My mouth falls open. 'Do you English evernotdrink?' I snarl.
Douglas shrugs. 'I'm not saying I condone it. I'm just saying that's what they do. The younger ones are there on the weekends when Stoke's not around and the reception is closed. The mice play when the master's away. Now, sling yer hooks.'
I look at him in confusion.
'Get out of me bloody car,' he mutters. 'I'll be in touch. I'll pick you up here on Friday at nine in the evening. Wear black. I'll get you some balaclavas.'
‘What the fuck are balaclavas?’ I mutter as we all exit the gruff asshole’s vehicle.
‘Ski masks, I think,’ Blake answers with a frown.
We go into the pub, the warmth from the open fire warming us up instantly. The barman gives us a nod and asks what we want to drink.
Blake asks for a pint of his new favorite drink; the samepale ale the barman gave him the other day. Mav, now partial to a Strongbow, has a pint of alcoholic cider. I take a whiskey double, straight-up. I down it in one, and I get another.
It's starting to get dark. I check my watch. We've got two more days of this before we can take our girl home.
My phone buzzes. I know who it is before I even look at it. My father is asking where I am. I message him to say that I'm busy with school and that I'll see him next week, hoping it'll be enough and that he doesn't get wind of where we are, what we're doing. He doesn't reply. I hope he doesn't call me.
I sit at the table with the guys in silence. Blake tries futilely to get a stable internet connection but shuts his laptop with a curse after a few minutes.
'It's the weather, lad,' the barman says. He points vaguely upward with a finger. 'Old wiring.'
Blake looks unimpressed.
'Where is there a place with a better connection?' he asks.
The barman thinks for a minute. 'Public library. There's one in the nearest town, about twenty minutes by car. Or you can get the bus, though it only goes twice a day from outside the church.'
Blake shakes his head. 'Maybe tomorrow.'
I finish my drink. Wanting to be alone, I go up the narrow, steep wooden staircase to the small room I’m staying in. The floor is uneven. I guess that's normal for a building that was built in 1567, so says the plaque on the front of the building. It blows my mind how old this place is.
So haunted.
I lay on my bed carefully, looking at the floral-patternedwallpaper and the antique furniture. I suppose it's quaint, though I can't shake my desire for a decent five-star hotel.
I lay on top of the covers and close my eyes, trying to relax, but all I can see is Daisy in my head, the way she looked just before we lost sight of her in Sauvage’s club.
The more I find out about The Heath, the more horrified I am. We need to save her.
Two more days.
I remind myself that she's a survivor, that she was in that place for over ten years. She survived Joe and the nurse. Just two more days. She can make it. Two more days.
It’s a cold comfort.
She shouldn’t have to make it. She shouldn’t be here, she never should have been here at all, and my father is going to answer for what he did back then, for trying to pawn her off onto the Bandervilles now, for ruining her life over and over again just because he can.
I’m going to make sure he pays for all of it. I need to even if it’s just so I can look myself in the eye.
Chapter Five
Daisy
Isit at the table and wince as my marker slides across the page, ruining the coloring I’ve been doing for the past two hours. Ugh! Do I actually care? Is this how far I’ve fallen? I’m bored out of my mind. There used to at least be classes like art and music that we could do, but I haven’t seen any evidence of anyone external coming to teach the residents anything. I’m also not allowed anywhere near the computer, and, as far as I can tell, no one else at The Heath is either. It’s not even plugged in.
They did let me go out for another jog today, though. No Blanks attempted to come with me this time either, but I’m sure they kept tabs on me from sections of the path that are visible from the house.
