Mistress of the Storm by M. L. Welsh Page B

horrible in return. She wondered what Alice would make of her behaviour. Hating herself, she headed downstairs for breakfast.
    Father was already at the table reading his paper, peculiarly dressed in a thick jumper and scarf which he wore over his dressing gown. His breakfast lay untouched.
    Clutching at straws, Verity wondered whether perhaps Henry might be used to tempers, having six brothers. ‘Do boys mind hurtful comments as much as girls?’ she asked.
    Mr Gallant moved his paper to one side and stared distractedly at her. He was sweating profusely. ‘Only if they care about the person who made them,’ he replied. Patting her hand reassuringly, he added, ‘So you should be fine.’
    Verity watched silently as he concentrated on buttering a piece of toast. He had always been off in a dream world, but there was something very different about him now.Why did only she notice it? She’d tried mentioning it to Mother and Poppy, but according to them it was simply another example of her overactive imagination.
    Verity was sure there was more to it than that. She shrank slightly at the thought of having even fewer people on her side.
    Verity sat on the bed in her new room. Even reading the book couldn’t take her mind off things: she was no closer to figuring out why Abednego had given it to her, and every story she read was so horrible it made her feel worse.
    There was once a woman who was a real witch, and her soul was as black as charred wood. The witch had a servant girl who was both beautiful and good, and she hated her with all the blood in her heart
.
    Now, the servant had a sweetheart, and when the witch saw him she desired him very much. ‘Stay with me,’ said the witch, ‘and I will give you as much gold and silver as you can carry, for I am wealthy.’ But the sweetheart was as noble and honourable as the servant girl was beautiful and good, so he refused
.
    The two lovers agreed that night to hurry away on the sweetheart’s boat. But the witch learned of their flight and called up a mighty wind, which dashed the little boat upon the rocks. The witch waited on the shore for the pair, whom she had commanded to be washed up. And when they crawled out of the sea, she killed first the sweetheart in frontof the servant girl. Then she took the servant girl home, where she threw her about the ground until she was dead
.
    Tales of murder and torture have increased in frequency over the last two hundred years
[the notes read].
Her appetite for cruelty appears to grow with each century. References to blackened souls are also numerous. An oblique allusion to outward appearance?
    Verity wiped a tear from the side of her nose. The half-term holiday stretched out like a vast expanse. Perhaps Father was right: maybe Henry didn’t actually like her that much anyway – and if he had before, he’d certainly have been put off her now.
    She reached under the bed for the strange wooden ball, turning it over and over in her hand, listening to the familiar click and rattle. Holding it up to the light, she frowned. Perhaps if it made a noise, it was meant to open? Pressing her fingertips on either side, she strained to pull it apart. Sure enough, a gap showed. Excitedly she applied more pressure.
    The wooden casing clicked open with a snap. Inside was a white marble ball. Verity gazed at it curiously. It didn’t look as if it would come out. She spun the marble round in the wooden casing, then shrieked. The ball fell to the ground. Gazing at her from the other side was an extremely realistic eye.
    Picking it up, Verity noticed that the room seemedinfinitely still. She thought of her trip around the
Storm
on the ferry.
    The eye of the
Storm
’s figurehead – it had to be, she thought, turning it around in wonder. Abednego had given it to her, after all. And the eye was famously missing – that had been plain to see. But why would he give it to her?
    Turning it over, she realized that if her parents knew, they’d insist she