After returning to my room, I hardly slept. The chest full of dolls played on my mind, causing a dull ache to start up behind my eyes. Several hours later, a strange blanket-like hush seemed to fill the air and, when I got up to look out of the window, I saw that it was snowing heavily, with a thick carpet already covering the ground. The moonlight reflected off the snow in a pinkish haze, making my headache even worse. By the time morning came I’d resolved to take the toy chest and throw it away but, when I went downstairs, I discovered that someone had already beaten me to the dolls.
Today was a Sunday and there would be church that morning but no formal classes. The girls had some free time after breakfast, during which Miss Grayson insisted they went outside to get some fresh air. She seemed to enforce this no matter how bad the weather might be and today was no different.
I went outside to find a small group of pupils, including Martha and Bess, wrapped up in their threadbare cloaks and hunched over something on the ground. I thought they were probably making snowmen but, as I got closer, I saw that they were playing with dolls and I stopped in my tracks. They were Frozen Charlottes.
“Where did you get those?” I asked. My breath smoked and my lips felt stiff in the freezing air.
The girls all fell silent at once and looked up at me guiltily.
“Well?” I said, when nobody spoke.
“They didn’t want to be locked away in the luggage room, miss,” Martha finally said. “They were lonely in there and cold.”
Martha and Bess must have seen the dolls last night and decided to go back for them. I supposed that, for children who had nothing, an entire box of dolls was too much of a prize to ignore, even if they were broken and chipped. Unfortunately Miss Grayson chose just that moment to come out from her study and immediately asked about the Frozen Charlottes.
Panicking, I came out with the first lie I could think of. “Someone from the village just dropped them off,” I said. “As a gift for the girls.”
Miss Grayson narrowed her eyes and I could tell she didn’t like this random act of kindness from a stranger but, in the absence of any sensible reason to object, she simply shook her head and pressed a key into my hand. “You may retrieve your parcel from the luggage room,” she said. “I hope that you might have finally learned your lesson about time-keeping.”
As soon as she was out of earshot I turned back to the girls and said, “How did you manage to get in without a key?”
Martha shrugged and said, “The door wasn’t locked, miss.”
I frowned. Had I forgotten to lock it behind me? I honestly couldn’t remember. Either way, I thought I’d better get down there quickly, before Miss Grayson could discover anything amiss.
I left the girls to their game and hurried back downstairs to find that the door to the luggage room was indeed wide open. The toy chest stood in the middle of the floor, with the lid pushed back. It was completely empty – every doll had been removed and so had the note.
In the light of day, I suddenly noticed something I hadn’t seen before and I frowned, peering closer. The inside of the lid was completely covered in scratch marks that crossed and criss-crossed each other over and over and over in angry-looking slashes.
Estella’s words from last night came back to me: Their china hands were knocking and their little fingers were scratching and their teeth were biting, and they wanted to get out…
I shook my head. It had to be a coincidence. Squinting closer, I ran my fingertips over the marks. Could someone have shut a cat up in the box, perhaps? The scratches didn’t seem quite deep enough for that, though. I saw that the sides were covered in similar marks.
It really was most odd. Perhaps some deranged person had filled the box with mice or rats? I shuddered at the thought but didn’t have time to wonder about it. Miss Grayson would be expecting me at the school gates in a few minutes to accompany the girls into the village for the church service.
I gathered up the box and turned back to the door. And then stopped in surprise. All around the keyhole on the inside were dozens of marks, like scratches made by tiny claws or fingers. As if something had been trapped in here, seeking a way out. Had those marks been there last night? I didn’t remember them but, in the candlelight, I probably wouldn’t have seen them anyway.
Shaking my head, I left the luggage room, locking the door behind me before taking the chest up to my room. I just about had time to tie the ribbons of my black mourning bonnet under my chin before hurrying down to the school gate where the girls were already lined up waiting with Miss Grayson. I was sure she’d hoped to catch me being late again but this time I managed to deny her the pleasure.
We set off in procession with Miss Grayson leading the way, the girls following in pairs behind and me bringing up the rear. There was an odd number of girls and I noticed that Estella was walking on her own, up near the front. She often seemed to be the odd one out if the girls needed to split into pairs and she didn’t appear to have any particular friends. Unfortunately what Miss Grayson had said my first morning about Estella being a compulsive liar did appear to be true to some degree – I had heard the other girls complaining about it and they seemed to avoid her where they could. No one likes to be the odd one out, though, and I had tried to make an effort to be particularly friendly towards her.
About five minutes after we set off, Henry caught up with us with Murphy. It took the best part of an hour to walk to the church in Dunvegan, which was too far for the little dog, so Henry had scooped him up, buttoning his coat round him so that only the dog’s head poked free.
The clifftop had been transformed into smooth fields of white and the snow compacted beneath our boots with every step. In London the carriages and new motorcars usually turned the snow to muddy ice, so I rather enjoyed seeing this pristine country snow, even if my mind was still troubled with thoughts of the mystery package.
Henry chattered away as we walked and I did my best to respond to him but, when we were about halfway to the village, Henry said, “So do you want to tell me about it, Mim? Or should I mind my own business?”
