Solid Walls

Chapter Thirty-Four

They had no time to waste. If they couldn't figure out how to open the passage on their own, surely the two women who spent the most time in this room could help them.

"Look for any mention of the passages," Nell said. "We know Moira knew about them, at least later on, because Ed saw her using the one in the study. I don't know about Sue, but if her mother's the one who built them, she must have had some idea."

They sat on the floor by the dismantled chest and flipped through their respective diaries, scanning at top speed and reading out any entry that seemed relevant.

"Here's something from when the family first moved in," Nell said. She held her flashlight up to better see the fading handwriting.

"'The house is finished at last, a lovely stately place in the woods that almost made me hope for strolls along the creek or leisure time in the gardens,'" she read aloud. "'But of course Papa immediately had all of my things moved to this gloomy room designed just for my condition. At the old house in town, I could escape my room quite easily, sneaking down the hall or climbing out the window. But here Papa and the doctor have thought of everything. There are no windows to tempt me, and I am surrounded by a maze sure to get me lost and confuse me into staying put. I will not try to leave, though, I will be good. I will sit still and quiet my mind. The last thing Mother and Papa need when entertaining is more of my wild imaginings or unacceptable attempts at conversation. It's as though I cannot control myself around other people, I just become so nervy and hysterical. But here the doctor assures me I will get well, away from unnecessary stimulation, no reading or chatting or toxic outside air for me. I have asked how long I must rest in seclusion, but the doctor's answers are always vague. "When the unpleasantness is gone away," he says. I try every day, every hour, to make the unpleasantness go away. But no matter what I do, the thoughts keep coming and the urges remain.'" Nell skipped ahead to the next entry. "'I believe it is evening, diary, but the clock on my wall may be slow or fast, I've no way to know. I only know it is morning or night when the maid comes to serve meals or empty the pot. Papa has not yet visited me. He does not know about my diary. He does not know about a lot of things...'"

Nell skimmed through the next few entries and picked up a few weeks later.

"'The corridors are my only way out of this room,'" she read in Sue's words. "Mother designed them so I may have a way into the library and her bedroom, a secret way that Papa will never discover. She doesn't agree with the doctor, but she would never say so to Papa. She took a big enough risk adding the passages. She told the architects the new design was a request of my Papa's, for the purpose of a new kind of bell-ringing system to announce visitors. Papa was abroad on business for most of the construction, so he is none the wiser. He simply marvels at the ingenious architects' trick with the bells, ringing it in good humor whenever he returns home. I am ever-grateful for Mother's attempts at making me well, but sometimes the corridors frighten me, they are so narrow and suffocating. I wish we did not have to have the bells, either. They startle me above my head when I am between the walls, and sometimes they ring so loud in my ears I can barely think. The parties and dinners that Mother and Papa host are the worst, when guests arrive over and over and over again. But it is an extra precaution of Mother's. We are always alerted when he or the doctor arrives...'"

While Nell flipped through the next pages, Chloe cleared her throat and began reading from her own volume, imagining Moira sitting in this empty room writing these words, the pressure of her pen denting the pages.

"'Today I found my predecessor's diary at the bottom of the chest,'" Chloe read softly. "'I've only read a few entries so far. I had to put it down because I started shaking so bad. I guess I should take some comfort in her story, though. At least I'm not crazy, or if I am at least someone else was just as crazy. It didn't seem to help poor Sue, but I've decided to keep a diary, too. I'll keep it up here with hers so Rick or the children won't stumble on it. Rick is working longer hours than ever to keep up with the payments on this godforsaken house, and poor Ed and Sam are too young to understand why they see their mother so seldom. Thank God for Amos, coming and watching the kids for me most days. I guess since I'm writing anything, I may as well write everything. Try to sort it all out on paper so it'll start to make sense in my head. I didn't plan on this happening. Whoever's reading this, I swear I didn't plan on this happening. I wish so badly I could be downstairs with my babies like I used to, but—no, stop. I'm getting ahead of myself. My mind is so scattered these days. Okay. I first came up here to look through all the old furniture, try to find some refurbishment project that might show Rick I was enthused about the house, about the life he envisioned for us. But the more time I spent going through the stuff up here, the more I didn't want to leave. Downstairs, all I see is Rick's frustration, Amos's worry, the children's confusion when I can't muster a smile for them. I thought at first maybe I just needed space to figure myself out, away from all the people who expect me to be everything. But why this dark, musty old room felt like the right place to do that, I have no idea. And now I'm getting scared. I can still get downstairs for a few hours at a time, enough so when Rick gets home in the evening we can all have supper together. But it's getting harder every day. We've been in this house six months. I don't know how I'm going to make it another six...'"