Frost Hollow Hall (3 page)

I awoke to hear footsteps. A new voice said harshly, ‘Fell through the ice, did she?’ A hand gripped my shoulder and shook me hard. ‘Is she dead?’

My eyes flew open. A stranger in a dark frock loomed over me. She didn’t look altogether friendly. Then her face turned suddenly pale. Her hand hovered close to my cheek; to slap me or stroke me, I didn’t know which.

‘Take her away at once!’ she said, and was gone.

*

They bundled me out of the door and into the back of a cart. Someone had draped a blanket round my shoulders and I was mighty glad of it since by now I couldn’t stop shaking. Wide awake at last, I felt sick as a dog. And a thought nudged away at me, but I couldn’t for anything work out what it was.

Will sat beside me all the way home. I didn’t have the strength to protest when he put his arms round me. He was warm and quiet, and after a while I got used to it.

When Ma opened our front door, her face was like thunder.

‘Where’ve you been?’ she cried. ‘You’ve been gone hours!’

Then she saw the state of me and her hand flew to her mouth. Will tried to explain what had happened. It didn’t sound good. We were very clearly in the wrong, and I knew I’d be in for a right earful.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Higgins,’ Will said, and finally let go of me.

My legs gave way before I could get inside.

Dreaming: 1

I’m in the middle of the lake. The ice groans. I tilt forward. The water pulls me under. Everything is hushed. Down and down I go, in a stream of tiny bubbles.

‘Help me!’ I cry.

No one hears me. The water deadens everything. Darkness closes in. I’m a goner this time, I’m sure of it.

Out of nowhere, a light darts towards me like a will o’ the wisp. My heart leaps. The light becomes a shape. It’s him again, the boy in the white shirt.

He stops a few steps away. I see how his hair curls over his collar, and how his eyes seek out mine. I’ve never seen anyone so lovely. I go all fluttery inside. Trouble is, I know what happens next. Any second and he’ll lead me to the bank. But I don’t want to be saved just yet. I want to stay here like this.

He comes closer. I can barely meet his eye. It’s then I see how sad he looks. Something is clearly very wrong.

‘Tilly,’ he says.

How do I hear him? And how on earth does he know my name?

4

Following a Dream

Early next morning, I woke with a start. Thin, grey light filled the room. It took me a moment to gather my wits and realise I was safe at home in bed. Behind the old curtain that split the room in half, Ma and Pa would still be asleep. Eliza lay next to me snoring, and I was glad of her, all familiar and warm, even though she had more than her share of the blankets.

The dream left me feeling strange. My shift was damp with sweat and my heart thudded uncomfortably. What’s more, a thought had lodged inside my brain, going round and round like a moth bumping at a lamp. It was such a mad idea. No one would ever believe it. They’d laugh right in my face.

I shut my eyes. I tried to go back to sleep. But the thought wouldn’t go away.

Something,
someone
had been out there in the lake. What’s more, he’d saved my life. Just when I’d been breathing my last, he’d appeared out of nowhere, all lit up like a star.

Yet if he’d really been an angel, he’d have taken me up to heaven. I’ve have gone with him, too. Instead, he took me back to the lake edge so that I might live.

Now he was here in my dreams, only it shocked me to see him so changed. There was real pain and sorrow in his face. What’s more, he knew my name. How the heck was
that
possible? It didn’t make sense. Not one bit.

From behind the curtain came sounds that Ma was stirring: her little cough and the wince as her feet touched the ice-cold floor. No sound yet from Pa. But knowing he was here lifted my spirits, and I couldn’t lie still any longer. The cold made me dress fast, tugging on my everyday frock, which was too short and too tight under the arms. Just the effort of it made me dizzy, and I grabbed hold of the bedstead until the feeling passed.

Ma called out, ‘Tilly? That you?’

‘Yes, it’s me.’

‘You well enough for work?’

My eyes smarted with tears.
A kind word wouldn’t go amiss.
But she was cross with me. And I supposed I deserved it.

‘I reckon so,’ I said, because this was the answer she wanted. It wasn’t much of a job I had, just a pupil-helper at the village school, cleaning slates and carrying coal and showing the young ones how to read. But it brought in some pennies and it meant I’d got quite clever at my letters.

