The Hunting Ground (25 page)
Milliseconds later the entire front portion of the East Wing blasted into the sky.
‘Whoa!’ Ben cried, as hundreds of the owner’s portraits spewed outward in three directions, sheets of fire ripping through their canvases, and for one glorious and surreal moment the air was loaded with the tang of ancient linseed oil, paint and preservative fluids.
Then came the furniture. In a great blaze curtains burned, bathroom mirrors cracked and beds roasted in
their own linen. Unseen by any of them, the East Wing’s rich burgundy carpet blackened and fused to the floorboards. The brass handles, clinging to the doors, began to melt.
No one could take their eyes from the destruction. Ben stood there, his hand still on the plunger, with Elliott and Janey beside him, and all around them the sky turned a dirty, indistinct orange. But it was not over yet. Dad had arranged a finale. Ten late charges detonated, and suddenly the corridor walls, which had held so many prisoners inside the East Wing, imploded and then
exploded
. Sparks burst up like swarms of fireflies through the gaps, and with a shivering
whoosh
the roof collapsed.
For two or three perfect minutes it was like the middle of the night as a pall of reeking smoke rose up and up. Then, with tongues of flame still curling inside the ruin of the East Wing, it was over.
*
Everyone turned away from the destruction. Instead, they looked at Eve. Elliott realised that she was trying to mouth
sorry
to them all. But the time for apologies was over. Janey pressed her hand, and it was Janey, not anyone else, who, opening her arms, said to all the ghost children, ‘And now you can go.’
They gazed at her, blinking uncertainly. It wasn’t an easy thing Janey was asking. Alice, Leo, Nell and Sam had been here for so much time that they had almost forgotten what was waiting for them on the other side.
‘It’s all right,’ Janey said. ‘Didn’t I say that if we waited for long enough something wonderful would happen?’
The ghost children smiled. There was no sense of being rushed. There was time for embracing and for kisses. And then, once they were ready, it was Sam Cosgrove who took the lead. He rose up, high over the burning remnants of the East Wing, and made a long, slow circle over what had been the hunting ground. Now that Cullayn was gone the slope and the trees had returned to what they had been all along: a beautiful wooded upland, a place for butterflies and meadow-grass.
For a few minutes the other ghost children watched Sam flying overhead. Then Alice, Leo and Nell joined him and the four of them drew together, holding hands in a line and disappearing one at a time quietly over the horizon.
Theo and Eve remained. There was an awkward moment when no one knew what to say.
‘What do you want us to do with your diary?’ Ben asked at last, and everyone laughed.
‘Publish it,’ Theo said, grinning. ‘Thank you,’ he said to them all and, beside him, Eve nodded, clutching her brother’s arm tighter.
Elliott took a deep breath and stepped forward. As he did so he automatically put out his arm to shake Theo’s hand, then realised he couldn’t. Theo laughed, raised his own hand in a half-salute instead, and glanced behind him.
Something was beckoning. A warm gusting wind.
‘It’s OK,’ Janey said in the softest of voices to Theo. ‘You really can leave, you know. If you’re ready.’
At that, Theo nodded to her, and suddenly the breeze that was not from the garden became stronger and wilder, stirring his hair. Feeling it, the living stepped back, knowing its passion was not for them. But, before the wind could take Theo, Janey couldn’t help herself – she rushed into his arms. She kissed him and he kissed her old, wrinkled face back, and they held each other, and something was said between them that would always be theirs alone.
Then Theo suddenly laughed, picked Eve up and whirled her round. As she rose from the ground Theo caught her hand and, never letting go of it, led her away across the grass. They walked at first, and then a breeze picked them up and they drifted quietly southwards, skirting the graveyard. They were visible for a long time, and Theo kept looking back at Elliott and Janey. But
finally Eve managed to turn his head, and Theo gazed towards the empty sky and clutched Eve, and together they rushed away to meet the future at last.
*
With the embers of the East Wing still coiling with smoke behind them, Janey faced Dad, Ben and Elliott. The sun was beginning to set.
‘Do you need any help?’ Dad said hesitantly to her. ‘Practical support, I mean. I can help find you a place away from here, if that’s what you want …’
‘Oh, I think I’ll be all right,’ Janey replied with a grin. ‘I’m used to looking after myself.’
‘There must be something we can do for you,’ Ben said.
Janey smiled. ‘Nothing. Truly there isn’t. Not one thing. You’ve already given more than I could ever have believed. More than I should have asked for.’
Elliott leaned heavily on his left side. His knee still hurt. ‘But what will you do?’ he asked, worried for her. ‘I mean, without the ghost children to keep you company? Won’t you be lonely?’
Janey gave all three of them a smile that was as warm as strawberries in sunshine.
‘Actually, I’ve made a few plans,’ she confided. ‘Nothing much, but there’s something I’ve wanted to do
for a long time. And, well, if you don’t mind, I thought I might as well begin now …’
Janey’s hand rose to Elliott’s cheek. She left it there for a long time.
Then she turned away from Elliott, Ben and Dad and began to walk away across the western lawns.
A large expanse of grass stretched ahead of her.
Janey strode towards the graveyard. Reaching it, she touched four of the headstones. Soft mosses crumbled against her dry fingers.
In the distance the smoking ruins of the East Wing were still crackling with fire. Janey watched for a while. Then she bent towards a bush. Late-blooming roses poked through its leaves. Smiling, Janey fixed a red rose to a buttonhole in her dress. Then she glanced towards a mildewed wooden bench. It sat like a neglected, lonely thing at the southern end of the graveyard.
Walking across to the bench, Janey sat down. She reached into a pocket of her dress and took out a paperback book. Read a page or two. Slowly lowered the book again.
Stared around.
Peered in all directions.
The graveyard was entirely empty.
In the west, the sun started sinking below the horizon. It would be dark soon, but if she had no disruptions
Janey thought she might just have time to polish off the first couple of chapters, maybe more.
She brought the book back up to read. It was an excellent book. A racy thriller.
Crossing her knees, she became quite engrossed.
Nothing interrupted her.
Twenty minutes later, when Elliott checked from the kitchen window of Glebe House, Janey and her bench looked like a joined silhouette against a darkening sky.
Janey read and read.
When the natural light faded, she went back to her own house in the village. But she didn’t stay there. She returned to the graveyard, snugly wrapped in a practical woollen jumper and carrying a flask of tea. She sat back down on the bench, placing the flask beside her.
She pulled the jumper over her narrow shoulders.
She switched on a bright torch.
It was a warm evening. A good evening for staying out late.
Long past midnight, when Elliott checked on her again, Janey was still reading happily.
AN ORION CHILDREN’S EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by Orion Children’s Books.
This eBook first published in 2011 by Orion Children’s Books.
Copyright © Cliff McNish 2011
The right of Cliff McNish to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
Lines from the QUANTUM GRAVITY series by Justina Robson are used with the kind permission of the author.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978 1 4440 03697
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