On a balmy evening two weeks later, both Finn and Clovis approach the end of their long sleep.
‘That wasn’t supposed to happen,’ Jonesy says. ‘Both of them at the same time. Now what are we going to do?’
‘Before he fell asleep Finn insisted we continue as planned. That’s what we’ll do,’ Rafe tells him.
‘But he’ll be in danger,’ Willa adds.
Owen Mockett arrives to make their group complete.
‘Have you locked her in?’ Mockett asks.
‘Yes, and she was completely unaware,’ Rafe says.
The day after she fell asleep, Jonesy and Rafe moved Clovis from her bedroom into the anteroom, the small room sandwiched between the annex and the kitchen. They locked the door to the annex, and then locked the door to the kitchen. The room is bare but for a few boxes of books; there is nowhere in the space where the phials may be hidden. Willa searched Clovis for her chatelaine and a phial but nothing was concealed in her dressing gown.
‘This would be an excellent moment for a whisky,’ Mockett says.
‘If anyone needs a drink, that’ll be me.’ Finn joins them.
‘Finn!’ Rafe says. ‘Maybe we should call this off until her next sleep, when you don’t need the drops, too.’
‘No. I want to do it,’ he addresses them all. ‘I’m at peace with this.’
Mockett opens his physician’s bag and begins to lay out a stethoscope, a blood-pressure cuff, a leather headband with a mirror, and a tongue depressor.
‘Good Christ, Owen,’ Finn says.
Mockett throws his hands up. ‘I don’t know what to expect.’
A quick rapping on the kitchen door restrains them.
‘Finn? Open the door, Finn.’
‘We want the phials, Clovis.’
‘Open the door.’
‘Not until you tell us where the phials are.’
She doesn’t respond. Clovis hears breathing on the other side of the door, and the creaks in the floor as they adjust their weight. Now food is being prepared; they speak in low tones. Is that Mockett? Yes. He’s there as well. She’s ravenous. Bacon sizzles, there is toasting bread, a kettle is on. The intensity of hunger after the long sleep gnaws at her. How purposeful they are.
‘Finn, I want to speak to you alone.’ She raps on the door again.
He nods to the others to give them privacy.
‘They can’t hear you. What is it?’
‘I can’t give them the phials. It’s too dangerous.’
‘How so?’
‘Think about it. Willa, out there in the world not bothering to disguise herself. One day someone will become too curious. And Jonesy. God, Jonesy. He will choose the wrong man, the wrong place, and they will lock him up and then what will happen? Don’t you see the danger?’
‘I see that you’re frightened everyone will leave you. Give them to us, Clovis.’
‘No.’
The pains begin an hour later. Finn doubles over as if he’s been punched. Clovis tries to stifle a moan but it escapes. A harrowing, haunting sound that shocks them.
Mockett wants to check his heart, but Finn waves him away.
Willa, who fetches it, shakes at the sight of Finn in such agony and spills the water all over herself.
A scream pierces through the anteroom door and lands on all of them. Willa weakens.
‘Isn’t there another way?’ She paces, her fingers counting and tapping.
‘No,’ Finn says. Then he puts his hand to his mouth. His tongue has thickened. His fingers curl up so that he cannot use them. They watch, stunned, as his hand turns to something claw-like covering his mouth.
Rafe goes to the door. ‘Clovis, tell us where the phials are. You don’t have much time left.’
Silence.
‘Is she dead?’ Jonesy asks.
‘Rafe, unlock the door. She’s your mother for God’s sake,’ Mockett implores him.
Again Finn says no. His eyes roll back in his head.
‘This must stop now. His pulse, and his heart, they’re poor.’ Mockett shakes his head.
A weak sound persists against the door. They cannot see that Clovis lies against it in the foetal position. Her foot taps for attention. Urine seeps from the bottom edge of the door.
‘Open it,’ Finn rasps.
Mockett quickly opens the door to the anteroom. Clovis points to the opposite door that leads into the annex. He helps her to stand and she whispers the location. Steadying her body against the wall she watches Mockett search the tool shelf for the large tin of polishing wax.
‘In here?’ he asks.
She nods.
He opens the tin and takes out a small package wrapped in newspaper and opens it.
‘One? Just one phial?’ he asks with an incredulous gasp. ‘Where are the others?’
She manages a smug smile before she doubles over again in pain.