Chapter six

The summer changed into the autumn. I didn’t see any more ghosts, and I did nothing. The sky was grey, and dead leaves blew onto the grass. Did the children see things? Sometimes everything suddenly went quiet in the schoolroom. I think that wicked pair were with us then. I think, too, that the children could see them. But usually, they were happy and worked hard. They were very interested in their uncle.

‘Will he come soon?’ they asked me. They wrote beautiful letters to him.

‘We can’t send them to him,’ I explained. ‘He’s too busy. Perhaps he’ll come later in the year.’

I wanted to speak to the children about the ghosts, but I couldn’t find a way. They stayed silent about them, and so did I. Sometimes, alone, I thought about it all night, but my thoughts stayed secret. Everything felt heavy, like a storm was coming.

Then the storm came. I was walking to church one Sunday morning with Miles. Flora and Mrs Grose were in front. It was bright, cold autumn weather now.

‘Can you tell me,’ Miles said, ‘when I’m going back to school?’

His voice was sweet, but the words surprised me. I stopped suddenly. He smiled at me. ‘I’m a boy, you know. And I’m getting older now. I’m with a lady all the time – is it a good idea? She’s a wonderful lady, of course – but a boy needs other boys and men.’

We walked on now. ‘Were you happy at school?’ I asked him.

He thought for a second. ‘Oh, I’m happy enough anywhere.’

‘Then you must be happy here too!’

‘Yes, but I want – I want more interesting things to see and do.’

‘I see,’ I said.

‘Does my uncle know about me, about everything?’

‘I don’t think he’s interested, Miles,’ I answered.

‘Then he must come and visit us!’

‘Who will ask him?’

‘I will!’ Miles said.

We were at the church now, but I did not go in. I stayed outside. For the first time, I did not want to be with Miles. Of course, he was right – it was unnatural for a boy to spend all his time with a governess, every day. And I was doing nothing about it. Could I speak to his uncle? Miles knew now that I did not want to do this.

‘He’ll use it in his plan!’ I thought. He and Flora looked innocent, but they were not. ‘I must leave this house! I’ll go back and get ready. I can leave today!’

In the house, I went up to the school room for my books. I opened the door. But there, sitting at my table, was that dreadful woman – Miss Jessel. She was writing – I knew it – to her lover, Quint. Her tired face was full of suffering. She was using my pen, my paper. She stood up, and for a few seconds she looked at me. I stared at her, then I screamed, ‘You’re a wicked, terrible woman!’ She seemed to hear me. But the next minute the room was empty. And I knew now that I must stay in the house. I could not leave.

‘I’ve talked to Miss Jessel,’ I said to Mrs Grose later, by the fire.

Mrs Grose was surprised, but she stayed calm. ‘And what did she say?’

‘She’s suffering. She wants Flora. I’ve decided to write to the children’s uncle.’

‘Oh yes!’ Mrs Grose said. ‘You must.’

‘I’ll tell him this,’ I said. ‘”I cannot teach a boy who is wicked. The school have sent him home because of his wickedness.”‘

‘But – we don’t know-‘

‘Yes, we do,’ I said. ‘He seems to be so good, that he must be wicked, really wicked. I’ll write tonight!’

I began the letter that evening. There was a strong wind and heavy rain outside. But it was quiet in my room, and Flora was asleep in her little bed. I stood up, took my candle and went to Miles’s bedroom door. I listened. He called out, ‘Come in! I can hear you outside!’

He was awake but in bed.

‘Aren’t you sleeping?’ I asked him.

‘No,’ he answered, quite happily. ‘I like to lie and think.’

‘What do you think about?’

‘About you, of course! And about all these strange things-‘

‘What strange things?’

‘Oh, you know!’

I held his hand, and he smiled up at me. ‘Of course you can go back to school,’ I said. ‘But we must find a new one for you.’ He looked so young, and innocent in his bed. ‘You didn’t say anything before,’ I continued. ‘What do you really want?’

He shook his head. ‘I want to go away! Oh – you know what a boy wants!’

‘Do I?’

‘You want to go to your uncle?’ I asked him.

‘He must come here.’

‘Yes, but he’ll take you away, Miles.’

‘That’s what I want! You must tell him everything.’

‘Tell him what?’ I asked. ‘He’ll ask you questions. You must tell him things, too.’

‘What things?’

‘The things that you don’t tell me. He must decide on his plans for you. You can’t go back to your old school, you know.’

I looked at this brave, calm, young boy, and I kissed him with love.

‘I’m writing to your uncle,’ I said. ‘I’ve already started the letter.’

‘Well then, finish it!’

‘Tell me something first, Miles. What happened?’ He looked at me, surprised. ‘What happened here in this house? What happened at school?’ He was still looking at me. I held my arms out to him.

‘Oh Miles!’ I said. ‘Dear little Miles, I want to help you! I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you so much!’ But I knew at once that this was a mistake. Suddenly, there was a loud and terrible noise, a crash against the window. The cold wind blew into the room. Miles screamed.

I jumped up. Everything was dark.

‘The candle has gone out!’ I said.

‘I blew it out, my dear,’ Miles said.