The Secret of the Swan

by Gill Jepson

  His mother and father ran up the stairs to the attic room the boys shared.

  “What on earth is happening?” demanded his mother.

  “It’s our Titch, Mam! He’s gone mad!” offered Bill. “He soaked me through and then fell on the floor screaming like a girl. He’s gone mad!”

  They all turned to look at George, or Titch as the family had nicknamed him.

  He was still shivering and beads of sweat glistened on his reddened face.

  “Titch! Has’t tha gone daft, lad?” said his Dad in his broad Cumberland accent.

  There was no answer. Titch was asleep. Titch was unconscious.

  The fever and the headaches lasted for a fortnight. With them came the “hallucinations”, as his Gran called them. George had meningitis which in 1934, with no antibiotics, was nearly always fatal. His Gran sat with him throughout the terrible illness. He thrashed about, desperately screaming about the terrifying creatures he saw; she wiped his hot brow with a damp cloth, trying to soothe away the nightmares. She could never see them. In fact, at first, it took some persuasion to convince her George’s illness wasn’t a result of smoking! His mother and Gran sat with him for long hours, nursing him, both their faces etched with worry.

  The boy was delirious. He slept fitfully, talking in his sleep, flailing about and staring glassy eyed, recognising nobody. On a number of occasions he screamed out and tried to climb away from whatever monsters were persecuting him. He pointed feverishly at the sky light and later on at the window in the front room where they had quarantined him. The creatures would not leave him in peace. They knew he had discovered something and they wanted it. He was terrified, but he could not make his mother see sense and listen to him. They held him down and tried to soothe him, but he could still see the creatures. They mopped his forehead with a damp flannel and tried desperately to soothe his nightmares.

  George heard the doctor say that he was fighting for his life. They said the creatures he was seeing were not real at all. He knew he was ill, but he knew the creatures were real.

  Eventually, after weeks of crushing headaches, fever, vomiting and night terrors, George came through. His mother had nursed him carefully, trusting to instinct and common sense. She had ignored the suggestion from the doctor to allow a surgeon to operate on his head and merely waited.

  When he did begin to recover, the illness left him with terrible headaches and a dreadful weakness. His mother arranged for him to stay with Auntie Annie and Uncle Joe in New Southgate, in London, so that he could attend a clinic at the Royal Northern Hospital. He did not know then, that the kindly Spanish Doctor Zamora who was treating him was using new methods to return him to full health. The foul smelling ointment he had to stick up his nose was actually life saving antibiotics. It was going to be a long recovery. Worse still, he forgot things and as the weeks passed, he had erased many details of the quest from his memory. It would be years before the memories would begin to re-emerge… and then it would be too late.

  CHAPTER 9

  SEEKING

  It was drizzling and muggy. The clouds were heavy, leaden grey. Rebecca hated summer days like this, they seemed miserable and boring. Worse still, they made her think of Granddad. She pulled up the blind in her room and sighed, looking out over the garden to the fields opposite. The sheep were scattered like cotton wool across the grass. Following the path of a little pied-wagtail as it flew swiftly from tree to tree, she gasped in astonishment as she suddenly caught sight of the circular paved patio. Mum’s tubs and planters had all been upturned and the plants scattered across the gravel. Two were broken and Rebecca could see footprints all over the rockery beds.

  She ran downstairs to tell Mum and Dad. They already knew and had been very cross.

  “It’s a cat or a stray dog I expect! What a mess!” said Mum, dismayed.

  “Well, it was fine when Sam went out last night,” replied Dad. Sam was their chocolate brown Labrador, named after Granddad.

  “You’re sure he couldn’t have done it?” suggested Mum.

  “No, I don’t think so!”

  Rebecca knew in her heart it was not Sam at all. She had a sneaking feeling that she knew exactly what had done it. However, she wasn’t about to explain the strange things to her parents. It made her shudder to think that they had been trampling the garden when she was asleep last night. She wondered what they were looking for.

