The Devil Walks Read online

  Again he saw me flinch. After all, hadn’t we named our new doll ‘Captain’ in his very first game?

  Dr Marlow broke off to accuse me, ‘You do! You know this person!’

  ‘No, sir! I swear!’

  Obliged to take my word for it, the doctor shrugged. ‘My correspondent says this captain had a sister who would have been your mother’s age. Her name was Liliana.’ He leaned towards me. ‘Do you understand? It seems from this that you have an uncle living. Now think back, Daniel. Did your mother never speak of a brother?’

  The memory of my mother on her knees rose in my mind again. ‘And keep my precious boy safe, and his Uncle Se—’ Could half a whispered prayer that might have floated from a dream add up to speaking of a brother? I would not have it. No! And I would even brush aside what I had read of all my mother’s night-time ravings in the hospital. I didn’t want an uncle!

  So, ‘Never,’ I answered the doctor firmly.

  ‘Strange, that …’ he murmured.

  His very look of doubt lent force to my next argument. ‘And even if this man is anything to do with me, surely the last thing in the world my mother would have wanted is for me to be sent back to somewhere she was so clearly determined to forget!’

  I could tell he found this a worrying thought. But still he rallied. ‘Daniel, this is your blood family!’

  Seeing my chance, I rushed around the desk and, just as Sophie might have done, threw my arms round him. ‘Oh, please don’t send me away! You know I don’t want to go! Why can’t you and your family keep me? I’ll earn my living – pay you back for every slice of bread and hunk of meat. Haven’t I had enough upheavals? Don’t send me away!’

  He tried to hold me at arm’s length. ‘Daniel, if for a moment I thought—’

  I wouldn’t let him finish. ‘Oh, please! Losing my mother should be quite enough to make an uncle pity me! Surely this Captain Severn will let me choose for myself if I will come to him, or stay with you!’

  It was as if I’d hit upon some compromise he thought might work. ‘He may indeed.’ The doctor patted me on the shoulder and tried to lift my spirits with a joke. ‘Not everyone would welcome into their house such a tornado of emotions as you can offer!’ His face turned grave again. ‘Still, I must write to him.’

  ‘No, not at once. Let’s just delay until I’m old enough to choose for myself.’

  But Dr Marlow had turned stern. ‘Daniel, he is your uncle. And since I’m currently your guardian, now I’ve been told of his existence I have no choice but to inform the man of yours.’

  And so, as carelessly as dice are rolled across a table, my future was given to a stranger to decide. Sophie was outraged when I told her the grim news. ‘What sort of uncle is this, who never saw you in his life?’

  ‘Perhaps he’s been away at sea,’ I offered lamely.

  ‘Away at sea? Why should you think that?’

  ‘Because he is a captain.’ I watched her face. ‘His name is Captain Severn.’

  ‘Severn?’ Sophie turned pale. ‘Oh, Daniel!’ Then she, too, tried to arm herself against the strangeness of the coincidence. ‘No! I won’t think silly nonsense! Perhaps you heard the name in early childhood and called it out while you were in that fever, and I, in one of my own dreams, misheard and—’

  I cut her off before her desperation to find an explanation infected me as well. ‘Yes! All silly nonsense, Sophie. And we’ll not think of it again.’ And both of us did try to put all sinister thoughts out of our minds – or, at the very least, not share our fears. But still the next few weeks passed in one flurry of anxiety after another. Perhaps a letter from High Gates would come that day, the next day, the next week. Perhaps it would be a firm reprieve: ‘I recognize no nephew.’ Perhaps it would be determined: ‘A nephew! Then you must send him! He must become my close companion and my heir.’

  My mind raced. Was the captain still at sea? And if I went to live there, would it be under his command, or would I simply be a nuisance to his housekeeper and maids, his cook and gardeners? Maybe the captain had fallen on hard times, and High Gates had become a ruin held together only by rampant ivy – some musty dwelling in which we’d shiver constantly and pick our way round rusting buckets set to catch the drips that forced their way through the untended roof?

  Each time she heard the postman Sophie would leap to her feet. ‘Maybe the letter has come today!’

