I can see Dorcas’s house from here. I’m glad she lives so close. I wish she was staying over with me. Mae is reading a book in a rocking chair in her room. I signal her with the torch and she waves back. I go inside, making sure she witnesses me, and lie down on the mattress. It’s a bit lumpy but I get comfy and open a book. It’s a jolly thing with brightly-coloured illustrations and lots of bits of poems.
When day is spent, and bright sun’s song is done,
The fair folk whirl the sky by gold moonlight.
As the dark grows, I think about The Witch. I imagine myself writing those letters in a trance. I couldn’t have, could I? I don’t know enough about the other pupils. Remembering this makes me feel a whole lot better. I try not to worry about what might happen if I fall asleep. What if I sleepwalk out of the treehouse and straight off the platform edge? Perhaps I should have asked to sleep in the conservatory. No, too hot. A tent in the garden? At least then I’d be on ground level.
Spell little ones with lullabies sweetly sung,
And everything is given to the night.
8
‘Help!’ I am way above the ground. My face is crushed into stone. Get a grip. It takes me a minute to believe where I am. The windmill on the edge of town? How did I get here? Sweat makes my hands slippery. My breathing is harsh, clawing. The night sky above me seems to want to lift me up. I cling to the solid comfort of stone.
What is happening? I can’t have sleepwalked all the way here? What other explanation is there?
I’m going to have to tell someone about this. It’s getting too dangerous. I don’t want to tell Mae. She’d tell Dad and he’d worry.
I’ll tell Dorcas. She’ll know what to do.
The thought of Dorcas, my new friend, gives me the courage to sit up and look around. There’s no one here. That’s a relief.
I am so high. The windmill watches over the town from the top of Witch Point Hill. They said in class it’s where they used to roll the witches in those spike-and-nail-filled barrels. Horrid. I look down and imagine how frightening it must have been.
Far away, I see my beloved sea glimmering in the distance. A spellbinding line of ‘wish you were here’. Closer, the town wheezes irritably. I’m high up but I’m safe. I can sit here until I feel less shaky. I close my eyes and try to think why and how I could have got here. It makes no sense, but then I suppose, nothing makes much sense when you really look at it. Pearls disappear in vinegar. Elephants can’t walk backwards. Sheep always turn uphill. Dorcas told me all these things.
This has got to stop happening. It’s getting seriously, seriously weird.
Grasping onto the stone, I swing my legs inside the open-topped windmill. The missing roof means the steps down are easy to see and there is a doorway I can get out through. I don’t need to rush now; I’m safe.
Dad told me once my mum spent days carving her initials into this ruin. Is that what brought me here? I wonder how hard it would be to find them. As I think this, I put my hand down to steady myself and feel something under my fingertips.
It can’t be.
Roughly chiselled into the stone: Mum’s initials. Mae would say it was fate.
My mum used to sit here. Play here. I feel such a strong connection to her. I know it sounds silly, but it’s like she’s trying to tell me something. I look about me. What is it? Something. Tugging at my memory. Like water slipping through my fingers. I’m sorry, Mum. I just can’t catch it.
I trace the indents in the stone, concentrating on the rough, dusty patterns. I swallow hard and stay practical. Whatever I’m trying to pinpoint ghosts itself away.
I shuffle towards the steps. I need to make plans. Stop this sleepwalking before it stops me.
I cautiously make my way down the steps. It wouldn’t be good to fall here – there are jagged points of glass where people have left broken bottles. Disgusting. I promise that I will clean this up soon, but in daylight. I reach the bottom safely and celebrate freedom.
In the baked darkness, the town slumbers in shadow pockets beneath the stars. Mae says it has been getting hotter and hotter since I arrived. There hasn’t been a drop of rain in Witch Point for ages and everyone has had enough. Including me, even though I haven’t been here that long. I remember rain. It was glorious. This might be a curse or it might be the climate crisis brought on by stupid humans.
The ground is warm beneath my bare feet. It has to be the weather causing the sleepwalking. It’s never happened to me before. I stop to let a critter cross the path ahead of me. A rat or a weasel. It’s probably searching for water, poor thing.
Attempting to ignore my sore soles, I descend the steps to the sliding cemetery and hobble past a tilted grave. It is on the outside of the wall, turned to face the wrong way. A witch maybe?
Through the kissing gate and over the lane, using all my willpower to keep walking. Bats flitting. Owls crying. Down the rickety path home where Mrs Danvers welcomes me by turning her bum in my direction.
‘Charming.’ I’m so happy to have made it back in one piece I almost hug her.
I don’t want to go back to the treehouse. I want to be close to the ground. The hallway is a sickly blue. I creep into one of the Sleepy Hollow chairs in the drawing room and curl up tight. I must not sleep again until I’ve solved this. I try telling lies to sting me awake.
‘I’m not worried.’
Lie.
‘I’m not afraid that there is something wrong with me.’
Lie.
‘I am not a witch because witches don’t exist and so it’s simply impossible.’
Lie. Lie. Lie.
Alone, I watch the milky sunlight pink into yellow as Witch Point and its people come to life.
9
I didn’t go to school today. When Mae came down for breakfast, she took one look at the dark circles under my eyes and pronounced me ill. I was glad to go along with her. I’ve spent most of the day sitting around in my pyjamas, playing with the duck called Elvis and patting Duran Duran the donkey while she crunches carrots. I plink a piano key and wish I’d stuck with my lessons. I crash out a tune anyway. It’s dramatic and powerful.
‘Sounds like a cat dying.’ Mae is putting on a sun visor in the hall. ‘Did you take that remedy I made for you?’
‘Yes.’ I actually did. It was a rosewater something or other. It tasted surprisingly nice.
‘Well, you look like you’ve perked up a bit now you’ve been given a day off school.’
I immediately act extra ill to a ‘harrumph’ from her.
‘I’m just going out to get some shopping. Do you need anything?’
‘Nope.’
‘No particular requests?’
‘Nope.’
‘OK. Well, good chatting.’ She leaves a wake of sarcasm rippling behind her.
I go to the kitchen and look for something interesting to eat. Hear a loud miaow from upstairs. I ignore it but it soon turns into a howl and even if I can’t quite get on with Mrs Danvers, I would never let her be hurt.
At the top of the stairs is an open hatch I’ve never noticed before. Mrs Danvers is prowling the perimeter. She scowls at me. She is good at climbing up things but not at climbing down apparently.