Strange Star Read Free Page B

She was pointing at the middle window.
    ‘Saw what?’ asked Mr Shelley.
    ‘A person. All in white. It pressed its hands against the window!’
    Mrs Shelley rolled her eyes. ‘Is this another of your fancies, Claire?’
    Felix glanced at the window. There was nothing to see but darkness and rivulets of rain. Miss Clairmont was crying hysterically now, yet no one seemed to believe her. Lord Byron put his head back and closed his eyes. Mr and Mrs Shelley shared a glance.
    ‘Why won’t you listen?’ Miss Clairmont sobbed.
    ‘Because you’re overwrought.’ Mrs Shelley put an arm stiffly round her shoulders. ‘Shall we go to bed? I’ve still not thought up a story to tell, and you’ve clearly had quite enough.’
    The two young women got to their feet. As they made for the door, a noise stopped them dead.
    ‘What’s that?’ gasped Miss Clairmont.
    ‘A tree tapping against the glass, I suspect,’ said Mr Shelley, though he didn’t sound sure.
    The noise came again, louder this time. A thud thud thud. A pause. Then another thud thud thud, though it wasn’t coming from the window.
    Felix knew it exactly. It was the sound a fist made when thumped against wood.
    Someone was at the front door.

3
    ‘We mustn’t answer it!’ Miss Clairmont cried. ‘Whoever’s out there, don’t let them inside!’
    Felix looked to Lord Byron, to the Shelleys, hoping someone would tell him what to do. In the story Christabel took a stranger into her home. What became of her in the end? He never got to hear, though he could guess; the group looked terrified.
    Thud thud thud.
    ‘I cannot endure that pounding!’ Lord Byron said, pressing his fingers to his temples. ‘Felix, see who it is.’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’ He nodded, determined not to appear scared. This was a chance to prove himself worthy. To show he could keep his head in a crisis and serve his master well. Straightening his shoulders, Felix left the room – this time taking a candle with him.
    The knocking went on. Yet bizarrely, the closer he got to the door, the fainter it sounded. Just as hereached for the handle, it stopped completely. Felix hesitated, holding his breath.
    Outside, the wind had picked up. There was another flash of lightning. Another thunderclap. Then all fell eerily silent. Felix waited. The knocking didn’t resume. A few moments more and he decided whoever had been out there had seen sense and returned home. He breathed again. There was really no need to open the door.
    Then came a single thud .
    Felix jumped. The sound was against the lower part of the door. Someone – or something – was still out there. Bracing himself, he gripped the handle. It wouldn’t turn. It felt like the stupid thing had been greased. Wiping his damp palm on his breeches, he tried again.
    A screaming wind blew the door inward so hard it slammed against the wall. The candle died. Everything outside was dark and dripping. There was definitely no one there.
    Then he looked down.
    In the hallway behind him, someone must have opened a door because a shaft of light spilled onto the doorstep. At his feet was a person. A body. He gasped out loud.
    ‘Oh! Oh my …’
    Felix’s mind leapt backwards. He was on board ship again, sailing from America to Europe with Mother. Those first few days she’d spent mostly on deck. ‘This is how freedom smells,’ she’d said.
    But on the open water the ship was hit by great, grey waves that rose from the sea like monsters. The captain ordered everyone to keep below deck. They stayed crammed into the ship’s hold for days on end, too many people in bunks awash with vomit and urine. The fever spread fast. Six passengers died in just one night; seven, counting Mother. Their bodies were wrapped in sheets and dropped overboard. He arrived in Europe alone.
    Felix blinked.
    He knew a corpse when he saw one, and this girl couldn’t be long dead: only moments ago she’d been knocking at the door. And the body was a girl’s, he saw, though