The Little Secret (7 page)

“That's because you woke yourself up. You were dreaming.”

“I was not!”

“There's no light in that box,” Staffa said. “I wish I could open it, to show you.”

“Why can't you open it? What's inside it?”

Staffa shrugged. “Family papers, I think. To tell the truth, I don't exactly know. But I can promise that you were dreaming when you saw that light of yours.”

“Well —” Jane was still convinced that she had seen it, but began to wonder if her senses were playing tricks on her. She had to admit, it was a lot more likely to have been a dream. On the other hand, there was something very strange about this vacation, and it was getting stranger by the minute.

THE HOUSE AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

They stopped very suddenly, at a house marooned in a sea of darkness. Staffa carefully unfastened the box's seat belt, and gathered it in her arms.

Light spilled out of the open front door. Someone had come out to meet them. Jane could only guess it was a woman from her rounded shape — she was wearing builder's overalls, and her face was wrapped in black scarves, like Prockwald's. She helped both the girls out of the car, while her husband took their bags out of the trunk.

“Hello, Mrs. P.,” Staffa said, giving the scarves an affectionate kiss, and handing over the box. “Any news from my mother?”

“Yes, Miss Staffa. The spot of bother is over, and everything's back to normal.” Her voice was high and slow, like singing, with a happy lilt to it. “Welcome, Miss Jane. Please don't be put off by my black scarves. Me and my dear old husband are allergic to dust mites, and if we don't keep covered up, we sneeze our heads off. Now, the two of you had better come straight upstairs.”

Jane felt less strange. The farmhouse was very bare and clean, but also warm and welcoming. Mrs. Prockwald's scarves weren't sinister once you knew about the dust mites, and there was something very sweet and reassuring about her voice. She certainly made up for her husband's silence.

“You'll find everything ready. I've put a simple supper of poached eggs and chocolate cake in each of your bedrooms. Lady Matilda says you must both go to bed at once, and not stay up talking till all hours.”

Staffa yawned noisily. “Well, I don't mind. I'm extremely tired. Aren't you, Jane?”

“Er — yes,” Jane said. “Yes, of course.” She was far too curious to think of sleeping, and particularly curious to know where the box would be spending the night.

Mrs. Prockwald led them upstairs to a large landing with several doors. She opened one of these. Jane looked into a tiny room, little more than a cupboard, with nothing in it except a table.

Mrs. Prockwald put the box on the table, set out the gold candlesticks and briskly shut the door on it. “The room's a bit basic, but the box won't mind roughing it for one night. There isn't a key, but you won't need one here — it couldn't be safer.”

While she talked, Mrs. Prockwald led Jane into a large, warm bedroom. It didn't have much furniture, but there were cheerful lamps and curtains, and a real fire. On a small table in front of the fire was a peculiar supper of two poached eggs, a large chocolate cake and nothing else.

“The bathroom's between your two bedrooms, Miss Jane — you'll be sharing it with Miss Staffa.”

“Thank you, Mrs. P.,” Staffa said, yawning again. “We'd better get some sleep. Good night, Jane.”

She went into her own room and shut the door. Mrs. Prockwald went downstairs. Left alone, Jane sat on her bed, listening. She sat very still, until the house was silent, and all she could hear was the drumming of her own heart. She had made a decision. She was going to break her promise to Lady Matilda — she couldn't stand not knowing anymore.

Shivering with excitement and fear, she took off her shoes, and crept out of her bedroom as quietly as she could. The landing was deserted. Slowly and very carefully, Jane opened the door of the box's room and slipped inside.

The tiny room was dark, but there was just enough moonlight coming through the window to see by. Jane's mouth was dry. If Lady Matilda ever found out about this, what would she do?

Very, very cautiously, she opened the lid of the painted box about half an inch. There was light inside it, but of a different quality than the light she had seen in the car. Jane crouched down, put her eye against the opening — and gasped aloud.

She was looking into a miniature room, like a room in a doll's house. But the room inside the box was more detailed than any doll's house she had ever seen. Every tiny thing in it was perfect. There were little sofas and tables, bookcases filled with tiny books and tiny paintings on the walls. A tiny fire glowed in the grate. Jane thought it was adorable. She let out her breath in a great sigh of relief. They had not been carrying a nuclear bomb, or anything like it. Lady Matilda had been making all this song and dance about a beautiful toy.

And then something terrible happened.

In the tiny room, the door opened. A tiny figure with dark hair walked into the room. It stretched and yawned, and stirred the fire with a tiny poker. It picked up a tiny book from a tiny round table beside one of the sofas.

It was Staffa.

Jane felt giddy and slightly sick. This had to be a dream, or a hallucination. Or some kind of trick. This could not be real.

She watched, fascinated and horrified, as the tiny Staffa tucked the book under her arm and walked around the tiny room, switching off all the lamps. When she had finished she walked out, closing the tiny door behind her. The inside of the painted box was now in darkness, except for the tiny orange glow of the fire.

Jane closed the box and left the room. Her fingers were trembling and clumsy, and she was covered in goose pimples when she heard the smallest sounds. She was very frightened, but she had to talk to Staffa — this time, Staffa would have to give her a proper explanation.

She tried the door of Staffa's room. It was locked. She went into their shared bathroom — and the door leading to Staffa's room was also locked.

Her bed's empty, Jane thought; she's inside the box, and I'm alone here.

She sat down on her bed to think things over.

First, there had been the dream about Lady Matilda, then the light in the box, and now this. Staffa had said she was seeing things. Either she was going crazy, or the secret of the box was very strange indeed.

