Deadlight-Hall(91)

‘That’s nonsense,’ I said, sharply.

‘We looked like them, you see,’ put in Daisy. ‘We had the same kind of hair as her little girls.’

‘We used to lie in our beds and hear her,’ said Rosie.

‘You can’t have done.’ But I remembered how Esther would call incessantly for her murdered children.

‘We all heard her,’ put in another of the girls, and Douglas nodded.

‘Children, where are you? That’s what she used to whisper,’ said Rosie. ‘Children, I’ll find you in the end … So we ran away before she could catch us.’

‘In stories, children always run away from the wicked old witch who wants to eat them up,’ said the small Daisy.

‘Or the giant who wants to kill them,’ said another girl, and I sent an angry look to John Hurst, because this was what came of filling up children’s heads with fairy tales and nonsense.

‘Where did you go?’ asked Hurst.

‘To our mother’s cottage,’ said Rosie. ‘She let us hide there. She didn’t know why we ran away – we said it was because of her.’ This time the gesture was towards me. ‘We said she was unkind and she made us work hard all day. Our mother said she could believe it,’ said Rosie. ‘And she thought we were hiding until we could go to London to make our fortune.’

‘Where,’ murmured John Hurst, ‘the streets are, of course, paved with gold. Earth has not anything to show more fair.’

‘That’s what you told us,’ nodded Daisy. ‘That’s why we thought we’d go. Our mother’s going to come with us. We’re going to make our fortunes.’

‘May God pity me for what I said,’ remarked Hurst.

‘When you came looking for us, we hid in the loft of the cottage,’ said Daisy, looking at me again. ‘You never guessed, did you?’

‘No.’

‘None of us guessed anything,’ said Hurst, getting to his feet. ‘But now we have to deal with what’s happened tonight.’

Wilger said, with almost eagerness, ‘You’ll help us?’

Hurst looked at the boy who was his son for what seemed to be a very long time. Then he said, ‘You give me no alternative.’

‘And her?’ Wilger sent me another of the spiky looks. ‘We can’t risk her telling.’

John Hurst spoke slowly, as if he was considering each word. ‘I believe Mrs Porringer will not wish for a scandal,’ he said. ‘It could, after all, ruin her future. No one would employ her, of course. She might even face prison. Well, Mrs Porringer?’

I said, ‘I shall keep your secrets.’ I thought: may God forgive me for the secret about Esther I already have to keep.

It was Hurst who carried Esther Breadspear’s body down the stairs, down to the hall. The children followed, Douglas Wilger being carried, as usual. They were all silent – not exactly cowed, for any group containing young Wilger would never be that, but certainly prepared to do whatever they were told. I have to say here that John Hurst was mainly responsible for that. I do not approve of the man, but there is no denying he has an authority.

They laid Esther on the ground, near the window, still covered with Hurst’s jacket, then he and two of the boys went down the steps to those grim underground rooms – the rooms that once were cells, used for housing condemned prisoners, including Esther herself.

St Bertelin’s was chiming one o’clock when at last we heard the dull roar of the furnace.





TWENTY-THREE


The sweep of car headlights outside the house pulled Michael out of Maria Porringer’s grim, candlelit midnight, and into the present.

He knelt on the window seat and waved, and the headlights flashed, then Nell parked the car so that the lights shone on to the window. She got out, then went back into the car to switch to sidelights, and came up to the window.

‘Can you hear me through all that glass and bits of lead?’

‘Loud and clear,’ said Michael. ‘And I’m selfishly glad to see you.’

‘So this is the nightmare mansion,’ said Nell. ‘It’s a grim old place, isn’t it? I feel like something out of one of those old horror films. The face at the window. Tod Slaughter?’

‘Yes. It’s a good film, but I could wish you hadn’t reminded me of it at this minute. Thanks for tracking down Jack Hurst,’ said Michael.