“Tell you about what?” I asked.
“Whatever is bothering you,” Henry replied.
“What makes you think anything is?”
Henry shrugged. “I can still tell when you’re upset, you know,” he said. “Plus I just asked you whether Miss Grayson was easing up on you a bit and you agreed with me that it was very cold weather, so I thought that perhaps you might not have been paying attention.”
“I’m sorry,” I sighed.
“Not at all,” Henry replied. “Mother says that my ramblings are enough to bore the hind legs off an albatross.”
“Isn’t the saying meant to be a donkey?”
“I believe so, but nothing makes Mother more cross than being corrected over such things, as you may remember,” Henry replied. “Fastest way to get your ears boxed for cheek, that. So is it Miss Grayson?” he asked. “Is she still being rather a witch?”
“Yes, but that’s not the problem,” I replied.
I hesitated for a moment, unsure whether I should confide in Henry or not. But then my eyes fell on the two girls directly in front of us – Violet and Olivia. They were two of the older girls, at around nine, and I saw that they were leaning over a Frozen Charlotte doll, clutched in Violet’s gloved hand. The head of another doll poked out of Olivia’s pocket. It seemed like its eyes were screwed up tight against the cold, its rosebud mouth pinched in distaste.
“A package arrived for me,” I said. “A box of dolls.”
Henry raised his eyebrows and I realized that a box of dolls didn’t really sound like something to be overly concerned about.
“I think they were sent by someone … from my past. Someone who wishes me ill.”
Henry gave me an astonished look. “Why on earth would anyone wish you ill?” he asked.
He looked so genuinely puzzled by the idea that I was on the verge of telling him everything. But before I could say another word, one of the girls suddenly cried out, “No!”
I looked up in time to see Olivia give Violet a push that sent her tumbling on to her knees in the snow.
“No!” Olivia said again. “Charlotte says you’re the bitch!”
Those two words, Charlotte says, hit me like a slap in the face and for a moment I was speechless. Henry hurried forwards to help Violet to her feet and I grabbed Olivia by the arm, turning her round to face me.
“Olivia!” I said sharply. “You do not speak to other girls like that!”
She was usually such a well-behaved little thing. I had never seen her act in such a way before.
“I don’t know what could have got into you!” I said. “If Miss Grayson had heard you just then you would have been punished severely – probably have spent an entire day in Solitary.”
I had since learned that the ‘Solitary’ I had seen written down in the Punishment Book was a reference to a little hut that stood in the school grounds. Particularly naughty pupils were sometimes locked in there to contemplate their wickedness. During that time, they were not allowed to see or speak to anyone, there were no toilet facilities and they were denied food. I’d heard the girls talking about Solitary with a keen sense of dread, due to the fact that Estella had become ill and almost died after an extended spell in there last summer, apparently for telling a particularly spectacular lie, although I wasn’t too sure of the details. No doubt this was why she looked pale and sickly even now.
Startled by my harsh tone, Olivia burst into tears and said, “I’m sorry, miss. It’s just that Charlotte said—”
“Do not blame your behaviour on dolls,” I said. I took the Frozen Charlotte from her and put it into my own pocket. “If you can’t play nicely with them then they’ll be taken away. Now, apologize to Violet this instant.”
Olivia turned to the other girl. “Sorry, Violet,” she mumbled.
“Life’s too short to squabble with friends, you two,” Henry said cheerfully. He dug in his coat pocket and gave each of the girls a sticky toffee.
“How about you, Mim?” he asked, falling back into step beside me and offering me a sweet.
I took the toffee and, as our fingers touched, I felt a shiver run through me. Part of me still shrank from physical contact and yet some other part of me longed to take Henry’s hand in mine.
“So this parcel, then,” he said. “Why do you—?”
I shook my head. “Never mind,” I said brusquely. “Forget I said anything.”
We were almost at the church now and I hoped he would let the matter drop. I should not have said anything in the first place.
He was silent for a moment before brushing his fingers lightly against my sleeve. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, Mim,” he said. “No one could ever wish you ill. You’re the best person I know.”
I shook my head and pushed his hand away. “I’m sorry, Henry, but you don’t really know me any more. If you did, then you wouldn’t say a thing like that.”
Henry tightened his grip on my sleeve to stop me on the path.
“Jemima—” he began, looking troubled.
I pulled my arm free. “Please forget I said anything. I’m sure you’re quite right and the dolls were meant as a gift.”
We’d arrived at the church and I walked in with the girls before Henry could say anything further. I heard him say my name and try to follow but a verger spotted Murphy and stopped him at the door. Henry must have momentarily forgotten that dogs were not allowed in the church and went to tie Murphy up outside.
Meanwhile I took my place in the pews and prepared to worship a god I no longer believed in.
No one could ever wish you ill… Henry’s words echoed in my head and I dug my nails into my palms. It was a sickening thing to have someone hate you so much that they physically wished to hurt you but unfortunately it was a sensation I was all too familiar with.
I kept my eyes fixed on the lectern in front of me and tried to force my mind to remain in the present moment. If I didn’t think about Whiteladies then perhaps it might be almost as if it had never happened.