The Death House (4 page)

‘We won’t know unless we try,’ Will says. ‘Come on, give me a leg-up then I’ll pull you. I’ve never climbed a tree.’

Louis still isn’t convinced. ‘I’m not very good at lifting.’

‘What are you looking at up there, anyway?’ Will asks.

Jake catches the football and tucks it under his arm. He strolls towards the tree, thrusting the ball at Tom, who takes it, stumbling backwards slightly, as he passes. All the posturing is pointless. Clara isn’t looking down. She’s staring out into the distance.

‘I can see the sea from up here,’ she says. She’s sitting astride a branch as casually as if it was a foot from the ground. She’s not even holding on, but pushing leaves aside so she can see out. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘How far away is it?’ Louis calls up.

‘Not far. I think there’s cliffs. Can’t see any houses, though. We’re all alone.’

‘We are,’ Louis says. ‘There’s no one on the island.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Two kids tried to run away once,’ Jake cuts in, wanting her attention back. ‘But they got caught. There was nowhere for them to go.’

‘What happened to them?’ Clara asks, still looking out over the view.

‘Matron,’ Jake says. ‘Matron happened. She got a coin and made them pick heads or tails. Heads won. The boy who called tails went straight to the lift. She hauled him into it kicking and screaming and begging her to take the other one instead right in front of all the other kids. He never came down again. He wasn’t even sick or anything. She said it was a lesson.’

We’ve all heard the story, although none of us were at the house when it happened. The boys who were already here when we arrived told us, just like boys before told them. I don’t even know if it’s true, but no one, not even Jake is going to take that risk if there’s not even anywhere to run to. And it
sounds
like something Matron would do.

‘Maybe I should come up there and have a look,’ Jake says. I think he wants to change the subject too. We all do enough thinking about the sanatorium – we don’t want to talk about it as well. He’s grabbed the lower branch and dangles from it like a chimpanzee. He’s making it look casual but I can see he’s figuring out if he can swing himself up without looking like a twat.

‘I wouldn’t try it,’ Clara says. ‘This branch is pretty thin.’

‘Joe’s sneezing!’ Daniel shouted. I’d forgotten the fat kid was there, but now he’s standing by the swing, his trousers pulled up but his belly still poking out, and pointing at the lost twin. ‘Jake, Joe’s sick!’

‘Shut up, you little prick,’ Joe growls, sending the squealing pig of kid running back to the group.

‘He’s sick!’

‘Leave him alone,’ Harriet says, stepping out from behind the protection of the tree. ‘And don’t shout things like that.’ Her face isn’t so dour close up, not pretty but not as sour, either. ‘The nurses might hear.’

‘I was just telling Jake—’

‘Oh, fuck off, Daniel,’ Jake says, dropping from the tree. ‘I don’t need you telling me stuff.’

Piggy, I think. This Daniel kid is like Piggy out of that book I keep having to do comprehension on in morning lessons. Desperate to be in with the cool kids. Never going to be.

‘Sorry, Jake, I just thought—’

‘I said fuck off.’

Louis has been watching the exchange with rapt wonder and his eyes light up as Daniel, muttering miserably to himself, skulks back indoors. Louis’ eyes drop when Jake looks at him, though. The egg on his face, both literally and metaphorically, is still a smarting memory.

‘Is that a conker tree?’ Will says, frowning and looking over to a second tree, this one squat to the ground near the right-hand wall. ‘My granddad played conkers with me when I was little.’ A cloud forms on his face for a moment. ‘You ever played conkers, Louis?’

‘Nope.’

‘It’s easier than chess.’ He tugs at Louis’ sleeve. ‘Come on. There might be some big ones.’

‘I’ll come, too!’ Eleanor bursts out from behind the tree, still clutching her book, and darts to catch them up.

Harriet stands awkwardly for a moment and then wanders towards the swings. She takes the free one and says nothing, but gives Joe a half-smile that he doesn’t return.

There’s a tension between Jake and Tom, like a stand-off in an old cowboy film with neither of them wanting to move away, and I’m about to turn and head back inside now that Will and Louis are settled when Clara speaks.

‘The sea is so beautiful. I wonder what it looks like at night.’ She leans through the branches and tilts her head so she can see me. Her red hair hangs long down one side of her face, a waterfall of fire. ‘Don’t you, Toby?’ She smiles. Both Jake and Tom glare at me. I say nothing, and we all watch as she swings herself down from the tree with the quiet precision of a cat. She’s still looking at me and I wish she wouldn’t. The air crackles electric between me and Jake and Tom with her in the middle, the cause of it all.

‘I think I know where I can get some booze and fags,’ Jake blurts out.

‘What?’ Tom says. ‘In here?’

