There were about twenty people in there, sitting in armchairs and at small tables, all ancient, shrivelled and shrunken. Some alert, watchful, others dead-eyed and slack-jawed. One or two lost in their own private worlds, rocking backwards and forwards, gabbling.

‘See,’ said Amelia and she blew her candle out. The smaller old woman was still clinging on to her, not understanding what was going on, fearful. Amelia gently stroked her hair as she talked. ‘I told you there were more of us. But we’re all the same. All just old. Harmless.’

An old man had got up from one of the tables and headed for them. He was bent over, walking with the help of two sticks, what was left of his silver hair neatly combed over his scalp. A smart blazer with a handkerchief folded in the top pocket. Glasses so thick they magnified his eyes.

‘Hello,’ he said when he got to them, turning to peer at all three boys in turn. ‘How splendid to have some visitors. I won’t shake your hands. I’m liable to fall over.’

He chuckled.

‘This is freaky,’ said Lewis. ‘I ain’t talked to a grown-up in over a year.’

‘And I haven’t talked to a child,’ said the man. ‘Not for a long while. They leave us alone here. They’ve forgotten us.’

‘What is this place?’ asked Kyle.

‘It’s called The Beeches,’ said Amelia. ‘It used to be what you would call an old people’s home. I suppose it still is. A very old people’s home. And what brings you all here, I wonder?’

Ed had almost forgotten about the rest of his group, still waiting outside. They’d be getting worried.

‘Our friend is hurt,’ he said. ‘Can we bring him in? Do you have any medical stuff?’

‘I saw from the window,’ said the woman. ‘A bad business. I do hope he’s all right. We have some bits and pieces here. There’s a medical wing, not as well stocked as it once was. And Norman here used to be a doctor.’

‘A very long time ago,’ said the man.

‘He still remembers some things, don’t you, Norman?’

‘A little. But I forget more. I remember my training better than I remember what I had for breakfast this morning, to tell you the honest truth.’

‘You know perfectly well what you had for breakfast, Norman,’ said Amelia. ‘You had what you have every morning. What we all have. Porridge oats and sweet tea.’

‘What happened to your friend?’ asked Norman, his goggle eyes blinking at Ed.

‘He’s been bitten.’

‘By one of them?’

‘Yes.’

Norman tutted. ‘Then I’m afraid there’s not a lot I can do for him. I’ll try my best, but my best is not what it was. He doesn’t stand much of a chance, the poor devil. You’d better bring him inside.’

Chapter 39

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