Sadie
“What?” the old man mutters. “What’s the silly girl playing at?”
The only reply is the soft lapping of the lake water and the rustling of reeds.
Joe casts his thin beam of light around until it picks out a pale object on the wooden planks.
A half-smoked cigarette, with bright crimson lipstick marks still on it.
He swivels the light in every direction, but it doesn’t penetrate the darkness far enough to make out more than reeds and grass and the cold reflection of the water.
“Maybe,” Joe says slowly, “she did go back inside, and we just didn’t hear her.”
“Let’s go and check,” Sadie says. “I think I know which room she was given.” She tries to push away the memory of that unearthly cry from the other end of the corridor.
They dash back into the warmth of the house and try calling Genevieve from the hallway, with no success. Zach hovers in the drawing room doorway, looking concerned, but he has no helpful suggestions.
“Okay, I’ll check down here,” Joe says. “She might have come in the back door, maybe. Do you mind checking her bedroom?”
“Sure,” Sadie says, although she’s far from thrilled at the prospect of making her way up those stairs again by herself. “And what if she’s not there?”
Joe’s face creases with doubt. “Well, we’ll have to disturb Nazleen, I suppose. She’s the company’s representative, isn’t she? I still can’t believe they didn’t reconnect the phone line . . .”
Sadie tries to look more confident than she feels. “We’ll find her. Just—shout if you find her first, okay?”
Joe starts trying the doors on one side of the hall, and Sadie heads upstairs.
The corridor is empty, as before; all the doors on either side are closed, except for one halfway down the smoke-damaged end.
Before she can change her mind, she marches down to it and peers inside.
It’s a junk room: boxes are stacked high on the floor and on the dark wooden furniture.
The walls are painted a fresh cream, but Sadie’s fairly sure this is the room that had the blackening around its window in the photo, and when she sniffs the air, she’s sure she detects a faint scent of soot.
For a second, she imagines someone, ducked down behind the boxes, breathing and watching her.
She shakes her head and hurries out, closing the door behind her with a bang.
At the other end of the corridor, Genevieve’s room is unoccupied.
The red dress still lies puddled on the rug, and the curtains are partly open.
Sadie crosses to the window and peers down into Raven Hall’s walled back garden, but there’s little to be seen beyond the weak yellow light from the rear windows downstairs.
Faintly, she hears Joe calling, “Genevie-e-eve!”
Sadie doesn’t need to guess at Nazleen’s room; she taps sharply on the door.
“Nazleen? I’m sorry.” Slowly, Sadie turns the handle. “But it’s important. I’m coming in.”
Nazleen, looking frightened, is already swinging her legs out of bed and fumbling with her dressing gown.
“Listen,” Sadie says. “Genevieve went out for a cigarette, and she—we can’t find her. We’ve looked for her outside, and we’re hoping she came back in again, but—”
Nazleen stares at her, wide-eyed. “Well, where is she?”
“That’s what I’m saying. We don’t know.”
“Shit.” Nazleen stumbles to the dressing table and jabs at buttons on her phone. “Still no signal. This bloody house . . .” She turns to Sadie with a hopeful expression. “Maybe she’s with one of the others?”
“Zach and his dad are downstairs, and so is Joe. They’ve no idea. It’s only Mrs. Shrew we haven’t asked . . .” Sadie swings around. “Come on.”
Nazleen hangs back in the corridor as Sadie raps loudly on Mrs. Shrew’s door, and if Nazleen wonders how Sadie knows which room to try, she doesn’t show it.
“It’s me,” Sadie calls out, her knuckles still resting on the painted wood. “Sadie. Or Miss Lamb, whatever. I need to talk to you.” She turns the door handle slowly. “I’m coming in.”
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
Mrs. Shrew is still fully dressed. She stands in the center of the room, and her expression is furious.
“Mrs.—uh.” Sadie remembers it isn’t the woman’s real name, and she feels unbalanced. “Um, the young woman in red—Miss Mouse, you know—we can’t find her. She went outside for a cigarette and—”
Mrs. Shrew’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Oh, is that all? There’s no need to panic. She told me she was thinking of walking into the village and spending the night there. I suppose that’s what she’s done.”
“But”—Sadie stares at her—“when did she say that?”
“When we were leaving the dining room. We spoke in the hall for a moment.”
“But why would she? It’s freezing out there. And she won’t—” Just in time, Sadie stops herself from saying, She won’t get paid. Mrs. Shrew would no doubt find that terribly vulgar.
“Who knows what goes on in the minds of young people these days?” Mrs. Shrew says primly. “Perhaps she wasn’t enjoying the company. I can’t say I blame her.”
Sadie frowns. “Okay, well. I think—we might just check around the place anyway, just in case . . .”
“Very wise, I’m sure.” Mrs. Shrew turns away dismissively.
Back out in the corridor, Nazleen huddles deeper into her dressing gown, gazing at Sadie with wide brown eyes.
“Do you think that’s what she did?” Nazleen whispers.
“Walked to the village?” Sadie considers the idea.
“I suppose it’s possible. There’s a B and B, isn’t there?
” She remembers the way Genevieve hovered at the entrance to the drawing room, clutching her coat against her chest. The young woman certainly had her phone and cigarettes with her by then, and she was the last guest to enter the drawing room by several minutes.
What else might she have been hiding under that coat—a night bag, perhaps?
A pair of trainers, for the walk into the village?
Sadie sighs. “Maybe she did get fed up with us. She felt a bit out of place, I think.”
Nazleen nods, as if trying to convince herself. “Or maybe she just thought the house was too spooky . . .”
Sadie gives her a sharp look. “Or she realized she had a lower-grade bedroom than the rest of us.”
Nazleen looks surprised. “Does she? That’s nothing to do with me.”
Footsteps thump up the stairs, and Zach appears. He looks hopefully at Sadie.
“Any sign?”
Sadie shakes her head. “Mrs. Shrew thinks she might have walked into the village.”
Zach raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s a good half-hour walk.”
“Look—why don’t you check the rooms up at that end?
” Sadie indicates the fire-damaged end of the corridor with a twinge of guilt.
“And, Nazleen, you check the rest of the rooms at this end. And I’ll go and look in the—er.
” She frowns at the end door. “In the tower. And then we’ll meet downstairs in the hall if we don’t find anything. ”
“Okay.” Zach’s already turning away. Nazleen opens the door to Sadie’s room, calling Genevieve’s name. Sadie hurries to the end of the corridor, and this time she heads straight up the spiral staircase before she can change her mind.