“I wonder who carved it,” I mused, trotting to keep up with my brothers. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nowhere!”
Sam gave me a fleeting smirk. “Who said anything about carving? It’s real. The old witch of the forest turned it into a tree as punishment for trying to escape.”
Todd chuckled. “And at night it comes to life and—”
“—pecks your face off while you’re sleeping!” Sam finished for him.
They both laughed at the idea.
I glanced back at the sculpted phoenix. Its haunted eyes met mine. It didn’t unnerve me, though. Somehow, it felt familiar.
I was about to return my attention to the path when something else caught my eye. A person. A boy—just standing amongst the trees, watching us.
My breath caught in my throat.
“Over there!” cried Todd. His voice made me jump out of my skin. I spun around to face him, expecting him to be looking into the trees as I had been, but he was pointing in the opposite direction, through the sycamores to where the ground sloped downwards.
I quickly looked back towards the trees. This time, only the concave eyes of the carved bird looked back at me.
“Wait!” I called to my brothers, my voice going up an octave. “Did either of you see that? There was someone over there!”
Sam and Todd stopped walking and followed my line of vision, then mustered vague laughs.
“I’m serious!” I exclaimed. “There was someone there!”
“Okay, Sophie,” said Sam, rolling his eyes. “We believe you.” He nodded towards the sloping hill, returning to Todd’s point of interest. “It looks like there’s a house down there. I can see a chimney.”
My lips parted in disbelief as I scanned the woodland in bewilderment. There was no one there. Had there ever been? Yes, I’d definitely seen someone… hadn’t I? It was only my first day in Phoenix Holt, surely I wasn’t losing my mind already? God, I hoped not.
Ahead of me, Sam jogged down the wooded hill. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “I think this is it.”
All of a sudden, my legs stopped working. I was drowning in nervous energy. Part of me wanted to rush ahead and see my new ‘home,’ but the other part of me was absolutely terrified by the idea. I didn’t want a new home. I didn’t want a Great Aunt Ness. And I definitely didn’t want to be turned into a tree if I ever tried to make a break for it.
“Sophie,” Sam beckoned me. “Come on.”
“What’s it like?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a cottage. Come on.”
I didn’t move. I was aware that I was acting a little farcically, but it was almost as though once I saw it—whatever it was—I couldn’t unsee it. I was afraid of giving it the power of being real.
Sam and Todd exchanged a look.
“Sophie,” Sam said in an imploring voice. He warily made his way back uphill, as though he feared that if he moved too quickly I’d get startled and bolt. “It’s going to be fine,” he assured me, lingering at arms length, probably ready to pry me from my spot at any moment.
But I didn’t need to be pried. I was going to do this, head held high. So, with a little bit of backbone and a whole lot of denial, I walked on, ready—yes, ready—to meet my future.
Chapter Two
Cottage Pie
My first glimpse of our new home turned out to be surprisingly okay. It was a small, grey stone cottage, with fleets of ivy creeping their way towards a thatched roof. Fronting the building was a beautiful garden, rich with wildflowers and bounded by a quaint picket fence.
As we trudged down the wooded slope, my view of the cottage became clearer. It was sweet—the sort of place where I could imagine a garden tea party, or homemade pies cooling on the window ledge. I inhaled the fragrant scent of lavender, combined with a faint trace of chimney smoke. It was nice, in a chocolate-box kind of way.
Although, I did get the impression that my brothers weren’t quite as impressed as I was. It suddenly dawned on me just how masculine our old house had been. Don’t get me wrong—I’d loved Port Dalton, but our house hadn’t been the sort of place where you’d expect to find flowers. Well, we’d had one miniature cactus plant, but that was less a decoration and more a missile for Sam and Todd to launch at one another.
I took note of a pink watering can propped up against the picket fence. For the first time in my life, I was in a female domain. Unfortunately for my brothers, so were they.
