. Were they still in there? Hiding until it was safe to creep out? Leo did not think they had crept out while he was being sick. You could not be sick and look around you at the same time, but he was sure he would have known if they had come out.

He looked through the window again, but the furnace was cool and dark, and nothing moved. He leaned against the door, listening. And then – he had no idea how he knew this – but someone inside the room did the same. Leo could not hear it and he could not see it, but he knew someone had come to stand on the other side of the door, and that someone was pressing its face against the hard cold surface of the iron. Whoever it was, they were inches from him.

He forced himself not to flinch, and he laid his hands flat against the door. In their own language, he said, ‘Sophie – Susannah. It’s all right. I shan’t ever tell anyone what you did. I promise I’ll never tell anyone.’

The words came out very softly, but the twins would have heard. They would know they could trust him. They would know he would keep his promise and never tell anyone what they had done tonight.

There had never been any sign of Sophie and Susannah again, not that night or the next, and not throughout the confused, pain-filled days that followed, with the agonizing lumbar puncture Leo had to endure. He had to stay in Deadlight Hall for what felt like a long time, together with the other children – it was not until a long time afterwards that he understood they had all suffered from an illness called meningitis.

It was a strange time. Leo thought some of the children died, but no one actually said this, and the freezing, blizzard-torn winter made it difficult for people to visit. Two of the younger nurses devised games and simple puzzles for the children, and one found a store of children’s books somewhere in the house. They had been very old books and Leo had not understood them all, but he had liked listening when the young nurse read them aloud. He would have liked to take some of the books back to Willow Bank Farm, but it seemed they must go back to wherever they had come from.

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