“Nick! Nick!” Martha’s voice rings out across the garden, where no sound ever rings out. Startled birds flutter away; crows mimic her with their caws. “Nick!”
It is still very early in the morning, the sun has only just come up. And there is already so much noise.
She limps up and down the steps and shouts again, even louder. “I mean it, Nick! Come here! Now!” Her hands have become fists, ready to thump him. The man is no good to her. He is never around when she needs him. But this time he really has to come. “Nick!!”
Finally, the bushes part and the thin man in his enormous coat appears, unshaven, still sleepy. “What?”
“That monster…” Martha’s voice trembles. “That monster!”
“Oh, woman…” Nick shrugs. “Monster… Just stop it.”
“It’s the girl, you fool. Listen to me! The girl, Emilia, she’s gone, she’s not in her room, not anywhere, she’s—”
“Run away. Thought she would. Probably just as well.” Nick yawns and turns around, ready to disappear into the garden again.
Martha swears her worst curse. “Run away? How? Did she fly over the fence? All her things are still here, her shoes, everything. She’s gone upstairs. I know she has! She kept saying she would. He’s got her. Do you understand? He’s got her up there.”
“Oh.” Nick scratches his head. “Ah.”
Martha sighs. The way he’s standing there, his arms dangling by his side, as what has happened slowly penetrates his thick skull. If she did nothing, said nothing, would the man ever act of his own accord? No. Nothing. Never.
“Don’t you get it?”
“Yeees…”
“No, you don’t. That child was brought here. Everyone knows she’s here, the sheriff, that awful Miss Amalia, and soon the master will find out too, so she can’t just disappear. It’ll cause terrible problems. We can’t just… We have to… There’ll be such a fuss.”
“And…” says Nick slowly. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“Yes, she’s a sweetheart, and that monster or whatever it is will probably be eating that sweetheart all up, right at this very moment. Maybe he’s already gnawing on her bones. He’s wild, savage. Just look at my leg. And I don’t want to go up there ever again. That’s right – I said: never again! But we have to – and that includes you. For once you finally need to listen to me and do as I say!” She wants to grab him, to shake him, to yell in his ear.
But Nick says, “Wait.” He turns around and walks away, back into the bushes. Quite quickly for him.
Martha slumps onto a cracked stone bench. She can’t stand for too long, as her leg is so painful and she is so worried. That stupid, careless child. Martha thinks she’s a sweetheart too, to be honest, so serious and so kind to Lenny. She can’t be… It can’t be true. But then, what else could have happened? It’s ridiculous, having something like that in the house. If only the admiral would come home. Or not. Or maybe never again, in fact, and then he can’t see what a mess she has made of things. And where has Nick got to? No one helps her. She can’t count on anyone. She’ll just have to do it herself again, but this time she’ll take a stick, a big, strong stick.
Then the bushes part again, and Nick steps out. He strides up the steps. He is wearing a fur hat that is far too big for him, with a striped tail dangling down his back. There are large boots on his feet, and in his hands he has a long hunting gun. He walks to the kitchen door and nods at her to follow him. Martha limps after him, both surprised and relieved.
The dogs refuse to go unless Lenny goes too, and Lenny’s too frightened. And Martha says he is not allowed to go, but he does not want to stay in the kitchen by himself. He cries and hovers around the kitchen table, making everyone even more nervous. Nick puts an arm around his shoulders.
“Listen, Lenny,” he says. “We are hunters. We are going hunting. You too.”
Lenny looks in surprise at Nick and then at his mother. Hunters?
“Hunters,” says Nick, raising his gun. “Bang!”
Oh yes. Lenny nods seriously. Bang. He carefully accepts the carpet beater that Nick hands him and rests it on his shoulder.
“Bang,” says Nick with a smile.
“No! No bang!” Martha is not happy. “He is not… No, Nick. Just the two of us should go.”
Bang! Bang! Lenny shoots away enthusiastically. The dogs run around him, barking and drooling. Nick nods at Martha.
“Nothing will happen to him,” he says. “I just need the dogs to come with us.” He turns his head, with a swish of the tail. “Hey, Lenny? Let’s go hunting, monster hunting! Let’s go to the tower.” Martha has never heard him say so many sentences in a row. “And ssh! Quietly, Lenny. Hunters walk quietly.”
Ssh! Lenny replies, one finger to his lips. Ssh, dogs! The dogs immediately stop barking.
It’s strange, thinks Martha. There’s not much her son can do, but he can do that. She grabs the broom with the thickest handle and the hardest bristles, and she swallows hard.
“Nick,” she says. “You do know you can’t actually shoot him dead, don’t you?”
It is a strange hunting party that makes its way down the corridor. A thin man almost disappearing under his fur hat, a woman with a limp and a broom, two big brown lumbering dogs, and a boy silently shooting away with a carpet beater. When they reach the stairs to the tower, the dogs realize where they are actually going, and they back up, whining and whimpering. Lenny hesitates too. No, surely they’re not going there? Where he went once, just once, and saw something he never, ever wants to think about again. No, not there.
“Lenny,” whispers Nick. “Hunters, remember?”
Lenny looks at him nervously. Still hunters?
Nick nods. “Yes. To help Emilia. The girl, she’s up there, in that room. And we—”
“Nick!” hisses Martha. “Leave him if he’s too scared! He doesn’t understand! You can see that!”
What is going on inside Lenny’s head? No one knows, because he can’t talk. But he understands some things. Cutting, splashing, dogs, sweet dogs, a sweet mother. And since a few days ago: a sweet girl too. Who sometimes helps him. Who sometimes gives him a hug. And she’s up there? And he’s allowed to help her? He’s never allowed to help, to carry anything, to do anything: Careful, Lenny! Don’t do that, Lenny! Go and sit in your corner, cut something up and please don’t touch anything. But now he’s allowed to help. That is something he understands. And with a big grin he pulls the dogs up the stairs. Help the girl! He yodels with happiness.
“Ssh, Lenny! Remember? Quietly!”
Oh yes, ssh. Lenny nods and noisily sneaks his way up the stairs.
The light on the last landing is dim, and the door is open a crack. The smell of rotten fish fills the corridor. Nick signals for everyone to wait, puts the gun on his shoulder, lifts his boot and gives the door a kick. With a creak, it flies open. The room behind is dark and silent.
“Emilia?” calls Nick. “Are you there?” Still no sound.
“Oh God,” whispers Martha. “We’re too late.”
Lenny holds the dogs by the collars, because they want to slink back down the stairs, away from here. They whimper and whine.
“Lampie?” Nick hesitantly puts one foot through the doorway.
A voice comes from inside the dark room.
“Ssh!” whispers Lampie. “Be quiet. He’s sleeping.”