The Ice Seduction (Ice Romance) (26 page)

86

And so I wait.
Little by little, my body begins to warm up and my clothes start to dry.

The weird, wobbl
y feeling in my arms and legs fades away, and soon I can move properly.

I sit up and press my face to the window, pulling the blanket around myself.

I squint at the castle, looking for any signs of Patrick returning.

When twenty minutes pass, I begin to feel anxious.

What if something’s happened to him?

Mrs Calder is sneaky. She could have set some sort of trap.

And Bertie … my stomach aches when I think of him, alone somewhere, without me.

Please, please let him be okay.

After half an hour, I can’t wait any more. I’m frantic with worry, about both Patrick and Bertie. I can’t just sit here doing nothing.

I press my feet hard against the car floor to get the blood pumping
around them, and then I open the door and stumble out into the darkness.

It’s freezing outside, and I slip and slide in the snow, but I’m so glad to find my legs are working again. Kind of.

I head towards the castle, and when I reach the main door, I creak it open.

Silence.

I stop and listen for a while longer, but I can’t hear a thing.

My heart beats hard in my throat.

Patrick would kill me if he knew I was out of the car
. And in my heart, I know this is dangerous. Stupid, even. But if Bertie’s in trouble, I come second. It’s as simple as that.

I head towards the West W
ing. Where could Bertie be? Where would he be hiding?

I decide to try the most obvious place first – Bertie’s bedroom.

When I reach Bertie’s bed
room, I open the door as slowly and quietly as I can.

It
makes a juddering, squeaking sound and I wince.

Shush door!

I peer through the crack, and scan Bertie’s room. His bed is made and everything is neat and tidy.

No Bertie
in here. Or is there?

My heart feels like there are stones tied to it.

I push the door open a little further and squeeze inside the room.

A huge black spider scuttles
along the skirting board, and I catch my breath.

Calm down, Sera. It’s just a spider.

I check the ensuite, Bertie’s wardrobe and under his bed, but nothing.

Think, Sera! Think!

Where could Bertie be? Where would he go if he were hiding from someone?

I guess he might
have wandered into the woods … oh god, I hope not. It’s freezing out there, now. But no. Patrick would have known if he’d gone out there.

So. Where next?

As I head out into the corridor, I think of something.

Jamie’s room.

Bertie has gone in there before, to get the music score. And it’s a place no one would think of looking …

I check the drawer in Bertie’s dresser.

It’s empty.

The key to the West Tower is gone.

He must be up there …

I creep along the corridor, listening, listening the whole time.

At one point I think I hear a door creak, but it sounds like a long way away. Still, it makes my heart beat fast. Where are Mrs Calder and Margaret? Are they still in the castle? And where’s Patrick?

When I reach
the West Tower door, I turn the handle and find it locked.

Of course it is.

If Bertie’s up there, he would have locked it from the inside.

I get to my knees again and do my little magic trick with the lock.

The mechanism snaps open, and I push open the door.

87

I climb the stairs
very, very slowly.

It’s dark in the West Tower, but I daren’t flick on the light.

I reach Jamie’s room and gingerly try the handle.

God damn it!

Locked.

How can it be locked?

I knock softly on the door. ‘Bertie. Bertie are you in there?’ I whisper.

No reply.

I’m about to creep back down the staircase, when I notice something.

The door at the end of the corri
dor is open.

Wide open.

I see a low light inside.

‘Bertie?’ I whisper, creeping forward.

I reach the doorway, and suddenly remember that flash of white I saw on my first day here. That face in the window …

My teeth begin to chatter.

I shouldn’t be here. But if there’s a chance Bertie is up here, I have to find him.

Finding the last of my courage, I take a big, bold step into the dark doorway.

As I step into the room
, I find myself blinking hard.

It’s beautiful in here.

There’s a lovely downy white bed and fresh roses all around.

Along t
he walls are rows of china ornaments.

I see lots
of little matchstick models too. They’re really beautifully made.

And then I have a shock.

In the bed is an old woman. A really,
really
old woman, all crinkly and tiny. Her long white hair is coiled into a loose bun.

‘Oh!’ I cry out.

‘Hello my dear,’ she the woman. ‘I was wondering when you’d find me.’

‘Find you?’ I shake my head.

The woman laughs, and it sounds like eggs cracking. ‘Oh yes. I’ve been watching you, you know. From the very first day you got here. You’re a sparky little thing. Just what this cold old castle needs.’

‘I … who are you?
’ I stammer, my eyes wide.

The woman
pulls herself up in bed, and I see she’s wearing a flowery dressing gown. She starts coughing suddenly, and I go to her side.

‘Are you okay?’ I put a hand on her shoulder.

She smiles at me, her blue eyes crinkling. ‘I’m dying,’ she says, matter-of-factly. ‘But there’s not much anyone can do about that.’ She gives another smile. ‘But you wanted to know who I am, not my medical history.’

‘I … yes,’ I admit.

‘I’m Patrick’s grandmother. May Mansfield.’

‘Patrick’s grandmother?
Didn’t you … everyone said you’d died.’

‘Don’t look so worried, my dear,’ May laughs.
‘I’m not a ghost. Yes, I died. Officially. They told everyone I’d passed away, but I never really did. I was hidden away up here so my son Dirk could inherit the castle. He got himself in a bit of money trouble. The little scamp. So we arranged my death.’

My mouth drops open.

‘You’ve been hidden up here?’ I ask. ‘All this time?’

May
nods. ‘I don’t mind it at all. I’m too ill to be out and about anyway. And I have all my matchsticks to make models. Patrick comes to see me. So does Dirk. Sometimes.’ She gives a little smile. ‘Of course, Dirk only comes to try to wheedle some more money out of me. But that’s just how he is.’