Clara doesn’t shift her gaze, her hands in her jeans pockets and her hips tilted forward. She’s challenging me. Laughing at me. Suddenly I feel uncomfortable and slightly stupid without knowing why. I’m not going to get in a cock fight with Tom and Jake over a girl I don’t even like much.

‘Yeah,’ Jake continues, louder. ‘From the teachers’ rooms. I’ve smelt cigarette smoke on some of them. They stink of it. Bet they’ve got drink, too. They must be bored out of their fucking minds here. I know I am.’ He looks at Clara. ‘What do you think?’

Finally, she graces him with a look and shrugs. ‘Sure. If you can get some, I’m in.’ He grins, wolfish.

‘I’ll help.’ Tom doesn’t want to be left out. ‘You in, Toby?’ Jake looks at me and so does Clara. I wish I’d stayed inside or headed upstairs two minutes later and not seen Ashley going into Matron’s office. I think about the jazz and blues I sometimes hear coming from the teachers’ quarters when I wander the house at night. Jake’s probably right. I’d drink too if I was stuck here when I didn’t have to be.

‘Maybe.’

‘Hey!’ The voice comes from near the back door, and moments later Daniel is waddling across the grass towards us.

‘Oh, fuck, what now?’ Jake mutters, and I suddenly feel some sympathy for him. He’s a
nanny
too.

‘You have to come and see this!’ He’s smiling, eager to be back in Jake’s good books. ‘All of you!’

Seven

We stand in front of the poster that’s been Blu-tacked to the wall above the gong in the hallway.

‘There’s more,’ Daniel says, still breathless. ‘There’s one in the playroom and another up on the landing.’

‘What the actual fuck,’ Jake says, taking the words from my mouth. So this is what Ashley was up to. The words are printed carefully in black marker:

Church open!

Last room on the second floor

next to the nurses’ quarters.

Service every night at 7.30.

All welcome!

Surrounding the precise writing are childish drawings of angels and crosses, and a small piece of paper has been tacked to the bottom:

Tonight we’ll pray for Ellory.

‘Jesus Christ,’ I say, and Louis immediately snorts with laughter at my unintentional irony.

‘Maybe this will stop him praying in our room, at least,’ Tom says.

He has a point. But still, I can see Jake’s sneer and I hate Ashley and his smug piety all over again. Joe says nothing. His eyes are fixed on the small bit of paper at the bottom.

‘Let’s go and look,’ Will says, always curious. For a moment, all our divisions are forgotten and we climb the stairs. The girls have said nothing but they follow along anyway as we leave a trail of damp footprints on the wood. What else is there to do?

‘Down here!’ Daniel says, as if we can’t figure it out ourselves. The long corridor is gloomy but light shines out through one doorway. I’ve never come this far in my night-time wanderings – it’s too close to the nurses’ rooms. Ashley’s chosen well. Not even Jake would come here and give him shit. Not when all Ashley would have to do is shout to get some attention.

‘Come in, come in,’ Ashley says as we gather in the doorway. I have no intention of crossing the line, but Harriet and Eleanor squeeze past me and Will and Louis follow them. Instead of beds, twelve chairs are set out in rows of three and there’s a desk at the front that he’s slung a bed sheet over. He’s sweating from carrying the chairs, but he smiles. ‘Everyone’s welcome.’

Some sniggers then, and his smile falls a little and he busies himself with a pile of papers on one of the chairs.

‘You’re a fucking freak,’ Jake says. Daniel laughs. I look behind me and see Clara wandering back down the corridor. I don’t think she likes the church but I don’t think she likes our aggression, either. Maybe after she’s been here a week or so she’ll understand it.

‘What a beautiful window,’ Harriet says, looking up. She’s right, it is. A perfect arch in the centre of the wall.

‘It’s why I wanted this room,’ Ashley says. ‘It’s like a church window.’ He pauses. ‘You could paint it, if you like. Matron won’t mind.’

‘You and Matron all cosy now, are you?’ Jake says. ‘That won’t change anything.’

Ashley says nothing.

‘You’re still Defective,’ Daniel chimes in. ‘You’re just the same as the rest of us.’

‘I know,’ Ashley says.

‘Fuck him,’ I say, suddenly torn. I hate Ashley for this, but he’s one of our dorm. ‘He’s going to be here on his own. Better here than trying to hang out with us.’ I turn to walk away and Tom follows.

‘Yeah, fuck him,’ he repeats, and I know I’m still the boss of Dorm 4. The group melts away from the doorway, each going in their own direction. Will and Louis race off together in search of string for their conkers and I head back to our dorm. Sleep. That’s what I need.

