The Turnkey Page 10

  So this was the place it had all happened – those events she’d read about so many times. The Battle of Jutland had been the strangest of battles, with each side claiming victory. The British had lost almost twice as many ships and men as the Germans, but had then controlled the North Sea for the rest of the Great War. However, Flossie saw it only as she saw this war. There were no victories. No winners. Everyone lost. Over and over again, as relentlessly as the waves crashed onto the rocks beneath.

  The upcoming confrontation with Viktor Brun looming over her, Flossie could think of nothing she needed more right now than her father’s advice. She had no idea how she was going to defeat Brun and only the sketchiest promise of help from Hugo Howsham to fall back on. She also knew she didn’t have the power to awaken her father and wouldn’t want to do so even if she was able to. It was wrong for a Turnkey to awaken the dead from rest unless absolutely necessary. She would simply have to wait and hope that he might sense her.

  Flossie closed her eyes and began to think of her happiest memories of her father. Their time together had been short. Even before he was taken from her, he had always been torn between his family and the ocean. However, the memories she did have she treasured and they came to her mind vividly now. Walks in Hyde Park and boating on the Serpentine. An outing to the seaside where their deckchairs kept being blown away – her father cursing the wind and then laughing at the futility of it all. The time a squirrel had somehow found its way into their house and she had seen her father panicked for the only time in her life. Flossie laughed out loud on remembering that and opened her eyes.

  And there he was.

  Resplendent in his dark blue uniform with its shiny gold buttons – tall and solid and oh, so very real.

  Flossie’s mouth opened, ready to say all the things she hadn’t been able to say for so many years. And then she found she didn’t have any words at all, so she ran into his already open arms instead.

  The pair clasped each other tightly. But beneath the happiness of being together once more, Flossie could feel an undercurrent pulling as strong as the North Sea below them. It would have been possible to talk for days about all that had passed since they had last seen each other. But she could feel him being called back to the sea. Back to his men. He might not have been a Turnkey, but he commanded his men even in the twilight world. His men needed him more than Flossie did – they were already asking him to return.

  She pulled back then.

  “You’re a Turnkey! And taken too young, of course. How beautiful you are,” her father said, smiling down at her, “and how much I have missed you. Though you are always with me, you know.”

  “I know,” Flossie said. “I also know you have to go, Papa, but there’s something I need to ask you before you do.”

  “Azure,” her father replied, with a laugh. “You came all this way to ask me that?”

  Flossie chuckled. As a small child she was always insisting her father tell her his favourite colour and the answer was forever a shade of blue. A shade of the ocean. She was amazed at how many shades there were. He never failed to come up with a new one for her: celeste and cerulean, teal and turquoise, verdigris and viridian.

  “I’m a little older now, Papa,” she said. “No, it’s about Viktor Brun.”

  A dark shadow instantly passed over her father’s face. “Viktor Brun? What about him?”

  “He’s now of the twilight, but he’s found a way to try to win the war by passing messages from the other side.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Her father harrumphed. “That odious man.”

  “I have to stop him,” Flossie continued. “I was thinking the more information I have the better, and I was hoping you might be able to tell me more about him. Does he have a particular weakness? Anything that would be useful for me to know? I remember you knew him from your university days.”

  “That’s right. From Oxford. You know, I detested him at the time, but the truth was we were very alike in many ways.”

  Flossie recalled the fear in the girl’s eyes at the Invalid Cemetery, Viktor Brun’s ranting and raving at Wewelsburg Castle. Surely Viktor Brun was nothing like her father.

  “You might think he’s not like me, but the fact of the matter is that he’s just a man, like all men. And just like me, his weak point will be easily located.”

  Flossie waited for her father to tell her the wise words that would help her defeat this man.

  He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Flossie savoured the moment. He moved back again and their similar eyes met.

  “His weak point, my darling, will be his family.”

