The Daughters of Eden Trilogy: The Shadow Catcher, Fever Hill & the Serpent's Tooth Read Free Page B

never allow that.
    Miss McAllister had told her that what Madeleine called a ‘silk-cotton tree’ was in fact the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, and that it couldn’t possibly be haunted, as the black people maintained – for the simple reason that there are no black people in Eden.
    I believe there are some, Madeleine had cautiously replied. You see, I know about Eden, because it’s where I began.
    Whatever can you mean, dear, Miss McAllister had said with a frozen smile.
    Why, because it’s where my parents used to meet before I was born.
    That was when Miss McAllister had burst into tears and fled the class.
    Her mother was right: Eden was dangerous. Because of Eden, Madeleine’s only attempt at meeting other children had been a disaster, and she’d been banished from the rectory for ever. Because of Eden, her mother longed for Jamaica and detested Scotland.
    And perhaps, she thought, it’s because of Eden that it all went wrong with the officer in the park.
    Your parents wrecked lives , he had said. What did he mean? How does one wreck a life? She pictured a broken ferry boat tilting rustily on a beach.
    Her parents couldn’t have done something like that. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
    In the glare of the gaslight the ruined house stared back at her with its shattered tree-fern eye. What’s so special about you? she thought angrily. You’re only a mouldy old photograph. We’ve got hundreds of better ones in the darkroom.
    On impulse she turned it over, undid the clasps, and slid it out of the frame. Then she laid it on top of the piano and with her thumbnail scored a deep, diagonal line across. Her nail scratched the blur that was papa, but she didn’t stop. Papa ought to be here to sort things out. Grimly she scored another line to make a giant X.
    Upstairs a thump shook the ceiling, and she froze guiltily. The gasoliers’ crystal fringes chimed. A moment later she heard her mother ringing for Hannah.
    The ringing continued. But no irritable ‘Coming, coming’ issued from the kitchen.
    Wretched Hannah. With an exasperated sigh Madeleine slammed down the photograph and stalked upstairs.
     
    Afterwards, the moment when she opened the bedroom door became fixed in her mind as the point when her life changed.
    Until then she had spent her days bickering and laughing with her mother, waging a covert war against Hannah, and wandering on the beach chatting to the seals and the cormorants and Mister Parrot. After she opened the door, everything changed.
    Her mother – her elegant, unpredictable, beautiful mother – was crouching on the rug on all fours, panting and baring her teeth like an animal.
    She looked as if she had been dressing to go out when she had fallen to her knees. The collar of her walking-coat was twisted, a large rip had appeared under one arm, and her blue velvet bonnet – Madeleine’s favourite – had slid down her back and become snarled in her hair.
    Then Madeleine saw the great wet patch on the rug. She was horrified. It was inconceivable that her mother could have had an ‘accident’. But she couldn’t think of another explanation.
    Her mother raised her head and saw her. ‘Ah, there you are,’ she said, bizarrely calm.
    Madeleine tried extremely hard not to look at the wet patch. ‘Are you unwell?’ she mumbled.
    ‘Much better now, thank you, Maddy. Just run and fetch Hannah.’
    Madeleine bit her lip. She couldn’t let the housemaid see her mother like this. ‘You should get up off the floor,’ she said. ‘You should get into bed.’
    ‘In a minute,’ her mother replied. ‘Dr Baines said that being on all fours might ease the backache, and although I hate to admit it, he’s right.’ She gave a mock grimace. ‘I know it looks odd, but I—’ She broke off with a sudden hiss as some sort of spasm seized her.
    Madeleine gripped the doorknob.
    ‘Now here’s a thing,’ her mother gasped. ‘They’re coming rather more quickly than I’d