Dead of Winter - James Goss [19]
I fell through the French windows, and skidded to a halt… What I saw was… Oh, Mother, I can’t describe it, but I know I’ve seen it before. It was just dreadful, and it seemed to fill the entire room, and I screamed and screamed until Monsieur Pond came in.
It took him only seconds, but by then everything was normal. Monsieur Nevil was sitting on a chair, breathing heavily, Dr Bloom was standing by the fire, looking cross, and there was I, wilting under his thunderous gaze.
‘What happened?’ asked Monsieur Pond.
Dr Bloom managed a hearty laugh, and threw a hasty arm around my shoulder. ‘The poor child has had a fright, that’s all.’
‘It was in here! It was dreadful!’ I protested, bursting into tears. Oh, shameful behaviour, Mother, but I couldn’t help it.
Monsieur Pond sank to his knees, staring me straight in the eye. His voice was urgent, but quite gentle. ‘Now then, Maria, what was here? What did you see?’
‘I can’t say!’ I cried, bursting into tears. I really, REALLY couldn’t.
Monsieur Pond looked around the room at the two men. ‘Did you see? What was here? We both heard a cry.’
Monsieur Nevil, puffing and wheezing, just shook his head.
I could tell Dr Bloom was furiously cross, so cross I became even more frightened and started crying again.
I looked up at Monsieur Pond, desperate to tell him what I’d really seen, but I just couldn’t.
Instead, he looked at me, so quiet and so kind. He sniffed the air. ‘It smells funny in here,’ he announced. Then he muttered, ‘Warp transfer coil’, almost to himself.
Horrible Madame Bloom appeared as if by magic, and took me back to my room, dragging me by my arm like a cheap governess. She washed the tears off my face with a flannel, scrubbing hard until it felt like she was tearing off my skin. ‘Now then, Maria,’ her voice was like stone, ‘We do not like tell-tales and fibbers, do we?’
‘But I saw it! I saw it!’ I protested.
She reapplied the FREEZING flannel vigorously. ‘What did you see, child? There was nothing to see!’
I stood, looking at her defiantly. I did not say anything. I just glared, using the look you employ whenever the dressmaker presents his bill.
Madame Bloom placed her hands on her hips. ‘Very well, Maria. I can see there is no reasoning with you.’ She sighed, as if she was hard-done-by and exasperated. I have never liked her, not since she refused to let me come home with you.
‘Oh, my poor child,’ she said. ‘What are we going to do with you?’ She pursed up her mouth and for an instant she looked truly sad.
‘Let me go home!’ I cried. ‘Please, let me go home. I want my mother!’
Madame Bloom shook her head, smiling as she patted her hair into place. She checked her appearance in the mirror, and then smirked at me. It wasn’t a nice smirk. ‘No, Maria. I don’t think so.’
With that she walked away, locking the door behind her. Oh, Mother, she will NEVER let me come home! I will NEVER see you, or the puppies. (Shall we call them Louis and Antoinette?)
I cried for a while, and then I started to fall asleep, staring miserably at the pillow. There was a quiet tap on the window. Who do you think was there? Why, it was Dr Smith!
‘Hello, Maria!’ he said, casually.
‘But monsieur! However did you get up there? The ledge is very narrow and the ground is really such a long way away.’
He pulled a face. ‘I’m suddenly very aware of that. You couldn’t perhaps be an angel and let me in, could you?’
I ran to the window, and slid the casement up. He dropped in, landing on the carpet.
‘Thank you,’ he said, brushing stone dust from his knees.
‘Did you climb up looking for me?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘That would be most improper. No, I was trying to find my patient. Amy. Have you seen her?’
The guilt showed on my face. I clapped my hands to my blushing cheeks. ‘Monsieur Doctor, I am ever so sorry. I totally forgot! I tried to tell Monsieur Pond, but I got distracted. It was all ever so complicated. You see, I saw