  Chapter 24

  In which Flossie goes home

  After her father’s departure, Flossie stood on the cliff top, the wind whipping about her. She tried to work out how her father’s advice might be useful, but couldn’t see a way. She didn’t know anything about Viktor Brun’s family. And even if she did, she couldn’t harm the living and didn’t want to anyway.

  Eventually, she returned to Highgate and her cottage. She ducked around the back of the cottage, trying her best not to be seen. She wasn’t fast enough, however.

  “I have been waiting for some time now!” Mrs Gough’s voice rang out as Flossie closed the door behind her. Flossie then proceeded to do something she rarely did – she sent Mrs Gough to rest by force. She simply couldn’t deal with her problems right now.

  Flossie plopped in one of the armchairs with a thump, her head falling into her hands. She was a terrible Turnkey and she felt useless. Powerless. What was she supposed to do? Sit and wait until Violet told her it was time to go to the rock formation? And then what? Wait again for Hugo Howsham to “help” her if he deigned to?

  No.

  It wasn’t good enough.

  She wasn’t good enough.

  Maybe this was the end for her? She couldn’t seem to sort this problem out. Perhaps it was time to ask another Turnkey to come forward. Someone older. An adult who could make better, wiser decisions.

  Despite the fact that she could no longer feel physical pain, simply the thought of it felt like a blow to her chest. She couldn’t bear to think about Highgate going on without her. Of another Turnkey in her cottage. Of Hazel taking another form. Of never seeing Ada or Violet again.

  Overwhelmed, she brought her hands up to her face.

  “Hazel,” she called out, lowering her hands. She didn’t want to, but she had to ask. She had to do the best by her interred.

  “Mistress Turnkey?” Hazel appeared before her.

  “I want to return to rest. No, that is, I don’t want to, I think I have to. I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing by Highgate. That I’m making the right decisions.”

  Hazel didn’t flinch. “You are the chosen Turnkey, Mistress.”

  “But …”

  “Highgate believes you are the correct person to lead us through this troubled time.”

  “I–” Flossie began to argue, then she stopped, because it was at that moment that she felt it. Them. All of them. All of her interred. “Oh!” she said, immediately exiting the cottage.

  She ran towards the low brick wall opposite the building, on the other side of the gravel path. She stepped upon it to get a better view.

  It was as she’d thought. As she’d felt. Every last one of them had stirred from rest and stood beside their graves. The usually silent, quiet, uninhabited cemetery was suddenly full to the brim, as well over a hundred and fifty thousand interred rose to attention. There was a sea of them – she had never seen such a crowd. Young and old, they wore shrouds and suits and dresses of different times and fashions.

  Flossie’s eyes scanned her interred for as far as she could see. Those who she couldn’t see she felt through her key, whose iron strength ran through her veins. Millicent, Hugh, Agnes, Ellen, Alice, Francis, Mortimer and Jane. Lydia, Edwin, Stephen, Ann, Caroline, Jacob, Harriet and Abigail.

  Her twilight family.

  How they knew wh
at she was feeling, she didn’t know. She could only think that after all these years she was as much a part of them as they were of her. The key and the earth they rested in connected them all. They and the cemetery were as one.

  They’d pulled themselves from their happy dreams to tell her they believed in her.

  Silently, Flossie thanked them for their support, touching her keyed hand to her heart. Then she asked everyone to return to rest. As they did, the most heavenly feeling washed through her, cleansing her troubled soul.

  How strange, she thought, to feel so lucky to be dead.

  And that was when the voice rang out, cutting through the silence.

  “Things might be difficult, my girl, but there’s still a queue to be seen to, you know!”

  Flossie laughed out loud as she swivelled around to find Mrs Gough – the only person still awake and now standing in the queue beside her cottage. She took heart in the fact that at least some things could be counted on. Mrs Gough would be in that queue until the end of time.

  With a shake of her head, Flossie jumped down off the brick wall. “Come on in, Mrs Gough,” she said. “It just so happens I have some time up my sleeve.”