  After breakfast she went into the garden to investigate. The footmarks were peculiar. They were trefoil shaped, with three pointed toes and they were surprisingly large. The earth had been scraped and scuffed and amongst the footprints there was a residue of sandstone flakes and dust. She was puzzled about where it had come from, the nearest sandstone lay at the abbey. Sam came out too, sniffing and digging with his large front paws, trying to help. He seemed unsettled and Rebecca was surprised that he hadn’t barked last night. The dog ran to and fro sniffing for whomever, or whatever had committed this piece of vandalism. He growled deep in his throat and curled back his lip.

  “What’s up, lad?” she said, “Can you smell them?”

  She went to call for the others. Megan was out with her parents for the day, which was disappointing but, undeterred she went to call for Danny. He was in. He came bounding out like an excited puppy.

  “You won’t believe it – someone’s been in our back garden and trashed the pots and the tubs. Mam’s gone spare! She’s only just done them and they cost a packet!”

  “Same happened to us Danny! All the planters smashed and tipped out and whopping footprints all over the show!” replied Rebecca.

  “What do you think they were after? It’s gotta be them monkey things again ain’t it?” said Danny.

  They ran across the cul-de-sac towards Megan’s house, the gate was swinging open. They stole a look into the garden. The same devastation met their eyes. The pots, hanging baskets and the compost bin were upturned and disturbed.

  “Wha’ da they think we’ve got?” asked Danny.

  “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it must be important. They obviously think we’ve found something. Perhaps we should have found something.”

  Rebecca’s dad shouted her. He asked them to go to Grandma’s house to fetch spare pots to replant some of the herbs and flowers. They waited on the doorstep for her to answer the door. Suddenly, something caught Rebecca’s eye. Beneath the bay window, there was a block of sandstone. She had seen it a dozen times before and had never really looked at it properly.

  Rebecca jumped off the step and pulled Danny down to kneel in front of the stone. She traced the carving with her finger, brushing away some of the moss which covered the grooves. It revealed a faint outline of a swan.

  “It’s a sign! It’s a sign!” she cried excitedly.

  “Wow! I can’t believe it. Here at your Gran’s all the time.”

  They pulled it away from the wall, where it had been for years. They inspected it closely. Nothing of remark was seen, but then, with some difficulty they turned the stone upside down. The base was not smooth. Danny poked at the base with his finger. A piece of brick had been jammed into the aperture. They both tried to pull it out, but it was fixed hard. Danny picked up a stick and tried to lever the stone from it. Eventually, the stone popped out and bounced onto the path.

  Danny felt inside the hole.

  “I think there’s something in here!” he was excitedly peering into it and trying to pull out whatever was in there. After a little bit of manipulation a small roll of foil came out. It lay there for a moment as the children gazed, incredulous. Rebecca gently picked it up and carefully unrolled it. The foil had stuck to the back of the parchment; she flattened it and looked at the faint writing on the yellowed parchment.

  She could not make out the script easily, but there was a small map drawn on it. Suddenly, she felt cold and shivers rippled down her back. Quickly, she clasped it close to her chest and took in a sharp breath.

  “Let’s go in, we’ll get something to put it in
,” she said, whispering.

  Grandma was pleased to see them and offered them a drink and a biscuit. Rebecca went into her cupboard; she rooted through the array of out grown toys, until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a small plastic wallet and opened it.

  “We’ll put it in here, it’ll be safe and it won’t be noticed!”

  “Noticed by who?” asked Danny, puzzled.

  “You don’t know who’s about… look at what happened last night,” replied Rebecca.

  Danny paused and then nodded his head.

  “We’ve got to find Mason I think…we may have what they were after last night!” she said, seriously.

  Again Danny nodded.

  The two slipped quietly into the street. The weather was still overcast and heavy. They were jumpy and walked quickly up the hill towards their street. Rebecca imagined eyes peering at them from every window and that something was hiding in every bush. They were thankful to reach home in one piece.

  “How are we going to get to the abbey to talk to Mason and show him the manuscript?” asked Danny.

