Page 65 of The Forgotten Boy

“Can you help me? I don’t know, talk to God maybe?” Although wasn’t the point of ghosts that they hadn’t moved on to the afterworld? “Or at least give me a break. Just until this is over. Once I’ve saved everyone, haunt me until the day I die if you like. Just let me rest for now.”

The noises stopped. In the end, Diana fell asleep on the floor and, when she woke, had to retrieve her clock from where she’d thrown it. Thank goodness it hadn’t broken. She’d been asleep for two hours. She felt stiff and sore but clear-headed. And filthy.

She took a quick bath and was half dressed when someone knocked.

“Miss Neville?” Weston called.

“Come in.”

He stopped when he saw she was just starting to button up her blouse.

“For God’s sake,” she said impatiently, “grow up and tell me what’s going on.”

She expected a simple recital of current conditions—surely if any patient had dramatically worsened they would have summoned her earlier.

“Miss Bartholomew was fetching fresh water from the kitchen while everyone was sleeping more or less peacefully. I had stepped out briefly to check on Jasper Willis.”

It wasn’t like Weston to draw things out. “And?” she prompted.

“Jasper’s fine. But when I returned to the dining hall Austin Willis was not in his bed. Or in the washroom.”

“Shit.”

“And,” he continued, sounding unnaturally subdued, “Clarissa Somersby is also gone.”

“Are you kidding me?” Diana scrubbed at her face with her hand. Beyond caring what anyone thought of her language at this point, she swore like the soldiers she’d nursed. “What the fuck does Clarissa think she’s doing?”

“I imagine it’s exactly what you expect. She’s gone in search of Thomas. And I’m afraid she’s taken Austin with her.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Diana considered the matter, the hour, the weather, then began to unbutton her skirt. “If you’re offended by my female body, you might want to turn around. I’m not trawling the countryside in the middle of the night in a skirt.”

She pulled on her motorcycling trousers and threw on her warmest sweater before grabbing a coat and knit hat. “I’ve got to check in with Miss Bartholomew,” she said. “If everything’s calm, then I need you to help me search. They couldn’t have gone far.”

Turned out, a seriously ill woman and a nine-year-old boy could get a lot farther than one would think, even in the rain and wind and dark. Sweeping beams of light around them with their torches, they quickly cleared the courtyard, the old stables, and the gardening shed.

Diana considered the matter quickly, knowing every minute was crucial. She had nothing concrete to go on, only suppositions and rumors, but wasn’t that the plane on which Clarissa was operating? Her search for Thomas was powered by imagination, not logic.

Come hide with me in the icehouse.

The words resonated inside like the aftershocks of the explosion that had vibrated through her body in Viliers-Bretoneux. Why did she envision them being spoken in her ear by a young woman with long skirts?

They had to start somewhere. “Mr. Murray found Jasper Willis almost a mile from here at the remains of a medieval icehouse,” Diana said. “Clarissa believed Jasper was following the same ghost her brother followed—she’d likely head that way. Taking Austin as a guide, maybe, hoping Thomas will appear to him. What do you think?”

“I’ve no better ideas. Can we get there in the dark?”

Since they had to do exactly that, Diana didn’t bother to answer. The best thing that could be said for the weather was that it wasn’t actively raining. The trek through the dark, damp, freezing landscape—with only their two darting torches providing light—was both miserable and too slow. Diana ached to run but knew that would only result in her or Weston stumbling or falling, and she could not afford to injure herself or the last healthy adult at the school.

They found Clarissa well short of the ruined icehouse walls, the white hem of her nightgown nearly glowing beneath a borrowed man’s coat. She’d at least had the sense to pull on rubber boots, but the moment Diana saw her face she knew that common sense wasn’t currently playing a big role in her decision-making.

“Diana! I’m so glad you’ve come!” Clarissa gripped her shoulder. She had no gloves, no torch. How the hell had they made it this far without any light?

“You’ve got to come back with me,” Diana said as soothingly as she could manage through her fear and anger. “We’ll get you safely back in bed, and warm. Clarissa, where is Austin?”

“He ran ahead. He could see him, the ghost boy, he followed him. I told him to leave me, not to lose sight of the boy.”

At that, Diana’s temper at last erupted. “Austin is the boy! He is the only boy that matters right now. Good God, Clarissa, how could you drag a nine-year-old out here in the middle of the night?!”

“He sees the same child Thomas used to.”

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