We reached the fence and Sam hopped straight over, landing boorishly in a flower bed— it seemed that the mutiny had started already. Todd and I strolled through the front gate and onto the neat garden path. A river of tawny pebbles crunched beneath our feet as we honed in on the arched, oak door.
Sam bounded over to join us, colliding into a hanging basket that was obstructing his route. It swayed back and forth, then clunked heavily against his head.
I grasped hold of the swinging basket and steadied it.
“I don’t like this,” Sam fretted, rubbing at his scalp. “She’s booby-trapped the whole place.”
“Do you think she’s home?” I felt my heart rate quicken. “It seems quiet.”
Sam peeked through the spy hole. “Dunno. Shall we let ourselves in?”
“No!” I exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We can’t just let ourselves into somebody else’s house.”
“She invited us,” Sam pointed out.
I frowned. “We should knock.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “Go on, then.”
“Not me. You do it.”
“I’m not doing it. You do it.”
“No,” I shrank back. “I don’t want to.”
We turned to Todd, who loitered on the path with his hands clasped together.
“Todd, knock on the door,” Sam ordered.
“Why me?” he protested.
“Because it has to be you,” Sam told him.
Despite the senseless logic, Todd surrendered. He stepped forward gingerly, and gave one barely audible tap on the oak door.
No sooner had his knuckles left the door than it flung open.
“Welcome!” The woman in the doorway greeted us with a jubilant smile. “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” she cooed, holding out her hand for us to shake.
We all stared at it.
“I’m Ness,” she introduced herself. She was shorter than all of us—probably no taller than five feet, with a rounded frame and a jolly grin. She wore a canary-yellow dress, and its hem skimmed her fuzzy slippers and slouched stockings. Her hair was like a bonnet of curls which, for the most part, were a faded brown hue. I guessed her to be in her early seventies, though she hustled us indoors with the dynamism of a much younger woman.
“Welcome,” she gushed again.
Like stunned rabbits, we stood in the hallway. Now, any good escapee would tell you to know your exits. In this instance, I only had one, and it was behind me. The front door—the only way in and the only way out. To my left was an arched doorway leading into a cosy little den. To my right was a pine-clad country kitchen. And directly in front of me was a narrow wooden staircase.
“Wonderful to meet you,” Ness sang, kissing our cheeks.
Sam recoiled in horror.
“Thank you for letting us stay—” I began.
“No, don’t thank me,” she interrupted, speaking in solemn earnest. “You belong here.”
“Oh. Okay, then,” I responded with the smile and nod technique.
Sam wiped his contaminated cheek. “Good to meet you.”
“Oh, you, too. You, too! Now, let me see…” Ness debated, thoughtfully. “Which is Sam, and which is Todd?”
“I’m Todd,” said Sam.
I glared at him.
His mouth twitched upwards at the corner.
Ness turned to Todd. “Then you must be Sam.”
“No. I’m Todd,” he corrected her.
She blinked at them through ochre owl-like eyes.
Sam grinned. “I’m
Sophie.”
“No, I’m Sophie,” I said.
Ness took it in her stride. She mimed a good-natured fist shake at Sam.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you all,” she said. “Whoever you are!”
Sam flashed her a charming smile, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I’m Sam,” he admitted.
Ness’s eyes flickered between the two boys. “My, oh my. There’s no telling you two apart, is there?” She stared at Todd for a long, quiet moment. “Ah, yes. I understand. I can tell that you’ll be the one to watch.” She laughed genially, despite her odd forecast.
Todd shifted in discomfort.
She’s got that wrong, I thought. Was her comment meant in jest? It hadn’t seemed to be. But it was Sam who had switched the identities. Surely Sam was the one to watch, wasn’t he?
“And you,” Ness was addressing me now, “you have Wilber’s curly hair.” She tugged gently on one of my loose tendrils, then lightly pinched my cheek. “And you all have his eyes.”
For a moment, her expression grew wistful. I imagine ours did as well.
“Anyway,” Ness moved on swiftly, “who’s for a cup of tea?” She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she herded us through the archway into the den. “And how about some breakfast? I’ll bet you’re famished.”