  With a huff, Mrs Gough entered the cottage, her long white shroud swishing around her.

  Flossie rolled her eyes. The truth was, she wouldn’t have things any other way.

  * * *

  Flossie’s chat with Mrs Gough didn’t take anywhere near decades. When she thought she was being listened to, she didn’t rant and rave for quite nearly as long as she usually did.

  No one left to see in the queue, Flossie stood from her armchair and went over to the cottage’s small window with its diamond-shaped panes, her eyes trained upon the cemetery gates, despite the fact that she knew she would sense Violet at the gates if she came.

  Hazel studied her closely from her spot upon the rug.

  “I do wish I could tell you more, Mistress Turnkey, but I cannot,” Hazel said simply.

  Flossie sighed. “I know, Hazel.” It hadn’t taken her long to cease being cross with Hazel. Hazel was only doing her duty as best as she was able, the same as Flossie. The Magnificent Seven would always have its mysterious ways and they were both small cogs within its very large wheel. If Hazel couldn’t tell her what Hugo Howsham knew, it was for a good reason. “Apparently Hugo Howsham will help me when the time comes, though he won’t tell me how.”

  Hazel dipped her head. “He has always been a man of his word, Mistress Turnkey.”

  Flossie might not have liked Hugo Howsham, but what Hazel said was true. In the past, if Hugo Howsham had said he’d do something, he’d always done it. Without fail. Maybe he would help her destroy the skull after all. It was only that she felt so powerless …

  Flossie checked out the window again. She was sick of waiting. “Hazel,” she said. “Let’s walk.”

  The pair exited the cottage and walked for some time in silence, Flossie leading them towards a place she often went when she needed to think. Her thinking spot within Highgate’s walls was the architectural highlight of the cemetery – the Egyptian Avenue.

  They soon veered left onto a wide, grand path. And there was ancient Egypt come to life before her: the huge Pharaonic arch, flanked by two towering obelisks, the lotus flowers delicately supporting the four columns, two on either side of the entranceway.

  Even before death, Flossie had known the Victorians had been obsessed with ancient Egypt. She was glad they had, because this, oh, this. It was beautiful. Beautiful and somehow perfect in its decaying, timeless grandeur.

  Flossie slipped inside the arch’s iron gates, Hazel following behind her. She proceeded along the path until she reached the Circle of Lebanon – a small inner circle of vaults encased by a larger outer ring of more vaults, a pathway in-between.

  The structure had been cut out of higher ground and on top of the inner circle of vaults remained what was left of the original mound. Here stood a magnificent cedar tree, tall and resplendent – its branches stretching out across the sea of vaults as if to shelter them. The tree was obviously hundreds of years old. Far older than the cemetery itself. It had seen everything and would see more after she was gone.

  Her eyes on the ancient tree, Flossie felt much more calm. Almost as if whatever was about to happen was her fate. Just as it had been her fate to be Turnkey here.

  Or maybe she was simply in the eye of the storm.

  “Hazel, I …” Flossie began, but then her key rattled upon its iron ring in her hand. “It’s time.”

  Chapter 25

  In which Flossie sets out on her own

  Violet stood at the smaller gates for the dead, clasping onto two of the iron bars. Her long wavy hair fell over one shoulder, cascading down her dress as her large eyes peered inside, waiting for Flossie to appear. Several paces behind her stood her brother with his usual solemn expression.

  But there was something wrong.

  “It’s time to go,” Violet said, her voice flat.

  “And you’re not coming with me,” Flossie replied. She could see it on Violet’s face, plain as day. Hugo Howsham had forbidden Violet from going with them to Germany.

  Flossie’s jaw clenched. It was unbelievable. For years he had done nothing but prattle on about how Flossie wasn’t up to caring for a cemetery such as Highgate and the very second both their cemeteries were in danger, he stopped her in her tracks by holding back information and his sister’s help!

  None of this was Violet’s fault. “It’s all right, Violet,” she told her, trying to remain calm.

