28. In which the cold addles minds and amends are made
IN WHICH THE COLD ADDLES MINDS AND AMENDS ARE MADE
Charlotte had seen Hester fall apart, and it had shaken her to her core.
The ship was crushed, and Arnold had said they would have to escape over the ice, but surely that wasn’t possible in those tiny boats, on the most perilous ocean on the planet.
It was all her fault. Her fault that they were down here.
Her fault that Hester’s beloved ship was sinking, slowly and surely into the frozen sea.
Her fault that they would all perish down here.
She sat in the tent, her breathing shallow, her head swimming. Marjorie nuzzled her leg, whining, and Charlotte buried her face in her friend’s thick fur.
“Oh, girl. It’s all my fault. I had this stupid idea that I could do this, and I was wrong. I should have just stayed at home.”
She had to laugh at the cross look that Marjorie gave her, as if she could understand every word and heartily disagreed. “But wouldn’t that be better than dying down here?”
“Do you know? I don’t think it would, my dear.”
Charlotte froze.
That voice. A voice she hadn’t heard in over a year. Her throat tightened, and Marjorie dashed towards its source, whining joyously. And slowly, ever so slowly, she turned.
Sitting by the wall of the tent was a spectral form. A pearly, translucent figure whose edges blew and frayed in a wind she could not feel.
She clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide.
Ernie.
“I am hallucinating,” she breathed. But Marjorie was prancing and trying to rub herself against the spirit, albeit to no avail, passing through his legs in a cloud of white haze. “This cannot be real.”
“Perhaps not. Perhaps you are dreaming, or the cold has addled your mind,” Ernie said, laughing, the sound so familiar and so strange that tears sprang to Charlotte’s eyes.
“Perhaps,” Charlotte whispered through the hand that still covered her mouth.
Ernie bent down to Marjorie. “You’re doing a fine job of taking care of her. Keep it up, Marj.” The dog tried to lick his lined face. He rose and fixed his eyes on Charlotte.
Marjorie came back to Charlotte’s side and sat down.
“I am so proud of you, my dear,” he said. “Look at you. My wife, the Antarctic explorer!”
Charlotte lowered her hand from her face, her bottom lip trembling. “I’d hardly call myself that.”
Ernie scoffed. “And whyever not? You are exploring the Antarctic, are you not?”
“We are stranded. The ship is sinking. We will surely die. And it is all my fault.” Her voice broke. She rubbed her eyes, but he was still there. Her mind was playing cruel tricks on her. Although, was his ghost the strangest thing she’d seen on this voyage? Not in the slightest.
Ernie smiled, his eyes crinkling more thoroughly at the corners. “Hold fast, my dear. And when things are darkest, look to the light.”
“But—what does that mean?”
His ghostly image began to fade, and Charlotte scrambled towards him, reaching for him, only to fall onto the tent floor with nothing but thin air in her hands. She whirled, but she was alone again, save for Marjorie.
Hester tumbled through the tent flap, her eyes red, face drawn. “I came to apologise for putting you in with Arnold.” She looked around, puzzled. “But I had expected to find him here. Weren’t you just speaking to someone?”
Could she admit to Hester what she’d just seen? Charlotte’s eyes were drawn to Hester’s hands. She grasped at them, turning them over to read the ink across her fingers. HOLD FAST. “Ernie. He was here. He said…this.” She held Hester’s hands up. It was surely not a coincidence.
“Hold fast?”
Charlotte nodded, Hester’s face blurring in the tears that stung her eyes. She was wrapped up in a hug so tight the air rushed from her lungs.
“Hold fast,” Hester whispered, warm breath hitting her ear.
Arnold stumbled through the tent flaps with an oil lamp in his hands, the light blinding her. She gasped.
When things are darkest, look to the light.
But he couldn’t have meant…could he? Charlotte’s pulse quickened.
Arnold chuckled nervously and set the lamp down. “Are you quite well, Charlotte? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Charlotte exchanged a look with Hester.
“Do you want me to swap with Arnold? I can sleep here with you,” Hester said.
Charlotte sighed. “No. You snore.”
Hester’s eyes widened. “I do not!”
“You snore like a hog, all night long.” Charlotte folded her arms. “I’m looking forward to finally getting some sleep.”
Hester’s jaw dropped, and Arnold laughed and hooked an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “You heard the Boss, better get to your own bed.”
Hester flashed them a smile before leaving, the tent flaps falling closed behind her. Charlotte was sure she heard the words, “You’re welcome” sung from outside.
