“Mitzy-you must come right away. Right now! Please,” he said. She didn’t notice that there was sweat on his forehead, misting his top lip; that his face was ashen, his hands shaking as he pushed them through his hair again.
“Of course, Charles. I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t packed my bag yet-is there time for me to do that? Just some clothes, and a few things?”
“What? No-there’s no time! Please come at once!” He grabbed her wrist and began to pull her towards the car. “Wait-is Valentina at home? Call her, too-and fetch your medicines, any medicines you have. Bring them all!”
“Valentina… but why should you want to bring my mother? We do not need to-”
“Is she here?”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Well, wake her, God damn it! Right now!” His sudden shout was so loud that she recoiled; so violent that a fleck of his spit landed on her cheek.
“I don’t understand!” Dimity cried, and Charles glared at her, half mad with impatience. “She won’t be woken; she was occupied this afternoon-”
“Then you’ll have to come alone. Celeste and Élodie… they’re very ill. You have to help them.”
“But I-” All protest was cut off as Charles pulled her towards the car. She scrambled in obediently, but a sudden and dreadful terror was tying knots in her chest, and she found herself gasping for air.
Sure enough, Charles drove her to Littlecombe, the last place she wanted to go. Drove with reckless speed, almost hitting the baker’s van as they burst out of the top of the track and onto the village street. Dimity shut her eyes and did not move when the car pulled up outside the house. Charles had to drag her out by her arm, his fingers digging into her, his teeth gritted.
“I’ve called two different doctors, but both of them are out seeing other patients… they won’t be here for at least an hour, their secretaries said. People in the village told me to keep giving them water to drink, but… but they can’t keep it down. They can hardly even drink it! You have to help them, Dimity. There must be something you can give them. Some herb…” he said. She had to run to stay on her feet as he towed her to the front door. On the threshold, she braced her hand against the door frame and wrenched her arm free of him, making him pause. “What are you doing? Come on!” he cried.
“I’m frightened!” she said. True enough, but she had no way to express how huge and ugly and confused that fear was. Suddenly the doorway to the house was like a hole into hell, or the den of some dangerous wild animal. Charles stared at her with eyes full of tears.
“Please, Dimity,” he said, in a desperate voice. “Please help them.” She had no choice but to try.
They were in the big bedroom, both of them; on the bed. Celeste was sitting half propped up against the wall, with vomit all down her blouse and some of it caught in a bowl. A long, thick string of saliva was hanging from her chin, constantly renewing itself, never breaking off. Every few seconds she twitched, a sharp jolt like an electric shock passing through her. The stink in the room was horrible. Delphine was holding her mother’s hand, crouching beside the bed with a look of profound anguish on her face. On the other side of the bed lay Élodie, her small body twisted and still.
“Élodie is worse. Go to her first,” said Charles, propelling Dimity towards her and rushing over to Celeste and Delphine.
“Oh! Please do something, Mitzy! You must know what to give them… you must know a cure! Please!” Delphine begged her, the words slurred with weeping.
“I… I don’t know… What’s wrong with them?” Dimity faltered.
“I don’t know! Something they ate-it must be! Something I picked… I went picking on my own and I left some things for Mummy for her lunch, and she made a soup and Élodie had some, too, when we got home, but I didn’t have any and neither did Daddy… I must have picked the wrong thing, Mitzy! I was sure I hadn’t… I was sure I knew what I’d found, but I must have been wrong, mustn’t I? I must have been!” She sobbed into her hand for a second, but stopped to grasp her mother’s fingers as Celeste vomited again, a mouthful of yellow fluid that slid down her chin, and then she convulsed, her head flying back to crack against the wall, her arms straining, straight against the mattress. From the other side of the bed Dimity caught sight of her eyes. Black as night; black as a lie; black as murder. The pupils so vastly dilated that almost nothing of the blue irises was visible. Her eyes looked like open doors, wide enough for her soul to escape. Suddenly her mouth opened and she spoke in rapid French, an unintelligible stream of noise more like the sound an animal would make, rather than a person. Delphine whimpered and tried to hold her mother’s hands, but Celeste wrenched them away, staring around her with those wide black eyes as though she could see unimaginable monsters.
Dimity crouched down beside Élodie and took the girl’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, weak and irregular. The child’s whole body was arched backwards and rigid, every muscle as tight as a violin string. Her face was immobile, eyes fixed; every bit as wide and black as her mother’s. A steady trickle of drool soaked into the mattress beneath her. She looked like a demon, she looked possessed. Dimity’s skin crawled as she put her ear close to the girl’s open mouth and felt the slightest touch of air, moving in and out in minute amounts. Dimity’s own head was as empty as their eyes. More than anything, she wanted to flee the room; wanted to be gone from this deathbed, since deathbed it was. They’d eaten the roots, that much was clear. Treacherously sweet, full of flavor. If they could be saved, it would not be by anything Dimity could give them. The doctor was their only chance, but even that depended on how long they would have to wait.
“When did it start?” she asked woodenly. She felt sleepy, all of a sudden. She wanted to lie down and shut her eyes and dream.
“A… about two hours ago. Celeste had a stomachache when we got back from town, and by the time she began to vomit, Élodie had eaten the soup, too, and was also sick… What can you give them? What can we do?” Charles stood with his arms hanging loose by his sides, chewing his lip as he stared at her, keen as a hawk. She saw that he expected her to make them well, expected her to save them, and she swallowed the sudden, mad urge to laugh. She shook her head instead, and saw his face crumple. It was too late. After two hours, the poison would be deep within their bodies, too deep to fetch it back out.
“There’s nothing I can give them. The poison is too strong. I have… seen it before.” Rats, rats in the corners of the room, twisting and twirling in death’s dance. She started up to her feet, looking around at them in horror.
“So you know what it is? You know what they ate?” he said. Dimity could hardly keep the air in her lungs long enough to answer him. She nodded her head, felt Celeste’s empty, ink-spot eyes watching her. A flood of tingling horror washed down her back, and she swayed.
“Cowbane,” she said at last. “Water hemlock.” Hemlock. They knew the name. Charles went paler still; Delphine gaped at her, her jaw hanging slackly open.
There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of Celeste’s labored breathing and the strange gurgling noise she made in her throat when another seizure gripped her. From Élodie, there was no sound.
“You mean…” Charles cleared his throat, dragged his hands over his face. “You mean they could die of this? They might die?” He sounded utterly incredulous, and ignored Delphine as she began to sob once more. Dimity met Charles’s gaze and managed not to flinch. The room was crowded with shadows and devils; with contorted rats and black, black eyes; awash with a revolting sea of spittle and bile. Dimity felt as though her mind was going to fly apart.