  ‘Don’t wish me closer to my banishment!’

  But she’d already have dropped whatever she was holding to race from the room.

  One morning she came back faster than usual. ‘Daniel, it’s come!’

  I followed her into the hall. There on the silver tray lay a long envelope. Drawing near, Sophie pointed. ‘See. It’s from Illingworth.’

  But there was nothing we could do but sit and stare at it till Dr Marlow strolled home for his lunch. Seeing the letter, he carried it off to his study. I waited in the hall, and though it can’t have been more than a minute or two that I was standing outside, it seemed an age before he called to me, ‘Daniel, come in.’

  I went in so unwillingly I barely left the shadow of the door.

  ‘In further, boy. It’s not that bad. It’s not a summons to your funeral.’

  ‘But it’s a summons?’

  He nodded. ‘Naturally enough, your uncle says he is most keen to meet the nephew he has never known.’

  I tried my hardest once again to argue my way out of my fate. ‘How much of a brother could he have been to my mother if she took such good care to keep the secret of my birth away from him?’

  The doctor looked uneasy. ‘Daniel, you’re old enough to know the stern ways of the world. Suppose your mother had no right to wear her wedding ring? Like many other women in her delicate position, she might decide to hide your very existence, not just from friends, but from her family as well.’ He frowned. ‘And even if she was a lawful widow, you will admit that she had strange ideas, and strenuously avoided company. Keeping you from your uncle is much more likely to be a testament to her flustered mind than to his temperament.’

  ‘But we don’t know that.’

  ‘We don’t know much in life. But we can find a few things out. And here’s a start.’ Determined to be cheerful, he tossed the letter aside and came round the desk to rest his hands on my shoulders. ‘Daniel, you’ve seen so little of the world. And you’ve a whole life’s journey to undertake. So start off here. Be a brave lad. Go down to Illingworth and meet your uncle. Stay with him for a while. If you get on with one another and find yourself happy, you’ll want to stay for longer.’

  ‘And if I don’t …?’

  He gave me an encouraging pat. ‘Well, Daniel! Many boys and girls your age already earn their living in the world. It would be hard to believe that, come your next birthday at the very least, you could not make a success of arguing with your uncle that you should be allowed to leave.’

  I think that I was testing Dr Marlow’s resolve more than my own. ‘By my next birthday?’

  He shrugged. ‘Why not? The captain seems a thoughtful and a reasonable man.’ He waved the letter at me. ‘Why, in here he tells me firmly that not only will you be met promptly off the train, but he also plans to send a cart up here to pick up every single one of your mother’s and your possessions so you’ll feel more at home while you are with him at High Gates.’

  At this at least the two of us could share a wry smile. ‘All my possessions? I need no cart to carry my mother’s little lace-making tools.’ I blushed. ‘As for the doll’s house …’

  The doctor guessed my thoughts. ‘You’ve lived your life bereft of hoops, and bats and balls, and bows for archery. Still, perhaps you’d not want your uncle from the start to think of you as a boy who plays only with dolls?’ He made a kind decision. ‘Let us forget the doll’s house for a while, and leave it here. I’ll tell your uncle everything was sold after your mother’s death. That is as close to the truth as we need go for now. Then, if you settle and decide to st
ay, we’ll send the doll’s house after you.’

  ‘And if I don’t? Then I can come back here?’

  He hugged me close. ‘How can you doubt it? There’ll always be a welcome for you in this house!’

  ‘You promise me?’

  ‘I promise you.’

  I wiped away my tears. ‘All right. I’ll go.’

  ‘There’s my brave boy. Now let’s go out and tell the others we have plans afoot.’

  From that day on Cecilia and Mary sewed like two furies. ‘Here’s frogging for your new jacket. Daniel, you’ll look as smart as any captain’s ensign when we finish this.’

  ‘Come and stand straight while I measure – though Mother says that, since you are growing so fast, I am to cut your trousers longer than you’ve so far earned.’

