by Alex Bell
“God, Estella, what have you done?”
She gazed at me with a lifeless look in her eyes. “The Frozen Charlottes get inside your head,” she said. “They make you do things. Things you don’t want to do. Things you can’t take back. Things you’ll go to hell and burn for.”
“Can you bring the girl out, please, miss?” one of the constables called from the doorway.
Ignoring him, I crouched down and said, “Estella, did you hurt Martha last night?”
She shook her head. “It was Charlotte,” she said, holding up the bloody doll. Its ugly little face seemed to pout at me. “I tried to stop her but I wasn’t fast enough.” She gazed at the doll. “One minute she was lying on the floor, in the corner of the room. The next second she had flashed across to Martha’s bed with the needles. Just a white blur. There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do.”
“But … but even if what you’re saying is possible, why would the dolls do something like that?” I said desperately.
“Why don’t you ask them?” Estella replied. “They’re not shy. If you talk to them, they’ll probably talk right back. Only you might not like what they have to say.”
Fed up with waiting, one of the policemen was squeezing himself into the shed. Estella pressed the doll into my hand. “Lock her away,” she whispered. “Somewhere safe.”
The next thing I knew, Estella was being bundled up by the police and taken, bleeding and shivering, into the kitchen.
“What is the meaning of this?” Miss Grayson demanded when she walked in a few moments later. “Who authorized this girl to be removed from Solitary? I gave strict instructions that the police were to be shown to my study the moment they arrived.”
“Madam, it is freezing outside,” one of the officers replied. “Had this child stayed out much longer, she certainly would have died.”
“The girl maliciously blinded another student during the night!” Miss Grayson said. “What else could I have done? She has a deranged mind and is a danger to us all!”
“Yes, we received your report that a girl had been blinded,” the second police officer said. “And then we arrive to find another girl, bleeding and half frozen to death, locked in a shed.” He turned his gaze directly on to Miss Grayson. “What the devil,” he said, “is going on at this school?”
The physician returned, this time to see to Estella. I could tell that Miss Grayson resented the expense but she didn’t have much choice with the police there. Once he had gone the constables questioned Martha, Estella and Miss Grayson herself – something the schoolmistress was most put out about. She was even more vexed when they refused to arrest Estella without any evidence against her. Martha’s family had sent a telegram to say her father was still in debtors’ prison and her aunt said she already had too many mouths of her own to feed. Estella’s parents had also been contacted and their brief reply simply stated that they would pay for any medical attention their daughter might require but that she must remain at the school.
Martha still occupied the sick room and as Miss Grayson didn’t want the two girls together, Estella was put in a cot bed before the fire in her study. The schoolmistress gave instructions that Cassie and Hannah were to take it in turns sitting with Martha but that nobody was to go near Estella.
“The girl is dangerous,” she said. “She’s likely to attack us if she’s given half the chance.”
I hated them all. Simply hated them. Estella was a sad, lonely little girl who had received no warmth or kindness or understanding at this school. Even now, when she lay in bed shivering and barely conscious, half-frozen, with a whipped back and missing fingernails, they still insisted on treating her like a savage animal.
“I thought there was something funny about her,” I heard Cassie whisper to Hannah once Miss Grayson had left. “She’s always given me the creeps, especially after what she said about Dolores. Weird little freak.”
“She belongs in an asylum,” Hannah replied. “It’s not right having her here. It’s not right.”
“Perhaps you should seek employment elsewhere if you’re so uncomfortable here,” I snapped at them. Then, unable to resist, I added, “Besides which, Estella is not at all mad, she is just uncommonly sensitive to the spirit world.”
“And what would you know about that?” Cassie sneered, not bothering with any pretence of friendliness towards me now that Henry wasn’t here to witness it.
“Plenty. My mother was a medium,” I replied. “I grew up conducting séances with her. Ask Henry if you don’t believe me. And Dolores is still here at the school. I’ve seen her.” I pointed a finger at Hannah. “Mostly she follows you around as you’re going about your chores. I’ve often seen her standing behind you, peering over your shoulder, sniffing at the poor job you’re doing.”
Hannah gave a squeak of alarm and scuttled off.
“That was a mean thing to say,” Cassie said in a self-righteous tone.
“Don’t you dare play high and mighty with me,” I said. “You didn’t seem to care much about kindness when you were gossiping about Estella or nosing at private letters sent by her parents, or kicking the cat one moment and acting worried about him the next. Girls like you, who pretend to be all sweet and lovely but are actually poisonous, are even worse than the obviously nasty ones. Well, I’m not falling for it! I see you for what you truly are.”
Cassie scowled at me and then turned and left the room. As she went, I distinctly heard her mutter an insult that would have made most girls blush. After she’d gone, I stood there, breathing hard. I knew what it was like to be an outsider and it seemed to me that no one at this school had made the slightest effort to make Estella’s life any easier. I was determined to help her, even if no one else would. Estella’s life could be turned around – I was sure of it. It did not have to be a doomed, tragic tale from start to finish. I would not allow it.
