‘Give her back. She’s my dolly.’
Lena pulled the bedcovers right over the top of her head. In December, when everybody gathered around the Yuletide fire, Big Alice would tell them spooky stories. She knew loads of them, and Lena enjoyed hearing about the Vikings who haunted Kingley Vale near Stoughton, or the dragon that lived on Bignor Hill, or the Sussex Fairies, mythical creatures who would dance on Harrow Hill or Cissbury Ring. The stories were fun when she was sitting next to her mother, Angel, and they were all wrapped up warm, but it didn’t feel so good now. It was worrying to think that this house was close to Patching village and Cissbury Ring was just the other side of Findon. She shivered. Could the sounds she was hearing be the Fairies under her window? And if so, what did it mean? Every part of her wanted to run to her mother’s room and tell her that she was scared. Under normal circumstances her mother would lift the blankets and she could snuggle down close to her, but she couldn’t do that now. Angel was ill. Very ill.
Sucking in her lips with fear, Lena pulled the pillow around her ears.
Outside, under the eaves, the girls were still arguing. ‘I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss. You never play with her anyway.’
‘That’s not the point,’ said Milly, reaching out to take her doll back. ‘She’s mine.’
When Pearl whacked her sister on the head with it, Milly knew she’d lost the argument. She rubbed her head miserably. ‘What are you going to do with her anyway?’
‘Cast a spell.’
Milly snorted, but all at once she realised Pearl was deadly serious. ‘Don’t be silly. You can’t do that,’ she protested. ‘It’s bad.’
Pearl poked her finger in the doll’s eye and it caved in. ‘She’s the one who’s bad,’ she said, jerking her head towards the window. ‘The tart.’
Milly took in her breath noisily. Her sister had the big book in her hand. She didn’t need to ask what it was; she had seen it often enough, although she’d never read it herself. Just the title was enough to scare her half to death. Witches, Spells and Folklore.
Now Milly was terrified. Every part of her wanted to get up and run away but somehow she was transfixed. Did she believe in spells? She wasn’t sure, but right now she wished herself a million miles away.
‘Don’t make a sound,’ Pearl cautioned.
Milly frowned as her sister took hold of her hand and held it palm upwards. What was she going to do now? All at once, Pearl drew the knife across Milly’s palm.
‘Argh.’
‘Shh!’
Milly whimpered in pain as her blood dripped onto the open pages of the book. As she snatched her hand back and held it to her chest, Pearl ran the knife across her own hand. They both watched as her blood fell onto the book as well. Milly sucked in her silent tears. Her hand hurt. Really hurt. But Pearl wasn’t finished yet. She grabbed Milly’s hand back and interlaced their fingers until their blood mingled. She then began her incantation.
‘Black night, full moon, I call on all nature to witness . . .’
Milly wasn’t really listening to what was being said. Her only feeling, apart from the pain across her palm, was a terrible fear that at any minute God would strike her dead for what she was doing.
Pearl held the doll up with her other hand. ‘May this doll bring a thousand curses upon the Jezebel who stole our father . . .’
Milly was shivering uncontrollably now. She didn’t much like the doll. It had a funny snub nose, and the eye Pearl had pushed in never did open properly, but her sister was making the doll, her doll, a part of something very, very scary. It was wicked. Evil.
Milly snatched her hand away to hug her knees.
Pearl held the doll up. ‘I charge you to do all in your power to bring pain and death . . .’ And with that she rubbed the doll’s face in the mud once more, then threw it to the back of the log pile.
At exactly the same moment, the candle spluttered and went out. Pearl grabbed at Milly’s hand again. Milly gasped. ‘Oh please,’ she whispered feebly. ‘Please, Pearl, don’t.’
But Pearl wasn’t listening. She pressed Milly’s hand onto the book. ‘Say Amen.’
‘I don’t want to,’ Milly snivelled plaintively.
Pearl dug her fingers into her flesh and squeezed her hand really hard. ‘Say Amen.’
‘No. It’s not right, Pearl. The things you’ve said, they’re wicked.’
‘Say it,’ Pearl hissed. She began to prise Milly’s middle two fingers apart. Milly held out as long as she could, but eventually the pain was so bad she had to give in. ‘Amen,’ she choked.
Pearl looked up at the window. ‘That’ll teach you, bitch,’ she snarled out loud.
Milly held her sore fingers and rocked herself. Pearl wiped the bloody knife on the grass and put it back into the canvas bag. When Pearl lifted the book up, Milly could see their blood running in a trail across it. Her sister fished around in the bag and took out a much smaller book and kissed the cover.
‘Now kiss this,’ she said, holding it open for Milly.
Milly kissed the tissue-paper page. Her sister slammed the book shut and Milly felt sick. Pearl stuffed it in the bag. ‘Come on,’ she whispered. ‘We’d better go. It’s going to take ages to get ourselves cleaned up.’
In the room above them, Lena pulled the bedclothes down. She could still hear the Fairies whispering under the window, but then one of them said something out loud.
‘That’ll teach you, bitch.’
Taking a deep breath, Lena climbed out of bed and crept towards the curtain and lifted it. It was raining and it was dark, but below the window she could just make out two shapes. How weird. They were much bigger than she’d expected. In fact they looked more like people than Fairies. Children. They were two children. Two girls who looked a little older than herself.
Lena dropped the curtain and frowned. What were two girls doing outside the house in the rain at this time of night? More to the point, who were they? She waited a second or two before she lifted the edge of the curtain again and saw one girl running away. The other one was on all fours, scurrying as fast as she could behind her. Even though the only light was from the moon, Lena could see that her bottom was only covered by a wet nightie, and although she wore wellington boots, her feet were slipping and sliding on the mud. All at once, the girl stood up and turned her head towards the cottage. Lena dropped the curtain.
Pearl was running as fast as she could towards the ha-ha, but something made Milly pause and turn back to take one last look at the cottage. As she did so, she saw the curtain in the bedroom fall. Her heart went into her mouth. They’d been seen. Somebody knew what they’d done. With a whimper of terror, Milly raced to catch up with her sister.
Chapter 5
Back in the house, both girls were soaked to the skin. Milly couldn’t stop shivering. Her chest was tight and her hand, especially her middle two fingers, hurt like mad. Her crying had become great gulping sounds and, much to Pearl’s irritation, even her teeth chattered noisily.
‘Shut up, will you,’ Pearl hissed. ‘You’ll wake somebody up.’