  The journey was discussed. Clearly the Marlows thought my uncle might demand some say in the arrangements; but from the moment he heard everything was sold and there was no need for his cart to come, no further letters arrived from High Gates. So Dr and Mrs Marlow took it upon themselves to decide on the details of my journey. Up in a storeroom the doctor unearthed some ancient carpet bag he’d used when studying. I watched as Mrs Marlow packed it tight, folding each sleeve back carefully against the sheets of tissue she billowed and let fall between each layer of the clothes that she and her daughters had bought or made for me. I stood by as she stuffed my fine new boots with wadded balls of newsprint, until my left boot firmly declared: Government Minister Sickens, while my right cheerfully maintained: Grand Theatre Opening!

  Then the last evening passed, with everybody under the roof hugging me over and over, and wishing me well for the morning. Two hours before dawn the doctor shook me awake to share a dismal breakfast. We walked together to the railway station and waited in the grim dark until the train appeared round the corner, puffing to a halt. The doctor shook my hand and after squeezing the breath from my body one last time, pushed me aboard. The train door slammed behind me. The stationmaster blew his whistle, loud and long. And finally, like a wrapped parcel that has no notion of where it might be going or why, I, Daniel Thomas Cunningham, was tossed out into the world.

  And what a world! I leaned my head against the window of the train and stared as cows and sheep swept past in the dawn light. Pale hills unfolded, slope by slope. Over and over we’d rattle to a halt. Some passengers would leave, more climb aboard.

  Under the protection of the guard, I changed trains twice and travelled on to London, where some good friend of Dr Marlow’s took me in a cab through that great city. ‘Such a shame you can’t stop to see the sights. But you’re still young. There will be plenty of time.’

  Once we were at the railway station at Victoria, he swung my bag up onto the luggage rack and pressed his card into my hand. ‘If you should ever be in London again, then look me up. We’ll visit all the places we should have seen today. Now, where’s your ticket?’

  I tapped my jacket pocket.

  ‘And you’ll be safely met?’

  ‘Word has been sent ahead about my train.’

  ‘And have you money?’

  ‘Oh, yes. The doctor insisted on giving me enough to see me through.’

  ‘He’s not the only one who can insist. Here!’

  I tried to push back his gift, but he was firm. ‘No, no. You’ll be astonished how useful a few loose shillings in your pocket can be to a boy your age.’

  ‘No, truly—’

  But he had gone, leaving me no choice but to pocket the money and shout my thanks after him as he strode off through the crowd. Then I was back to staring out of windows, through sooty suburbs, over rattling bridges, and into a countryside of welcoming woods and pretty villages.

  And then another station change. At Amford, I waited the half an hour I’d been told, until a shorter train puffed into view. It crept along, stopping at several places – some simply wooden ramps where the track crossed a road or passed close to a clump of cottages. The land around was chalky and plain, and from the wide, wide sky the sun spilled white light on the contours of the hills.

  ‘Are these the downs?’ I asked the lady sitting across from me.

  She nodded. So we were almost there. The train astonished me by cutting through one short dark tunnel, then another.

  ‘Tiverley Down and Illingworth!’ called out the guard. I reached for my bag and climbed down from the carriage.

  Even before my feet were on the station stop, I felt a shaft of unease. The bright, bright world around me darkened as though some huge malevolent bird were flying overhead. I heard my own foreboding – ‘Now here’s a black mistake!’ – as shadows rolled across the land. But, glancing up, I saw that this was no natural warning to clamber back on board and leave this place as fast as possible, simply a summer cloud that blotted out the sun.

  I jumped down on the rutted path. In spite of my uncle’s promise, no one was there to greet me. So I sat on my bag and waited, and it wasn’t long before a horse and cart raised chalky dust along the road. I scrambled to my feet, but all the driver did was nod towards me as he clattered past, and in the end I sat back down again, wondering if I’d be there till dark.

  I waited a little longer. By now, of course, I feared that Captain Severn, who had so recently heard I was on earth, had already forgotten about my existence. Or mistaken the day. I wasn’t used to making efforts for myself and so I sat, steeped in self-pity and anxiety, until it suddenly occurred to me to ask the question: What would young Sophie do?

