by JayneFresina
"Good. That's something, at least." The housekeeper swiftly moved on with her instructions. "I'd keep this window closed, if I were you, and stop up the draft with some spare wool stockings, if you have any. If not, I'll find something for you." Striding back to the bed, she added, "If you have the slightest suspicion of any little intruders in this mattress, you must let me know at once. I'll put paid to the blighters! They needn't think they can creep in under my nose, no indeed!"
"I will be most vigilant."
The housekeeper nodded briskly, squared her shoulders, clasped both hands under her bosom and said, "I manage this house with two main interests, Miss Greene, Care and Economy. If all tasks are approached with proper care and due economy, they will never be done amiss. It's very important to me that we all do the best we can for each other and for Mr. Hart."
"Of course. Without him we wouldn't be here, would we?"
Again the housekeeper gave her one of those uncertain and worried looks, her gaze hesitantly surveying Ever's new coat and hat.
It seems governesses have changed since I had my first post. Got fancier. And younger too. What is the world coming to? I suppose he chose this one because he'll soon have her wrapped around his little finger, pampering his wretched ego. Poor girl. Governess, indeed. She's an innocent to the slaughter.
Ever tried not to hear the housekeeper's thoughts, but sometimes she couldn't help herself.
"By the by," Mrs. Palgrave said out loud, "if you've any fine, delicate things to be washed... you may want to do them yourself. Kitty's a good girl and tries hard, but she's yet to manage a gentle touch with lace. Linen, wool and practical stuff, is what she's used to, and we haven't a ladies maid in the house, having no use for one on a daily basis. Any female guests of Mr. Hart usually bring their own lady's maid to take care of their garments."
Ever had wanted to appear respectable when she arrived. She thought her new coat and hat completed a sophisticated ensemble— it certainly made her feel very mature, very capable— but apparently she'd made a mistake with her choices.
The housekeeper glanced at her spotless new leather suitcase with the brass-capped corners and gold lettering. "You'll be alright here, will you? It's nothing fancy. Probably not what you're used to. Far from it, no doubt. But Mr. Hart hired you before telling me and with the house full—"
"Yes, Mrs. Palgrave. I will be quite comfortable. And...this is a lovely room. Thank you."
Of course, it was not lovely. It was a small ice box, with leak stains on the ceiling, no carpet on the floor, and a large section of peeling wallpaper, but for a young woman out on her own at last it was all part of the adventure. She could soon make it look better. Like walking into the dark, one simply had to wait for the eye to adapt.
Having spent long periods of her childhood confined to a sick bed or being studied in a hospital, Ever knew how to make the most of her surroundings, how to entertain herself, and how to use her imagination. Now at the age of twenty-four, it was joy enough for her merely to be allowed out on her own.
Unsupervised.
Unrestrained.
Good thing the housekeeper couldn't read her thoughts.
Mrs. Palgrave turned to leave and then stopped. "You'll find this house different to others in which you've worked, I daresay, and Mr. Hart a change from your usual pupils too."
"I expect so." She was not sure how she felt about her pupil being a grown man, and this was, in fact, her very first post. But Mrs. Palgrave evidently had no idea of that — probably for the best.
"Usually I hire the staff and Mr. Hart doesn't bother himself over it. I didn't even know he wanted a governess. No inkling that he was hiring anybody new until he saw fit to inform me that you were coming." That point of fact worked away at the lady's mind and then out of her mouth like a woodpecker drilling. Almost as worrisome as the prospect of those tiny invaders burrowing their way into a mattress under her purview. "When a young woman comes into this house and is put under my charge I take the responsibility very seriously indeed. The maintenance of your health, well-being, and morals falls upon me, but I daresay he did not think of that when he took the hiring of a governess into his own hands." The housekeeper had already decided that Miss E. Greene looked too young and untried for her post, and not very physically strong, which made her a liability of sorts. Something more to worry about. Ever read it all racing through the other woman's mind.
