Grandmother cast a disparaging eye over her youngest granddaughter, but turned to Martha and said, “That would be delightful. You may bring them to my sitting room after dessert. You have inherited your great-grandfather’s skill with paper and pencil – he would be most proud of you.”
Martha turned a smug smile on the other girls, who inwardly groaned.
After a dessert of sticky toffee pudding, which was Octavia’s favourite – and Rowan’s, judging by the amount he consumed – the girls went off to spend some quiet time before bed. Martha swanned off to show her drawings to Grandmother, whilst Beatrice and Felicity headed to the library.
Octavia, feeling itchy and at a loose end, made her way up to the gallery where all her family’s portraits were hung. Feeling the need to be close to her mother, she stood in front of her portrait in its gilded frame and looked up into her mother’s violet-blue eyes, which were so like her own. Wondering how Mum must have felt when she had found out she would be a Key Keeper to a tiny door, Octavia examined the portrait with interest. Noting the relaxed stance and the cheeky sparkle in her mother’s eyes, she decided that Mum would have taken it in her stride and relished the prospect.
Feeling comforted, Octavia turned to inspect the other portraits lining the long walls. She began to pick out all the ladies with copper curls like hers. Trailing past Cassandra Bloom then Madeleine Bloom, she stopped abruptly at Francesca Bloom and stared at the large, beautiful, jewel-coloured butterfly perched on the lady’s finger. Octavia took a step back, then retraced her steps to Cassandra’s and Madeleine’s portraits and narrowed her eyes at the rabbit in the first painting and deer in the next. The animals seemed almost ethereal. I wonder…? Octavia thought, and ran along the worn carpet, picking out other copper-haired ladies. She came to the realisation that each lady had a woodland creature either on their shoulder or standing next to them. Cunning foxes, bright butterflies, quizzical birds – quite the menagerie, it appeared.
Intrigued, Octavia pondered the portrait of a much younger Great-Aunt Clara, Rowan sitting proudly upon her shoulder. How curious.
In the painting of her mother, her pet sparrow, Pan, was perched on Mum’s arm. Mum had told her she had rescued Pan when he was a fledgling. How long did birds live? Surely this couldn’t be the same bird – but it certainly looked like the Pan Octavia had grown up with and played with, with the funny little tilt to his head and intelligent black eyes. Mum had to be about eighteen in this portrait. Very curious indeed.
A clunk on the floor had Octavia turning, and she saw Great-Aunt Clara walking toward her, leaning on her gnarled stick.
“Ah, I see you are putting two and two together,” Great-Aunt Clara said with a pointed look at Rowan, who sat very still on her shoulder, watching Octavia with interest.
“Great-Aunt Clara! I have so many questions—” Octavia broke off as Felicity called from the gallery’s archway.
“There you are, Tavi! Mrs Fawcett has run your bath. Grandmother wants us in bed early tonight.”
“In a minute – Flissy, look at this…” Octavia gestured to the portrait of their mother. “Don’t you think it odd how long Mum has had Pan for?”
Felicity looked puzzled for a second. “Well, I never really thought about it. Maybe birds can live for a long time,” she said with a shrug.
“Maybe,” Octavia murmured, still not entirely convinced, and looked at Great-Aunt Clara, who was grinning widely.
“Come on, we don’t want to give Grandmother another reason to be angry at us. She has been in such a horrible mood today.” Felicity shuddered, leading the way from the gallery.
Great-Aunt Clara gestured after Felicity. “You’d better go; we don’t want to upset your grandmother further. You’ll find out everything soon enough.”
With a frustrated huff, Octavia nodded and, after one final look into her mother’s eyes, followed her sister.
Octavia lay in the dark, listening as Felicity’s breathing evened out. Once she was sure her sister was asleep, she quietly slid back her bed covers and felt about in the moonlight for her slippers. With an exasperated sigh, she slid them out from where Bronwen had pillowed her head on them. Bronwen opened one sleepy eye in protest, gave Octavia’s hand a lick and fell back to sleep.
Octavia knew she had to be careful not to get caught this time, so she put on her slippers on silently, pocketed her torch, and slipped from the bedroom. She paused out in the corridor, looking both ways before creeping along it. At the top of the main staircase, she peered down into the empty entrance hall. Grabbing a velvet cushion off a nearby window seat, she settled herself in the shadows to wait.