The bell had rung for first lessons, but I ignored it and went to Miss Grayson’s study instead, pulling up a chair and sitting down by Estella’s bedside. If Miss Grayson wanted to dock my wages for ignoring her instructions and missing class, then so be it. Estella was asleep but I sat with her anyway, holding her hand, and watching the rise and fall of her thin chest. The physician had said that she should recover as long as she was kept warm but listening to the rattling sound she made with each breath made me anxious.
The schoolmistress appeared after an hour had passed by, her mouth forming itself into that straight, thin line I’d grown to dread.
“Miss Black,” she said. “I thought I might find you here. Perhaps you would be so good as to do your job and take the girls for their cookery class?”
“I don’t think Estella should be left alone,” I said. “She needs someone to watch over her.”
Miss Grayson gave a great sigh. “I have correspondence to see to,” she said. “I will be here.” She sniffed. “It’s probably a good idea to keep watch over her at any rate. In case she decides to go on the rampage again, with a carving knife or some such.”
I stood up reluctantly. “I’ll take the cookery class, then.”
With one last glance at Estella, I left the study and made my way to the kitchen. The girls were lined up in front of the worktops when I arrived and were, unsurprisingly, terribly subdued. A few of them asked after Martha but nobody, I noticed, wanted to know how Estella was.
“Come on now,” I said briskly. “We must get on with the lesson. We’ll be making toast sandwiches today.”
A few of the girls groaned and I couldn’t blame them. The dry, flavourless sandwiches were not a favourite of anyone’s. They were one of the most economical recipes in Mrs Beeton’s book and consisted of a thin, dry piece of toast, sandwiched between two pieces of buttered bread. It did not make for a satisfying meal, by any means.
“But,” I said, “instead of butter you may take anything you like from the confiscated shelf and use that in your sandwich instead. We could even make some chocolate spread.”
This definitely cheered them up. Miss Grayson was very much against the girls having sweet treats of any kind. Sugar was bad for their teeth, she said, and made them unruly, excitable and lazy. On the odd occasion when one of the girls received an edible gift from their families, it was almost always confiscated and placed on the forbidden top shelf.
I knew I’d certainly get into trouble for allowing the girls to loot it but right then I didn’t care. They hurried over and I passed down chocolate, biscuits and various other treats. There was a jar of peanuts on the shelf, too, but given that Estella mustn’t have nuts under any circumstances, it seemed to me that the jar shouldn’t have been in the cupboard at all. I threw it straight in the bin.
After all the awfulness of the last few days, it was pleasant to be able to forget about everything that was happening for a while and concentrate instead on doing something normal. Soon enough, the kitchen was filled with the scent of toast and melted chocolate. The girls plastered the chocolate spread thickly on to their bread and I let them put on as much as they wanted. At the end of the lesson they had their toast sandwiches for elevenses and everyone was a little more cheerful than they had been at the start.
I let the girls go for their morning break a few minutes early and stayed behind to clean up the kitchen. And that was when I discovered the jar of nuts, now empty, standing on the work surface. I stared at it for a moment, flabbergasted. I’d thrown it away – I knew I had. And yet, when I strode over to the bin, I saw that there was no jar in there now. One of the girls must have taken it out at some point when my back was turned.
I felt a flash of worry but then reasoned that the girls had gobbled up their sandwiches quickly enough, and Estella was closeted away in Miss Grayson’s study. I was still annoyed with myself for not noticing sooner, though, as I shoved the jar deep into the bottom of the waste bin.
I glanced out of the window a few times as I finished tidying and saw the girls outside in their cloaks, but they weren’t playing as they normally would. Instead they were huddled together in miserable-looking groups, or wandering about, kicking up clumps of snow.
Ten minutes or so later the kitchen was tidy and I went straight to Miss Grayson’s study, eager to see Estella. I hoped that, by now, she might have woken up and we could talk, and I could reassure her that everything was going to be all right.
But when I pressed down on the handle of Miss Grayson’s study, I found to my surprise that the door was locked. Frowning, I knocked hard on the wood.
“Who is it?” Miss Grayson’s voice called from inside.
“It’s Miss Black,” I replied. “I’ve come to see how Estella is.”
“I have had to lock the door,” the schoolmistress called back.
“Yes, I can see that,” I replied. “Why is it locked? Is something wrong?”
There was such a long pause that I was almost about to knock again when, finally, I heard the click of the key in the lock and Miss Grayson opened the door a crack, to peer out at me with her watery blue eyes.
“I have some bad news, I’m afraid,” she said in a flat tone.
I felt my heart speed up in my chest. “About Estella? Is she all right?”
“No,” Miss Grayson replied. “She is not all right. In fact, she’s dead. She—”
I didn’t wait to hear any more but pushed past her into the room.
I didn’t believe it. I wouldn’t believe it.
And yet, as soon as I saw her, I knew it was true. In every aspect, death announced itself in a terrible, universal, undeniable language.
She lay on the little cot by the fire, just as I had left her. Her hands clutched fistfuls of the bedsheets in what looked like an iron-tight grip. The sheets around her feet and legs were all messed up, as if she’d been thrashing about, but now she was completely motionless.
