The Turn of the Key - Ruth Ware Page 0,62

told off. She had known that they were not supposed to go into that garden, and she had allowed herself to be tempted—to show her cleverness in opening the gate and letting us in. Maddie’s expression was very different, and harder to read, but I thought I could tell what it was. Triumph.

She had wanted me to get into trouble, and I had.

* * *

It was much later, over supper, as I wiped tomato sauce from Petra’s cheek, and swallowed my own mouthful of Alphabetti Spaghetti, that I said, casually, “Girls, did you know that the plants in that garden were dangerous?”

Ellie’s eyes flicked to Maddie, who seemed to be wavering.

“What garden,” Maddie said at last, though her tone didn’t hold a question mark. She was buying herself more time, I thought. I gave her my sweetest smile and shot her a look that said, Don’t fuck with me, dear.

“The poison garden,” I said. “The one with the statue. Your mum said we weren’t supposed to go in there. Did you know?”

“We’re not allowed in without a grown-up,” Maddie said evasively.

“Ellie, did you know?” I turned to her, but she refused to meet my eyes, and at last I took her chin, forcing her to look at me.

“Ow!”

“Ellie, look at me, did you know those plants were dangerous?”

She said nothing, just tried to twist her chin away.

“Did you know?”

“Yes,” she whispered at last. “Another girl died.”

It was not the answer I had been expecting, and I stopped, letting her chin go in my surprise.

“What did you say?”

“There was another little girl,” Ellie repeated, still not meeting my eyes. “She died. Jean told us.”

“Jesus!” The word slipped out without my realizing, and I saw from Maddie’s smirk that that too would be stored up to repeat to Sandra next time she called.

“What happened? When?”

“A long time ago,” Maddie said. It was plain that, unlike Ellie, she did not mind talking about the subject. In fact there was even a kind of relish in her tone. “Before we were born. She was the little girl of the man who lived here before us. It’s why he went saft.”

For a moment I didn’t understand the last word, but then it came to me. She was saying the word soft but with a Scottish accent, repeating whatever Jean McKenzie had said to her.

“He went soft? Soft in the head you mean?”

“Yes, he had to be put away. Not straightaway, but after a while. Living here with her ghost,” Maddie said, matter-of-factly. “She used to wake him in the middle of the night with her crying. After she was gone. Jean told us. So after a while he stopped sleeping. He just used to pace backwards and forward all night long. Then he went mad. People do go mad, you know, if you stop them from sleeping for long enough. They go mad, and then they die.”

Pacing. The word gave me a sharp jolt, and for a second I didn’t know what to say. Then I remembered something else.

“Maddie.” I swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase my question. “Maddie . . . is . . . is that what you meant? Before? When you said, the ghosts wouldn’t like it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her face was stiff and expressionless, and she had pushed her plate away.

“When you hugged me, that day I first came. You said the ghosts wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said stonily. “I didn’t hug you. I don’t hug people.” But she had overreached herself with that last remark. I might have believed that she hadn’t said what I thought I’d heard, but there was no way I could forget that stiff, desperate little hug. She had hugged me. And the knowledge suddenly made me sure of what I’d heard too. I shook my head.

“You know there’s no such thing as ghosts, right? No matter what Jean has told you—it’s just rubbish, Maddie, it’s just people who are sad about other people who have died, and wish they could see them again, so they make up stories, and they imagine they see them. But it’s all nonsense.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maddie said, and she shook her head so that her straight dark hair flapped against her cheeks.

“There aren’t any ghosts, Maddie. I promise you that. They’re just make-believe. They can’t hurt you—or me—or any of us.”

“Can I get down now?” she asked flatly, and I sighed.

“Don’t you want pudding?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Go on then.”

She slid

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024