Helen Laycock

Bowing their heads against the lashing rain, the girls made a run for it.

‘Hello? Hello!’ they yelled, hammering on the rickety wooden shutter. Flakes of paint were loosened by their banging and took off in the wind.

‘There’s no one about,’ said Evie, concerned. ‘What about a phone box? Can you see one anywhere?’

Mia looked round, holding down the brim of her hat against the rain.

‘There’s nothing here, not even a car park. There’s just the platform and this hut. Look at the road that leads to the station. It’s more like a track. If the train hadn’t stopped here I would have said that it looks disused.’

Evie frowned. ‘What shall we do, wait or walk?’

‘It’ll be dark soon. Do we want to be stuck on this platform in the dark or lost in the storm in the dark? Let me see…’ Mia pursed her lips.

‘No and no, but, at least if we’re on the road, we might see a passing car. I really don’t think anyone’s going to turn up for us here.’

‘Great.’ Mia nodded, holding her hat tightly onto her head to prevent the wind whipping it away. ‘Come on then. Let’s start walking. Someone’s bound to know where St. Agatha’s is.’

Following the rough track leading from the station, the girls bowed their heads, held their hats and watched the sparsely vegetated earth conveyed away beneath their mechanical feet, occasionally glancing up in the hope of seeing something encouraging. On either side of the track the ground was covered in tufts of grass and uneven mounds. It was separated from them by dilapidated fence posts which sloped at odd angles, broken wire dangling limply between them.

A huge, craggy mountain range lay ahead of them and, as they approached the end of the track and got closer, they became aware of a road passing along the foot of it. They stopped at the edge of it.

‘Left or right?’ shouted Mia through the wind, her plaits lifting as she swung her head in both directions. As far as she could see, left looked no more promising than right, so desolate and deserted was the road. The sun had already begun to dip and they were standing in the shadow of the mountains.

Evie looked around, too, frowning. ‘No signposts.’ The wind whipped away her words. ‘We could walk for miles in the wrong direction. Put your hands behind your back. I’ll do the same and on the count of three, put one hand in front of you. If we bring out matching hands, then that’s the direction we’ll take. Ready?’

Mia nodded, unable to think of a better idea, and the girls, having put down their holdalls, put their hands behind their backs. Mia’s hat went bowling along the road.

‘One, two, THREE!’ shouted Evie. Both girls thrust out their left hands.

‘Right, left it is… if you see what I mean,’ said Evie.

‘Just as well!’ called Mia over her shoulder as she ran to scoop up her hat. Picking up their bags again, the girls set off into the dying light of the late afternoon.

It was very tiring battling against the wind. At times, Mia nearly got blown over. The girls linked arms and tried to remain jolly, singing and telling jokes as they followed the road and avoided the puddles. It was darkening by the minute in the looming shadows of the hills.

After half an hour, Evie happened to look up and saw, on the right-hand side of the road, a small, overgrown path leading up the mountainside. And, for the first time, there was a small signpost, almost hidden by the brambles around it. The girls crossed the road without even checking for traffic. They hadn’t seen a single car so far. In the half-light they could just make out some faded writing on the tatty white sign. In black felt pen someone had written St. Agatha’s.

‘What? Up there?’ Mia was incredulous.

‘It can’t be!’ Evie stepped back to look up. ‘All I can see is mist. There are no lights or anything.’

‘I think we ought to go for it. Don’t you? It must be the school. Otherwise we could be wandering around all night. And, even if it’s something else called St. Agatha’s—’

‘Like a convent?’

‘Or a hospital, then at least they can help us to get to the right place, make a phone call or something.’

Evie had to agree. Though climbing a steep path was the last thing they felt like doing, the girls took a deep breath and trudged up into the mist. The steps were worn and mossy; some were narrow, others broken.

‘There must be a proper road up somewhere,’ said Evie, ‘otherwise how do the teachers get to school?’

‘Or deliveries…’ Mia was beginning to pant now. In fact, both girls had loosened their scarves and were carrying their hats, now warm with the effort of the trek. Their hair lay damp and frizzy round their faces and their shoes squelched.

It took them about forty minutes of uphill climb before the steps ended and they reached a small rusty gate, around which bushes had grown. As they stood at the gate and parted the bushes, the girls stared silently at the immense shape that stood ahead of them. It was the school, huge, dark and foreboding. Dim lights flickered at the windows, but again, no one was about.

‘I think this is the back of the school,’ said Mia as Evie attempted to push open the gate by leaning on it with all her might.

‘This,’ panted Evie as she pushed, ‘must be an old entrance. This gate is so stiff it can’t have been used for years.’ Evie squeezed through the small gap she had made by bashing it with her hip. ‘The bush is stopping it from opening properly.’

The girls side-stepped through with difficulty, holding the branches apart for each other, and walked slowly towards the back of the great building which towered in front of the moonlit sky. As they headed around the side of it nearest to them, it seemed that it was sitting in the clouds. In front of the school was a large gravelled area, but beyond that was a drop, it seemed, and presumably a road leading from the front entrance to a main road below.

‘That’s the way we should have come,’ said Evie as their feet crunched. ‘There’s probably a drive there leading to the main road. If we’d have kept to the road, we’d have reached it eventually.’

‘Yeah, eventually. We’d never have found that way in tonight.’

‘Why are you whispering?’

‘Don’t know. You?’

Evie shrugged. Neither girl knew why she was whispering. It just seemed necessary. The rain had stopped now, but the air was damp and had made their faces wet and sore.

The girls made their way up the great stone steps to two enormous doors, flanked by gargoyles and lit by a swinging lantern and Evie, being the taller of the two, pulled the bell. As it jangled, the girls looked at each other with trepidation.

‘Here goes,’ said Evie, twisting her head round to check the back of her tights. They both looked bedraggled with leaves in their hair, snagged coats, wet shoes and pink faces.

Keys clinked on the other side of the door, bolts slid and the handle turned. Slowly and creakily, the door began to open, and as the gap widened the girls’ hearts beat faster. Their eyes fixed upon the broadening band of light which was punched out with a black silhouette.

No longer were they aware of the background sound of the swirling wind or of how uncomfortable they felt in damp clothing and waterlogged shoes. Their senses were now invaded by the much closer sound of rasping breath.

As their eyes became accustomed to the light, the girls were startled to see the figure in front of them. Hunched over, wearing a dark cloak, was an old man. His long, white hair straggled over his shoulders, his skin was covered with grey whiskers and one of his eyes, hooded, drooped below the other bulging one. His mouth hung open and his yellowed teeth did nothing to stop his rank breath pervading the air. Around his waist was a wide leather belt from which dangled a huge silver ring. From this, hung a mass of keys, some of which were enormous.

Evie coughed. ‘Good evening. We’re new pupils of St. Agatha’s—’

‘…just starting today,’ added Mia as fear dried up Evie’s throat.

The man said nothing. He stepped back and beckoned in the girls with a gnarled finger. His nails were thick and yellow.