  “I dunno…” Rebecca answered.

  Both children wondered if they could risk going to the abbey alone. As they thought about their predicament their attention was attracted by a series of movements to their side and behind them. Silently two huge blue streaked magpies swooped into the boughs of the tree, another pair perched on the top of the honeysuckle covered fence and as they watched three more circled ominously in the air above the decking.

  “Seven!! Seven magpies… seven for a secret never to be told…!” squealed Rebecca hysterically, quoting from the old rhyme.

  Danny sensed the panic in her voice and he quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her up the meandering path to the house. As he did so, the birds slowly flapped their large wings and began to rise into the air, circling the garden like vultures.

  They retreated into the kitchen. Rebecca’s mum turned around and smiled at them.

  “I suppose you two want some lunch?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but proceeded to make sandwiches. She continued to talk, oblivious of their anxiety.

  “After lunch I thought I’d take you out somewhere–it is the holidays after all. Where would you like to go?”

  The children looked at each other briefly and both said in unison,

  “The abbey!”

  “The abbey? But you’ve been there so many times; wouldn’t you like to go somewhere different?”

  The pair shook their heads and Rebecca’s mum shrugged and agreed to take them.

  The children felt braver going to the abbey with an adult, despite the fact that she didn’t know that she was their unofficial bodyguard. They followed her into the museum and waited until she had paid. They tried to avoid the cashier’s gaze, as they didn’t want her telling Mum how often they came.

  They wandered around the museum with Mum, listening politely as she pointed things out to them. Around the corner they stopped in front of a carving. They read the label beneath. It said that the carving was from the top of a capital of a column and showed strange monkey-like creatures, whose origin is unknown. Rebecca whispered “They look like those things we saw in the garden… but they can’t be, they’re made of stone…”

  Danny nodded.

  “It’s weird, but we did see chips of sandstone on the floor…”

  They stopped talking and followed Rebecca’s mum into the abbey grounds.

  In the distance Mr Mason was working on the foundations. Rebecca’s eyes widened in surprise as her mum briskly walked across the grass towards Mr Mason. He looked up and smiled. She returned the smile and said hello.

  “I was sorry to hear about your dad… I’ve known him a long time, very sad.”

  The children stared at each other in amazement. How did he know Granddad?

  “We’ve got to try and talk to him on our own… how are we going to do that, now?” hissed Rebecca.

  “It’s difficult… can we get your mum away from him… or away from us, so we can tell him?”

  Danny looked glum. The trip would be wasted if they were unable to talk to Mason. Mason pointed back up to the museum and nodded. Mum turned to them and said, “I’m just going up to the shop, apparently there’s a new book about the abbey, so I thought I’d get it and sit over there and have a read, while you two explore… if you would like to?”

  The children jumped at the suggestion, amazed at their luck. Mum turned and walked off towards the museum, waving her hand casually as she left.

  “Wow! That was a lucky break!” said Danny,” It’s almost as if she knew we needed to talk to Mason.”

  “Yeah! Like magic – almost…” muttered Rebecca.

  Soon, they were talking together in hushed voices. Mason frowned and his expression became very serious.

  “This is becoming dangerous, you must be wary. They know you’ve found something…”

  “But we only found it today… they can’t have known we would find it… can they?” said Rebecca.

  “You would be surprised…”

  “You have a clue – the boy saw to that. The quest was taken out of his hands… but it can be won, this time.”

  “Who is the boy? You mentioned him before… ” asked Danny.

  “He will find you when it’s time.”

  Rebecca took out the wallet and carefully pulled out the paper. She smoothed it out gently and everyone gathered around to look closely at it.

  “I think the parchment is old, but some of the writing isn’t quite as old. Look! It looks like it’s been torn from a book… but the writing is in faint pencil.”

  Mason smiled at her and nodded.

  “So why would someone write on old paper in pencil?” asked Danny.

  “Maybe they couldn’t find anything else to write on?”