  I knew the answer at once. She wouldn’t wait about, fearing the worst and reading trouble in the shadow of each passing cloud. She’d shrug and make shift for herself, and go in search of someone who could point the way.

  Did I need Sophie by my side to follow her example? No, I did not. And so, in failing light, I set off into Illingworth, which seemed to me to be no more than a stone church and a few pretty houses set around a green. I saw the post office in which Dr Marlow’s earliest informant had once worked, and felt renewed resentment at the officious meddling that had set me off on this unwelcome journey. Because of the late hour its door was shut, like all the others I saw. But coming towards me down the village street were two women so alike in all but age I reckoned that they must be mother and daughter.

  When they got close to me I asked the way.

  ‘To High Gates?’ Each glanced uneasily at the other. Did they perhaps suspect me of bringing trouble in my wake? But while the daughter stared, the mother took care to direct me, several times over, to follow the road in front of me out of Illingworth, walk up the hill, then take the footpath signposted to Farley Down. ‘Be sure to keep to the south side of the woods. Follow the path round. You’ll know the house from the stone eagles on the gates.’

  I thanked them and set off. But Mrs Marlow had shaken her head at me despairingly so often as she spun the globe that I’d no confidence I could judge south – or west or east or north. I knew the sun was reddening the sky behind me, and that it set in the west. And so I reckoned, if I could only get my bearings now, I might do better with the twists and turns along the way.

  So I glanced back.

  Sure enough, there was the sun, sinking, huge and blood-red, behind the furthest hill.

  But there too were the women, still standing in the place where I had left them, staring after me as if they’d never in their lives seen a boy set off on a walk out of their village.

  The track was well-trodden, the sign to Farley Down in place and the path round the woods clear enough to follow, even in gathering darkness. And when I reached the gates, there, sure enough, two threatening stone eagles stood on their posts. I felt a pang. This was my mother’s old home. How often must she have passed between these weatherworn pillars – even, perhaps, invented names for these intimidating birds of prey that loomed above her as they now peered down at me.

  But every creature is unnerved by something different. As I walked up the sorely overgrown drive, I sent birds flying, squawking fit to b
urst, out of the undergrowth between the trees, until I stepped out of the shadow of woods onto wide lawns.

  The house itself was unmistakable. It was the doll’s house full grown, except that now the ivy covered it in so much thicker clusters. It felt so odd to stand in front and stare, as though I’d shrunk to no more than the height of one of my dolls. To strengthen the impression, the moon sailed from behind a cloud, and suddenly it was like being back on all those nights when my imagination let me pretend I was that strong, brave fellow Hal, and fit enough to tackle any adventure.

  Was I back in my childhood? Had all the tumultuous events of the past months been nothing but a dream?

  As I stood, suddenly unnerved, unsure, the huge front door under the portico swung open. Out strolled a tall and loose-limbed gentleman who stood and looked about as if deciding whether or not to take a stroll in the night air. Though he seemed young enough – and he was certainly no older than Dr Marlow – his shock of hair shone white. In spite of that, he looked familiar somehow. I tried to pin his features onto those of my mother; after all, if this was Captain Severn then maybe there would be some family likeness. But with the square of light behind him it was hard to see.

  I stepped out from the shadow.

  He noticed me at once. His thoughtful look vanished. For just a moment he looked startled, then his face creased into a welcoming smile. ‘Is this my nephew? Daniel, is it, at last?’ He strode across the lawn to clasp my hand. ‘So, Thomas found you at our apology for a station!’ He glanced at my small bag. ‘No need to carry that into the house yourself. Thomas will gladly oblige.’

  He seemed so affable that it seemed churlish to tell him that any arrangements he might have made for Thomas to meet me had clearly gone awry. So I just held the bag a little tighter and shook my head. ‘Truly, it holds so little—’

  ‘Then even a feeble fellow like myself can prise it from your hand,’ he broke in triumphantly. And snatching it from me he turned to march back through the carved oak door I recognized so well, into the hugely magnified image of the hall my stubby fingers had padded through so often in my childhood games.