The Ghosts of Heaven by Marcus Sedgwick Read Free Book Online Page B

dig.
    They left Joan Tunstall in the ground then, and while Old Harry started to pile earth in on top of her, the villagers went across the track to the field at the edge of the tentergrounds, to dance.
    Anna hung back awhile, watching the earth go in.
    She glanced at the little mound, much smaller, nearby; that was where Grace Dolen’s baby had gone, a month ago. She wondered if it was just bones in the soil now, and she saw them in her mind—tiny white bones in the dark earth.
    By the time she pulled herself away, saw that her brother had gone ahead, and went to join the others, the dancing was well started.
    The villagers formed a circle, an open circle, holding hands all, but with a gap.
    They faced inward, toward each other, and moved to the right, to the right hand, and stepped sideways, spinning the circle round and round, always to the right. Anna joined them, as she should, putting her left hand into Helen Fuller’s right. Now Anna led, dancing and dancing, to the right, to the right, trying to meet the end of the open circle, but never, never reaching it.
    They danced to the right “in the same way they believed blood spirals to the right,” through the generations, passed from parent to child, but always to the right.
    They sang, and they danced the spiral dance, and three people watched them.
    The first was Robert Hamill. Second son of Sir George, recently returned from France.
    Watching Robert watch the dance was Grace Dolen, who had come across the valley from Dolen’s Farm to scowl out of the woodland edge.
    And watching all of them, from his stifling seat, was the minister, Father Escrove, whose carriage had just then arrived in Welden Valley.

 
    4 A MIND SMEARED ACROSS THE HEAD OF THE MILL HAMMER
    Grace Dolen’s thirsty eyes were still on Robert Hamill as the Smith twins approached her. Hettie and Hester Smith weren’t dancing with their brother and the others. They didn’t want to dance. They were still and cool girls, who watched and whispered. Though barely eight, something dry in them had identified Grace Dolen as a source that they might be interested in. They latched on to her without knowing why, but now stood a few feet away, watching her watch Robert watch the wake dancers at Joan Tunstall’s funeral.
    Their brother Harry was dancing; he was a loud, energetic boy, tugging too hard at the hand to his left as he pulled to the right.
    The sun was slowing the pace of the dance; foreheads ran with sweat and bare feet crushed the dying grass as they circled on.
    Grace knew, as everyone there knew, that the dance had a purpose. Whoever was the first to fall could be asked a question, any question, and not only did they have to answer, they had to tell the truth.
    Someone had fallen, and it was enough to distract Grace from gazing at Robert for a moment. From the distance at which Grace watched, it seemed a dream as Anna Tunstall stumbled in the heat haze and put her hands to the harsh grass. Young Simon Bill was the first to hop over in front of her.
    Grace sucked her lip, wondering what question it was that Simon put to Anna. She knew what she’d have asked her, given the chance.
    â€œYou’re Grace with the dead baby,” announced Hester Smith.
    â€œAren’t you,” added Hettie, in an equally empty voice.
    Grace shifted her gaze back to Robert Hamill. She was wondering how much she could see of him at the manor house. He was just returned, the week before, from France, where his father had sent him to learn something about trade and travel.
    The twins didn’t twitch so much as an eyelid as they considered Grace Dolen. She leaned against a tree at the edge of Horsehold Wood, slowly chewing a thin stalk of pale brown grass.
    â€œWhy did your baby die?” asked Hester Smith.
    â€œDid you kill it?” asked Hettie.
    Grace didn’t appear to have heard either question.
    She shifted her weight from one hip to the other and her