I should have been hungry. After all, I hadn’t eaten anything since boarding the train the previous day. But my stomach felt too jam-packed with nerves to hanker after food.
In any case, Ness bustled off to the kitchen, leaving us alone in the den.
Once she was gone, I let out a breath. I suddenly realised that my polite smile had been fixed in place from the moment we’d walked through the door. And since its genesis, it had become less of a smile and more a deranged baring of my teeth.
I looked around the room, wondering how long it would take to truly adjust to it being home. The den was compact, with a burgundy rug and a red and purple patchwork sofa. Two rocking chairs stood at either side of an enormous log-burning fireplace.
Our little trio made a beeline for the sofa. It was smaller than it had looked, however, so we had to relinquish the luxury of breathing.
Compressed between Sam and the arm of the sofa, I inspected my surroundings. The walls were traditional grey stone, and the ceiling was oak beamed. A flood of warm orange sunlight crept through the window and settled on the rug. I noticed some framed photographs glinting on the windowsill and made a mental note to take a closer look at them later. Finally, my gaze fell upon the fireplace, a feature that I found to be strangely fascinating. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. For one thing, it was huge and marvellously authentic in its brickwork. But more interestingly, on the chimney wall, several inches above the dormant firewood, was an elaborate sketch of a bird—one that was similar to the bird we’d seen sculpted in the woodland. It was like a hieroglyphic, telling a story that I was desperate to read.
The more I studied it, the more captivated I became by it. The bird was striking; it was spectacular in every way. Its bowed wings spanned the width of the chimney, and its penetrative eyes bore into me, paralysing me with their enigmatic stare. I envisioned the logs ablaze, their amber flames leaping higher as they danced around the bird, setting its eyes aglow with sizzling red embers.
I was so engrossed in the fantasy that I scarcely noticed when Ness reappeared.
“It’s a lovely fireplace, isn’t it?” She set down a tray of tea and buttered toast.
I nodded in agreement. “Is the bird a phoenix?”
“Oh, yes, it is.”
“Kind of a theme around here,” Sam noted. “What is it, the town mascot or something?” He pounced upon the plate of toast and devoured an entire slice in practically one mouthful, showering crumbs over the rug.
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Ness chuckled. She took a seat in one of the rocking chairs. “More like the town protector, though. This is Phoenix Holt, after all. Your grandfather did tell you the stories, didn’t he?”
I furrowed my brow. “No. What stories?”
Ness’s snowy eyebrows shot up. “He didn’t tell you about Phoenix Holt?”
I shook my head.
Ness deflated. “Oh,” she murmured despondently. “Well, I can tell you all about it.” She brightened a little. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the phoenix before? The mythical bird that was rumoured to consume itself in fire, only to rise from the ashes, renewed? Heavens,” she said, dreamily, “it’s a magnificent creature, unsurpassed in its splendour.”
I watched her speak, her ochre eyes glistening with enthusiasm.
“Legend has it,” she relayed, “that a phoenix once made its home here, in this very holt. It watched over the land and protected the people who lived here. Then, when the inevitable time came for it to depart from this world, the glorious bird burst into flames, never to be seen again. However, as the story goes, it did leave behind one reminder: a trail of silver ashes running like a stream through the woodland. The ashes sunk into the earth and sprouted a rare flower that only exists here in the holt.”
“Is that true?” I asked. “About the flower, I mean?”
“Absolutely. You’ll come across it soon, I’m sure. You can’t miss it, really. It has bright red petals that are shaped like feathers. We call it phoenix tail.”
Sam yawned. “Birds and flowers,” he muttered under his breath. Then, a little louder, he said, “So, what else is there to do around here? Or is flower spotting as good as it gets?”
I cringed at his insolence, but Ness didn’t seem bothered. She chortled and said, “I’m sure we can find lots of fun things for you to do. Although, I must say, flower spotting is my favourite activity. But I suppose it would have to be; I am an apothecary, after all. I use the flowers that I gather from the holt to aid me with my herbal remedies.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “You’re an apothecary? On the phone you said you were a head teacher.”