The air is colder tonight, creeping in through the old stone like an invisible mist, and I have my socks on as I wander the house in the dark even though the polished wooden floors can be slippery and the thump of a fall might alert one of the nurses. I’ve stayed in bed longer than usual, wondering if they might come for Joe, but the lift doesn’t rumble like the hungry stomach of the sanatorium and the house is quiet.

I get some bread and butter from the empty kitchen and look through the window at the oak tree – now a hulking spread of black in the moonlight – as I eat it. The ground floor is quiet, the playroom empty, and I wonder if Clara has finally decided to take her sleeping pill like everyone else does and leave the night alone. I should be relieved by that thought, but instead my stomach expands and feels hollow. I think about playing some music through the headphones as I look out at the night, but don’t. I’m not Clara. Not only does the idea of dancing alone in the dark make me feel a bit of a dick, I like to be able to hear if someone is coming.

I wander back upstairs and find myself heading towards Ashley’s church. He’d been smug and smiling when he returned to the dorm and although none of us had asked him about his stupid service, he was pleased with himself. A little bit of me wants to smash up the chairs but I don’t know why. Maybe I’ll just rearrange them to freak him out.

I see the tiny flickering light as I get closer to the door and I know that Clara’s there ahead of me. This time I don’t turn back. The night is still my place – she’s still the interloper. If anyone should leave, it should be her.

‘Where did you get the candle from?’

She’s standing with her back to me, looking down at a piece of paper, trying to read it in the yellow flame. The candle’s stuck to a saucer sitting on the covered desk that’s trying pathetically hard to be an altar.

‘It was already here. I brought the matches from the kitchen.’ She doesn’t even jump. Did she hear me coming or does she just not care? She turns a little towards me, still focused on the paper.

‘“For Ellory,”’ she reads, ‘“beloved brother of Joe, son of Mary and Stephen and member of Dorm Seven. ‘He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.’ Revelation twenty-one, verse four.” That’s quite beautiful when you think about it. If sad.’

‘Don’t tell me you buy into this God shit,’ I say, sneering. She shakes her head, her red hair shining in the candlelight.

‘No, I believe in nature. We die, we rot, we feed the earth and the plants and the insects and that’s that.’

‘Cheerful,’ I say, trying to sound casually dismissive, but her words have sunk to ice in my stomach and I wish I’d stayed in the kitchen.

‘We’re still here now.’ She shrugs. ‘No different from anyone else.’

‘Pretty different. I think that’s why they call us
Defective
.’ My sarcasm is obvious, but she doesn’t appear to notice it.

‘Not really. Every day is a new day for everyone. No one knows what tomorrow brings.’ She flashes a smile, her eyes sparkling. ‘Maybe tomorrow they’ll find a cure. Or maybe tomorrow this house will be struck by lighting and we’ll all burn to death. Maybe tomorrow an earthquake will hit London and all my old school friends will be gone before me. See?’

I smile, I can’t help myself. There is a logic to it, a piece of driftwood to cling to in the ocean of dread.

She looks back down at the small sheet of paper. ‘Not for Ellory, though.’ Her voice is soft. ‘Harriet went to the service. She said only Joe came from Dorm Seven. That’s sad, isn’t it? They should have gone for Joe’s sake.’

‘That’s not how it works.’ My smile fades. She doesn’t understand the house. Not yet. She still thinks it’s like
before
. It isn’t. I’m not sure I could explain the differences even if I wanted to. You have to
learn
them. I’m about to say something mean, a barb forming on my tongue, when I hear a bell sounding from beyond the door that leads to the nurses’ quarters. I freeze, my heart pounding.

‘What?’ Clara says. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s an alarm clock.’ I rush past her and extinguish the candle, ignoring the pain of squeezing my fingers around the hot wick to stop the smell of burning. And then, without thinking, I grab her hand. ‘Come on.’

We rush back out into the corridor. Even as we run for the stairs we can hear more sounds of movement. Even the sanatorium nurses and Matron are waking up.

‘What’s going on?’ Clara whispers as we press ourselves against the dark wall.

‘I don’t know.’

‘This way. Quickly.’ She yanks my arm and we race up the next flight of stairs. Her dorm is closest and she pulls me inside and shuts the door. Neither Eleanor nor Harriet stir as we hurry, breathless, to the far corner. We’re just in time, heavy heels betraying someone’s passing outside.

Bright lights shine through the window and wheels churn through the gravel. Clara’s dorm is further along from the main entrance than mine, but we peer carefully out through the curtains and just at the limits of our vision we can see a large truck pulling up, its huge headlights two moons in the night. The engine chugs steadily as the driver jumps down and heads to the back. The rough sound of steel doors opening. Voices.

‘What is it?’ I whisper. Can’t be more kids arriving, surely. Not in a truck like that. We all came in black vans.