I heard rustling as Ma reached for her clothes.

‘You were a little fool yesterday,’ she said sharply.

I braced myself, hoping she’d be quick with her telling-off.

‘Fancy going to Frost Hollow Hall!’ she said, yanking on her frock. ‘Of all the places! Don’t you know nothing?’

I wondered if Pa might wake up soon and take my side. But Ma wasn’t finished yet. ‘It could’ve cost you dear, going up there on that ice. You’re lucky to be here at all.’

Right now, I didn’t feel it.

Ma appeared from behind the curtain. She looked like she’d hardly slept a wink. ‘You and that Will Potter’s both to blame, you silly beggars. Honestly Tilly, I’d have thought you’d know better.’

Wait a minute! Hadn’t she urged me to go with him? I certainly hadn’t
wanted
to go, not ’til I’d seen his skates. And I was just about to say so when I caught sight of the empty bed behind her. Pa must be already up. Perhaps he’d made us a surprise breakfast, with fresh bread and bacon and hot sweet tea. He’d done such a thing once before.

*

Yet there was no special meal on the table. There was no Pa neither. He still hadn’t come home. Breakfast was stale bread and cheese with the blue bits cut off.

‘Blame your father,’ said Ma, slamming plates down on the table. ‘Due home yesterday with six weeks’ earnings, and no word from him. What the heck’s he playing at?’

She only ever mentioned the money. All this time he’d been away and not once had she said she missed him.

‘Perhaps he’s only . . .’

Eliza interrupted me. ‘Don’t stick up for him. He’ll be sleeping it off under a hedge somewhere. Or following one of his big dreams.’

I’d have got a thick ear for saying such things. Not Eliza. As far as Ma was concerned, she could say what she flipping well liked. At least Pa
had
dreams. He didn’t want to be poor for ever. Why would he? I didn’t see it making us very happy.

‘Well, eat up,’ Ma said. ‘And don’t count on nothing for supper.’

I wasn’t hungry. It was enough that Pa wasn’t here. My dream was still troubling me too. It hung over me like a fog, making it hard to think about anything else.

‘You seeing Will Potter today, Tilly?’ Eliza asked.

‘No. Why should I?’

‘Oh, I thought you two was courting now.’

‘It was a dare, nothing else.’ I knew she was ragging me for a reaction. But really Will Potter was the least of my worries.

She narrowed her eyes at me, chewing slowly. ‘Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. And you was twitching and turning in your sleep last night too.’

‘What d’you mean?’ I said, uneasy.

‘And stop shredding that bread,’ said Ma. ‘Eat it or leave it so someone else can have it.’

It was a measly slice to start with, although Eliza seemed to have landed herself a decent-sized chunk. Even her cheese looked passable. I pushed my plate away. Here we were then, just like always; Eliza and Ma on one side, me on the other.

Except I didn’t feel right and I needed to tell someone, though I’d no idea how to put it into words.

‘I’ve just had the queerest dream,’ I said.

‘Oh aye,’ said Ma, only half listening.

‘I was in the lake again and couldn’t get out. There was a boy under the water, and he seemed so . . . well . . . sad. I mean proper, heartbroken sad.’

Ma tutted. ‘Perhaps that’ll learn you, then. You shouldn’t have gone poking about up there in the first place.’

She moved to the window where the light was best and picked up her sewing work. I waited for her to start chiding me again; she didn’t.

But Eliza had stopped eating. Her eyes were fixed on me.

‘
Christopher Barrington
.’ She said his name dead slow, savouring it like it was something tasty.

‘What about him?’ I said.

‘He drowned in that lake, didn’t he, Ma?’

‘Don’t start filling her head with nonsense. She’s in her own little world as it is.’

‘I am
not
!’ I said, surprised Ma had even noticed.

Eliza carried on. ‘Kit, they called him, short for Christopher. Sad that he died so young. He was quite a looker, I’ve heard.’

‘Oh Eliza!’ Ma said.

‘Well, it’s true! Got his looks from his mother, apparently. She’s meant to be a right beauty, though no one’s seen her for years.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ I said, because I’d heard it all before.

Everyone in Frostcombe knew the story. Kit Barrington was the rich, handsome heir to Frost Hollow Hall. An only child, he’d drowned in the lake, and his mother was quite broken by his death. She shut herself away from the world in her big old house and was still up there now, to this day.

