doorway on the landing above the hall.
Nine children make their quiet way towards the broad staircase at the end of the L-shaped landing, shoes in their hands, stockinged feet almost silent on the wooden boards. They stop and hold their breaths whenever a floorboard creaks and move on only when there is no reaction to the noise. The older children hold the hands of the younger ones. No one must speak, Susan Trainer has told them all, and no one must cough, sneeze or make a noise of any kind, especially when they passed by certain closed doors behind which their guardians would be sleeping.
Down the stairs they come, in twos, with the eldest, Susan, leading the way, unable to prevent a cracked stairboard creaking here and there even if the children's soft feet tread as lightly as possible. They are all dressed apart from their outdoor coats, which hang in a row on the rack beside the big front door. They will put them on, along with their shoes, before leaving the house.
They steal into the great hall, all of them shivering with trepidation and cold, following their leader, who is as scared as any of them but does her best not to show it. She dreads to think of the consequences if they are caught.
Despite the terrible storm outside, tonight she will take the children away from Crickley Hall. They can no longer stay in the house: it's too dangerous. Mr Cribben has done something bad to little Stefan, something horrible, and the children haven't seen their friend since. Susan is afraid Mr Cribben might do bad things to the rest of them, for he seems to have lost his mind; there is no telling what he might do now. They will make their way down to the village and knock on the door of the first house that has a light in its window. They will beg to be taken in and Susan will tell everything—their cruel treatment at Crickley Hall, the punishments, their meagre rations, the missing boy.
Lili Peel, lying prone on the ground more than six decades later, witnessed this as if she were a ghost herself, hovering close to the terrified orphans, hearing their thoughts, sensing their emotions. But unable to help. Unable to intervene in any way. Her heart reached out to them, for she already knew their bid for freedom would fail.
They are almost halfway across the hall, heading for the coat rack and the locked and bolted front door, when it happens …
•
Pyke smiled as he related the story, but there was no humour in his eyes. The expression in them, Eve observed, ranged from lunacy to kindness, then to an emotionless vacuity, which was how they were at present. Dead eyes. Deadly eyes.
'You see, I had overheard Susan Trainer's plan to escape the night before,' he said. 'I'd just left Magda's room—she was so worried about her brother, who had taken to his bed all that day because of his illness. The pain in his head was so bad he could barely think, and daylight—any bright light—made his agony even worse, so much so that he could hardly see.'
Pyke changed position, resting his back against the railings once more so that he could face Eve and Loren.
'I sat on the stairway just beneath the hatchway into the dormitory and I listened to the whisperings, heard Susan scheme to escape Crickley Hall. She was aware that Augustus was demented with pain by now and that she and the other children were in danger. She intended to sneak out of the house with them the very next night. Susan knew the front-door key was kept on a hook in the kitchen and she would fetch it while the others were putting on their coats and shoes.'
Pyke gave a short snigger as he remembered his own cleverness.
'Oh, it was a fine escape plan. They would leave the house, closing the door behind them. Every child in turn had to promise to be silent when they left the dormitory; the smaller ones were made to promise twice.
'Once outside they would go down to the village, avoiding the vicarage because they were aware of Reverend Rossbridger's friendship with the Cribbens. They didn't trust him and Susan was sure they'd get no sympathy from him. In Hollow Bay they would find someone to take them in and as soon as their story was known, the police would be called and the Cribbens taken off to prison.'
The snigger was followed by a throaty chuckle, but the mood quickly passed.
'The children had forgotten I liked to spy on them. Yes, I gained valuable bits of information when I listened to them out of sight on the stairs, titbits that earned me rewards from the Cribbens. That particular night I crept back down to Magda's room and told her what I'd overheard. Augustus was too ill to be informed right then, but she revealed the children's plan to him the very next day. Unfortunately, she failed to realize just how ill he was. His mind had snapped, although it wasn't evident at that time.
'Augustus kept to his room that fateful day. But when night-time came…'
•
Lili, a silent witness, watched the orphans lift their coats from the rack, the bigger children reaching for those belonging to the younger ones and handing them down. She allowed her mind to follow Susan…
… who is tiptoeing towards the kitchen. The kitchen door is closed and the girl gently turns its handle, pausing for a moment as the door creaks. A bunch of keys is hanging from a hook just inside and the long front-door key is among them.
Afraid to open the door any wider, Susan reaches in and her trembling hand runs up the wall searching for the large keyring. The keys jingle as her fingers brush against them and she quickly stops the sound by pressing them against the wall. She feels the long one with the palm of her hand and, although frightened, she allows herself a small smile. Slowly she lifts it.
And that is when cold, hard fingers reach round her wrist to paralyse her for a moment
Susan cannot help but shriek. She pulls her arm back and so powerful is her fright that it is wrenched free from the grip round her wrist. The kitchen door is pulled wide open and there in the darkness stands the naked figure of Augustus Cribben. He is without clothes because he has been flagellating his own body for most of the evening. The fresh marks on his pale flesh are still livid.
All the children scream in terror. Dropping their shoes and their feet slapping against the stone floor, they disperse in all directions. Three of them scurry into the classroom and conceal themselves beneath the tables. One more shuts himself in the cupboard beneath the stairs, while another chooses a storage closet set in a wall to conceal herself in. Three others, one of whom is barely six years old, flee up the stairs and hide in the landing cupboard where brooms, brushes and an iron bucket are kept. They pull the door closed after them and crouch on the floor as far back as they can go, pressing into the black-painted wall behind them. They clutch each other tightly and shiver in the darkness. They wait.
Lili felt their horror and she stirred on the wet bed of grass and mud. She moaned in protest, but the vision continued. Like the children, she cannot escape.
The naked man holds a long thin stick whose end is split into wicked slivers that spread the pain when struck against flesh. This is his own personal cane, the one he keeps in his room for himself alone, the other cane, defiled by the sinners he had used it on, temporarily hidden by his sister because the school inspectors are soon to visit. His gnarled left hand grabs the girl's wrist again, for shock has frozen her to the spot, unable to run away. She now squirms and tries to pull away from him, kicking out at her captor, her stockinged feet having little effect. The keys fall from her grasp and skid across the floor.
Cribben handles Susan roughly and she is crying with terror and desperation. He lays into her with the cane, her thin cotton dress offering no protection at all, and she screams.
Two figures appear looking over the balcony down into the great hall. Magda Cribben and Maurice Stafford have left the bedroom where they have patiently waited for much of the night, ready to leap into action and help Augustus deal with the would-be absconders. Their eyes widen in alarm as they see the naked guardian drop the cane and grab Susan Trainer by the throat.
Her cries cease immediately as her throat is squeezed and her windpipe crushed. Her feet pummel the floor for a few seconds and her once-pretty eyes bulge as if pushed from behind. Her tongue protrudes from her yawning mouth, her face begins to turn a purplish red, her young body stiffens as she is lifted by her neck. Urine spatters the flagstones beneath her, while her hands feebly pull at the naked man's wrists. Finally, her hands fall away and she goes limp. Susan is dead.
'Augustus! No!' The anguished wail is from Magda, who leans over the balcony to beseech her brother. Maurice is too dismayed to move.
