Dead of Winter - James Goss [6]
‘Alas no, monsieur. It appears the horses cantered clean away with your vehicle. I am sorry. Not a sign of it, yet. But once your own personal physician is happy that you’ve all made a full recovery then I’ll be only too delighted to make arrangements for alternative transport.’
‘Um,’ said Monsieur Pond. He didn’t sound the least bit pleased.
Dr Smith spoke hurriedly. ‘Perhaps you should sit down… Maybe you’re not feeling yourself.’
‘No,’ muttered Monsieur Pond crossly. ‘No, I’m not, Dr Smith.’ He made it sound as though it was all Dr Smith’s fault, which seemed unfair.
Amy made a face at me. ‘They’re always like this,’ she muttered. ‘Catch you later, eh?’
I took my cue and left. As I went out, I heard her say to Dr Bloom, ‘If my boys were at all polite, I’m sure they’d say that we’re very grateful to you for putting us up here. Perhaps you can tell us more about this place?’
I don’t like going to the beach. But I wanted to get away from Dr Bloom. I also wondered if it was the beach where Amy’s carriage crashed. Perhaps I’d see a trace of it, or find one of their horses wandering around hungry or something.
The weather wasn’t too bad so, remembering what you told me about wrapping up warm, I walked down the path. It was a grey, miserable day. Even from the cliff top, I could see the beach was crowded.
The Dead were there, as always. They never move, any of them. They just sit there on their deckchairs, not even noticing the rain, just staring out to sea until the sun sets and someone brings them in. I know fresh air is supposed to be good for them, but I just can’t believe that.
You know the beach scares me. So I didn’t stay long, just until… well, until it all happened again. At first it seemed it was going to be all right. Just the Dead sitting there. Then the mist rolled in from the sea. It was like night falling, the light fading as the fog came in thicker and thicker, wrapping itself around the feet of the patients, all sitting there unmoving as the mist started to hide them from view. I didn’t like to watch. It made me feel cold and afraid.
Then the Dead started to talk to the mist. I wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying, but I could hear them talking to it. AND THE MIST SANG BACK TO THEM. Then figures started to come out of the sea, striding through the fog to stand with the Dead. I wasn’t close enough to see their faces, only their shapes, shrouded in the mist. Over the air drifted a song, just a single, high sad voice, as though the sea was singing to them.
Then each figure lifted a patient out of a chair and started to DANCE with them, moving across the sand in sad time to the song. Oh, Mother, I had never seen this before – the way they moved was both beautiful and terrifying. I felt my stomach fluttering with excitement at the strange pageant. What if they should see me?
‘Interesting,’ said a voice at my shoulder. Gasping, I turned. Dr Smith was standing there, looking down at the beach, at the dancing figures. His face was grim. ‘I really don’t think I’ve seen anything like that before.’
We stood there for a while, watching the Dead dance with the Ghosts. Dr Smith turned to me.
‘Do you want to go down there?’ he asked.
I shook my head. I did not want to go down to the shore. I realised I was biting my lip and I know how cross that would make you. I shook my head again.
‘Are you frightened by them?’ he asked, his voice soft.
I nodded.
‘I am too,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘You’re a clever girl, Maria.’
We walked back to the hotel, and sat down for a cup of chocolate in the morning room. In the corner, the Elquitine sisters were already playing music.
‘How lovely!’ said Dr Smith and bowed to them.
I told him all about the Elquitine sisters – one fat, one thin. You remember how they tried to get you to play as well? Well, today both sisters were well enough to play – the thin