Free This House is Haunted by John Boyne

well.”
    “Goodnight, Miss Caine,” said Eustace, following his sister, and I smiled and nodded at them both, wished them a good night’s sleep and told them that I would look forward to our getting better acquainted in the morning.
    When I was alone, the first time I had been alone since leaving my home that morning, I sat on the bed for a moment and breathed a sigh of relief. I looked around, uncertain whether I should burst into tears at how bizarre this day had been or laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all. When I finally unlatched my suitcase I decided against unpacking and setting my clothes away in the wardrobe and bureau just yet. That, I decided, could wait until the morning. Instead, I simply took out my nightdress and changed into it, glad to relieve myself of my wet clothes, and performed a few ablutions in the bowl that was laid out with a water jug on a side table. I pulled the curtain aside to examine my view and was pleased to see that my room was situated at the front of the house, overlooking the lawns. I tried to open the tall windows to breathe in the night air but they were sealed fast and no pressure that I put on the handles would make them open. I could see the driveway that Heckling and I had rode along streaking off into the distance, and a half-moon illuminated some of the estate that was entirely empty now. Relieved, I climbed into bed, satisfied by the spring of the mattress and the softness of the pillows. Everything will be all right, I told myself. Everything always feels better after a good night’s sleep.
    I blew out the last remaining candle on my bedside table and pulled the sheets up about my shoulders, closing my eyes and allowing a great yawn to escape my mouth. In the distance I could hear a rather unpleasant cry and wondered whether it was Winnie settling down for the night, but then I heard it again and it was not the sound of a horse, I could tell that much, and decided that no, it must be the wind in the trees, for it had grown even more blustery than before and the rain was starting to pound against my window. It would not keep me awake though, I decided, despite how horrible the sound that wind made, more like a woman being choked to death than anything else, for I was tired and weary after my day’s journey and the confusion of the three residents of Gaudlin that I had met so far.
    I closed my eyes and sighed, stretching out my body, my legs digging down deeper under the covers, and I expected that at any moment my toes would touch the wooden bedstead, but they did not and I smiled to realize that the bed was longer than I was, that I could stretch out as much as I wanted, and I did so, pleased to feel my aching limbs loosen up as they reached as far as they could, the toes dancing beneath the sheets, a sensation of the most delightful pleasure, until a pair of hands grabbed both my ankles tightly, the fingers pressing sharply against the bone, as they pulled me down into the bed and I gasped, dragging myself back up quickly, wondering what kind of terrible nightmare I had fallen into. Throwing myself from the bed, I pulled the curtains across and ripped the bedspread away but there was nothing there. I stood, my heart pounding. I had not imagined it. Two hands had gripped my ankles and pulled me. I could feel them still. I stared in disbelief, but before I could gather my thoughts the door flew open and a sharp light filled the corridor, a white, ghost-like figure standing before me.
    Isabella.
    “Are you all right, Eliza Caine?” she asked.
    I gasped and ran towards her and the comfort of the candle. “There’s something …” I began, uncertain how to explain it. “In the bed, there was … I could feel …”
    She stepped forward and held the candle over it, examining it up and down from pillow to base. “It’s entirely empty,” she said. “Did you have a bad dream?”
    I thought about it. It was the only sensible explanation. “I must have,” I said.