13 Curses (26 page)

“Yes, I’ve just heard there’s an illness going around,” he said. “But you needn’t worry, the doctor has been called for. Just keep an eye on James and let us know if anything develops—”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “The children… they aren’t… themselves.”

“Well, of course not,” said John, his frown deepening.
“People—children—often behave strangely when they’re unwell, particularly if there’s a fever—”

“No!” Rowan shouted, making James jump. “They aren’t themselves! They’ve been switched!”

James began to cry, and John simply stared at her, saying nothing.

“You’ve got to listen to me,” she said urgently. “The children are being replaced with… things that aren’t human.”

John continued to watch her in a way that made it plain she was being assessed.

“Rowan,” he said gravely. “What exactly are you proposing the children are being switched with?”

“Fairies.” She said it firmly but quickly, and her eyes did not waver from John’s. There was, she noticed, a curious lack of reaction.

Wordlessly, John got up and walked over to an ugly gray filing cabinet. He rifled through the drawer labeled F and selected a file. He carried it back to his desk and opened it.

“Changelings?” he said gently. “I’m familiar with the concept. Rather fond of Victorian fairy art. It’s a common theme.”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes.”

“I looked at your file before you arrived.” He flicked to a page that had been bookmarked with a yellow Post-it note. “It says here that, in your statement to the police following the car accident, you admitted that you wouldn’t normally have been in the car with your parents at that time or on that route. It was unusual, wasn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Can you tell me why it was unusual?”

“Because…” She cleared her throat. “Because I should have been at school. But instead I went to London that day. We were only in the car because my parents found out where I was and came to find me. If… if I’d gone to school then I would have walked home as I normally did… the accident would never have happened.”

“The accident would still have happened,” John said. “It would just have happened to someone else. I’ve set up a meeting for you with a counselor who is going to explain this to you in more detail, as it’s important that you understand that it wasn’t your fault. For now, though, I want to discuss what you were doing that day, instead of being at school.”

“There was an exhibition,” Rowan said. “Of fairies in art and photographs. I went to go and see it.”

“Why did you go alone?” John asked. “Why didn’t your parents take you on the weekend or over the break?”

“They didn’t like me talking about fairies,” Rowan said.

“Why not?”

“Because they refused to believe what I’m telling you now—that fairies are real. But if someone doesn’t start believing me, the children here are going to be switched, one by one.”

John leaned over and scrawled a note on a piece of paper.

“What makes you think that the children here are at risk? To be snatched by fairies, I mean?”

Rowan opened her mouth to answer, then paused to consider the question carefully.

“Perhaps it’s because the children here are more vulnerable,” she said tentatively. “If they have someone to love them already, and care for them, then they’d be missed. Maybe that’s it—they take the ones that they think won’t be missed.”

“I can see why you might think that,” John said gently. “And why this interest of yours has escalated since your parents’ deaths. It’s normal to want to believe in something. It’s your mind’s way of coping.” He closed her file. “I think that’s enough for now.”

Rowan got up. The conversation was over, and she felt foolish to have even attempted to convince another adult of the truth. By the time she reached her room, her embarrassment had been replaced by anger. She had to get herself and James out of this place. The letter to her aunt Rose was her only hope. Following a hospital appointment that afternoon, she was gladdened to hear that her plaster cast would be taken off in two weeks. When she arrived back, she began drafting out her letter to Aunt Rose with her right hand. Her writing looked dreadful, but each version was improved in content.

The next morning, Rowan awoke to pandemonium. Footsteps thundered along the corridors accompanied by low voices.

Rowan jumped out of bed and pulled her cardigan on over her pajamas, then crept out into the corridor. Ahead of her, the cleaner was hurrying downstairs after John and two other staff members. Rowan followed, her bare feet
allowing her to be stealthy as a snake. Her pace quickened as she noticed they were heading for the nursery. Some of the other children were up, milling around, and being barked at to go back to their rooms.

Outside the nursery door, Rowan paused and listened. Through a crack by the hinges she could see that James was in his crib, and at once her pounding heart began to slow. He was safe. But something else was going on. She pressed her ears against the crack.

“They can’t have just disappeared!” John snapped. “Don’t keep telling me that!”

“But they
have,”
a female voice insisted.

“It’s bleedin’ odd,” said the cleaner. “But they must be somewhere. Someone’s playing a trick, I’ll say. Too coincidental, what with the other little girl wandering off the other week. Still, we found her, so the other two can’t have gone far.”

Two,
Rowan thought
. Two children have vanished.

“I think you’re right,” John said, his voice suddenly hard. “Someone’s playing tricks. And I think I know who.” His footsteps thudded toward the door. Rowan looked around and saw that there was nowhere she could get to quickly enough to hide, so she simply stood there, waiting.

The door was flung open and John regarded her. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her there.

“I want a word with you,” he said.

“Pardon?” said Rowan.

“Into my office. Now.”

Numbly, Rowan followed, with one last glimpse over her shoulder to ascertain that James was safe.

