This House is Haunted by John Boyne Read Free Book Online Page A

said Mrs. Toxley, for that was the couple’s name, as she stared at me with honest concern on her face. “You’re really quite pale, you know. You could probably do with a pick-me-up.”
    “You’re very kind,” I said, wondering whether I could do such an unlikely thing, whether it was appropriate or not. Perhaps they would allow me to be governess to their children, if they had any, and I would not have to go to Gaudlin Hall at all. “I’d very much like to, only—”
    “Eliza Caine?”
    A voice from our left made us all turn in surprise. A man was standing there. He was in his early sixties, I should say, roughly dressed with florid features. He did not appear to have shaved in several days and his hat was an inadequate match for his overcoat, making him appear slightly ridiculous. I could smell tobacco on his clothes and whisky his breath. He scratched hisface and his fingernails displayed themselves dark and dirty, stained as yellow as his teeth, and he didn’t say another word, waiting for me to reply.
    “That’s right,” I said. “Do I know you?”
    “Heckling,” he replied, prodding his chest with his thumb several times. “Carriage is over here.”
    And with that he turned away in the direction of the aforesaid carriage and I was left with my bags, my saviour and his wife, who both turned to stare at me, a little embarrassed by the scene and the extraordinary rudeness of the man.
    “I’m the new governess,” I explained. “At Gaudlin Hall. He’s been sent to fetch me.”
    “Oh,” said Mrs. Toxley, looking at her husband, who, I noticed, caught her eye for a moment before looking away. “I see,” she added after a long pause.
    An uncomfortable silence settled over us—at first I thought that I had offended the Toxleys in some way but then I realized that this was impossible, for I had said nothing untoward, I had merely explained who I was—but their warmth and generosity of a moment before had been suddenly replaced by anxiety and discomfort. What odd people, I thought as I retrieved my case, thanked them both and made my way towards the carriage. And they had seemed so affable before!
    As I walked away, however, something made me glance back in their direction and I saw that they were staring at me as if there was something they wanted to say but could not find the words. Mrs. Toxley turned to her husband and muttered something in his ear but he shook his head and looked distinctly uncertain about what was required of him.
    Again, hindsight is a wonderful thing, but I look back now and I think of that moment, I think of Alex and Madge Toxleystanding there on the platform at Thorpe Station and I want to scream at them, I want to run and shake them, I want to look them squarely in their faces and say, you knew, you knew even then. Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you speak?
    Why didn’t you warn me?

Chapter Five
    I CLIMBED INTO THE back of Heckling’s carriage, my suitcase placed securely in the rear, and with a great roar that seemed to build from somewhere deep inside his being, the Gaudlin man urged the horse, Winnie, forward. I felt a strong desire to glance behind once again at the Toxleys—their curious behaviour, coupled with my near accident on the platform, had unsettled me greatly—but resolved to remain calm and resilient. Whatever nerves were attacking me could, I felt, be put down to the fact that I was in an unfamiliar county away from the only city I had ever known, and that it would take time for me to feel comfortable in these new surroundings. I could not allow my mind to play tricks with me. This was the start of a new life; I determined to be optimistic.
    “Is the mist always this thick?” I asked, leaning forward in the carriage in an attempt to make conversation with Heckling, who showed no sign of wanting to make conversation with me. The fog, which had dissipated slightly on the platform during my conversation with the Toxleys, had grown dense again