The Shadows: A Poppy Farrell Mystery

Chapter 18

Poppy wanted to run away, go home, go back to London, and pretend none of this had ever happened. But what about Clair? And what about Georgie? What about the other girls, those innocent little twelve-year-olds? How could she just abandon them all without a warning? She would have to call Mr. Robertson. But how? She obviously couldn't reach him through Wick.

Someone had to gather proof of what was going on at Blight's Academy, so no one could deny it. Most of the students, living in their detached houses, seemed utterly oblivious to what was going on, but what about the girls in the main building with her? Had they seen anything? Had they heard anything tonight? Perhaps one of them would come forward so Poppy wouldn't have to go it alone.

For some reason, Poppy's gut told her that that wouldn't happen. They were too frightened to talk.

How would she explain what had happened to Georgie; the way it had happened? No one would believe her. And what about Georgie's parents? When she didn't come home, they would make enquiries. And what about the funeral? How would Wick and Grimshaw get away with this? How many murders had to happen in relation to Blight's before the police figured it out and tore the place apart?

She could see the headlines now: Blight's Academy Girl goes Missing, buried in the back of the newspaper, and no investigation. Poppy froze inside. How many victims were buried in the woods, under the dead leaves, without a stone to mark them?

Bushes grew heavy around the ivy-covered walls of the chapel, their tops cut back from the stained glass windows, revealing panes of clear glass in the borders. Rain glistened in the half-red leaves. It would be sopping wet but, if she could work her way into the bushes to the bottom of the windows, she would be able to see into the chapel. The bushes grew high enough to provide cover from spying eyes.

Poppy raced quietly over to the bushes and began parting the twigs. The scent of bark and soil rose up, almost erasing the smell of incense that permeated the stones of the chapel. As she worked her way through the closely woven branches, dying red leaves fell into the darkness around her cold, wet feet. Scratched, and every nerve tingling, she arrived at the wall. The lower border of the window, with its few panes of clear glass, was above eye-level, but when she stood on the ledge that ran around the base of the building, she was able to see in.

She almost lost her footing when she heard the crunch of wheels rolling over the gravel path. Through the leaves and mist, she observed a tall female figure, hooded and robed in black, approaching the chapel doors. Mrs. Crumpelwitt followed, in full nurse regalia, pushing a stretcher. There was a body on that stretcher, covered in a black shroud with insignia embroidered over the top in red and gold. The hooded figure knocked three times on the chapel doors. They opened. A blaze of firelight spilled out onto the gravel walkway. The figure passed through, then the stretcher, and then the broad posterior of Nurse Crumpelwitt.

The sight almost knocked Poppy's breath out of her body. She turned back to the window, seeking again amongst the golds, reds, purples and greens, for a small pane of the clear glass to look through.

They were wheeling the stretcher down the aisle, stopping behind a pillar that blocked Poppy's view. She slipped in and out of the bushes toward the nave of the chapel, found another patch of clear glass, and looked in again.

There was the stretcher, and a hooded figure peeling the shroud away from the body.

It was Georgie!

Poppy put her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. Her nose was running, but she didn't dare sniff. Her eyes were brimming over, she was cold, and the scene inside the chapel was horrible, but she had to know what was going on. She wiped her nose and eyes on her sleeve and peered in again.