father.’
He stared at me strangely, and I could see my own reflection in his tinted glasses.
‘It has escaped, you know,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It used to be simply noises. The noises were dreadful enough. But now sometimes I think I see it in the shadows.’
There was the sudden noise of pattering feet, as if a child had just run across the roof, and Sir Stephen wheeled round in a panic. I could almost see his heart pounding beneath his coat. One or two flakes of snow floated past on the chill breeze. I was about to tell Sir Stephen that I had seen Lady Clarendon’s ghost, when he grabbed hold of my arm.
‘I thought it would be a relief to know I was notmad,’ he said, ‘to know that someone else could share these horrors with me. But now I find that they are real, it frightens me all the more. Madness seems attractive now.’
He laughed at this and pulled me towards him.
‘What say we jump, Michael?’ he said. ‘Eh?’
I wriggled away from him and he laughed, climbing up so that he now stood on the edge.
‘Just me, then?’ he said, glancing at me over his shoulder as he teetered on the brink, and I saw that he meant to do it.
‘No!’ I shouted. ‘My father died to save your life. Don’t you dare waste it!’
I shocked myself with the vehemence of these words and my voice seemed to split the cold air like a whip-crack. Sir Stephen took a deep breath, hung his head and climbed down. I had tears in my eyes, more from fury than from sadness.
‘You are quite right, of course,’ said Sir Stephen. ‘Your father was a very brave man. He was a good soldier. He fought well and he cared about his men.
‘I was a poor officer, as you can imagine, Michael. I was only there to please my father. How many men died because of my incompetence? I wonder. It would have been better for everyone if the bullet that struck your father had struck me instead.’
I felt in no mood to argue with this sentiment as it happened to be a perfect summary of my own feelings on the subject. The snow was falling more steadily now, in fat woollen flakes.
‘But I am to make amends to some degree,’ he said, looking at me earnestly.
I frowned, wondering if this was more lunacy. I desperately wanted to get away from this strange man. I was about to make my excuses when Sir Stephen slapped his hands together loudly.
‘Run along now, Michael,’ he said, stroking his lank white hair, flakes of snow settling on his coat. ‘I must not detain you any longer.’
With that he turned away from me and stood gazing out across the land once again. I stood a moment looking at his thin black shape, a beetle on its back legs, and wondered if he was thinking about jumping again.
But that particular madness seemed to have passed and he appeared quiet now. I left him and returned by the narrow stairs, finding Charlotte at the foot about to come up, tapping her fingernails against the plaster wall.
‘Ah, I was just coming to find you. You have been talking with Sir Stephen for some time,’ she said. ‘I hope you haven’t tired him out.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes, quite all right.’ I wondered if I ought to tell her of Sir Stephen’s threat to jump from the tower, but decided against it. I was sure that nothing I could tell her would come as any surprise. She knew what her brother was like and I certainly didn’t want to attract any blame for having agitated him. Besides, I felt a sudden rush of sympathy for her and had no wish to worry her further.
‘Well, excuse me, then, Michael.’
I moved aside and she climbed the stairs to her brother. I eagerly returned to my room and the warmth of the fire.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I needed to get out of that hateful place. More and more I felt like a prisoner in Hawton Mere, and those imposing grey walls felt, day by day, more and more like high prison walls. To be fair, I had not been forbidden to leave the confines of the
He stared at me strangely, and I could see my own reflection in his tinted glasses.
‘It has escaped, you know,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘It used to be simply noises. The noises were dreadful enough. But now sometimes I think I see it in the shadows.’
There was the sudden noise of pattering feet, as if a child had just run across the roof, and Sir Stephen wheeled round in a panic. I could almost see his heart pounding beneath his coat. One or two flakes of snow floated past on the chill breeze. I was about to tell Sir Stephen that I had seen Lady Clarendon’s ghost, when he grabbed hold of my arm.
‘I thought it would be a relief to know I was notmad,’ he said, ‘to know that someone else could share these horrors with me. But now I find that they are real, it frightens me all the more. Madness seems attractive now.’
He laughed at this and pulled me towards him.
‘What say we jump, Michael?’ he said. ‘Eh?’
I wriggled away from him and he laughed, climbing up so that he now stood on the edge.
‘Just me, then?’ he said, glancing at me over his shoulder as he teetered on the brink, and I saw that he meant to do it.
‘No!’ I shouted. ‘My father died to save your life. Don’t you dare waste it!’
I shocked myself with the vehemence of these words and my voice seemed to split the cold air like a whip-crack. Sir Stephen took a deep breath, hung his head and climbed down. I had tears in my eyes, more from fury than from sadness.
‘You are quite right, of course,’ said Sir Stephen. ‘Your father was a very brave man. He was a good soldier. He fought well and he cared about his men.
‘I was a poor officer, as you can imagine, Michael. I was only there to please my father. How many men died because of my incompetence? I wonder. It would have been better for everyone if the bullet that struck your father had struck me instead.’
I felt in no mood to argue with this sentiment as it happened to be a perfect summary of my own feelings on the subject. The snow was falling more steadily now, in fat woollen flakes.
‘But I am to make amends to some degree,’ he said, looking at me earnestly.
I frowned, wondering if this was more lunacy. I desperately wanted to get away from this strange man. I was about to make my excuses when Sir Stephen slapped his hands together loudly.
‘Run along now, Michael,’ he said, stroking his lank white hair, flakes of snow settling on his coat. ‘I must not detain you any longer.’
With that he turned away from me and stood gazing out across the land once again. I stood a moment looking at his thin black shape, a beetle on its back legs, and wondered if he was thinking about jumping again.
But that particular madness seemed to have passed and he appeared quiet now. I left him and returned by the narrow stairs, finding Charlotte at the foot about to come up, tapping her fingernails against the plaster wall.
‘Ah, I was just coming to find you. You have been talking with Sir Stephen for some time,’ she said. ‘I hope you haven’t tired him out.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked.
‘Yes, quite all right.’ I wondered if I ought to tell her of Sir Stephen’s threat to jump from the tower, but decided against it. I was sure that nothing I could tell her would come as any surprise. She knew what her brother was like and I certainly didn’t want to attract any blame for having agitated him. Besides, I felt a sudden rush of sympathy for her and had no wish to worry her further.
‘Well, excuse me, then, Michael.’
I moved aside and she climbed the stairs to her brother. I eagerly returned to my room and the warmth of the fire.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I needed to get out of that hateful place. More and more I felt like a prisoner in Hawton Mere, and those imposing grey walls felt, day by day, more and more like high prison walls. To be fair, I had not been forbidden to leave the confines of the
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