‘You pretended to be dead so Di
rk could inherit?’ I ask.

May nods.

I shake my head, trying to make sense of everything. ‘Couldn’t you just give him money?’

‘Oh no.’ May shakes her head. ‘My late husband made sure everything was locked up tight so Dirk couldn’t get anything until I passed away. There’s more money too. To be released when I choose to give Dirk the security box details. But that day hasn’t come yet.’ She frowns. ‘Have you come up here looking for my
great-grandson?’

‘I … yes,’ I say. ‘How did you know?’

‘He’s always running away from his nannies,’ says May. ‘And I heard someone go into Jamie’s room, so I’m guessing he’s up here somewhere. He likes to play in there, you know.’

I turn to the door
. Then I frown. ‘Jamie’s room was locked.’

‘Maybe Bertie locked himself in,’ May suggests. ‘Here.’ She opens a bedside drawer and waves a wrought iron key at
me. ‘This is a skeleton key. It will open Jamie’s bedroom door.’

‘I … t
hank you,’ I say.

‘
I’ve been longing to talk to you,’ says May. ‘Such a bright thing, aren’t you? I could do with some interesting conversation. Lord knows, I’ve heard enough about Dirk’s so-called business ventures.’ She sighs. ‘So much money down the drain. Thank goodness for Patrick. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be out of a home by now. Dirk would have sold the castle and squandered the money. But that’s my son for you. Always a little tearaway.’

That’s one word for him
, I think.

‘Thank you for the key,’
I say.

‘You’re welcome.’ May
waves a hand at me.

‘I need to find Bertie now
,’ I say, heading towards the door. ‘But I’ll be back. I promise.’

Please god, let Bertie
be okay.

88

I run down the corridor and to Jamie’s room, my hand shaking as the key goes in the lock.

The door creaks open.

I hear a shuffling sound and freeze.

‘Bertie?’ I whisper.

The shuffling sound stops.

I push the door open further.

It’s dark inside
the room, but moonlight from the window gives everything a tinge of silver.

I see
a dark, small thing in the corner, shivering and cowering.

‘
Bertie
.’

I run to the
tiny, shaking figure, crouch down and throw my arms around him.

Bertie doesn’t say anything, of course. He just plunges his little arms around me and holds me tight.

I hold him back, not letting him go. Not ever wanting to let him go.

Minutes pass, but Bertie doesn’t stop shaking. I hold him even tighter.

‘Thank god I found you,’ I say. ‘Oh thank god.’

‘I’m glad you found him too,’ says a thin, creepy voice.

I turn around.

Mrs
Calder stands in the doorway.

I stare at Mrs Calder, pale and sinister in the moonlight.

Bertie grips my arm.

‘Get away from us,’ I say.

She shakes
a white finger at me. ‘You’re supposed to be dead by now.’

‘Where’s
Margaret?’ I say, my voice low.

‘
Making sure that idiot gardener, Gregory, isn’t harbouring Bertie at his cottage.’ She turns to look at the shivering Bertie in my arms. ‘But I see that Bertie is right here.’

‘Sta
y away from him,’ I say. ‘I mean it. Don’t come any closer.’

‘Come along Bertie,’ says Agnes
, holding out a long, pale arm. ‘Come with me. You won’t be in any trouble. If you stay here with the nanny, then I’ll have to tell granddad that you haven’t behaved yourself.’

Bertie grips my arm
even tighter.

Mrs Calder
takes a step closer, and I stand up, shielding Bertie with my body.

‘I mean it, Mrs Calder
. Don’t come any closer. If you touch Bertie, I’ll kill you.’

Agnes
gives her head a little shake. ‘Come along Bertie,’ she says, in a weirdly bright voice. ‘Time to go.’ She takes something from her blouse pocket.

It’s a syringe.

I feel Bertie grip my leg.

‘Stay back,
’ I say.

‘Come along Bertie.’
I see blunt fingernails and the sharp needle of the syringe coming towards us.

‘
STAY BACK!’ I shout.

Mrs Calder
comes closer. Then she lunges.

I grab her wrists
and hold her back. The sedative has made me a lot slower and weaker than usual though, and it’s a struggle.

‘Bertie, get out of here!’ I
shout, but he clings to my leg.

I wrestle with
Mrs Calder’s wrists, trying to hold back the syringe, which I’m guessing is full of sedative, or worse.

My free
hand scrabbles around, searching desperately for something I could use to defend us. My fingers clench around a stack of books and I try to throw them at Mrs Calder, but I’m too weak. They drop on her foot instead.

She leaps back and
the needle drops to the floor.

I lunge
for it, and Mrs Calder does too. We scrabble around on the floor, the syringe leaping around between our hands.

‘Stay back Bertie!’ I shout.

The syringe rolls away from me, and Mrs Calder’s hand darts out to grab it. But before she can, Bertie wraps his pale little fingers around it.

He
plunges the syringe into Mrs Calder’s neck and pushes down the plunger.

‘Oh my god.’ I cover my mouth.

Mrs Calder’s eyes roll backwards and she staggers back.

Then she
crumples to the floor, a big dead weight.

I step closer to check that Mrs Calder is truly out for the count.

She’s still breathing
, but her eyes are closed. I don’t think she’ll be waking up for a while.

I turn to Bertie
. ‘I shouldn’t say this, but … well done.’

He gives me a little smile.

I grab Bertie’s hand. ‘We need
to get out of here. And we should lock the door behind us.’

I
pull Bertie out of the room and slam the door closed, locking it behind us. Tucking the key in my waistband, I squeeze Bertie’s hand.

Bertie squeezes my hand back.

‘Thank you, Sera,’ Bertie says.