  They examined the faint script, the pencil marks appearing almost violet they were so faded. It was difficult to see and they held it up to the light. The words looked clearer and they were able to decipher some of them.

  “On Rabbit Hill… find… in the light…” read Rebecca, “Oswald’s friend… key. The swan is his… his place… What does it mean?”

  Mr Mason stood up and picked up his trowel. “Clues, I expect, but keep it safe and try to avoid them.”

  They could make little sense of the small map, although some familiar places were visible, but it was unclear what it was showing. Mason walked away, pausing to talk to Rebecca’s mum, who was walking back towards them. Rebecca began to fold the paper and put it into the little folder. A number of magpies silently landed one by one on top of the infirmary walls. She hastily pushed the wallet into her jeans pocket and stood up. She nodded at the birds to Danny. He jumped up and began to shoo them away.

  The birds rose in a cloud of black and blue and slowly circled the children. As they walked away from the sinister birds, they flew closer, swooping silently around them. The children panicked and started to run, provoking them into a more direct attack. Rebecca screamed and Danny tried to hit at the birds with his hands. The children kept running and as they did so, Mason strode up, waving his trowel and hard hat at the birds. Rebecca’s mum stood helpless, watching as Mason extricated the frightened children from the magpies. Mason towered powerfully above the children. He was silhouetted against the sun, tall and supreme. He raised his hand and called a string of words, which were unrecognisable to the children. Rebecca had seen this gesture before, but could not place where.

  “Oh are you alright? Those terrible birds… did they hurt you?” cried Rebecca’s mum as she ran towards them.

  “They’ll be fine now, the birds won’t attack again!” said Mason with authority.

  Rebecca tried to hold back her tears. The speed with which the birds had attacked had scared her. She rubbed her eyes and sniffed. Danny too, looked shaken; the colour had completely drained from his cheeks and he was trembling slightly.

  “Phew! That was close!” he said.

&n
bsp; “It was more than close! It was scary… they were evil!” said Rebecca, shuddering.

  Her mum put her arm round her and gave her a cuddle. She tried to do the same to Danny, but being shy; he smiled and moved slightly ahead of them.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Mum said, “What on earth made them do it, Mr Mason?”

  “Oh! They were probably spooked by something – maybe they were protecting a nest.”

  “Well! They certainly spooked us!” said Danny.

  They walked quietly home. Mum had bought them an ice cream each to make up for the terrible incident. They didn’t really enjoy them, the birds had subdued their mood and they wondered what would have happened if Mason had not been there. Mum was still trying to cheer them up by chatting all the way home, but it just made them feel worse.

  Next morning Rebecca reflected that she had slept well; that at least was a relief. She was still thinking about the clue as they drove into the car park opposite the church. Rebecca sighed. Mum wanted her to go with them to church this week, but she felt sad coming to this church. It reminded her of Granddad’s funeral. She shook herself and tried to block it from her mind. They walked up the steps to the doorway of St George the Martyr. The congregation was mostly old ladies like Grandma, except for one or two escorted by their husbands. There were only a couple of other children there, the organist’s granddaughter and two small kids.

  The service began, but her mind was fixed on the clue. Soon the boring bit came-the sermon. It was a bit complicated and she drifted into her own thoughts. As she daydreamed, she gazed around the church. She looked at two banners, one was the Mother’s Union flag, with a beautiful embroidered picture of Mary and baby Jesus; the other a more exciting one, of St George fighting the dragon. Shards of coloured light played along the white of the altar cloth, looking like beautiful glimmering jewels. The beams of light drew her attention to the stained glass windows. The Last Supper, St George and the dragon were colourful, but there were also two boring looking saints, standing in benediction. The saints were standing together and at the feet of one was a swan… She couldn’t believe it and she allowed a small cry of excitement to escape, as she jumped up and down on her pew. There, in gothic script, was written “St Oswald”. Mum looked at her and raised her finger to her lips to remind her to be quiet. Rebecca settled down again, but inside her mind was in turmoil.