To me, it seemed a sad sort of tale. To Eliza it was pure ‘sensation’, right out of a penny dreadful story. She loved a gruesome yarn, where beautiful people met with grisly ends and ghosts came back from the grave to spread secrets. And by the way she’d sat forward in her seat, she was certainly warming to her theme.

Ma had stopped sewing too.

‘It was a terrible business for Lady Barrington, losing her only child,’ she said quietly. ‘Folk say the house is a queer place. No one wants to work there nowadays. Word is they’ve hardly got enough staff to keep the place going.’

A little shiver passed over me. I didn’t know this part of things. And it wasn’t like Ma to gossip.

‘What sort of strange?’ said Eliza, eagerly.

Ma started sewing again. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘He’s buried up there, in’t he? Got their own fancy graveyard, so I heard.’

‘Enough now!’ said Ma, quite sternly so that even Eliza took heed. ‘This is tittle-tattle and I’ve got work to do. And so have you two. If your father don’t turn up soon, we’ll be fending for ourselves. We owe four weeks’ rent as it is.’

I hardly needed reminding. A cold sweat pricked my brow. I stood up too fast, sending knives and spoons crashing to the floor.

‘Careful girl! Watch what you’re about!’ cried Ma.

‘I need some air,’ I said. ‘I’m all right, really.’

Eliza gave me a long look. ‘You’re jumpy as anything.’

‘No I in’t.’

‘Oh yes you are,’ she laughed. ‘Fancy dreaming about a dead boy. That’s right queer, that is.’

I’d heard enough.

‘It weren’t your Kit Barrington in my dream! If you must know, it was . . .’ I stopped short, not knowing what to say.

Eliza sat back in her seat, smirking. ‘Go on then. Who was it? Will Potter?’

‘Shut up! I in’t telling you no more about it!’

‘Suit yourself.’

God, how I wanted to throttle her.

‘I’m going to work,’ I said, feeling sicker than ever.

I didn’t even make it to the door. My eyes went all fuzzy and the ground swung up to meet me. When I came to, Ma was gazing down at me.

‘You in’t going nowhere,’ she said.

She didn’t look too happy about it, neither.

5

Ghosts and Angels

I spent the morning dozing in a chair by the fire. There wasn’t much left to burn on it, but it was the warmest spot in the house. With Eliza gone to her job at the mill, and Ma down in the village pleading for credit at the shop, time passed quietly enough.

Then near midday, someone knocked at our door. Thinking it might be the landlord, my stomach dropped. I opened the door just a crack. Will Potter was on the doorstep.

‘You’ve got some neck coming round here,’ I said.

He grinned. ‘And you look peaky. Not working today then?’

It struck me as a daft thing to say. ‘Does it look like it?’ I said.

‘Bit cold out here,’ said Will, pointedly.

I’d no plans to let him in, but he’d already got one foot past the door, so it was hard to protest when he grasped my arms and steered me back inside. I shrugged him off and sat down again. As he settled into the chair opposite, all easy and relaxed, I wondered how I’d ever get rid of him. He started nattering on about his pa’s butcher’s shop, and wasn’t it funny how a dog had run off with a string of sausages.

‘Lucky dog,’ I muttered, thinking of my own sorry breakfast.

Then with a flourish, he pulled something from his pocket and held it towards me on the palm of his hand. It was a snowdrop, looking rather the worse for wear. The petals were crumpled and the flower’s head was almost flat.

‘Is this a joke?’

‘No.’ His face fell. ‘It’s the first one I’ve seen. I thought you might like it.’

I stared at him. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To see how you are,’ he said, and for once he seemed almost serious.

I raised my arms weakly. ‘Well here I am, still alive.’

Will gazed at me for so long I felt myself grow hot. Then he said, ‘You nearly drowned in that lake. I couldn’t reach you though I tried and tried.’

My stomach turned. I preferred it when he larked about.

‘You’re very lucky to be alive, Tilly,’ he said, his eyes still on me. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

A beautiful angel had saved my life. I
was
lucky. My palms were sweating now and my heart began to thud. Perhaps Will knew more than he was letting on; maybe he’d seen the angel too. I was desperate to share it with someone.