“All right,” said John, before the door was even closed.
“Two of the babies weren’t in their beds this morning. Do you have any idea of where they are?”

“What?” Rowan said, feeling sick. “You can’t think… that I had something to do with this?”

“Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?” John said grimly. “The day after you insist children are being stolen by fairies, two children mysteriously vanish?”

“It’s nothing to do with me,” said Rowan angrily. “I’d never play a trick like that! I’ll help you look for them.”

“People are already looking. They’ve been looking for an hour. And what’s interesting is that one of the children can only crawl, and the other has only just learned to sit up! Common sense says they couldn’t have gone far. And my common sense is telling me that they were moved by somebody.”

“It wasn’t me,” Rowan repeated.

“Is that the truth? Because to put the safety of others at risk is more than a simple prank, Rowan. It’s serious.”

“I swear to you, I don’t know where they are,” she whispered. “How can you think that?”

John’s expression relented suddenly.

“Very well. Collect James from the nursery, and then go back to your room.”

Hours passed, and there was no sign of the missing children. A horrid nagging feeling ate away at Rowan like a rat. If the fairies were to blame, then why hadn’t they left replacements for the children? Surely they wouldn’t just steal two babies… snatch them away into thin air? But as the morning went on, and the children were not found, it seemed the likeliest explanation.

It was noon before the children were called down from their rooms for something to eat. Extra staff had been brought in to deal with the crisis, and the police had been called and were asking everybody questions. When Rowan’s turn came, she told the absolute truth about what she had seen and heard—which was nothing. On the subject of fairies she maintained a sensible silence.

“Have you heard what’s happening?” Polly said breathlessly, rushing over to her after she rejoined the common room. “We’re being moved. They’re transferring us to other homes!”

“They are? When?”

Polly gestured to her twin. “We’ve been told to pack up our things this afternoon! We’re going to Kent.” She scanned the room. “Sally’s been given a place in a foster home,” she said enviously. “She’s leaving tomorrow. I suppose it’s only fair. She’s been here longest.”

“What about me?” Rowan asked, but Polly was already shaking her head.

“You’ll have to wait and see what John says.”

Just then, the cleaner came bustling over.

“All right, pet?” she said to Polly, patting her on the head. She turned to Rowan. “Mr. Temple has asked for you.”

Rowan leapt up and ran to John’s office, bursting in without knocking.

“Are you moving me and James?” she demanded.

“Yes,” John said. Through his worry, he managed a smile. “I’ve some good news. We finally managed to contact your aunt Primrose.”

“It’s Rose,” Rowan said nervously. “She doesn’t like to be called Primrose, my mother says… said.”

John nodded. “Rose has agreed to care for you and James on a permanent basis. There are a few matters that need ironing out, such as the living conditions,” he wrinkled his nose, “and you’ll be visited by a social worker during the settling-in period, but it’s wonderful news.”

Rowan’s eyes filled with tears of relief. Now there was no need for her to write the wretched letter!

“Thank you,” she said with a sniff. “When is she coming?”

“She doesn’t have a car,” John answered. “And she needs a home check, which normally takes a few days. However, she’s been abroad, which is why we had problems contacting her, and she’s become rather ill on her return, so it’s likely to be a couple of weeks until she’s well enough to come for you. You have one more night here, and then you’ll be off to London for a couple of weeks. She’ll collect you from there, and she’ll be coming by train.”

He crossed the room and patted her arm awkwardly.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re a good girl. Now, why don’t you make a start on that packing?”

It was during the manic packing process that a staff member with an inventory spotted the “mix-up” with the babies’ clothes and returned the two items Rowan had
stolen to their rightful owners. Rowan could have cried with frustration. It was close to bedtime, and she had nothing to protect James. Luckily, it had been agreed that James could sleep in her room in his crib for that final night.

Then, as Rowan helped with the bedtime drinks, she spied a bright red tea towel in the kitchen. It was grubby but she didn’t care. She snatched it and stuffed it under her dressing gown.

Later, when everything was packed, she folded down the lid of her suitcase, keeping it unzipped for the last few bits in the morning. Fresh clothes were laid out on top of it for them both.

James was curled up like a hamster, his thumb wedged in his mouth. Pulling the tea towel out, she gently laid it over his bedclothes and then clambered into bed, reading from her book of fairy tales until she was drowsy. When her eyelids eventually began to droop, she laid the book on the bedside table and turned out the light.

She did not know what it was that awoke her, although at times later on she wondered whether it had been the smell. It was the first thing she had noticed: that earthy, damp scent that filled her nostrils. The second thing she saw, through her sleep-narrowed eyes, was the outline of a figure standing over her. Muzzily she lay there, assuming one of the staff was going to extra lengths to check on the children that night. However, something about the way the figure was standing alerted her to the fact that it had been there for some time, silent and watchful. And it was for this
reason that, although she had started to tremble, she kept her eyes narrowed and pretended to be asleep.