What was he thinking to hire this bit of a girl?
Ever had no reassurance to give the lady in this instance. She knew nothing about Mr. Hart's reason for hiring her. He had not asked for any references, much to her surprise, and when she tentatively answered the advertisement in the paper, he had written back immediately, offering the post at once.
In the very beginning, when she showed his letter to her parents and explained that she had applied for the post, they were against it, naturally, but her last doctor— clever Dr. Frazer— had talked to them, reassured them enough to let her go. He must be a miracle worker, she mused. If she were at all romantic she might have fallen in love with him. With his mind, at least. The mind was always more interesting to her than a person's looks, and Dr. Frazer's head was filled with fascinating information and suppositions too numerous to mention. But she had other things to do now, a mission ahead of her. New horizons awaited. As for making anybody fall in love with her, she wouldn't know where to begin. It was surely too late for her to start with that nonsense and she was off on a journey to conquer new lands.
"I can always come home again, can't I? You'll still be here," she'd said to her parents. "But you mustn't worry about me. I've outgrown all my problems now. I'm quite normal. Dr. Frazer said so." Well, he hadn't said that in so many words. But her parents were tired and grasping at hope. This time they were easy to persuade.
Now it seemed as if she had someone else to convince about her capabilities, and Mrs. Palgrave looked twice as formidable as her mother. There would be no sneaking anything by her.
"You've come from Cambridgeshire, I understand, Miss Greene?"
"Yes. My father is a university history professor, retired now and working on a biography of Queen Victoria." She smiled. "In fact he's been working on that for as long as I can remember. He spends most of the day buried in books. I suppose I inherited my love of history and reading from him. My mother teaches music to private students. I'm afraid I did not inherit any of her skills. Much to her frustration, I'm not in the least musical and too much noise stimulation tends to give me... headaches."
Headaches, she supposed, was one word for what had happened to her whenever the noisy world crowded in and she slipped out to escape. But that was most definitely not going to happen to her here. It had been eight years since the last time. She must keep reminding herself of that fact.
"I have ways of managing it now," she added hastily, when the housekeeper looked wary. "The sensitivity to sound doesn't bother me nearly as much as it did when I was a child." She came to a halt, afraid she might be chattering too much, too nervously. Her voice echoed oddly in that sparsely decorated room. If she was dressed inappropriately for a governess, Ever didn't want to be caught acting and speaking strangely too. Or saying too much.
Wrong Way No Exit. She saw it written in a cloud of hot breath on the mirror behind the housekeeper's head.
She smiled, ignoring the words of warning, eager to let Mrs. Palgrave know that she was quite ordinary, nothing suspicious, nothing dangerous that might disrupt the household. That there was nothing out of place in her background, nothing that wasn't entirely ordinary. At least, nothing that anybody need know about.
And when the sieve turn'd round and round
And every one cried, "You'll be drown'd"
They called aloud, "Our sieve ain't big:
But we don't care a button; we don't care a fig:
In a sieve we'll go to sea!"
"Yes, well, if there is anything I've overlooked— that you need— please do let me know." The housekeep
er gave another sniff, clasping the thick ring of keys at her waist. "He's often sparing with the details, especially when he doesn't think they're important." The lady forced a cheery smile, so strained that it bordered on the grotesque. "He likes to keep me on my toes, to be sure. A good servant is supposed to anticipate her master's every need before he knows he's aware of it himself, but that can be a challenge with Mr. Hart. As you'll see for yourself, no doubt. He likes to test us. Still, as I said, keeps the day from becoming too dull. I suppose, if life were easy we wouldn't know what to do with ourselves."
"I quite agree, Mrs. Palgrave," she replied earnestly. "Challenges are good for a person. Please do not trouble yourself over me. I can manage."
After one final, vexed and doubtful look, the housekeeper swept out, leaving Ever alone in the room. Her quick footsteps and jangling keys retreated back along the narrow corridor of the "women's quarters" to the staircase.
