To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

D. A. Ratliff

“To sleep, perchance to dream,” Hamlet act 3, scene 1.

Screams wafted through the darkened passageway deep within the catacombs. A man held a struggling young girl by the arms, dragging her toward a grimy wooden door crisscrossed with bands of iron.

“Let me go. I won’t tell.” She pulled against the man’s grasp but was not strong enough to break free.

The sharp sound of a slap echoed through the narrow hall. “Shut up.” The man jerked her toward the door where another person stood, a key chain dangling from an outstretched hand.

The girl resisted. “Please, don’t put me in there. I won’t tell, I won’t.”

As the key slipped into the lock, the person turned to her with a gaze of pure evil. “You should have thought about that before you decided to snoop.”

The man shoved her into a darkened chamber, and as the door clanged shut, her screams faded into silence.

Six Months Later

Bethany Monroe slid her ID into the gate access box next to the massive wrought-iron gates leading to Brentwood Manor. She passed through the entry and followed the curved treelined drive toward the staff residence hall, surprised at her rising trepidation. She served as headteacher at the British boarding school for five years, living in the residential quarters during the school year. Now, after an absence of eight months, she was returning.

Beth parked under the portico at the staff entrance and wondered if returning was the best choice. The air held the mossy scent of the Scottish Highlands, and, for a moment, she felt at home. But home was a suburb of Chicago where her mother remained, recuperating.

A familiar voice rang out as she opened the car trunk to remove her suitcases. She turned to see Angus, the head of maintenance for the school, coming out of the building.

“Dr. Monroe, so glad to have you back, lassie.” She had missed his thick Scottish brogue.

“Good to see you, Angus, and please call me Beth.”

“Would nae be right. Let me get your bags for you.”

Later in the afternoon, as Beth unpacked, a knock sounded on her door. She froze, no doubt in her mind who it was—the new headmistress of the school, Veronica Peyton. She walked to the door and took a deep breath before she opened it.

“Beth, how wonderful to have you back.”

“Veronica, it is good to be back. Come in.”

Her guest walked into Beth’s suite and sat on the couch. “How is your mother?”

“Doing very well. Quite the scare, but surgery was successful, the brain tumor is gone, and she is now cancer-free.”

“And rehabilitation went well?”

“Yes, she is, according to her physical therapist, about ninety percent, and still improving.”

“That’s wonderful.” Peyton paused, never taking her eyes off Beth. “I wanted to inform you about the changes since your leave of absence.”

“Congratulations on your promotion to headmaster.”

“Thank you. I would have preferred it under better circumstances. Dr. MacTavish’s death was a challenging time. The staff appreciated your kindness in sending notes and flowers. I know you wish you had been here.”

Beth listened to Veronica’s words, but the woman’s eyes lacked sincerity. “I am sure it was very difficult for everyone.”

“About the changes. Our relationship with the government somewhat differs from when you were last here. The minister wanted us to be less selective in choosing orphans for admission to our program. While the girls with strong academic promise are still our priority, we have instituted a new program where these additional students stay with us for a basic education before adoption. Most will be from eight to sixteen years old. It’s a pilot program that we hope will assist in faster adoption for the girls. We instituted the program shortly after you left, which has shown great success.”

“I look forward to seeing the curriculum offered in the program and getting to know the students.”

