Chapter 28: The caravan
28 January, 2008 – 11:27 am
Eliza led Scarlet and Thomas through the damp grass towards Winterton Hall.
In the forefront of her mind she was silently praying that whatever lay in store for them in the house was something that they could at least have a fighting chance of defeating. She also regretted bringing the children, but she knew that it was impossible to leave them alone, especially after the trouble with the goblins.
It was her fervent hope that with the help of the children - as heirs to the royal bloodline of Talistay and therefore the protectors of magic – the old ways would not simply wither and die.
She hadn’t told Hillary, but had decided that, should it come to it, she would lay her life down for them; it was that important. In a way, they had become the children that she never had.
Directly between them and the house lay a small copse of trees and bushes. Further in the distance, nearer to the building, fog-enshrouded topiary decorated the grounds, pruned into bizarre forms resembling birds and animals.
Eliza stopped dead in her tracks for a moment, recalling the mist that formed at the windmill, and ushered Scarlet and Thomas to get to the cover of the copse nearby.
‘What are we doing?’ asked Scarlet. ‘What’s the matter? Why don’t we just continue on?’
Eliza nodded to the mist.
‘I just don’t trust it,’ she said. ‘The mist, it’s not moving right, like it’s being controlled somehow.’
Thomas pointed towards the house.
‘Look, it’s moving!’ he hissed, and ran behind a nearby tree trunk for cover.
Eliza stared on in horror as a few tendrils of mist curled away from the main mass and started to drift towards them, undulating on the evening breeze like a snake writhing in water.
‘And it’s coming towards us!’ exclaimed Thomas, hiding behind the tree.
‘I think maybe we should hide,’ muttered Eliza, under her breath.
‘Yes, but where?’ cried Thomas, in desperation.
Scarlet looked around but Thomas was right, there didn’t seem to be anywhere. They were going to be discovered, she was certain of it. And then, just on the verge of giving up, she found somewhere.
‘There!’ she replied triumphantly, pointing to an old moss-covered caravan that lay parked between the trees.
‘What’s that doing there?’ asked Thomas.
‘How should I know?’ answered Eliza, looking back to check on the advancing mist.
‘Quick, inside!’
They all clambered inside, latched the door and ducked down, trying to keep as quiet as possible. The awkward silence inside was almost too much to bear. The sound of breathing was unnervingly loud, which just made it difficult for them to calm down. Surely they would be heard, thought Scarlet?
Her heart beat loud and fast, as she stared at a slender curl of mist as it drifted slowly and malevolently past the caravan window. As she continued to watch, its spiral form eerily twisted into – what looked like - the head of a serpent as it resumed its search. To Scarlet’s surprise, the shape then transformed into a wizened hand that caressed the window with its fingers. Scarlet held back a shriek of surprise, and grabbed Eliza by the arm.
Eliza looked up, and noticed the condensation that was forming rapidly on the inside of the windowpanes from their breathing.
Eliza cursed.
* * * *
They waited for what seemed an age, before Eliza felt confident enough to wipe some droplets away from the inside of the window to peer outside. It was dark now, and – more importantly – there didn’t seem to be any trace of the mist anymore.
As she stood up, she looked around the caravan in the half-light.
The caravan had been converted into a storage place for the various gardening implements used in the upkeep of the Winterton grounds. The caravan reeked of newly mowed grass, whilst the floor was covered with soil and plant cuttings.
‘Someone lives in this?’ whispered Eliza, checking out the drawers.
‘How do you know that?’ muttered Scarlet, trying to peer out of the window, in case there was more mist hanging around outside the caravan ready to ambush them. ‘Why anyone would want to live in here beats me…’
Eliza shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but there’s a diary here.’
‘Really?’ replied Thomas, slyly grabbing a sickle from the tools hanging up on a rack.
Eliza raised an eyebrow and watched Thomas intently.
‘And whatever do you think you’re doing with that, my lad?’ she asked, nodding towards his trousers.
‘What, this?’ sniffed Thomas, sliding the sharp implement down between his belt. ‘Purely for self defence only.’ he added.
Eliza laughed.
‘Just you be careful where you put it that’s all …’
Thomas blushed. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, adjusting it away from his groin.
Eliza turned back to the diary, and scanned through it:
Thursday, January 13th.
Today, something happened that changed my perspective on the course of my career.
The master’s family left on a holiday, but the master informed me that he would not be accompanying them (which I thought was highly irregular at first). In all the years I have been employed at Winterton, the master has never spent so much as a day apart from his family.
I did not question it, as - indeed - it was not my place to, but have had a great deal of trouble accepting it. He has changed beyond all recognition. Even his appearance has become harder and more austere.
Gone are the jokes, the friendly smiles and laughs.
…
Wednesday, March 12th.
When will the family return?
If I am completely honest, there has not been any contact since it was announced they were leaving back in mid-January. Where they are is a complete mystery. I am concerned for their safety. I questioned the master, but even this direct approach failed to produce an answer from him.
What else can I do?
…
Monday, April 2nd.
The master has been keeping strange times as of late.
People arrive unannounced in the early hours of the night, and unusual sounds can be heard coming from the cellars below. I will not go down there anymore. It makes my skin crawl, just thinking about the horrible sounds. They are not normal.
…
Tuesday, May 3rd,
I cannot take it anymore.
I caught the master taking part in a ceremony at the stone circle last night. What happened I dare not say, but I have come to the conclusion that the family may have come to an end at his hands, and I fear my own life may also be in danger.
The cellars have begun to frighten me. I hear more and more the cries from below. It is my belief that someone is entombed below.
Tomorrow I will try to find them.
Eliza closed the diary.
‘Read more!’ urged Thomas.
‘But that’s the last entry.’ Eliza said.
‘There’s nothing more?’
‘No.’
‘But who could have written this?’ asked Scarlet. ‘The butler?’
‘Possibly. He didn’t follow it up in the diary though. So what do we conclude from that?’
‘That he’s dead?’ answered Thomas.
Scarlet tutted.
‘Who knows?’ said Eliza. ‘One thing is certain though. Things are turning bloody strange here. But I’ve got an idea, so this is what I want to do…’ suggested Eliza, kneeling down.
‘I’m going to change back into an Owl…’
