The Mystery of Wickworth Manor (9 page)

‘Worry,’ she said finally. ‘Disappointment.’ Her fingers rested on the Page of Swords. ‘This one means an angry boy. The Empress might be a mother, or some other woman. You see the World here, between them? The boy travelled away from the woman. This card,’ she pointed to the Knight of Cups, ‘this is a letter or a phone call.’

Curtis snorted. ‘A phone call. In 1805?’

‘Yes, OK. Maybe not a phone call. A letter then. And I can see hard work and disappointment here too,’ Paige said.

‘What about that one then?’ Curtis pointed to the laughing, carefree face of the Sun. ‘That isn’t disappointment.’

‘No,’ Paige snapped. ‘It isn’t. That one’s usually a good card. Why don’t you leave me alone to get on with this?’

The mattress creaked as Curtis settled down on it. ‘You’re the one who came barging in here in the middle of the night.’

Curtis was finally silent. Paige looked at the spread of cards in front of her. Her eyes kept flicking back to the Empress; a woman with long robes and a crown sitting on a throne surrounded by trees. This card was the heart of it, she was sure. This is what the Boy was searching for. Was it his mother? His girlfriend? Paige frowned in concentration. ‘He’s angry that he had to leave her. Frightened too, maybe,’ she said softly.

There was a silence.

Then, Curtis spoke. He was so quiet that she could hardly hear him. ‘The trouble with that stuff. Astrology and things. Is that you can read anything you like into it. The way you said it, it could have been me you were talking about.’

‘You?’ Paige looked up at him.

‘Me, or you, or anyone. You could make it fit anyone’s life. Who hasn’t been angry or disappointed?’

‘What’s a posh boy like you got to be disappointed about?’

Curtis twisted around on the bed so that he faced her. Paige was surprised by how angry he looked. His eyes were screwed up tight. ‘What do you know about me? Hey? You don’t know anything.’

Paige leaned away from him; a flicker of anxiety stirred in her belly.

‘I heard you before. I
heard
you,’ he said.

‘What?’ Paige asked. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I heard you. I heard you laughing about me with Sal and Jo. You did a stupid impression of me that wasn’t even accurate. I was outside your door. I
heard
you.’

Paige tried to remember what she’d said. Something about Bunsen burners? She shrugged. ‘It was just a joke. We were just having a laugh.’

‘Yes. Hysterical.’ The last word was almost spat out.

‘I didn’t mean to be nasty. I’m not a nasty person.’

‘No, you’re just thoughtless.’

Was she? Was that how he saw her? Paige looked down at the cards. Mum always said she had good intuition. That she saw things that other people didn’t. She wasn’t thoughtless. She was sure she wasn’t. ‘I’m not,’ she said quietly.

‘You haven’t even tried to get to know me. You’ve just made assumptions the way everyone else has.’

‘Well, so have you! You’ve been avoiding me. And you’ve laughed at the things I believe. You haven’t given me a chance either!’ Paige sat up, leaning towards him.

They stared at each other, eyes locked in anger. Between them, the painting of the Boy gleamed in the moonlight.

‘Well, that’s because you’re mental,’ he snapped.

‘No, you’re mental.’

‘No, you are.’

‘You are.’

Curtis made a noise that Paige thought at first was a laugh. Then she realised it was more like a sob. Curtis covered his face with his hands. Had she gone too far? She couldn’t think of anything to say so she put her hand on his arm and left it there. He didn’t move away. Slowly, he wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and managed a small smile.

‘Do you think this is how brothers and sisters behave?’ he asked.

‘I dunno. It’s just me at home.’

‘Me too.’

Was he lonely, maybe? ‘What did you mean before,’ she asked, ‘when you said that the cards could have been talking about you?’

Chapter 18

Curtis frowned. Paige was looking up at him; her hair was silver in the moonlight and her eyes were wide with concern. She really wanted to know. And, he found, to his surprise, that he really wanted to tell her. He took a deep breath.

‘I went to Northdene when I was six. My parents thought I’d have the best start in life there. And I did, it was a brilliant school. But then, well, Mum lost her job last year. She earned more than Dad. There wasn’t enough money to keep me there.’

‘So you had to leave?’ Paige asked.

‘No, not straight away. There was one chance and it was down to me. I could take the exam to become a scholarship boy. That means you go for free, if you’re clever enough.’ Curtis paused. His palms felt cold and damp, despite the heat of the room. ‘It was my one opportunity. I messed it up. I knew the answers, I did. But when I sat down in the exam room, I . . . I sort of lost it. Like a breakdown, really. Nothing came out the way I meant. I failed. And it was all my fault.’

He felt again the panic and desperation of being in that room; the feeling that the walls were creeping closer, the ceiling dropping down, pinning him and crushing him. He hadn’t been able to move, had barely been able to breathe. The words on the exam paper had made no sense and his answers, when he finally wrote them down, had made even less.

‘Couldn’t you take the exam again?’

