"So what you're saying is that I have to not only forgive her, but battle against that ... thing too?"
Evelyn chuckles, her fingers softly braiding my hair. "I am afraid so, my dear Gemma."
"I may be able to forgive her, but I will never be able to defeat that ... thing."
"That ... thing is yourself, Gemma. It is no monster. It is you. The Winterlands are able to conjure up illusions, fake death and betrayal. They play on your weaknesses. They grab hold of everything you fear, you hate, you have tried to forget, and they feast on it, turning insignificant little worries into crushing monstrosities of fears. That is their way."
"Well, I shan't be able to, then." I grumble, but I can feel her fingers stop.
"Gemma, you must. Mother will break if she stays in there much longer, and I do not want to be here for the rest of time. I have been sixteen for 17years, Gemma. I don't want to be 16 forever."
I know I am being selfish and spoilt and childish, but I can't help myself. I hate this responsibility, hate the stupid locket.
"So throw it away." Evelyn, also, has the irritating talent of delving deep into my mind and reading my thoughts.
"Get out," I smile, and she retreats. "You know I can't do that. You know it."
"Yes. I suppose I do."
He ambiguity throws me, and I want to question it, but my mind is already racing onto more important things.
"Evelyn, how am I meant to defeat it? How can I protect myself from it?"
Her answer is as cryptic as ever. "You have to fix it. To make sure there is nothing that they can grasp hold of. Make sure that there are no chinks in your armour."
"That's all very well for you to say. You don't have to go in there."
She pushes my head off her lap, and for the first time, I see her angry. "Don't you think I have tried that? Do you really think I want to rely on you, a stupid spoilt little schoolgirl?"
There is that word again. It stings, and so I walk away, not looking back. I join the girls, melt effortlessly into their laughter and dreams, and by the time I remember to look back, she is gone, and I am finally happy.
"Gemma, darling, what do you wish for?" Pippa calls to me as she dances with Ann, grasping her wrists and clinging for dear life as they twirl into nothing more than a blur. Pippa's hair flies out around her, and when they stop, giddy and exhausted, it is tangled and messy and wild. She pats it, giggles, and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, it is silky soft, shining and sleek, her skin creamy white and her eyes the colour of fresh violets. She is painfully beautiful, and I suddenly remember something my mother once said, years before.
Such beauty is not a gift, but a curse.
Although I cannot see how this is true, I smile as it makes me feel less undesirable, and imagine I am beautiful too. I run to the river, see my face glimmering back at me. My hair is longer, smoother and glossier, my lips redder, cheeks softer, eyes greener.
"Is that what you want? To be beautiful?" Pippa asks, sinking onto the carpet of green that is as soft as a feather down mattress.
"I know what she wants." Fee smirks tauntingly, sitting seductively close, before reaching out and placing the gentlest kiss on my lips. I remember the previous evening, before we even entered here, when we had kissed and dreamed and felt alive.
"She wants her gypsy boy!" she squeals, and before I can shush her, the others are on top of me, screaming and giggling in delight and audacity.
"What on earth does Fee mean? Tell, tell! You have to tell us!"
"I have to do no such thing!" I am smiling, teasing them, infuriating them. But I have not counted on Felicity.
"She is in love with a gypsy boy. I saw them kissing. Gemma wants him to ravish her."
"Fee! That is not true!" My eyes are wide in indignation, and I pounce on the laughing girl, before she adds, "Gemma, darling, there is no-one to judge you here. We can say anything we want and do anything we want and it is fine. You love him, you want to be with him and lie with him and-"
"She wants to lie back and think of England with him!" Pippa is laughing uncontrollably, and Ann joins her. Her eyes are shining and I feel that I cannot be embarrassed or angry as long as Ann is happy. She has been unhappy for too long.
Fee gazes at me, daring me, testing me. What will I do? Will I disappoint her? Will I be another one of the thousand nameless, faceless women of England who do as they are told and speak when they are spoken to?
No I shall not.
"I want him to ravish me!" I cry savagely into the night, and we are laughing once more, on top of each other, rolling and living and dreaming and dying and-
No. Dying. That is wrong.
And then I notice that Ann is crying. We gradually stop, crowd around her, patting her cautiously on the shoulder and frowning wordlessly at one another.
"Ann, darling, what is it? What has upset you so?" Pippa's voice is as clear and fluid as water. I think of my own voice, savage and sullen, and secretly I hate her just a little bit.
"Well, we all know ... we all know it's not real, don't we? We know it's just an illusion. We will return, like every other evening, and I will be Ann the scholarship student again, plump and plain, and I will have to watch you all go off and many wealthy men and live charmed lives while I will consider myself lucky if I manage to get a job as your children's governess. I will always be inferior."
Felicity says nothing. I know that she is agreeing with Ann, and does not think that telling her that she is wrong, that she will be great and loved and noble, is going to help her. Because we all know our place. We cannot change our fates. That is for the men to do.
But as I am thinking this, I notice that Pippa has a strange expression on her face. I cannot read it, cannot understand it. I remember what I was told. Do not lay your trust in pretty things, Gemma.
Pippa's such a pretty thing.