‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
Dotty bit her lower lip and looked frightened. ‘You’re not going to put me in a mirror like you did to
Daisy, are you, Mirabelle?’
‘No,’ said Mirabelle.
Dotty exhaled with relief. ‘Oh, good.’
‘But I will tell Enoch what you did unless you answer some questions for me.’
Dotty looked crestfallen. Her eyes started to brim with more tears. Jem almost felt sorry for her.
‘Who was my mother?’
‘I don’t know . . . I don’t . . . I’m not allowed to even speak about it,’ she wailed.
There was a panicked movement above and Jem looked up to see the ravens flapping agitatedly.
Mirabelle looked sternly at Dotty. ‘Why, Dotty?’ Dotty shook her head. ‘I don’t know anything. Honest,
I don’t. Only they know, and they’re the ones who decided to keep it secret.’
‘Who’s they, Dotty?’
Dotty shook her head and clamped her mouth shut again.
‘Enoch,’ said Mirabelle.
Dotty looked shamefaced.
‘And who else?’
Dotty trembled. She was becoming solid now, as if she couldn’t concentrate on staying transparent.
‘Eliza? Uncle Bertram? Odd?’
The ravens continued to flap, as if urging her on. Dotty shook her head.
Jem suddenly understood.
‘No one else in the house knows, do they?’ she said.
Dotty looked shocked.
Realization flashed across Mirabelle’s face ‘Dr Ellenby!’ she shouted.
The ravens began a chorus of caws. Dotty couldn’t help but nod. Mirabelle glared up at the ravens.
‘Just go away!’
The ravens took flight, wheeling for a moment above the trees before banking and heading for the house.
The silence was almost blessed now. Jem felt herself relax a little, despite the obvious manic light in Mirabelle’s eyes as she spoke to her.
‘Dr Ellenby would know. He’s the one person outside the house who Enoch really trusts. He shares the secrets of the Family. He would know, and he was there when . . .’
Mirabelle closed her eyes and swallowed. She took a moment to compose herself, then she looked at Dotty.
‘Go back to the house, Dotty. Don’t tell anyone you were talking to me.’
‘I’d tell you anything if I could, Mirabelle, really I would—’
‘Go back now, and talk to no one about this.’
Dotty turned and walked away, taking a second to look back furtively at Mirabelle.
Jem could see the determination in Mirabelle’s grey eyes.
‘I’m going to talk to Dr Ellenby,’ she said.
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
Jem felt a tingle on the back of her neck. She was speaking the words before she knew it.
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
Freddie
Dinner was a muted affair in the Fletcher household that evening.
Night was falling a lot quicker than expected. Freddie thought it was eerie and, while he knew it was irrational, he blamed the presence of Mr Pheeps. The man sat to his left and gobbled down his steak-and-kidney pie, occasionally grinning at Freddie with a mouth full of meat, and carrot, and pastry. Freddie’s parents were sitting to his right, but they seemed a whole world away.
‘A most marvellous repast, Mrs Fletcher,’ said Mr Pheeps with his mouth full.
Freddie’s mother nodded curtly. ‘Thank you, Mr Pheeps.’
‘How lucky both these gentlemen are to have such a fine cook as you to look after them.’
Freddie saw his mother bristle at that, but she kept her mouth shut. His father ate, as he so often did, mechanically, without saying a word, staring into space.
‘I do, however, feel slightly guilty, what with rationing going on. You really are putting yourselves out to feed me. I feel . . . I feel as if I am taking something from you without giving anything in return.’
‘Not at all, Mr Pheeps,’ said Mr Fletcher.
Freddie tried to concentrate on his dinner, but all he could see was the bird, the forest air riffling through its feathers, its eyes blank.
Mr Pheeps gave a small belch. He held a hand delicately to his stomach.
‘Ooh, do excuse me.’ He patted his mouth with a fist. ‘In some countries such a thing would be considered a compliment.’
Mr Fletcher grunted.
Mr Pheeps looked apologetic. ‘I have really enjoyed the dinner and company, but I do feel I must retire for the night. These old bones aren’t what they used to be.’
Mr Pheeps bowed and scraped and left the dining room. The only noise in the room now was the sound of cutlery on china plates. Freddie looked at his mother.
‘May I be excused, Mum? I don’t feel well.’
‘Boy should eat his dinner,’ his father grunted, still staring straight ahead.
Freddie’s mum looked at him and nodded.
Freddie left the table, fully expecting his father to reprimand him, but he made it out into the hallway without him saying anything. Instead he heard him use the word ‘penance’ while talking to his mother. Something in the way he said it made Freddie stop in his tracks. He stood behind the door to listen.
‘It’s been decided,’ his father said.
‘Who by?’ his mother asked.
‘There was a mutual agreement between both parties. It’s written into the Covenant. Any breaking of the rules results in penance.’
‘And what form will that penance take, Frank?’
Freddie could tell by the tone in his mother’s voice that she didn’t approve.
‘They get no meat for a month.’
‘They?’
The tone of disgust in his mother’s voice warmed Freddie’s heart.
‘Yes,’ his father replied. ‘They—’
‘Use their names, Frank. Enoch and the others. They have names.’
His father muttered something indecipherable, then raised his voice a little.
‘They broke the Covenant. They’re willing to pay the price. We have to restore trust. That thing got out and—’
‘How do you know it’s a thing?’
His father said something garbled, and Freddie didn’t hear a response from his mother, but he knew she would have her arms folded and be rolling her eyes.
‘Then there’s all that we’ve done for them, even during the war. We went without while they fattened their bellies on meat that should have been for our table. It’s like what Mr Pheeps said.’
‘And what’s that?’ asked Freddie’s mother, a sliver of anger in her voice.
‘Them that take and give nothing in return, and there’s others in the town too who think the same way. It’s been going on long enough.
