Freddie felt utterly powerless. Mr Teasdale was still shouting, Freddie’s father by his side. There were so many people yelling now it was hard for Freddie to hear exactly what was being said, but he caught snatches:
‘. . . monsters . . .’
‘. . . after all we’ve suffered . . .’
‘. . . the ingratitude . . .’
‘. . . they need to be taught a lesson . . .’
And in the midst of it all Mr Pheeps smiling, cajoling, nodding sympathetically, patting people on the shoulder, working his strange subtle magic, and to a helpless Freddie it seemed as if the people who were gathered there became one bristling, rage-filled entity, and all Freddie could think of was Mr Pheeps’s earlier words to him.
I’m just waiting for the right moment.
Part 4
Signs and Portents
Mirabelle
Mirabelle tried to focus on Odd’s face as he lay in the bed, because she found that if she didn’t the image of Bertram’s face caving in presented itself to her instead. She couldn’t start crying again, not in front of Gideon, who had wrapped himself round her shoulders and refused to let go as soon as she’d entered the house.
Piglet had finally stopped screaming half an hour ago. She thought he was going to scream all night. Mirabelle would have gone to him, but she was too worried about Odd.
Odd’s face was even more preternaturally pale than usual, paler than the sliver of moonlight that stretched from the window to the bed in which he now lay. At least his eyelids were flickering, she consoled herself. The time since their arrival back at the house had been a panicked blur for Mirabelle. Eliza had met them at the door and helped carry Odd to a room, then dressed his wounds. Jem had suggested calling Dr Ellenby, but Mirabelle had shouted, ‘What good would that do?’ and immediately felt guilty when she’d seen the stunned look on Jem’s face. Eliza had left the room, muttering something about talking to Enoch. Jem left moments later to go and look for Tom. Mirabelle wanted to call after her, but she felt as if she were choking.
She wanted to shout at Enoch, who still hadn’t made an appearance. She wanted to scream at Eliza for seemingly running away. Round and round her anger went, until she thought her skull might explode.
Gideon squeezed himself against her neck. Mirabelle patted his arm and tried her best to smile, but it hurt. Everything hurt.
And all the time she saw Bertram turning to dust.
And that thing.
Its face. She’d seen it before.
‘What was it?’ she whispered to herself, and Gideon gave her a puzzled look.
Mirabelle reached out and held Odd’s hand. She willed him to squeeze her fingers, but he was completely still.
The bedroom door opened behind her, and Jem stepped back into the room, followed by Tom.
‘How is he?’ asked Jem.
‘Still sleeping,’ said Mirabelle.
There was an awkward silence for a moment. Mirabelle looked at Jem.
‘I’m sorry I shouted at you.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Jem. ‘I understand.’ She reached into her cardigan pocket and took something out. ‘Here, I picked it up just before . . .’
Mirabelle took it from her. It was Uncle Bertram’s notebook. Battered and slightly muddy, the corners of its pages curled up with age and damp, to Mirabelle it was now the most precious treasure in the world. She read the title he had scrawled on the cover.
‘Bertram’s Investigations into the Tastes, Sights, Scents, Sounds and Various Experiences of the World.’ Despite everything, it made her smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Will he be all right?’ asked Tom, nodding at Odd.
Mirabelle wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I don’t know. This hasn’t happened before, well, not that I know of.’ She frowned. ‘It seems there are lots of things that I don’t know about.’
The door opened again, and Eliza re-entered. She walked over to Odd’s bedside.
‘How is he?’
‘Better, I think,’ said Mirabelle, knowing she was trying to convince herself as much as Eliza.
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Tom, giving her a reassuring nod.
‘Maybe, but for how long?’ said Mirabelle.
She could see by the look in their eyes that they all knew what she really meant.
That thing is coming, she thought to herself. And nothing can stop it.
‘Enoch is in the library,’ said Eliza.
‘Well, we shouldn’t keep him waiting, then,’ said Mirabelle, standing up.
She gently lifted a protesting Gideon from her shoulders.
‘Go to your room, Gideon.’
Gideon squawked at her and swiped the air in anger.
Mirabelle shook her head at him. ‘Gideon.’
Gideon snarled one more time, then vanished into thin air. There was a rattling, scampering sound, and the door opened and then slammed shut.
Tom whistled, looking impressed. ‘I wouldn’t mind being able to do that.’
Jem nudged him with her elbow. Tom looked suitably contrite, but there was still a trace of admiration in his eyes.
The library was bathed in candlelight and filled with the smell of wax and smoke. Enoch stood at the top of an oak table with a large black leather-bound book in front of him. Eliza went to stand with him. Dotty and Daisy stood to the side, both of them clasping their hands in front of them, their heads bowed. Sacred and peaceful as it felt, Mirabelle couldn’t rid herself of the terrible ache when she remembered her mother and Bertram.
No one said anything for a moment. Mirabelle mentally dared Enoch to object to the presence of Jem and Tom, but he looked too tired to protest.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Mirabelle wouldn’t let him. She had a question for him.
‘That creature, the creature that . . .’ She struggled to say the words. ‘I’ve seen its face before. It’s carved on the door to Piglet’s
