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St Christophe
7th December 1783
Dear Mother,
I got scared. For a while I was on my own in the clinic. And it was all quiet. I went back to my room and wrote letters and read a book. I kept out of trouble.
I looked down at the beach, but I could not see anything – just a lot of mist.
Eventually I left a letter for you in the post tray.
I heard footsteps behind me.
It was the Elquitine sisters. Standing there. Blocking me off. There was something NOT RIGHT about them. They were not smiling, just standing there, blankly.
I talked to them, but they did not answer.
Their heads swung from side to side, like the puppies when they’re looking for something to hunt. Yes, that’s it. The sisters were hunting.
Mother, I was frightened.
But I did not want to go outside. And I did not want to go towards them. I had to, but I did not want to.
I edged closer and closer, pressed up against the wall.
Their heads swung towards me, following my every footstep. They smiled, a cruel empty smile.
I edged past them and away. I did not look back. I knew they were watching me.
But THEY DIDN’T WANT ME. So that meant that I could run and run and run and I would be fine.
Wherever I went, there were other patients. In the corridors. Searching. Steadily searching. Moving ever so slowly forward. Like hungry ghosts.
I decided to rush upstairs to my room.
One step. Two steps. I crept up the stairs, feeling the wood creak beneath my feet. I tried to keep calm, to be brave. No worse than sleeping through a thunderstorm. No worse.
I reached the first landing and turned, and my legs turned to liquid.
Standing at the top of the stairs was another patient, the sad Austrian who couldn’t play chess, his mouth set in a toothless leer. Ever so quiet. Waiting.
I threw open the door to the cupboard under the stairs and hid in there, quivering.
Suddenly.
Horribly.
I realised I was not alone in there. I could hear breathing.
Then a terrible green glow lit up the cupboard under the stairs. I was about to scream, and then something stifled me. Oh it was HORRID!
Mother, they were the worst moments, truly. But don’t worry – see, I am writing this letter to you, so I must be fine. The Doctor made it all right in the end.
Then a voice said, ‘Shhhh.’
It was the Doctor. He was looking at me. The green glow was the light from his sonic screwdriver. He looked awkward.
‘Hello,’ he whispered.
‘Hello, monsieur,’ I whispered back.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I was hiding.’
‘Me too.’
‘I know.’
‘Are there, by any chance, an awful lot of patients roaming the corridors behaving most creepily?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ I nodded solemnly.
‘Oh well,’ he said. ‘All my fault. Something has got into them. They’re trying to find me. I gave them a tiny little bit of my brain. Not much. A few memories, a colour I never really cared for. Just enough to get away. The thing in the sea… it is taking hold of them. Something else has linked to it. Something powerful and dreadful that has only now realised what it can do. The psychic link must be broken. I think I know who it is, but… No.’
‘What are you going to do about it, monsieur?’ I asked him.
He groaned. ‘Why does it always have to be me?’
‘Mr Rory is ill. You’re the next best thing,’ I said simply.
‘Thank you,’ he muttered. He didn’t sound very pleased at that at all.
‘I can go and get Mr Rory, if you want. He’ll know what to do. But he probably shouldn’t be disturbed.’
‘No…’ the Doctor agreed with me. ‘He’s ill and…’ He sighed. ‘The thing is… I could stop all of this so easily. I just… It’s not the right thing to do.’
‘Then what is, monsieur?’ I asked.
The Doctor smiled at that. ‘Well, Maria, I should like you to be very brave and to go and find Prince Boris. See if he can reason with Kosov… he’s got a very strong connection to that thing in the sea. Maybe it’s Kosov who is controlling it. Don’t tell them where I am, but see if… see if Prince Boris can influence Kosov somehow. Things are very bad… but I think you can help me.’
He squeezed my hand.
‘Don’t worry, monsieur,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll go.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You are very brave.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I’m going to reason with Dr Bloom. Before it’s too late.’
Your ever loving
Maria
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