“Oh, I am. Head teacher during the week, apothecary on the weekends. I lead a double life,” she chuckled merrily. “I’m just like that Superman fellow.”
“Clark Kent, more like,” Sam teased.
Ness looked confused. “Who’s Clark Kent?”
Sam let out a weary sigh. “Never mind.”
I steered the conversation back on track. “Which school do you work at?”
“Averett Academy,” she told us. “It’s a small boarding school a mile or so away. It’s the school you’ll be attending.”
“Boarding school?” Todd echoed. “So we’ll be living there?”
“No, no. But there are no other schools around here. Don’t worry, the Academy’s not exclusive to live-in students.” She smiled warmly at us.
“When do we start?” I asked, hardly thrilled by the imminent doom.
“Well, let’s see. Today is Monday… How about you start tomorrow? I’m sure you’d like to get a routine going right away.”
Oh, hooray, I thought. Even for a self-confessed advocate of routine, this spelled dismal.
“I hate to abandon you on your first day here,” Ness went on, “but I’m afraid I’ll still have to go in to the Academy today. Will you be okay by yourselves?”
We nodded.
“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “I should be home by around four o’clock. Get yourselves settled in. There’s not much space here, but I’ve arranged two bedrooms upstairs. Are you boys happy to share?”
“As long as I get the best bed,” Sam joked. He swiped a piece of toast from Todd’s hand and stuffed it into his own mouth.
Todd blushed.
“Plenty more bread in the pantry,” Ness assured us. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me before I leave?”
Todd cleared his throat nervously. “I’d like to ask something,” he said, his tenor soft as it always was when he spoke to strangers.
“By all means.” Ness waited patiently as he fumbled to find his voice.
“Why have you
never contacted us before?” he blurted out at last.
I sat up a little straighter. Good question.
Ness sighed. “Wilber left Phoenix Holt nearly forty years ago,” she explained. “After that, I’m afraid we lost touch. He put this life behind him and moved on with his new life in Port Dalton with your dear grandmother—rest her soul—and little Larry.”
My breath caught.
Beside me, Sam choked on a mouthful of toast. “Larry? You mean, our dad?”
Ness gave us a sympathetic smile. “Of course. Your dad. I was so sorry to hear of your loss. I understand that you were all very young.”
Sorry for our loss. It was a phrase I’d heard far too often. It seemed the standard protocol for whenever our parents were mentioned. Which, incidentally, was not often. Sam and Todd had been three years old at the time, with me barely in my first year. After it happened, we went to live with Wilber, who had already lost his wife and seemed to find the topic of his son far too painful to discuss.
“Did you know Larry?” Sam pressed. “What was he like?”
“I only met him as a baby,” Ness told us regretfully. “When Wilber moved to Port Dalton, we lost contact. Wilber didn’t want his wife and child to be a part of this world. Sad, but that’s how life goes sometimes. Anyway,” she rose to her feet, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more information.”
I wanted to push the subject further, but she was ready to take her leave.
“I’ll be on my way now,” she said. “If you need me, the school’s telephone number is on the fridge.”
Her abrupt exit didn’t allow for any more questions. But I couldn’t help wondering about one more thing: What world did Wilber so desperately not want his family to be a part of?
#
By midday we were officially bored. We’d already explored every facet of the cottage—a feat that had taken us no more than ninety seconds to complete. There were the two rooms downstairs—the den and the kitchen—both of which we’d already seen. Logically our next point of search was the unknown territory upstairs.
We quickly discovered that the narrow wooden staircase led to pretty much the same layout as the ground floor: a tunnel-like corridor with a few pokey rooms at either end. On the left side, we stumbled upon what was clearly Ness’s bedroom, decorated in light, floral patterns. Next door to that was a bathroom, painted peach and cluttered with house plants.
Secrets in Phoenix Page 2