Her cheeks flushed, and she turned to Arnold, who looked pleased as punch.
“Back to bed?” he asked, gesturing to the floor.
Charlotte nodded and slid into the sleeping bag, nestling once again between the warmth of Arnold and Marjorie.
And she knew what tended to follow in the romance novels.
It would be easy. She just had to roll over and that’s all it would take, he would surely understand her intentions, and then...
well, the thought had her breath coming in tatters, her heartbeat stuttering.
She fisted her hands, trying to dredge up the confidence, the courage.
Look to the light. Had Ernie meant for her to look to Arnold?
Hester wasn’t right, she wasn’t stopping herself because of a relationship that had never been romantic, but for another more awful reason.
Perhaps she could find the courage to move on from that night.
She took a deep breath and twisted to face Arnold.
Who was fast asleep.
Her bravery flickered and died.
Hester sat in the tent alone, fretting about Rufus and Winston seeing her wings while she slept.
They were all out doing various things to make the camp more secure, and she was making sure her sleeping bag and small bag of belongings were on the edge of the large tent.
But the only way for them not to have seen would have been to share a tent with Charlotte, and she so wanted to play matchmaker. Wanted her friends to be happy.
“Hester?” Fliss called from outside the tent. “Can I come in?”
Hester froze, throat thickening. What did Fliss want? Was there some administrative task she’d forgotten to do? Her heart sank. She couldn’t take any more of Fliss’s stand-offishness. It was the last thing she needed.
“I’m coming inside.” Fliss ducked through the tent flaps.
Hester took a step back, her chest already aching from the chill that stretched between them. Her voice broke when she said, “I cannot do this right now—" She gestured between them.
Fliss barrelled forwards, wrapping her arms around Hester. Her shoulders shook. “I cannot believe she’s gone.”
Hester’s face crumpled, and she sobbed into her friend’s hair. “I don’t know how to carry on without her. Without you. I’m sorry, Fliss.” She had been so stupid to let this go on for so long. “I never wanted to keep things from you. I didn’t want you to think of me as a freak.”
“You’re not a freak, don’t say such things.” Fliss sighed. “I forgive you, Hess.”
“Everything is so dark. So hopeless.” Hester gripped Fliss’s filthy coat. “Our ship is gone. My magic is used up. I don’t know how to get us out of this mess.”
“We’ll find a way. We always do. You always do. Remember when we had nothing, and you saved me? You can do anything. You are limitless.”
Hester screwed her eyes shut, unsure if Fliss’s words were the weight of an anchor, or as light as a feather. “That was a lucky break. Winning the Valour was chance. This is entirely different.”
Fliss’s hands pressed more firmly into Hester’s back. She shook her head. “No. It was more than chance. Every move you made back then was weighed. Every choice was immaculate. Luck was involved, but isn’t it always? We will get out of this. I trust in the captain.”
Hester slumped against her mate, mumbling, “Hold fast. Charlotte said we have to hold fast.”
Fliss rubbed circles on her back. “She’s right. And really, you have two choices. Let this drag you under, or let it fuel you. And I know you. I know how brightly you burn.” She pulled Hester back, planting a kiss on her nose. “Shine so bright it burns their fucking eyes.”
Hester snorted. “I never took you as one for a dramatic speech.”
“Yes, well.” Fliss rubbed her broken fingernails on her coat, looking smug. “It was rather good, was it not?”
Hester sniffed. “It was.”
“I’m glad you agree. Now.” Fliss pulled Hester to the ground, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, arms around each other. “Tell me more about this magic. Is it from your parents?”
“Who knows. Charlotte has a book of mythical beings. It looks like I might be one of them. Or maybe I truly am a freak and that’s why they left me.
” She had always wondered whether they had died as Fliss’s parents had, or whether they had abandoned her.
She was sure it was the latter. Was convinced of it.
And that was the crux of her fear, though she shoved it down into a trench so deep it never saw the light, until now.
Hester could not bear to be abandoned again.
“You’re not a freak, don’t say that.” Fliss leant her head on Hester’s shoulder. “A mythical being though? Seriously?”
Had she really said it out loud? It sounded so ridiculous. “Who knows.” Hester sniffed, tightening her grip around Fliss. It was like old times. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, silly goose.”
Why did people keep calling her that? “Friends again?”
“As long as there are no other secrets between us.”
Hester blinked, her lips parting. But she couldn’t tell Fliss about Septimus. Couldn’t tell her how she couldn’t stop thinking of him stroking her hair.
“No other secrets,” she said, crossing her toes in her boots.
Just in case.