It's like waiting for a second shoe to drop," Ice said. "My daddy always says that. Especially after he and my mother had an argument and she went off to sulk or drink. I walked around holding my breath most of the time. My teachers thought I was some kind of mute."
"Until you opened your mouth and sang, I bet," Rose said.
"Singing is freedom to me," Ice replied.
Cinnamon smiled.
"I like that. I guess, in a real sense, that's what drives all of us. Ironic, in a way, that we've all come here to achieve that freedom, and we find someone practically imprisoned."
"What a strange old house this is:' I said. "There really is more theater going on in here than there is on Broadway!"
It sounded silly, but it also sounded like an understatement.
Everyone laughed, but it was laughter mixed with nervousness and uncertainty.
They left my room as quietly as they could, slinking back to their own rooms.
I got ready for bed, but before I crawled under my blanket. I gazed out the window and up the ladder. Above us, the light was still on.
I thought I could hear 'Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clements."
Then the light went out.
And darkness fell faster than it had the night before.
12 Keeping Secrets
Carrying the secret of Gerta was like wearing a mask all day, except for when we were practicing and performing for our teachers. We tried not to speak about it at all while we were downstairs. Whispering would only draw more attention. However, our more frequent goings and comings from each other's rooms started to attract Steven and Howard's interest. especially Howard's. Sometimes we had to include them in our girl talk to keep them from developing any suspicions. Steven would grow bored quickly and leave, but Howard, who prided himself on having an opinion about everything, remained to argue, most often with Cinnamon.
Almost a week after our first visit upstairs, we decided to go up again. Rose had called Evan and told him of our discovery. He reinvestigated and reported back to her, assuring her his information was correct. The newspaper had reported that Gerta Senetsky died and was buried in a cemetery in Switzerland. A few days later, he called to say he had even learned the name of the cemetery.
When we climbed up the ladder the second time, we hovered on the landing and waited to be sure Gerta was alone. We knew that Madame Senetsky had left the house to attend a preview of a Broadway play, but we weren't sure where Ms. Fairchild was. For a good ten minutes, we gazed into the bedroom, waiting for signs of Gerta. She did not appear.
"Maybe they took her away," Rose suggested. "Looks like someone is still using this bedroom though," I said.
Finally Cinnamon decided to open the window and climb in. She thought it might be better if only she went. The rest of us waited and watched. She stood in the doorway, looking into the living room, and then she returned and beckoned us to follow. Once inside, we found Gerta sitting on the living room sofa, one of the teddy bears from her bed in her lap. She was in an eighteenth century dress and a wig of golden hair with two rather large curls, which lay in front of her shoulders. The dress had a hoop so wide, she looked quite silly. I saw she had even put a fake beauty mark on the crest of her right cheek.
She didn't appear to notice we had entered, but continued instead to stare with glazed eyes at the floor.
"Hi, Gerta," Rose said. "How are you?"
She didn't respond: she didn't move her eyes. I noticed she was stroking the teddy bear mechanically with her right hand.
"We came to play Oranges and Lemons again," Cinnamon said.
Still Gerta did not respond, did not move, turn her head, or do anything to indicate she had heard either Rose or Cinnamon.
"Why are you dressed like this today? Are you in a play?"
"She's in a daze," Ice said.
"It looks more like a coma," Cinnamon told us.
She crossed the room and went to the door, trying the knob.
"It's locked," she whispered. She tried the door that went to the costume room. The first one opened, but not the second. "Locked as well. They really have her imprisoned in here."
"I'm surprised they didn't lock the window. too." Rose said. "Nail it shut so she couldn't geet onto the fire escape once they found our clothes in her closet," She turned and looked at Gerta. "This is not right," she said, shaking her head. "It's downright cruel. Look at her. She needs professional help, not incarceration."