The Medium

Chapter 8

Jacob did not kiss me. He spun on his heel and strode to the door. "Let's go," he said. "We don't have much time." Then he disappeared. I stared at the spot where he'd been standing and touched my lips. They tingled from the anticipation, and the disappointment.

Was it so wrong of me to want him to kiss me?

The door opened from the other side and he poked his head through the gap. "It's clear," he said. "Follow me."

It would seem I had little choice. I blew out a steadying breath and walked behind him down the narrow wood-paneled hall, treading on my toes so as not to make a sound. The musty scent of dampness clung to the stale air and it was cooler than the parlor.

I hoped Jacob knew where he was going. While haunting Blunt the previous night, he must have spent some time looking over the school. I wanted to ask him if he had a destination in mind but I dared not speak. I had no idea where Mrs. White and George had gone but I didn't want to risk being overheard.

Jacob seemed content to do all the talking anyway and didn't appear to expect me to answer him. "The rooms along here are classrooms," he said, indicating the closed doors on either side of the corridor. One of the doors was ajar and I paused to listen.

Mrs. White's voice came to me clearly. "The girls are given a grounding in arithmetic to help them learn about portions for cooking, making cleaning pastes and the like," she said.

George responded but I didn't catch his words.

Jacob waited at the end of the corridor. "There are some unsupervised boys down here," he said.

I quickly followed him to a room that stank of shoe polish. Three boys aged about thirteen sat on stools at a long wooden table in the center of the room. Each of them had a fist thrust inside a boot, their other hand holding a blackened polishing cloth. Dozens more boots, some shiny but most covered in dirt, stood in rows on the table, and more again occupied a series of shelves on the opposite wall. It would take a small army to fill them all let alone clean them.

The boys glanced up when I entered. Two of them jumped to their feet, the other took his time to stand. He was the only one of the three who didn't bow a greeting.

"Who are you then?" he asked, his stringy blond hair falling over his forehead in jagged wisps.

One of the other boys hissed something at him but I couldn't hear what. The blonde boy merely shrugged in response.

"My name is Emily Chambers," I said. It was rather a relief not to see recognition on their faces. True anonymity at last.

"Find out what you can from them," Jacob said. "I'll keep watch." But he didn't disappear immediately. Instead he sized up the three boys. Although none of them were tall lads, they were all as tall as me and would undoubtedly continue to grow if their lanky limbs were any indication. The two boys who'd stood quickly didn't quite meet my gaze and shifted uncomfortably as if they couldn't keep still. The other boy, the blond one, not only met my gaze but held it.

"I'm 'Arry Cotton," he said, "and this is Johnny Fife and Peter Bowker." The one who'd hissed at him was Bowker. He and Fife smiled shyly at me and blushed hard. Harry Cotton seemed to think this was funny and sniggered.

"Call if you need me," Jacob said then disappeared.

"You the replacement?" Harry asked. Of the three boys, he looked to be the oldest, or perhaps it was simply because he had the beginnings of a leaner, harder jaw whereas the other two still had the soft, rounded faces of children. Fife had a set of dimples in either cheek.