the absurdity of it all. It was how Lucinda wanted it, her room arranged like she was in a fairy-tale, a pantomime. Her little bed in the middle of what looks like a stage. Costumes, dozens of costumes for Lucinda to dress up in, even a fairy wand and wings. And all these dolls, there are exactly two hundred and twenty of them here. And there are more. They are in the trunk.’ Jack couldn’t prevent himself trembling as he took Verity along to a sea captain style trunk at the foot of the bed.
Suddenly he wrapped his arms tightly around Verity as if he needed to protect her. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you here. What’s in the trunk is shocking, horrible. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pandered to all of Lucinda’s wishes but I didn’t realize how disturbed she was.’ Turning Verity he looked intensely into her eyes and said in desperation, ‘I should take you out of here.’
‘It’s not what you want, Jack,’ she said soothingly. ‘You’ve brought me here because you trust me to have the strength to face what you had to face. You’ve brought me here because you know I’ll understand.’ Verity was feeling the most nervous of her life but she was ready to face what was inside the trunk, however abhorrent.
Jack had a second key in his hand. It was small and elaborate and had fake rubies on the ring top. Still clinging to Verity he stooped and falteringly unlocked the trunk, then straightened up with a lamenting sigh. Verity gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Go on, Jack, lift the lid.’
‘Thanks,’ he whispered, and Verity felt that although he was drawing on her freely given support, he was becoming more and more drained. Stooping again he threw back the lid. Rather than look into the trunk Verity watched Jack. He had closed his eyes. She waited until he opened them and looked down. ‘Oh no,’ he rasped in a sickly whisper.
Verity knew he had been hoping the horror within the trunk had somehow gone, but it had not. She stared down into the trunk and her whole body gave an involuntary shudder. The trunk was filled with dolls, mostly parts of dolls, their limbs and heads ripped off with ugly force. Red paint had been splashed on them to depict blood. Eyes had been poked out or pushed inwards. Hair had been hacked off. Two dolls had their heads twisted round above string fashioned as a hangman’s noose. Doll torsos had been stabbed and slashed, dabbed with red paint. The dolls’ clothes had been cut, ripped and dripped with red paint. The carnage wasn’t of real people but it was almost as horrifying and gruesome. ‘Oh, my God, when did she start to do this?’
‘Probably not long after I brought her home. I’d noticed a certain doll had disappeared and when I asked her about it Lucinda would laugh and say it had been naughty and she’d punished it. This always coincided with red paint marks found on the table. She’d say she’d been making pictures but there was no evidence of any and I began to wonder what it meant. There were no sharp things kept in her room. Then one afternoon I overheard Lucinda in a rage; she wasn’t shouting or screaming but her tone chilled my soul. I came in and discovered her stabbing a doll with a nail file. I was astonished by her strength. She had gone completely wild and crazy and her eyes were glazed over. Polly was cowering in a corner and I was frightened of Lucinda too then, Verity. I feared if she saw me she would come after me and there wouldn’t be a thing I could do to defend myself even against her slight build. So I hid in the room until her madness seeped away. Then with eyes blank she gathered up the butchered doll and put it in this trunk and pushed it in under the bed. Then she cleaned up the mess, not completely, leaving a touch of paint as if she was leaving a touch of evidence of the terrible thing she had done. After that she lay down on the bed and fell asleep, at once looking like an angel. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. Lucinda was vulnerable and couldn’t help being ill but she was also dangerous. I would have to watch her ever more closely. Eventually Polly crept on to the bed and