By the end of the day, I’d run right out of floors to scrub. My hands were red raw and my back was killing me. All I wanted was my bed. I’d not got within sniffing distance of the Barringtons, neither. Each time they rang down, it was Dorcas who took up their trays. She seemed to double up as housemaid and lady’s maid, and Mrs Jessop did the rest, though the way they rolled their eyes at the ceiling showed they didn’t much care for this arrangement.
If only they’d asked me! I’d have carried a tray upstairs gladly. I was dying to see more of the house, and not just its flipping floors. But Dorcas didn’t ask me. Nor did Mrs Jessop. My smart black dress stayed hanging on its peg all day.
At suppertime, we ate ham and cheese in the servants’ hall. Gracie saved me a place next to her and chattered on about this and that, but I was so tired, it was a job to stay awake. I began to feel low, thinking of Ma at home by herself. As for Pa and Eliza, well, I didn’t dare think too long about them.
It was almost a relief when the meal was over.
‘Good night to you all,’ said Mr Phelps, getting to his feet. Gracie said he had his own quarters where he retired every evening, and that they were almost as grand as above stairs.
Once he’d gone, Mrs Jessop ordered us to clear the table. As Gracie did one side, I did the other. She worked fast and soon caught me up.
‘Give me those.’ She took an armful of plates off me, whispering, ‘You do Mrs Jessop’s. She don’t like to be kept waiting, and she’s got her beady eye on you for some reason.’
As I reached for Mrs Jessop’s plate her arm shot out to stop me. ‘Show me your hands.’
I glanced down at my poor fingers. Six solid hours of soap and carbolic, and they were chapped almost to bleeding. It was obvious I wasn’t used to such hard work, and I felt rather ashamed.
‘For goodness’ sake, child! Show me!’ she snapped, and pushed back my sleeves before I could object. She took hold of my hands quite firmly and turned them over. ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I see.’
Across the table, Dorcas watched us. She frowned in a way I couldn’t quite read. Then a service bell rang. Everyone stopped what they were doing. Mrs Jessop dropped my hands with a sigh. A voice called out, ‘Drawing room! Her Ladyship!’ and another of those looks passed between Mrs Jessop and Dorcas. The bell tinkled again. Mrs Jessop got to her feet.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, irritably.
Soon as she’d gone, the mood seemed to lift. Cook brought round a platter of cakes, and the footmen poured mugs of ale. Voices got louder and laughter broke out as the table was pushed against the wall and chairs pulled up to the fire. Trouble was, it made the room seem emptier, somehow. Away from the fire, it was bitterly cold. Shadows seemed to thicken in the corners, and the noise echoed off the walls in a way that made even the laughter sound hollow.
A sad sort of feeling came over me. Then Gracie reappeared at my side.
‘You all right?’
I just about managed a smile.
‘Get yourself some cake, why don’t you? I’ll finish up here,’ said Gracie and took the last plates out to the kitchen.
So I grabbed myself a little fruit cake, and took one for Gracie too, then pulled up two chairs near to the fire.
‘Give us a tune!’ the carter said, as Samuel Ketteridge sat down at the piano in the corner.
The footman took off his fine jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Then he flexed his fingers and grinned in a way that reminded me of Will and I felt a pang, though it was probably just because I was tired. The piano wasn’t much in tune, and he kept missing keys, but soon he found his way with a jaunty tune that got our feet tapping. Then came a soppy song about a long-lost sweetheart, which had everyone dabbing at their eyes. Despite the jarring echo and the draught at my back, I hoped he’d play all night and never stop. With everyone else sobbing along with me, it gave me good reason to be sad.
After few more songs, people stretched in their seats and began making their way to bed. I realised then that Gracie hadn’t joined me. I guessed she was still out in the kitchens.
A hand touched my shoulder. ‘Here, take this.’
I turned to see Cook offering me a cup of hot milk. I took it gladly.
‘First night’s always tough. But you’ll get used to it,’ she said. ‘Gracie’s been here a year now, and she’s . . .’
A scream from the kitchen cut her short. Then came an almighty crash. It was the sound of china smashing to the floor.
Dorcas leapt to her feet. ‘Is that Gracie? Again?’
‘I’ll deal with her this time,’ said Cook. ‘Though we can’t keep covering up for her.’
I glanced sideways at Dorcas, who’d taken her seat again and was chewing her lip fretfully.
‘Don’t ask,’ she said, reading the question in my look. ‘Gracie’s got this silly notion into her head, when really she’s just mightily clumsy.’
Poor Gracie. She’d cleared the table faster than I had, and carried armfuls of plates like she’d done it thousands of times. She didn’t look clumsy to me. And she’d been kind, offering to clear up when she saw I was dead on my feet. It didn’t seem right she should get an earful. Downing my drink in one quick gulp, I took the cup back out to Cook.
I stopped in the kitchen doorway. Gracie was sobbing and twisting her apron in her hands. She looked in a terrible state.
‘But I didn’t drop it, I swear!’ Gracie cried. ‘It lifted itself off the table. I was nowhere near it.’
‘You have to stop this nonsense!’ said Cook.
‘It’s true! On me mother’s life!’
Cook folded her arms. ‘So this china all over the floor here, and the stuff what’s been smashed these last few days . . . all this is down to a ghost?’
‘I’ve said so, in’t I?’
‘It’s you not drying your hands proper, that’s what it is! I’ve told you time and time again how it makes the china slippy, and you just don’t listen.’
