To escape the dangers of wartime London, Millie has been sent away to Wickford Hall, but what lurks there is far more sinister than anything war might bring.
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THERE'S SOMETHING WICKED STALKING WICKFORD HALL...
As war rages on, Mildred Cunningham...
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"Why are we doing this?" Millie whispered to Petra as they crept down the main staircase, cloaked in darkness. Petra had her torch in hand, but kept it low, its beam tucked into the folds of her nightdress and robe.
"Because it's fun," Petra whispered back, trying to stifle her giggles as she prodded at Millie's side. "And making mischief together is a good way to strengthen a friendship."
Millie wasn't sure if that was true, but she wasn't going to argue. If Petra wanted to be her friend, then she was willing to do anything. Well, almost anything. Creeping around Wickford in the dead of night was pushing her limit, but still she followed along as Petra led them down the steps, towards the foyer, and then into the office.
Bathed in cold moonlight, all greys and blues and shadows, the office looked unearthly. Millie couldn't help but feel like something was waiting for them in the darkness, ready to leap upon them. She shivered and hung back as Petra strode inside, crossing the room and heading for the filing cabinets behind the secretary's desk.
"What are you doing?" Millie asked.
Petra aimed her torch beam at Millie, who blinked against the brightness. She raised her hand to block it.
"Looking for my file," Petra said as if it was obvious.
"Why?"
Petra pulled the light back to the drawers. "Come on, haven't you ever wondered what the teachers write about you in their private notes?"
"Not really," Millie grumbled.
Petra wasn't listening. She had found the drawer marked 'Student Records, D'—for Downey, Millie presumed. She pried it open, and the rusty drawer let out a low creak as it slid out. Petra began to flick through the files inside.
"Why do I get the sense," Petra began, glancing at Millie as she lingered, awkward, by the door, "that if we found your file, that it would be full of things like, 'Mildred is always a pleasure to have in class' and other empty praises?"
Millie felt her face go hot and was glad that Petra's torch wasn't turned on her so she couldn't see the blush. "So? What if it does?"
Truth was, though her experience at Wickford had been bumpy at best, she had done very well in school back in London. Petra was right—her file probably would contain nothing but compliments and praise. And usually, she would be proud of it.
"I knew it," Petra sighed. "You're a goody-two-shoes. How disappointing."
"I-Is it really?" Millie asked. Her chest got tight. She didn't want to disappoint Petra.
Petra just shook her head.
"I'm just teasing, Millie. If anything, it's better—all the better to corrupt." She stopped thumbing through the files and grinned at her. When she turned back to the files, the grin went wider. "Here we go!"