Governess indeed! What, on God's green earth, does he want with a governess? I hope she knows what she's let herself in for, but I doubt it. How could she know? She's not much more than a child.
The groans and grumbles of Mrs. Palgrave's busy mind faded along with her footsteps.
Ever removed her hat and took another, slower inspection of the room. The cast iron bedstead was grim and institutional, the mattress hard and narrow, but there were several, thick, patched blankets and frayed quilts folded up for her use, and the pillow case smelled clean. Apart from the bed there was a washstand and a dresser, which tilted badly due to a broken leg at one corner. Her reflection in the spotted, oval mirror startled her for a minute.
She did look pale.
No wonder the housekeeper had been so startled by her appearance.
She huffed out another cloud of breath against the glass, took off her glove and rubbed two fingers over the surface until it was clean again. Goodness, she was white and frail, as if all the blood had drained out of her. Surely she had not looked so sickly when she got up yesterday morning, or her parents would never have let her leave. Quickly she pinched her cheeks until some color returned. Her light green eyes, she'd been told before, had a certain sleepy quality. "Droopy" as less kind folk might say. She knew it sometimes made her look distant and day-dreaming. If her eyes were truly tired, or she'd had too much excitement in the day, it made the effect even more pronounced.
Mrs. Palgrave was right and she did need a cup of strong tea.
The infamously bracing sea air ought to help wake her up too though.
Cromer: how odd and yet wonderful that she should be back here after all this time. She could scarce believe her eyes when she read Mr. Hart's letter telling her where he resided. That was when she knew she simply must come. It gave her a thrill that made the tiny hairs on her arm stand to attention.
When she told her parents where she was going they had exchanged glances with each other and she heard them both thinking, Well we knew that would happen.
As if it was fate that she would return there one day, to the place they had never mentioned out loud in front of her since she was six years-old.
Standing on tip toe she tried to see out of the small window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sea from here, but it was too high to reveal anything other than cloud and chimney tops. At least, on a sunny day with a blue sky, it might look more cheerful than it did at present. It couldn't always be this bleak.
Ever had vague memories of her visit here in childhood. Pictures fluttered through her mind like windblown postcards: images of a kite, propelled high above her head on the hearty, buffeting breeze that came off the sea; the sun bright in her eyes, making her squint; the warm sand under her hands. It must have been a rare day out for the family. Neither of her parents liked to venture far from home or take time from their work, but something had taken them all to Cromer that day, far in the past. She recalled an exciting train ride and a walk over a bank of grey pebbles— which her mother, preferring sturdier ground under her feet, had complained about.
"I didn't come all this way to get my shoes marked to pieces," Astrid had exclaimed.
"My dear, this is the seaside," her husband replied, "one may take one's shoes off at the seaside."
"And walk barefoot on hard stones and pebbles?"
"Would you like me to carry you, dear?"
She did not, of course. Such a display in public would be akin to dousing herself in melted butter and running naked into the sea.
Eventually the pebbles gave way to a strip of beach, but Astrid Greene still kept her shoes on and stood back, letting her husband and daughter explore the sand without her. She preferred to walk the pier instead. To her that was more civilized.
Yes, the first half of the day had been full of sunshine and exciting new experiences. Then Ever saw something, experienced something that changed her world, darkened it.
Of course, her parents never took her back there again, because of what happened to Ever on the pier and the mysterious onset of her "illness". They didn't discuss it in front of her. They didn't have to, because she could pick up snippets from their thoughts.
Perhaps, on her first day off she would walk along that pier and prove to herself that there was nothing evil there, nothing to fear. Face that demon head on. It was time.
Miss E. Greene— she of the gold lettering on that proud new suitcase— was determined to be normal at last. Just like everybody else.
