Dead of Night Page #3

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A Mrs Watson.

There were a lot of other kids there.

'Mostly younger than

Jimmy Watson and myself,

'so we let them choose the games.'

Nobody else could have

such a silly nose. It's Jimmy.

Well, you should talk!

- What shall we play now?

- Musical chairs!

- Sardines!

- All right, sardines, it is.

Sardines?

Don't you know about sardines?

It's a sort of hide-and-seek.

Who's to hide? All right.

Anywhere in the house, bar the kitchen.

Cook's in a state.

- But I don't know my way about the house.

- So much the worse for you.

I'll count 30.

Turn your backs, everyone!

One, two, three, four, five,

six, seven, eight, nine,

ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen,

fourteen, fifteen, sixteen,

seventeen, eighteen,

nineteen, twenty,

twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three,

twenty-four, twenty-five,

twenty-six,

twenty-seven, twenty-eight,

twenty-nine, thirty!

Off you go! Come on, quickly!

- Got you!

- It's all right. I'll go quietly.

Shh! I'll stop here with you.

When somebody else finds us,

they pack in, too, like sardines.

Oh, it's cold in here.

Cold, eh?

- That better?

- Hmm...

No mortal cold, Sally.

It's a cold from beyond the grave.

What are you talking about?

Believe it or not,

this house is haunted.

- I don't believe it.

- Everyone around here says it is.

- I'll bite. Tell me!

- Shh!

They're bound to find us here.

I know a much better place. Come on.

Go on about your precious ghost.

There was a murder committed here

in 1860, I think it was. Come on.

The girl who did it

must've been crackers, I suppose.

Strangled him,

then half cut his head off.

- How revolting.

- There's lots more, but you're too young.

- And where does the ghost come in?

- Well, I don't know, really.

Nobody's heard or seen anything

actually. We've been here 6 months.

I expect it's the girl going around

in a long white nightgown.

Whistling winds...

Clanking chains...

Blood curdling screams.

I suppose she's seeking

forgiveness for her crime.

- Search me. Give us a kiss, Sal.

- No, it's against the rules for sardines!

Hi, Sally! Sally, wait for me!

Who's that?

What is it, darling?

Come on now, stop crying.

Did you get separated

from the others?

Let's go downstairs,

where it's nice and warm.

No. Stay with me.

It's better now you've come.

Isn't it silly of me? I don't remember

noticing you downstairs.

- Are you one of the Headingly children?

- My name is Francis, Francis Kent.

It is my bedroom,

mine and Constance's.

- Constance?

- She's my half-sister.

- She's grown up, like you.

- I didn't notice her either.

All the other girls seem

much younger than me.

I wish you were my sister.

You're so kind and nice.

Why? Is she unkind to you, darling?

She hates me.

She said she'd like to kill me.

Oh, don't. You poor little thing.

But I'll be quite safe now,

now that I've met you.

I'll be able to sleep.

Poor Francis.

Come along, I'll help you.

Has anyone tried the playroom?

Nanny insisted on locking it

and she's got the key.

Gosh!

We've forgotten the linen cupboard.

Come on!

Smiles awake you when you rise

Sleep, pretty darling

Do not cry

And I will sing a lullaby...

- Good night.

- Goodbye.

- Sally! Sally, Where are you?

- Please, give up.

- I can't find her anywhere. Sally!

- Sally! Sally?

- It's all right. Here I am.

- There you are!

I was wondering

where on earth you'd got to.

I found another door behind a wardrobe,

then along a corridor.

- Then into the room at the end.

- Oh, there?

But that's where

the whole thing happened. Sally!

- Meet your new nanny, Mrs Watson.

- What do you mean, dear?

I found myself in a sort of nursery.

I didn't know any of the children

were staying the night.

- Staying the night?

- Why, yes.

This little boy said he was sharing

a room with his sister.

- Which little boy?

- He told me his name was... erm...

...Francis Kent.

- Francis Kent?

- Come off it! So you knew all the time?

Knew what?

About Constance Kent murdering

her brother, Francis, of course.

I didn't know.

So that little boy was...

I'm not frightened...

I'm not frightened!

Oh! Please hold me tight...

hold me tight!

Mother said I must be sickening

for something,

and made me stay in bed

with three hot water bottles.

She didn't believe a word of it,

anymore than Dr Van Straaten does.

In the past, of course,

that type of experience was

very frequent among saints.

St Joan, for example, and St Theresa

record some visitations

of an exceedingly tangible character.

- I'm in jolly good company then.

- Not at all, my dear.

I decline to believe that you are

on such an exalted spiritual plane.

I think you are all being

ridiculously weak-minded,

letting Dr Van Straaten

lay down the law.

When I was a nurse,

I came across a lot of things

that doctors didn't just dismiss

in an airy fashion.

I believe in Sally's story

and in Mr Craig's dream.

Good for you!

We're powerless in grip of Craig's dream.

That's a solemn thought!

I think it's awfully exciting.

If I am a puppet

and Mr Craig is pulling the strings,

at least he can tell me more

about the part he's giving me to play.

I wish it were as easy as that.

Trying to remember a dream is like...

How shall I put it?

...being out at night

in a thunderstorm.

There's a flash of lightning,

and for one brief moment,

everything stands out vivid and starkly.

And what have the lightning flashes

illuminated so far?

One thing is very vivid and very horrible.

I hit Sally savagely, viciously.

Oh, no, you won't, I shall stick close

to Mr Grainger. He's bigger than you.

But, anyway, it isn't consistent.

I shan't have a chance to, because

you leave quite soon, quite suddenly.

- You're certain of that?

- Absolutely certain.

Splendid. Then I suggest Sally stays

to dinner. That'll break the spell.

An admirable suggestion.

- Thrilling. I'll ring mother and get her OK.

- Tell her Eliot will run you back in the car.

- Mother!

- Really, Sally, this is too bad!

Oh, good afternoon, Mrs Foley,

do please forgive this invasion.

You know quite well

it's your Uncle Edwin's birthday.

Actually, he's her godfather,

but she always calls him uncle.

And not to leave a message!

Of course I guessed you'd be here.

She must be a thorough nuisance.

Come along, we're hours late.

But I can't! This is Mr Craig, and

I'm one of the characters in his dream.

How do you do? Such fun, charades.

You do understand, don't you?

Poor Edwin's so terribly sensitive.

Come along, dear.

Mother, listen. You see Mr Craig

is going to hit me savagely.

I'm sure he can hit

somebody else instead.

Now come along, dear. Don't forget

you're dining with us on Tuesday...

That'll teach you to mess about

with Mr Craig's dream, Ma.

Really, I don't know what to say.

I am surprised Mr Craig didn't

remember Sally's mother.

She seems to me most memorable.

Look, Doctor, if Craig had told you

she was coming

and exactly what she'd be wearing

and the very words she'd say,

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