‘Must be supplies,’ Clara says. We’re standing so close I can see every one of her pale eyelashes. Her mouth is slightly open and her breath mists the glass as she speaks. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere. I guess they have to get all the food and stuff delivered. You haven’t seen this before?’

I shake my head. ‘First time.’

‘How long do you think it will take?’

‘It’s a big truck. A while.’

‘Then we’re stuck in here until it leaves and they’ve gone back to bed.’

‘Unless they don’t go back to bed, in which case we’re fucked.’

‘Let’s worry about that if it happens.’ She shivers. ‘It’s cold.’

She lets the curtain drop and goes to her bed, pulling back the blankets and climbing in. She’s right. Now that we’re still, it is cold, but the spare beds have no covers. I stand there, awkward, not quite sure what to do.

‘Well, come on, then,’ she whispers. ‘Get in.’ She looks at me, expectant.

I’m glad it’s dark and she can’t see my face as I wedge in beside her on the small mattress. I know I’m blushing furiously. My arms and legs feel too long, my mouth is dry, and although I was freezing seconds before, my skin is now too hot. She wriggles across to give me space and we lie side by side, staring up at the ceiling. Her hair, too much to be contained on half a small pillow, tickles my face, but it’s soft and almost warm.

‘That’s better,’ she says. ‘Better?’ Her head twists sideways slightly to check.

‘Yep,’ I say and then swallow loudly. I have never lain in a bed with a girl before. My body is a screaming mess of anxiety and excitement that I have no control over. I take deep breaths as quietly as I can. This reaction is stupid. My right side is pressed against her left and I can feel her toes against my ankle. Her skin is impossibly warm through my pyjamas, and I realise that this is the closest I’ve been to anyone in weeks. I can feel her body move slightly as she breathes, slow and steady and completely relaxed, while I struggle to shift air from my lungs.

‘When I was little,’ she whispers, her head leaning towards mine until our skulls touch, ‘until I was about ten or eleven, I always wanted to go to boarding school, the kind just for girls. I read all those stupid kids’ books where they had midnight feasts, broke the rules, made lifelong friends and had adventures. And now here I am. Not quite what I was hoping for. Funny, huh?’

She’s staring at the ceiling again, and that calms my awful self-awareness slightly. ‘Well,’ I say, ‘I don’t think you can get better lifelong friends than those you’ll make here – that’s pretty much guaranteed.’ My tone is light as I say it and she giggles beside me. For a moment I’m almost the old Toby again, the classroom joker, even if this is the darkest kind of humour.

‘You may have a point,’ she says. ‘Weird thought, though.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t go to a posh boarding school,’ I say, wanting to change the subject. ‘I heard your dad is a Black Suit.’

‘Oh, my school was definitely posh,’ she says. She plays with a strand of her hair, pulling it straight upwards. It’s so long her pale arm is nearly straight. ‘One of the very best, of course. But I didn’t board there. You can’t control someone if you send them away and I had to be the perfect daughter. If they’d sent me away I’d have been free to be myself.’ She smiles. ‘That’s bitten them on the arse now, hasn’t it? I’m locked away
and
Defective. My poor father. You should have seen his face when they came. It was almost worth it. I think he was already wondering how he could contain the information. He’s probably told the world I’ve died in some tragic accident.
And
convinced himself it’s true.’

There’s a pause after that. I had imagined her life to be fairy-tale-princess spoiled.

‘He sounds like a bit of a wanker,’ I say, eventually.

‘He’s a politician. They all are, aren’t they?’ She sighs. ‘He wasn’t always that bad. He was fine until I was about five; they both were. They just wanted too much for me.’ I glance at her and her face is taut and serious in the memory for a moment and then the furrows in her brow disappear. ‘What was your school like?’ she asks.

‘Pretty average,’ I say. Jonesy and Billy and Julie McKendrick rise up in my mind like ghosts. ‘Normal. Boring, mainly.’ I don’t want to think about it. Long, hot days playing football and dicking around. In the cold night, even with Clara beside me and my stomach flipping and tingling in ways I wish I could control, I’d give everything to go back to that. I’d walk away and leave them all to die here without a second thought if I could just go home, whole and healthy. Their names would be forgotten in days.

They say it makes your eyes bleed.

I think there’s been a mistake.

From outside we can still hear the engine running and people crossing the gravel. ‘That truck must have come here by boat, like we did,’ I say. ‘If there was a road, we’d have taken it. Louis reckons we’re on an island. He’s probably right.’

‘We should explore it one night. Go over the wall.’

This time it’s me who turns my head to stare. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘I’m serious.’ She looks back at me, her eyes sparkling. ‘Why not? Who’s going to know?’

‘Didn’t you listen to what Jake said happened to the two boys who tried to run away?’