Veronica opened her mouth, hesitated, and then spoke. “Doctor Hugo Cordova is the new project director and hired his staff. He does not fall under your supervision. You have accomplished so much with our gifted students that we chose not to divert your focus.” She stood. “I must attend to some things. I will see you at seven in the dining hall.”

~~~

Dinner was both a wonderful experience and an unsettling one. While seeing the teachers and staff she had missed was wonderful, Beth sensed tension among them. Maybe it was her uneasiness, but something was wrong.

The following morning, she entered her office, opened the window, and gazed at the beautiful heather-strewn Scottish moor. The sweet fragrance of the lavender and rosy-pink blossoms was pleasant, and the soft buzz of bees collecting nectar and a slight breeze was soothing.

The students were on a two-day trip to a seaside resort before the autumn session began, and the school was too quiet for her taste. She loved the laughter emanating from the hallways as the girls changed classes. She had chosen to accept the headteacher position for this unique project because she believed that so many orphans did not receive the opportunities to succeed in life, especially those in their teens who had little chance of adoption.

She pried herself from the window and sat down to look over the student records, but the uneasiness she experienced earlier returned. Something was different about the school.

The students returned to Brentwood in time for their dinner at six p.m. Beth usually ate with them at least twice a week and always at breakfast on Saturdays. She wanted to let them know she was accessible without being too familiar. She held a soft spot for a few girls but tried not to show favorites. It wasn’t easy when it came to Cassie Cameron.

Cassie was born in Glasgow to a drug-addicted mother and a father she never knew. Her mother died of an overdose when she was five, and the local council agency sent her to an orphanage that did little but keep the children fed and clothed and barely warm.

As headteacher, Beth participated in the selection of students. They had tested the children at Cassie’s orphanage, and the lively then ten-year-old had charmed her even before they received the results of her evaluations. The cheerful redhead was bright but also street-savvy and a formidable challenge. Cassie had become her best student and her greatest joy to teach.

Before she left after learning of her mother’s diagnosis, she told Cassie that because of the school’s policies of no outside communication, she would be out of touch but would think about her. As she entered the dining room, she scanned the students, anxious to see Cassie, but she wasn’t among them.

She hurried to the teacher’s table to ask about Cassie. One look at Marion Langford’s face as she approached the head math teacher told her everything.

“Where is she?”

“Beth, I…” Marion lowered her voice, “I wish we could have told you, but Peyton asked us not to say anything. According to Peyton, she was adopted, but we know nothing more.”

“Adopted? Why wouldn’t they tell you? Why didn’t they tell you?” Beth felt panic rising, and she fought to keep it back. Cassie would have let her know she was no longer at the school. Where was she?

Marion grabbed her hand. “I don’t know why, but she’s been gone for six months. And no one speaks about her.”

Several students rushed to greet her before she could ask more questions. Her heart pounded with fear. She didn’t believe the story about Cassie’s adoption.

The girls returned to their dorms at curfew, and Beth returned to her suite in the staff residence. She opened her door and slipped as she stepped on an envelope. She sat on the couch and opened the note.

All is not what it seems. We do not believe Cassie was adopted. We contacted the police, and the detective spoke to Peyton and reported there was documentation of her adoption, but we do not trust Peyton. She warned us not to speak about Cassie and not to have contact with the girls in their new program. You weren’t here, and they probably think you know nothing about this and may not be concerned about you. You must stop them and save her. Talk to DI Simon Colson. Strange things happen during the night, but we are afraid to search. You are the only hope for them all. We will be in touch.

Tears welled in Beth’s eyes as she fought to maintain control. She had to keep in control, just as she did when her mother was so ill. Cassie and the other girls were in danger.

~~~

After a restless night, Beth stopped by the dining hall early, grabbing coffee and a scone. She had little appetite for food and less for seeing anyone while she prepared to attend the first faculty meeting of the Autumn term. Since reading the note left for her, her nerves were raw, but she had to remain outwardly calm despite the rage that boiled within her.

She needed to think things through—hear Peyton’s story about Cassie first, then contact the detective. Fear gnawed at her. What was happening at the school?

She walked into the faculty meeting as Peyton started talking. The director glanced at her, and Beth scoffed. Peyton’s gaze was cold, as if she were not happy to see her. That made two of them. If only Dr. MacTavish hadn’t died so unexpectedly. He wouldn’t have let this happen.

After the meeting, Beth approached Peyton. “Doctor, a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Certainly.”

“I noticed Cassie Cameron is not here, and the girls told me that she was adopted. That’s wonderful. I would love to talk to her and see how she is doing. Could you get me her address?”

Peyton’s eyes dilated, and Beth’s blood ran cold. “I’m sorry. Since you were gone, we have instituted a policy prohibiting any contact by faculty and staff with former students. We feel these children need to get on with their new lives without reminders of their past.” The director once again smiled with cold eyes. “So glad to have you back, Dr. Monroe. I hope you find our new policies satisfactory.”

As Peyton walked away, Beth seethed. She had never trusted that woman and wasn’t about to do so now. She needed to talk to DI Coulson.

~~~

The school sat five miles from Glasgow, and she had arranged to meet the detective at a pub on the outskirts of town along the River Clyde. She parked her white Mini Hatch in the car park and entered the pub. It was three in the afternoon, and only a few patrons were at the bar. The lone man at the corner table wearing a suit must be Coulson.

“Detective?”

He looked up from his phone. “Yes, and you are Dr. Monroe?”

She nodded and sat down. “Detective, thank you for speaking with me. I realize I might sound delusional, but something is wrong at the school. I know you looked into Cassie’s disappearance.”

“You are American?”

“Yes, I was impressed by the program here, helping these young women with little support to obtain a better education, so I applied. I hope to start this program in the US at some point.”

“Commendable, Doctor. What I found was that all indications are she was adopted.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Coulson stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Since you called me, I called in some favors.” He leaned forward. “I should have done this before. There are no records of an adoption other than the documents Peyton showed me.”

“None?”

“No, those documents were likely fake. I’m sorry, but I’m looking into this now.”

“There are some things you should know.”

Beth told him about the new program for the less gifted orphaned girls and showed him the note she received. Coulson took a screenshot of the note, promised to stay in touch, and gave her his card and mobile number. As she drove back to the school, she decided it was time to investigate on her own.

