Birds pattern the sky beyond her, but I will them away. I’m going to catch this woman myself and when I do there’ll be hell to pay.
13
It’s getting dark finally. I really need to sleep, but it’s so weird having Dorcas here staring at me.
‘Sniff this.’ She shoves a bunch of lavender in my face. A sprig goes up my nose.
‘Ow, you idiot.’
‘It’s meant to be therapeutic.’
‘Not when you stab me up my nostril, it isn’t.’
‘Sorry.’ She yawns. This isn’t going to work if she falls asleep too. Seeing my worry, she slaps her cheeks to rouse herself. Poor Dorcas. She hasn’t been sleeping well either. ‘I’m here. Present. On watch. I. Will.’ Slap. ‘Not.’ Slap. ‘Fall.’ Slap. ‘Asleep.’ Slap, slap.
‘Good.’
‘You, however, can feel free to sleep at any time now.’ She is sitting in a chair right next to me. ‘Seriously. Any time you like.’
‘Perhaps if you move away a bit.’
‘Oh yeah. Of course.’ She moves the chair to the other side of the room and stares at me.
This is such a ridiculous plan, but Dorcas will guide me back to the bed if I start to sleepwalk. We know it’s dangerous to wake up someone who is sleepwalking, but I reckon it’s more dangerous to let them climb on a roof, so I’ll take my chances.
‘Wilde, you have to actually close your eyes to go to sleep. Count sheep or something. I don’t know. Put a pillow over your head.’
‘It’s too hot. I’d die of asphyxiation.’
‘Good word.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now stop saying words and…’
‘I know. I know. I’m trying.’
‘Try harder.’
I close my eyes and Gwyneth appears immediately. She jigs about in a Halloween witch’s costume then puts a pumpkin on her head as a helmet and rides off on a broomstick with a banner advertising the show trailing behind her. I’m sure it’s her writing the curses. I’m sure that we can catch her.
‘Stop thinking about wreaking revenge on Gwyneth and go to sleep.’
Dorcas knows me better than almost anyone else already.
I open my eyes enough to see Dorcas. She’s messaging someone on her phone. I wonder who it is?
Could it be Dorcas writing the curses? No. I tell myself off. I turn away.
I’ll count sheep. One, two, three. I try to make them turn uphill, but they won’t. Stubborn sheep. The owls land and scratch the roof above with their talons. I imagine Mrs Danvers licking her lips as she looks at them. I’ll count birds instead. I’ve always liked them. Nice friendly birds. I think of them gathering, following me, swooping down to peck at people. Not helping me sleep at all.
I sit up.
‘I can’t talk to you right now.’ Dorcas puts her palm towards me and carries on messaging. I grab the water spray I’ve brought up and soak my sheets. Dorcas’s lit-up face rolls its eyes then pointedly ignores me. I lie back down.
The water is soothing. I think of swimming. The wriggles of light on the yellow walls of my room in our flat by the sea. Dad and me out on a boat. The waves gently rocking us, just me and him. Magical glints of white against lifts of azure blue. It’s just us two and the ocean. Just us and the dreaming, drifting, endless rolling blues.
‘Argh!’ I fall. I wake with a bump. It takes me a second to get my bearings.
It’s fine. It’s good. I’m in my room. I’m on the floor by the witch window, but I’m inside. It’s all good. It’s dark. The lamp is on the floor and there’s a strange noise coming from the other side of the room. Dorcas.
I reach for the lamp and turn it on. ‘Dorcas?’
She’s cowering on the far side of the room.
‘Dorcas. What is it?’
‘There are no facts to support this. There have been rumours, sightings even, but there’s no scientific evidence.’
I go towards her and she backs away, still muttering incoherently about there being no facts.
‘Dorcas, what is it?’
‘Somnambulism. Sleepwalking. Yes. But this. No. No facts. No facts to support.’
She’s like an android having a meltdown. ‘Dorcas, you’re scaring me.’
Mae’s voice yells up the stairs. ‘Wilde?’
Oh, for goodness sake. ‘Dorcas. It’s Mae. I’m just going to head her off. I’ll be back. Just calm down. Calm down!’ I dash out.
Mae stands at the bottom of the narrow stairs, rumpled in her nightshirt and clearly cross as well as concerned. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Sorry, Mae. We were just messing about. I was telling Dorcas a ghost story, you know that one about the girl in the green dress, and she got scared and screamed. That’s all. I promise we’ll go to sleep now.’
‘I’ll put my earplugs in. Carry on. As you were.’
She goes and I sprint back up the stairs.
Dorcas is still jabbering away to herself.
‘It’s fine. I told Mae a little lie, but she’s fine.’
Jabbering random facts is Dorcas’s way of calming down. I let her do it for a bit, but curiosity and irritation overwhelm me.
‘What are you talking about? Dorcas, tell me.’
I take the glass of water from the side of the bed. I can’t bring myself to throw it in her face, like I’ve seen people do on films, so I flick some of it at her with my fingers. On the third flick her eyes focus on me.
‘Wilde.’ She studies me so strangely.
‘Dorcas.’ I wait. I have no idea what is coming. What if she is the one writing the curses and is about to confess? I’ll forgive her. She’s my friend. If she did it there’s a good reason.
‘I don’t even know how to say this.’ Her voice wavers an entire musical scale.
‘Just spit it out, Dorcas. Whatever it is. We’ll deal with it, OK?’
‘Not this.’
‘Just tell me.’
She’s not even looking at me now. I feel so sorry for her. This is horrific. She is going to confess to being The Witch.
‘Wilde. You were…’ She hugs herself for comfort. ‘You were flying.’
‘What?’ I burst out laughing. ‘What?’ It’s the only word I have.
She still doesn’t look at me.
It’s a joke. A prank. I bet she’s filming my reaction. Her phone is clutched in her hand, but it’s not on.
‘Dorcas. I don’t get it. What’s the joke?’
‘It isn’t a joke.’ She keeps hugging herself, like her arms are some sort of protection against me.
‘Dorcas. Stop it. You’re freaking me out.’