The candle holder is beside the rucksack. It already contains a stub, so Elissa locates the matches. She’s just about to strike one when a light winks on from a source near the far wall.
Gasping, she drops the match and scoots backwards. Although the light isn’t strong, it’s bright enough to disorient her. She shields her eyes, realizing with nausea that she’s had company all along.
‘You were talking,’ Elijah says softly. ‘After you went unconscious.’
Elissa takes a moment to compose herself. When she speaks, her voice is barely a croak. ‘What did I say?’
‘Creepy stuff.’
That he stayed in the cell while she was out cold – that he didn’t announce himself immediately when she woke – feels like the most grotesque intrusion. But she won’t benefit by mentioning it. ‘Like what?’
‘“Hallowe’en eyes. Hallowe’en eyes watching out, watching out for me.” I didn’t like it.’
She couldn’t give a damn whether he liked it or not, but hearing the dream words makes her shiver. Suddenly, she realizes how cold she is. ‘Thanks,’ she tells him. ‘For doing what you did.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘I mean it, Elijah. You didn’t have to help. I know you’re taking a risk, coming down here.’
‘It can be our secret. A game.’
‘Yes,’ she replies. Sensing his enthusiasm, she adds, ‘Like we’re characters in a story.’
‘I like that,’ he says. ‘That’s good. That’s really good.’ She hears him snatch up something from the floor and begin to fiddle with it. ‘Who would we be?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. But we’d definitely be goodies.’
‘Well, I’m not a baddie.’
‘I know you’re not, not you, Elijah. You helped me, remember?’ Her lips widen, into what she hopes looks like a genuine smile. ‘We’d … we’d be brother and sister.’
The object Elijah plucked from the floor whispers in his fingers. ‘Huh,’ he says. ‘I never had a sister.’
‘Brother and sister, like … like …’ Then inspiration strikes. ‘Like the kids in that fairy tale. Hansel and Gretel.’
Elijah laughs, delighted. ‘I’m Hansel and you’re Gretel! Which … which makes this … the Gingerbread House!’
His amusement – so at odds with her situation – is chilling, but she feels like she’s on to something so she perseveres. ‘I keep wondering what this place looks like above ground. Now I won’t be able to get the image of gingerbread walls out of my head.’
‘It doesn’t look anything like that up there,’ he replies. ‘I wish it did. There’s a tree growing in the front room, for goodness’ sake.’
‘Gingerbread walls, icing-sugar windows and a roof made of chocolate, fixed in place with gloopy toffee.’
Elijah chuckles. ‘The walls are stone, the windows are all broken and Papa’s stripped most of the tiles off the roof.’
Elissa knows she should go on talking, but that last bit has frozen her voice. Through her game, she’s caught him off guard, and what he’s revealed could be key.
Papa’s stripped most of the tiles off the roof.
She clears her throat, sparking a coughing fit so severe she fears she’ll be sick.
‘What’s wrong?’ Elijah asks. His torch beam stutters, as if attuned to his unease.
‘Nothing. Just … I don’t know. Coming down with something, I guess. These last few days, I’ve eaten hardly anything.’
‘Do you like pecan-nut biscuits?’
‘This isn’t really the Gingerbread House.’
‘I know that, silly.’
Out of the darkness sails a parcel of greaseproof paper, landing by her foot. Unwrapping it, Elissa discovers a lop-sided biscuit. She falls on it like a wolf upon a newborn lamb.
Afterwards, a silence ensues that is almost companionable. ‘I went through your bag,’ Elijah says, sounding abashed. ‘I found a notebook. Full of what looked like secret code.’
‘It is code,’ she tells him, screwing the greaseproof paper into a ball. ‘But it isn’t secret.’
‘What’s the point of a code if not to keep secrets?’
‘For brevity.’
‘For what?’
‘For making things simple, so they’re quickly recorded.’
Elijah sniffs. ‘I have secrets. Lots of them.’
‘Most people do.’
‘Probably not as bad as mine.’
She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she keeps quiet.
‘The worst ones,’ he says, ‘I can hardly remember.’
‘If you can’t remember them, how’d you know they exist?’
His feet scrape restlessly. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he picks up whatever he was examining earlier. ‘I found these,’ he says. ‘A whole bag of them.’
Elissa raises herself on to her side. She can’t see anything past the yellow beam of his torch, but she hears the clacking of her Stauntons and knows he’s found the drawstring bag.
‘What are they?’ Elijah asks.
‘They’re mine.’
‘I know that, silly. But what are they?’
‘They’re chess pieces.’
‘They’re pretty. More than pretty. They’re beautiful.’ Elijah takes a deep breath and sighs it out. ‘Almost … magical.’
‘They’re made of Brazilian rosewood,’ she tells him ‘Dalbergia nigra – that’s the Latin name. It’s a vulnerable species now, so they don’t make stuff from it any more, but it wasn’t when they were carved.’
‘They feel warm.’
Elissa nods. She’s always thought that, too. ‘Sniff them.’
‘They smell sweet.’
‘The scent never fades. They say it’s one of the special things about Brazilian rosewood.’
‘What do you do with them?’
‘I told you. They’re chess pieces.’ Elissa inclines her head. ‘You haven’t heard of chess?’
She hears a huff of expelled breath and curses her carelessness. He’s so easy to hurt. So easy to offend, too.
‘’Course I’ve heard of it,’ Elijah mutters. ‘I just never saw the actual pieces before. Or had anyone explain the rules.’
It’s a golden opening, and she won’t waste it. Feeling more confident in her movements now that her wrist is bandaged, she tucks her legs beneath her. ‘Well, if you like, I could teach you.’
‘You’d do that?’
‘What else am I going to do down here?’
Elijah grunts. ‘Not much, I suppose.’
He sounds hurt, and she can’t work out why. It bothers her, the not-knowing.
‘You could try to escape,’ he points out.
Elissa licks her lips. There’s no safe answer to that, so she ignores it entirely.
‘How long would it take? To teach me chess?’
‘If you mean the basics, no more than an hour or so. If you’re talking about playing well – then probably an entire lifetime.’