~~~

Another note was under her door when she returned from dinner that evening. Her fingers shaking, she tore open the envelope.

Peyton was watching when you left this afternoon. She has eyes everywhere. Be careful. We noticed cars arriving at the service entrance around midnight but couldn’t get a good view of what was happening. Students go missing, and more show up. These girls are in danger.

Beth’s hands continued to shake as she collapsed on a chair. She was right. It was time to do a bit of snooping.

Near midnight, she slipped a black knit cap on her head and momentarily panicked as she caught her image in the dresser mirror. What in heaven’s name was she thinking? There is nothing ordinary about a teacher dressed in all black and about to sneak through the school, and certainly not in her job description.

She made her way down the back stairs from the staff residence toward the kitchen and laundry wing, the eerie silence broken by the soft footfalls of her rubber-soled shoes. Beth slipped into the kitchen and hid behind a storage rack. Peering between the canisters of flour, sugar, and other staples, she watched the service entrance.

A door creaked, and she froze. Someone was coming. She ducked a bit lower, hoping no one would spot her, and chills shuddered through her body as the door to the walk-in pantry opened. One of the new teachers led four girls out of the pantry and through the service door. The faint hum of a car engine drifted into the kitchen, then the clunk of a car door. As she stretched to get a better look, a strong hand clamped across her mouth as an arm wrapped around her and dragged her into a storage closet.

“Shhhh. Be quiet.” The whispered brogue belonged to Angus, who pulled his hand from her mouth. “They’ll come into the kitchen to get a snack. They do it each night. Listen, but do not move.” A door closed, and voices drifted toward them.

“Nice haul tonight. Those four will bring us a pretty penny. Want an ice cream sandwich? I love this place. Free food, a nice place to sleep, and we get to play teachers and have ice cream when we want it.” The woman laughed. “Did I mention we are making a fortune?”

The other person responded. “That we are.”

She knew that voice. She had just met him last night—Dr. Hugo Cordova.

The voices drifted away, and after a couple of minutes, Angus spoke. “I was repairing a light fixture in the wing where they keep the new lassies. I heard Cordova say the transport would be here at midnight and to take the kids to the service entrance. I’ve been here for two hours. I don’t know where those girls came from, but they didn’t come in through the kitchen.”

He opened the door a crack. “Looks clear. Get back to your room. Act like nothing’s wrong tomorrow. I’m gonna check to see if I can find where those girls came from.”

Emotionally exhausted, Beth stumbled as she entered her suite, knocking over a stack of books. She flipped on the light, and as she bent to pick up the books, her eyes fell on a copy of Hamlet. A copy she had loaned to Cassie, who had an affinity for the Bard. Flipping through the pages to find Cassie’s favorite passage. “To sleep, perchance to dream.”

They had discussed its meaning, and Cassie had thought a moment before she spoke. “Dr. Monroe, there was a time when I was very young that I thought dying would be better than living in an orphanage. But you gave me hope, and living is much better.”

Beth hugged the book to her chest. Cassie was going to live.

~~~

The next day found Beth nervous but pushing through the first day of class. Later, she tackled the daily paperwork back in her office, but her concentration was not on the work.

She sat with her fellow teachers at dinner, trying not to stare at Cordova and his group. Turning down an invitation to watch a movie with the staff, she walked alone toward the staircase. As she passed a hallway jutting off the main corridor, Angus called her name. Startled, she turned toward him.

“Meet me at ten p.m. in the kitchen.” He spun and darted down the hall.

~~~

Beth could barely breathe as she made her way to the kitchen. She attempted to control her growing apprehension but had to bite her tongue when Angus and Marion Langford appeared through a doorway.

“Marion, you?”

“Sorry, I wanted to tell you, but we were too afraid.”

Angus held up a key. “I searched the pantry. Found a hidden door behind the shelving and this key hanging on a hook just inside. There’s a stairwell leading down.”

Marion grabbed her arm. “I looked in the archives. There were dungeons below the school from when it was a manor house. They may be keeping more girls downstairs.”

“Ms. Langford, you stay here to watch for them. You want to come with me, Dr. Monroe?” Angus waited for her answer.

“Yes, I do. Marion, have your mobile?” Langford nodded, and Beth pressed a card into her hand. “This is DI Coulson’s phone number. If something happens, call him.”

Angus lit a flashlight, and they descended the worn stone stairs. The air became increasingly damp and musty. The light illuminated thick cobwebs and dust on the rough stone walls. At the base of the stairs, passageways extended in three directions.

“Where to, Angus.”

“We’re gonna have to guess.”

The first corridor was a dead end, but there were heavy steel doors with padlocks. Shining the light on the locks, Angus gave a low whistle.

“Look, number seven is etched in the brass.” He held the key in the light. The heavy wood dumbbell-shaped key fob had the number eighteen etched into it.