And there remained the fact that as the Hansom cab brought her along the esplanade and she looked out to sea, she had not felt afraid of the unknown at all. It was as if she came home.
She began unpacking her books, nightgown, lavender water and hair brushes. Her trunk should arrive from the station later, so she had packed her suitcase with as much as she thought she would need for the first day and—
From somewhere from within the walls of the house she heard a whistle. She tried, at first, to ignore it. But it was an all-too familiar tune. The same eleven notes over and over. Up and down like a kite caught on the breeze.
Usually that tune was followed by a whisper.
I'm coming for you.
Pumpymuckles.
A screech, like fingernails on slate, ripped through her being.
She froze, a book clutched in her hands as she stood by her open case and felt her pulse quicken, her heart's beat vibrating through her fingertips.
It was years since that demon last whistled his way into her nightmare tunnel. Had her return to Cromer brought him back after so long?
The whistling tune seemed to move closer, ruffling the air. She could almost feel the whistler's breath on the back of her neck
And suddenly it occurred to Ever that she might finally have brought something else with her out of her dreams, something other than the ability to hover above the ground whenever she wanted to and was not being observed. Could it be possible that, somehow, Pumpymuckles had followed her out into the real world? Was he still trying to catch her?
Well, Boo! Ever Greene would scare him right back into his tunnel. She was no longer a child. If she could terrify her own mother on a regular basis— no small feat with a strong woman like Astrid Greene— she could surely handle a monster of her own imagination.
Shaking her head and ignoring the darkening light, she got on with her unpacking, lining her books neatly on the dresser, stepping back to admire the gilt lettering on the leather spines. How proud she was to be there, on her own, conquering her fears and proving—
There was the whistle again. A hollow sound, part of a tune that never had an ending, but just went on and on into eternity. Like a dripping tap.
Her hands lost their grip and a book tumbled to the bed, spinning too slowly, as if it fell through something denser than air.
She closed her eyes. There were so many creaks, groans, gasps and whispers in the walls of this house, distant voices and clattering, clumping footsteps— some fast, some slow—the noise of servants at work, as well as the residents and guests moving about. It was much loud
er than the house in which she'd grown up, yet she used to think that house was loud, especially when her mother had a pupil in the front room. This tall building in the midst of a proud row along the seafront was far busier. The walls hummed and the floors vibrated. Life and emotion pulsed through every plaster acanthus scroll, every nail head, every faint fissure that had been painted over.
Everything in her past was muffled now by comparison.
She opened her eyes.
The book she had dropped to the bed lay open, the pages slowly turning. It might have been dismissed as a draft, if not for the gradual and careful way the top corner of each page curled back first. As if moved by an unseen finger.
Ever reached for the book and felt that cold child's hand intercept her own.
The room got darker. Perhaps a cloud had passed her window. Or a large bird.
Something like a pterodactyl from the size of that sweeping shadow.
"I am not afraid of you," she said firmly. "Be gone!" She shook her wrist until the unseen hand slipped away.
Pumpymuckles would not get her. She was a grown woman now, not a little girl who could be frightened by the dark.
Pumpymuckles.
Her mother was right— it was a silly name for a monster.
Perhaps, now she was stronger, she would turn the tables and get him, she thought with a wry smile. Let Pumpymuckles know what it was like to be hunted. If he had followed her out of her dreams and into her life, he would soon regret it.
Chapter Four
Busy with his house guests, Mr. Hart sent a message via Mrs. Palgrave that his new employee should take the time to make herself "at home" until he was ready to see her.
The housekeeper remarked tersely. "I hope he knows what to do with you, now that you're here. As I've told him before, act in haste, repent at leisure. Governess, indeed! I never thought to see the day when he'd admit anybody could teach him anything!"
Suddenly there was fear that her very first employer might decide to send her home again if he didn't have need of her after all. But Ever was certainly not ready to leave yet. She'd only just got there, had come a very long way, and had much to prove. Not only to others, but to herself.