Her room was bright and cheerful, and Jane became calmer. She suddenly remembered she was hungry, and ate the poached eggs and a small slice of chocolate cake. It was after midnight and she was very tired — but she couldn't sleep. She was itching to take another look at the box.

Once again, she crept across the landing. She crept into the box's room. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the lid of the box about four inches — and saw nothing but the inside of an empty wooden box.

The relief nearly made her laugh out loud. There was no tiny room. It had been another of those waking dreams she'd been having lately — probably, she decided, because she was tired. She went back to her room and went to bed.

*   *   *

The first thing Jane heard when she woke up was the sound of singing. She opened her eyes. The room was filled with morning sunlight, so fresh and bright that she longed to be outside. Mrs. Prockwald was setting plates out on the round table, singing a song with words that Jane couldn't quite make out — something like, “his heart was as big as a beetle's leg.” She sat up.

“Good morning, Miss Jane!” sang Mrs. Prockwald. “I've brought you a slice of ham and a fruitcake. Lady Matilda says to eat it all up, because you've got a long walk this morning.”

“Lady Matilda? Is she here?” Jane couldn't help sounding disappointed — they had been having so much fun without her.

“Yes, dear, she's downstairs. She says to wear your boy's trousers and shoes.”

Jane took her Boy Garden clothes out of her backpack and put them on. After the girly things Lady Matilda had bought her, they felt like comfortable old friends. She was hungry, but she couldn't face the fruitcake or the slice of ham — Mrs. Prockwald had some funny ideas about food.

*   *   *

Staffa was waiting in the hall downstairs. “Well, Jane, are you ready?”

Jane asked, “Ready for what?”

“Today is the day. We're taking you home. You'll sleep tonight in our castle.”

“Your castle must be a very long way away,” Jane said. “I looked out of my window and there doesn't seem to be a single building for miles around — nothing but bare hills.”

Staffa said, “You'll see. It's quite a hike, I'm afraid.”

“Ah, dear child!” Lady Matilda swept into the hall. She was dressed in an elaborate hiking costume of scarlet corduroy, and carrying a small pickax that looked like solid silver. “Our long journey is ending at last! Staffa, have you packed our lunch, dear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Then let us set out to meet our destiny!”

Lady Matilda wore a sort of leather harness over her hiking clothes. Mrs. Prockwald carefully strapped the painted box into this harness, so that it rode underneath her ladyship's great bosom like a baby in a sling. Staffa took the bag with the gold candlesticks. Jane wondered what was happening to the rest of their luggage, but didn't like to ask. The three of them walked out into the bright morning. Jane turned back, to see Mr. and Mrs. Prockwald at the front door of their lonely house, bowing very low.

They began to climb a steep and stony hillside.

“This may be a hard walk for you, my dear Jane,” Lady Matilda said. “We'll do our best not to tire you out.”

She threw back her shoulders and began to sing:

I love to go a-wandering,

Back to my mountain home!

Fol-de-ri! Fol-de-ra — Ugh! Ugh! — oh,

I need to sit down!

Lady Matilda was a very slow walker. She huffed and groaned, and her face turned as scarlet as her suit. Jane, who found the climb easy, couldn't believe what a wimp she was.

They climbed for the rest of the morning. Jane rather enjoyed it. There was a cool breeze that smelled of the sea, and it felt wonderfully refreshing after all those days in the car.

“Here we are!” gasped Lady Matilda. “Home at last!”

Jane looked around, very puzzled. They stood on a bald hillside, a few feet from a heap of boulders. Scrubby grass and rocks surrounded them as far as the eye could see. Where was the famous castle?

Lady Matilda collapsed on a tuft of grass. “Oof! I can't move another inch! Jane, dear, do you see that heap of big stones?”

“Yes,” Jane said. Of course she saw it. There was nothing else for miles.

“Do you see those two biggest stones, right at the bottom?”

“Yes.”

“Take the box and put it between those two stones, as far back as it will go. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jane said again. Lady Matilda's voice had become hard and strict and more than a little scary, and there was no question of disobeying.

Lady Matilda unbuckled the leather harness. Jane took the box, and carried it to the boulders. She found the two big stones at the bottom of the heap. The box slotted neatly between them.

“Now stand very still,” Staffa said. “Stay exactly where you are, and don't move.”

Her sharp face pale and determined, she began to walk slowly towards Jane. As she walked, she pulled at the gold ring she wore on her right hand.

“Staffa? What're you doing?”

“Keep still!”

“Wait a minute,” said Lady Matilda, settling her scarlet cape. “Don't forget our lunch.”

Staffa sighed impatiently. “Don't you ever think about anything else?”

“You'll think about it too, young lady, when you're hungry and there's nothing to eat.”

“Oh, all right. Sorry about this, Jane.” Staffa took from her pocket one chocolate truffle. She put this carefully on the ground, close to the toe of Jane's sneaker.

“Look, what's going on?” Jane demanded. “Where's your house?”

Staffa said, “There are one or two little things I forgot to tell you about our home. To be honest, I was afraid that you'd refuse to come if you knew.”

“Knew what? Staffa, what are you talking about?”

Staffa took Jane's right hand. “It's best to keep as still as you can. It might hurt a little, but don't be scared — it doesn't last long.” She pushed her gold ring onto Jane's little finger.

Jane screamed. The cold band of metal became tighter and tighter, until the pain was agonizing. Just when her bone was on the point of snapping, the pain suddenly stopped. Something like a huge gust of wind knocked her violently off her feet. Everything was dark around her. She was

Falling,

Falling,

Falling,

— and then nothing.