  “It’s not all right!” Violet said. “I can help you both; I’m sure of it!”

  Hugo Howsham didn’t meet his sister’s eyes. “Miss Birdwhistle must go alone.”

  “What?” both Flossie and Violet blurted out at the same time.

  “You’re not going with Flossie?”

  “No.” This was, again, Hugo Howsham’s only answer.

  “Hugo!” Violet screamed at her brother, her hands grasping at him.

  He disentangled Violet’s hands from his, holding them firmly, his eyes on Flossie. “It’s as I told you previously. When the time comes, I will help you, if required. This is all you need to know.”

  Flossie had heard enough. She bent beside Hazel, their eyes meeting, needing no words. Then she stood and unlocked the gates of the dead.

  Violet spoke quickly. “They’ll place the skull on a special altar,” she told Flossie. “It’s up high and not far at all from the edge of the rock formation. You won’t need to move the skull far. You’ll just need to tip it over the side into the void.” She reached through the bars and took Flossie’s hand. “You can do this. I know you can.”

  “I will. Somehow.”

  Hugo Howsham took his sister’s arm firmly and the pair disappeared from sight.

  Flossie knew she needed to keep moving. Before she lost her courage.

  Hazel held her dignified face high. “I will await your swift return, Mistress Turnkey.”

  Flossie found she couldn’t reply. She locked the gates to the cemetery. Her cemetery. And as she closed her eyes, she tuned in to her interred. Her interred, all at rest, who were waiting patiently for her to come back.

  * * *

  It was mid-flight that she changed direction. Flossie wasn’t entirely sure why she did it. She had never changed direction before – thought of one place, then another. It was as if someone had called out to her, beckoned her. So, she thought not of a place, but of the voice. When her eyes flickered open, she wasn’t entirely sure what she would find.

  It had worked. She was standing outside the Invalid Cemetery once more.

  And there was the girl with the two long blonde plaits standing at the gate.

  “You heard me,” the girl said, relieved.

  Flossie was surprised. How had the girl made herself heard? And what had happened to her? Because it was almost as if a different girl stood in front of Flossie now; this girl wasn’t nervous or scared.
She wasn’t about to run away the moment Flossie spoke. She had somehow grown up overnight, from a child into a young woman.

  “I must speak with you,” the girl said. “The Ahnenerbe – they’ve found a way to get more information out of the skull, a way to concentrate the power. The connection between the skulls in the two worlds must be severed.”

  Flossie moved closer to the cemetery gates. “Yes, I know, but–”

  “There’s no time to explain,” the girl cut her off. “Let’s go.” She passed straight through the cemetery gates.

  Flossie gasped. “How did you do that?” It shouldn’t have been possible. The interred couldn’t pass through their cemetery’s gates without a Turnkey’s assistance. And it wasn’t that the gates had been left unlocked. The girl hadn’t even used the gates.

  It didn’t make sense at all.

  Flossie shook her head, flabbergasted. “What … how … wait …” She thought of something and immediately held out a hand as if to stop the girl. “If you can do that, can you also move objects? In the living world?” Maybe she didn’t need to rely on Hugo Howsham’s help after all. Maybe the girl was the key to all of this.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I can, but now we must go. There’s no time. We must go now, before it’s too late. Come! We need to go to Wewelsburg Castle.”

  Chapter 26

  In which Flossie gains an ally

  Flossie thought of the stone bridge.

  She had expected to be greeted by the dark, foreboding castle that leaked centuries of dread and misery, but was actually dropped into a scene of confusion in the interior of the castle. The girl pulled her back sharply to stand out of the way, in front of a large painting. Seconds later, several uniformed men passed by, deep in discussion in German. Viktor Brun wasn’t one of their group, though the spiritualist was.

  “You changed the destination I was thinking of. How did you do that?” It seemed the further Flossie got into this situation, the less she understood about what was going on. Was there nothing this girl couldn’t do?