Her eyes were open, glassy and unseeing, staring straight up at the ceiling. And, most horribly of all, her mouth was stretched wide, almost far enough to unhinge the jaw, as if she had been desperately trying to suck in air or scream. Her face was a frozen mask of terror.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Isle of Skye – January 1910
I heard myself give a strangled sob as I ran over to the bed. Estella’s skin was still warm when I wrapped my arms round her. Hugging her small body to my chest, I was unable to stop the tears that ran freely down my face.
“I stepped out for a moment,” Miss Grayson said in that same flat voice behind me. “And when I came back, I found this.”
I looked up and saw that the schoolmistress held a chocolate-spread sandwich on a plate.
“One of the girls must have brought it for Estella,” Miss Grayson went on. She put the plate down on a nearby table and I saw that it had a single, neat bite taken from it. “One mouthful is all it would have taken,” she said. “The physician was quite clear about that when she had her funny turn before. Whoever brought it for her must have forgotten.” She gave me a chilly look. “It is a great pity that you were not paying more attention during the cookery lesson. I did tell you how serious the consequences would be if this was to happen.”
“I … I threw the nuts away,” I said. “But then the empty jar was on the work surface. One of the girls must have taken them from the bin…”
I trailed off. I knew that all Miss Grayson would hear was excuses and perhaps she was right. It had just never occurred to me that one of the girls would take the nuts and add them to the spread.
My mind felt like it was filled with fog. Had any of the girls taken their sandwiches with them? I thought they’d all eaten them before they left but it would have been easy enough for someone to slip the sandwich into their pocket without me noticing. Which girls had I seen outside while I’d been clearing up? Had there been someone missing? It was impossible to remember.
And yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that Estella’s death was no mere accident. There was something more to this, I was sure of it.
Estella’s body was collected a short while later. The girls piled on to the steps and watched as the plain wooden coffin was loaded on to the back of the undertaker’s carriage. There was absolute silence, save for the horses occasionally snorting in the icy air or stamping their hooves on the frozen gravel.
The police officers returned to the school and spoke to everyone individually, including me. No one admitted to taking the sandwich to Estella. All of the girls said they had eaten their toast sandwiches themselves and that they hadn’t seen Estella since the night before.
However, the police seemed to agree with Miss Grayson’s theory that one of the girls must have been responsible and was now simply too upset, or afraid, to admit it. It was, they concurred, a most tragic accident.
Lessons for the rest of that day were cancelled. As soon as the police left, I went back to my bedroom and cried until my eyes were red and sore. I could hardly believe that Estella was really gone. I couldn’t stop seeing that awful expression on her face. She had known what was happening to her, had seen death coming. I felt like I absolutely had to do something but I didn’t know what.
Sitting at my dressing table, staring into my mirror in despair, I suddenly noticed that a letter had been placed there for me. One of the maids must have brought it up. I couldn’t have cared less about any letter at that moment and only tore the envelope open as a means of temporarily distracting myself from the horror of what had happened. It was from the solicitor.
Dear Miss Black,
Thank you for your correspondence. We are glad that you received the dolls’ house safely and note your request that no further objects from the Redwing estate be sent to you.
However, we are confused by your mention of dolls and a toy chest. I can confirm that no such item has been sent to you from this office. Thus far, the only asset to have been salvaged from the fire at Whiteladies is the dolls’ house.
I therefore suggest you make enquiries into this matter elsewhere.
Yours sincerely,
Th
eodore Goadsby
Messrs Goadsby, Grimes and Scott
I let the letter fall from my hand. Then, remembering the doll in my pocket, I took it out and placed it on the dressing table. Its white body was still stained with Estella’s blood.
Let’s play the fingernails game…
I remembered how the doll had popped up over Estella’s shoulder.
Hello, Mother! Do you want to play?
Then Estella’s voice was there in my mind:
If you talk to them, they’ll probably talk back…
I picked up the Frozen Charlotte and held it at eye level. “Are you alive?” I said. “Can you understand what I’m saying? Can you speak to me?”
The doll stared back, its painted eyes as blank and unseeing as Estella’s had been.
I peered closer, trying to see some spark of life. “Did you shove needles into Martha’s eyes?” I asked softly. “Was it you?”
The doll didn’t reply.
And yet…
There was something about its expression, something about the pursed look of its mouth, that made me feel perhaps it really was about to say something. Surely there was a twist to its lips that hadn’t been there before? I could almost have sworn that its expression had changed slightly.
“You can talk, can’t you?” I pressed. “This silence is just a new game, isn’t it?”
I kept my eyes fixed on it. It was about to move, or speak, I was sure of it…
Then a sudden knock made me jump. The doll fell from my hand, landing with a thump on the table. I ran my hands through my hair in frustration before crossing the room and answering the door.
Henry stood on the other side. He looked pale and miserable, just like everyone else at the school. He wore a cloak and I saw he carried mine over his arm.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of this horrid place for a while.”
I was glad to leave. The unnatural silence felt suffocating and I suddenly longed to be outside in the fresh air. I paused just long enough to shove the Frozen Charlotte doll into my pocket. I still didn’t know what to believe when it came to the dolls but I wasn’t about to leave one lying around unattended.