He shook his head. ‘I’d only fail again. I know I would. You know, my mum hasn’t been able to look me in the eye all summer. She’s too ashamed.’

‘No way.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t reckon your mum’s ashamed. She wanted what was best for you, didn’t she? She didn’t send you to that school so that she could show off to her mates that she was rolling in money. She did it for you. She probably feels like she’s the one who’s let you down. She lost her job, didn’t she? My mum always goes into a strop when we can’t afford things. It doesn’t mean she’s cross with me.’

Paige tidied away the pack of cards. Instead of putting the last one in the box, she passed it to Curtis. The Empress.

‘Maybe this is for you,’ she said. ‘Maybe it
was
your reading. I don’t even know if you can do a reading for a portrait, Mum never said.’

The card felt waxy in his hand. ‘Thanks,’ he said. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do with it. There was just enough light to make out the Empress’s face. She was smiling. It was a benign smile, as though she was giving a blessing to someone just out of view.

‘The phone call!’ Paige said.

‘What?’

‘I saw a phone call in the spread. You should ring your mum!’

Curtis felt his heart thud faster. ‘It’s late.’

‘Does she have a phobia of late-night phone calls?’

‘What? No, of course not.’

‘So there’s no reason not to phone her. I bet she’d love to hear from you. When was the last time you talked to her properly?’

Curtis shrugged. The last time he could remember feeling that things might be OK was when Mum found out that the scholarship exam existed. She had been distant and irritable for months but when she’d told him that he could take the exam she’d hugged him tight and it had seemed, for a moment, that everything would be OK.

And then he’d failed.

‘Where’s your phone?’ Paige was up off the floor and opening his case.

‘Leave that. I’ve got it here.’ Curtis fished around on the bed until he found it. Was he really going to do this?

‘Well, go on. Dial the number.’

Curtis tapped a few icons. Then he could hear it ringing. Mum’s phone would be next to her bed. Would it wake her up? Would she be cross?

‘Hello?’ a sleepy voice answered.

‘Mum?’

‘Curtis, is that you? Is everything OK? What time is it?’

His mouth suddenly felt dry.

‘Curtis?’

‘Yes, it’s me, Mum. I was just calling to, well . . . I just thought I’d call, that’s all.’

‘Are you OK? Is there a problem?’ Mum said.

‘No, no problem.’ There was a silence. Curtis felt his eyes prickle. This was just making it worse. He shouldn’t have rung in the middle of the night. ‘Look, Mum. Everything’s fine. I’ll call again.’

‘Curtis?’

‘Got to go. Bye.’ Curtis ended the call and switched off his phone. He dropped it back down on to the bed.

‘Wow. I’ve heard friendlier chats between brick walls,’ Paige said.

Curtis didn’t answer.

‘You keep the Empress,’ Paige said. ‘I’ll want her back before the end of the week. But you keep her for now. You need her.’

Chapter 19

CJTE/019 Notice from Felix Barley
’
s Avon Journal 18th C.

The gossip came first from the footmen. They were the ones who tidied away the master
’
s newspapers after morning tea. They had seen the notice. The footmen told the cook, who told the gardener, who told the stableman. And so the news passed throughout the household as far as the coach boy. A negro slave had run away. Five guineas was offered for persons securing his return.

The stableman asked if he knew the runaway. He did not. They might share a skin colour, but they were strangers. The runaway had lived over fifteen miles away, a day
’
s journey.

The coach boy cried. Not for the runaway, but because his mother had been wrong. The rumour in the dark, treacle heat of the boiling shed had been wrong. There was a reward for the return of a runaway slave. They were no freer here than they had been at home. The sickening journey had been for nothing. He had left Maggie for nothing.

Chapter 20

Curtis opened his eyes. Sunlight hit the bed. The tarot card was propped up close to him. The Empress, smiling. Things always looked better after a night’s sleep, he thought. Well, at least they didn’t seem any worse. He turned his phone on. Three missed calls, two from Mum, one from Dad. Great. Wanting to shout at him for waking them up in the middle of the night, no doubt.

So much for the Empress watching out for him. He took the card and went downstairs.

It was Art this morning. He’d missed most of it on his first day. Curtis made his way to the converted barn in the courtyard. Paige was there already waiting outside.

She grinned when she saw him. ‘Morning.’

Curtis fished the tarot card from his back pocket and handed it to her. ‘Hello. You can have this back. Thanks for lending it to me, but I don’t need it.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes. I’m not planning a career as a warlock any time soon.’

‘Hey! Are you teasing me?’

Curtis smiled. ‘I think so.’

‘Good. That’s what friends do.’

‘Are we friends?’

‘Not yet. But we could be. Don’t you think?’

‘Maybe.’ He smiled a little. How had she become a friend? He hadn’t even noticed it happening.

Paige led the way into the classroom. It had changed since that first day. The whole of the central space was filled by an enormous wicker ball. It reached right up to the roof. The sticks were woven in and out of each other in a lattice.