‘So how come I never dropped things before?’
‘Perhaps you was more careful then.’
‘Oh, why won’t you believe me?’ said Gracie, blubbing more than ever.
‘Fact is, china’s getting broke every day now, and you’re in such a lather about it, you’re making yourself ill. You got away with it on Tuesday. We said you had a headache. But sooner or later Mrs Jessop’ll find out. And what do you suppose we’ll tell her?’
Gracie grabbed Cook’s arm. ‘The truth. That there’s something queer down here, below stairs I mean. Something’s really wrong . . .’
Seeing me, they stepped smartly apart. Gracie picked up a broom and started sweeping. Cook put on a smile.
‘Tilly! Feeling better? Don’t mind Gracie. She’s had an upset, that’s all.’
Some upset! The girl was as white as paper. I’d heard enough to not be fooled, and my head suddenly filled with all that Will had told me. This looked like more than just gossip. It seemed that Frost Hollow Hall was haunted inside as well as out. I shivered with excitement. For the ghost here had to be Kit’s, didn’t it?
‘You all right, Gracie?’ I said, trying to sound steady.
‘She’ll live,’ said Cook, grabbing the broom from Gracie and pushing her towards me. ‘But take her up to bed before Mrs Jessop hears all this wailing.’
I said a silent thank you. Cook mightn’t want to talk about ghosts, but I blinking well did. Once I’d got Gracie on her own, I’d ask her what had really been going on.
‘C’mon then.’ I tucked my arm through hers. ‘You’ll have to show me the way, though.’
But Gracie wasn’t shifting. ‘I in’t going up them back stairs without a candle.’
‘For goodness’ sake. You’ve been up and down ’em hundreds of times,’ said Cook, though she took a candle from a drawer and lit it. ‘And don’t you go filling Tilly’s head with your daft ideas.’
Far too late for that.
Cook put the candle in a tin holder and handed it to me. ‘Turn right out of the kitchen and keep walking ’til you reach the back stairs. Then it’s all the way to the top.’
We set off down the passage. Gracie’s hand trembled on my arm and she was breathing quick and shallow.
‘Bet you think I’m a right baby to be so scared,’ she said.
‘’Course not.’
Though I wondered how anyone could be this fearful of Kit Barrington.
‘I in’t normally like this,’ said Gracie. ‘But something’s started up these last few nights. And it in’t just the china. I’ve sensed someone following me up to bed.’
A little thrill ran through me. We stopped at the foot of the stairs.
‘You go first,’ she said, pushing me forward.
The stone steps went up steeply. To me, it was just another dark passageway, and this house was full of them.
‘Come on, then,’ I said.
I held the candle out in front and, gathering my skirts, took the steps two at a time. I didn’t see the point in lingering. As we made our way upwards, the darkness grew thicker, blacker. It seemed to smother what little light our candle gave off. Out the corner of my eye, I saw strange, creeping shadows on the walls. Any excitement I’d felt began to ebb away. A shiver ran down my back, though I hardly knew why. There was no reason to be scared.
‘Slow down, can’t you?’ Gracie called, as I reached the first landing. She’d fallen quite a way behind. As she caught up, she seized my arm.
‘Don’t you go leaving me,’ she said.
‘Keep up, then,’ I said, peevishly. ‘We in’t on a Sunday stroll.’
Another flight up and of a sudden, the air turned icy cold. It set me off shivering so hard it was a job to hold the candle straight. Gracie was right behind me now. I heard her breathing and the scuffing of her boot soles on the steps. The shadows stretched long and monstrous on the wall beside us. I told myself they were only ours. Nothing to be frightened of.
Two shadows. One for me. One for Gracie.
My breath caught in my throat. For there weren’t two shadows, were there?
There were three.
I stopped dead. Gracie stumbled right into me.
‘Oh!’ she cried, grabbing at my arm.
‘Careful! Or we’ll fall and break our necks!’
But she clung on so tight I lost my balance and, in panic, threw out my hands to save myself. I fell against the wall and dropped the flipping candle. It went clattering down the steps, tin holder and all. It stayed lit for a moment, a little speck of light in all that darkness. Then it flickered and went out.
I hardly dared move. It made no difference if I shut or opened my eyes. The darkness was total.
‘How much further is it?’ I said to Gracie, trying very hard not to think about that third shadow. I must’ve imagined it. There was no way of knowing now.
‘We’re halfway,’ she said. ‘Reckon we should go back for a light?’
‘No. Let’s keep going.’
I laid my hand flat against the wall and felt my way slowly, one step at a time. Gracie whimpered behind me.
‘It’s all right if you go slow.’ I tried to sound calm, though I certainly didn’t feel it. ‘Just don’t grab me again.’
A few steps up, I sensed someone close behind me. Very close.
It wasn’t Gracie.
The person started whispering. Their voice was low and quick. It was impossible to make out the words. With growing horror, I smelled something too, a sickly-sweet scent like honey. I turned round.
‘Who’s there?’
The whispering stopped. Darkness pressed in on me. Then, right close to my ear, someone sighed. I felt their breath, cold and queer against my neck. I shuddered. Jumped back. My foot slipped, and suddenly I was falling backwards, grabbing madly at thin air. I fell hard on my tailbone onto what felt like a rough wood floor. It must be the landing we’d just passed. Gingerly I got to my feet, trying to ignore the pain. All was quiet as the grave.
‘Gracie?’ I called out. ‘Where are you?’
The only noise was my own echo. Gracie had vanished.