It took several minutes before they found the door labeled eighteen. Beth held her breath as Angus tried the key. It clicked open. He swung the heavy door outward and shined the light through the opening. Cassie was lying on an old cot, thin and ragged, her face pale with dark circles under her eyes. Beth rushed to her.

“You’re alive. Thank goodness. Let’s get you out of here.”

A cry from Angus and a thud spun Beth around. Angus lay on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from a wound on the side of his head. Doctor Peyton stood in the doorway, Cordova behind her. She sneered. “Oh, you aren’t going anywhere.” The door clanged shut, leaving Cassie and Beth in the dark. Cassie fumbled for a camping lamp and turned it on.

“I don’t keep the light on much. They won’t give me batteries often.” Cassie sobbed. “I am so sorry. I overheard them talking about selling the girls to someone. I wasn’t careful, and they found me.”

“It’s okay. We’ll get out of this.” Beth turned out the lamp and held Cassie while waiting in the dark.

~~~

Cassie drifted to sleep, and Beth, her mind reeling, hoped Marion had gotten to Coulson. She forced her breathing to slow so that she would remain calm. Muffled noises from the hallway roused them both. Beth held Cassie behind her as the door opened.

She sagged with relief. It was DI Coulson. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. We’re fine. Angus?”

“Lump on the head, but he’s all right.”

“The students? Were they trafficking them?”

“No, at least not in the way you thought. They operated an illegal adoption ring. Cordova is spilling his guts, so we hope to find all the girls. We’ve found over twenty locked in the wing Cordova used. Come on, you two, let’s get you upstairs out of this cold.”

As they walked up the stairs, Cassie tugged on Beth’s sleeve. “Dr. Monroe, do you remember that passage from Hamlet that I love?”

Beth smiled. “I do.”

“I don’t want to sleep and dream forever. I want to live.”

Beth hugged her. “And live you will.”

~~~

International attention fell on the school as details of the illegal adoption ring came to light. Beth Monroe gazed out the window of her new office, appointed by the school’s board of directors to become the new headmistress. Two months had passed since the ordeal, and the school was at peace.

A knock at her door distracted her from the view. “Come in.” Detective Inspector Simon Coulson walked in, and she pushed back a flutter of warmth at seeing him.

“Detective Inspector, what brings you here?”

“A couple of things, and Beth, I did ask you to call me Simon.”

“You did.” She smiled at him. “Have a seat, Simon.”

“I wanted to update you on where the case stands. We had learned that children from Scottish and English orphanages were targets, but Cordova revealed a much larger network. Orphanages all over Europe were involved. Overcrowded, it was easy to lose a few kids here and there, not just girls—boys were taken too. The scheme's masterminds dealt directly with the orphanages, but the situation here was too good to turn away from. You were already taking in orphans to educate, and it gave them excellent coverage. Cordova was only the handler, but he said Peyton jumped at the chance to become involved. She loved the money.”

“What about the children involved? Have they been found?”

“Most of them have, and the Child Protection Committee has them in protective custody. The adoptive parents face charges as these were illegal adoptions.”

“The Brentwood board has expressed interest in bringing those girls here, but that will depend on what the psychologists feel is best for them.”

“That would be good for the girls, I think. So that you know, we are reopening the investigation into Dr. MacTavish’s death, as Cordova alluded to the possibility he didn’t die of natural causes.”

“Dr. MacTavish was a good man. He wouldn’t have allowed such a thing to go on. So sad, but Cassie is doing very well, and I think we have a good atmosphere here now.”

“No doubt, with you as the headmistress.”

Beth felt her cheeks get warm and quickly spoke. “You know my mother has joined me here. She is doing very well. I think she wanted to see the school and provide moral support. She and Marion Langford have become very good friends.”

“That’s great.” He paused, and then, simultaneously, they spoke.

“Would you…”

“I wanted to ask…”

They laughed, and Coulson gestured for her to go first. She smiled. “Would you like to join us for dinner tonight? It’s Angus’s birthday. After all he has done for the girls—he’s their hero after getting injured to protect them—they want to throw him a surprise party. And besides, you can meet my mother.”

He grinned. “I was going to ask you to have dinner with me tonight, but having dinner and meeting your mother sounds great.”

Beth felt a twinge of surprise at how happy his agreeing to come to dinner made her. The door closed behind him, and she decided it would be a good evening. She gazed out the window, and Cassie’s favorite line from Shakespeare drifted into her thoughts.

“To sleep, perchance to dream."

Contentment washed over her. A dream coming true was a good thing.

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Written for the July 2021 monthly photo prompt, Write the Story! for the Facebook group Writers Unite!

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Resources

Shakespeare quote: https://good-death.english.cam.ac.uk/to-die-to-sleep-to-sleep-perchance-to-dream-ay-theres-the-rub