The Haunting of Maddy Clare by Simone St. James

Author:Simone St. James [James, Simone St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780451235688
Publisher: NAL
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

The fire caught quickly in the dry, dusty barn, spreading through the desiccated remnants of old straw on the floor. As it climbed the walls, Matthew and I hauled Alistair upright—his eyes were rolled back in his head, though he was awake and breathing, as if he was in some sort of trance—and carried him outside onto the grass.

We set him down and Matthew turned toward the barn again. “Where is Mrs. Clare?”

I watched as the flames appeared through the streaked windows, aware that people had started to gather. Mrs. Macready came sprinting down the path. “My lady!”

Matthew ran back to the barn. I followed, but I got only a few steps before my knees buckled under me and I fell to the ground. My legs shook uncontrollably, and the world grayed around me. I found myself shaking, nauseated, short of breath. Matthew disappeared through the door and I watched that small space of burning light for him to reappear.

Mrs. Macready ran as close to the barn as she dared, pacing like a mother cat. “My lady!” she cried again. A woman I didn’t recognize—one of the neighbors, perhaps—approached her and tried to soothe her. A clump of other strangers stood a few feet away from me, watching. I heard murmurs of “fire brigade” and “constable,” but not one of them approached me, even as I sat shaking in the grass.

I turned and crawled back over the damp ground, returning to Alistair. He lay on his back, pale and unmoving. He moaned as I gently took his head and placed it in my lap.

I looked up at the small knot of people who stood staring at me. I recognized none of them. “Will no one send for a doctor?” I cried.

A girl of about sixteen broke away from the group and came forward. “I’m next door, mum. I’ll ring Dr. Cheswick on the telephone. Is he hurt?”

“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “He seems swooned. Please—hurry.”

The girl ran away. I brushed Alistair’s fair hair from his forehead and soothed him. He seemed to be struggling to awaken. “Shh,” I said to him, as I turned my eyes to the barn again.

Matthew reappeared at the door, one arm about Mrs. Clare’s waist. She sagged against him as if weak, but she walked on her own powers. In Matthew’s other hand, incredibly, was the suitcase containing the sound recorder. He staggered toward Alistair and me. Mrs. Macready cut him off, taking Mrs. Clare from him, clucking in her employer’s ear. Matthew came the rest of the way to Alistair and me, stumbling, and sat in the grass.

“Someone is phoning a doctor,” I said.

He said nothing and stared down into Alistair’s face. “How is he?”

“I don’t know. Are you all right?”

“Jesus God.” Matthew pulled up his knees and ran his hands through his hair. His face was ashen. I opened my mouth to say something else to him—I knew not what—when the firemen arrived.

The barn was burning brightly now, the walls and eaves on fire.

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