The fierce wind Martha had mentioned earlier had turned into a muggy late-summer storm; lightning zigzagged across the sky, slashing the clouds like a whip, swiftly chased by a boom of thunder that shook the castle walls. Octavia watched the raging storm visible from the large windows for a few moments and was jolted from her reverie as the front door was thrown open in a sudden gust of wind. A familiar, slight figure in a battered leather jacket and dusty biker boots fought to wrestle it closed.
“I knew it,” Octavia murmured as her mother pushed the door closed and leaned against it briefly, before reaching into her jacket and pulling out Pan. The little bird flew happily around the entrance hall, stretching his wings. Octavia watched Mum walk determinedly toward the library, hefting her familiar brown leather backpack, Pan flying after her. Octavia shrank back as Mum cast a troubled look up the stairs as if she could sense her youngest daughter hiding there.
When Mum had gone into the library, Octavia raced back to her room to wake Felicity.
“Mum’s here,” she whispered fervently, shaking her awake.
“Wha— Octavia, what are you doing up again? You’re going to get us into trouble,” said Felicity, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“But Mum is here! I saw her going into the library. Come on.” Octavia pulled her sister up and turned to race into the connecting room to wake her cousins. By the time all the girls were awake and had found their slippers, Octavia was practically vibrating with impatience.
“If we get caught, I’m saying I tried to stop you,” said Martha with a yawn.
Octavia nodded indifferently and led the way to the library, with Bronwen sleepily bringing up the rear. Raised voices could be heard through the open door of Grandmother’s sitting room. The name “Otto” had Octavia and Felicity looking at each other in shock.
Octavia watched through the gap in the door as her mother paced up and down the circular room, her waist-length copper braid whipping around her. Pan flew around her head like a comical cartoon bird. Throwing off her leather jacket, Mum turned to face Grandmother and Great-Aunt Clara.
“I can’t believe the girls have found out like this – I wanted to be the one to explain it all to them when we had all the flowers necessary to break the curse,” she said. She stopped pacing and ran a hand across her travel-weary face. “Kit, Ana and Piers are so close to getting the Corpse Flower in Indonesia. It only blooms once a decade, so this is our only chance. It was lucky I was following another lead, albeit a false one, on the last flower, so I was close by and could get home quickly and deal with this new problem.”
Grandmother tentatively put a hand on her daughter’s arm. “I know this has been so hard for you, and I’m sorry I couldn’t protect them. I should have kept the door to the attic locked. I assumed they would listen when I told them not to go up there.” She sighed.
Mum wryly twisted her lips. “I’ll guess Octavia was the ringleader.”
Great-Aunt Clara said with a chuckle, “She has her mother’s spirit,” but stopped abruptly as her niece raised an eyebrow at her.
Octavia watched as, with a sigh, Mum threw herself onto a chair near the fire and gazed pensively into the flames.
“Mother, Aunt,” she began, “I know you told me the key to the door was lost, but is there any other way of getting to Fairy Land?”
Grandmother’s hand
shook as she picked up the teapot to pour tea. “Why? Why would you want to? You know what happened last time.”
“I know it pains you, but all the research we have done over the last nine years shows there is no such flower as the Arianthe flower – well, not in this world anyway. The trail has gone dead. I’ve exhausted all my leads…” Mum trailed off, letting the significance of her words sink in.
Meeting her daughter’s eyes, Grandmother sighed. “You really think the last flower is in Fairy Land?”
Mum nodded, and said desperately, “It’s the only way to save Otto.”
Great-Aunt Clara took a sip of tea before saying, “There is no other way to get through the door; we were tasked with guarding it so that no one could go through it. In hindsight, it’s probably a good job the key was lost, after all the damage that was caused last time.”
Mum looked sharply at Great-Aunt Clara, who had the grace to look contrite and mumbled, “But if there is a way to save Otto, then of course you have to try.”
In the silence that followed, Grandmother cast a cautious look at Great-Aunt Clara and Mum and cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I have a confession,” she told them tremulously.
They both looked at her, curiosity evident in their gazes. Rowan’s ears perked up in interest and Pan landed on the back of Mum’s chair, watching beadily.
Setting down her teacup, Grandmother walked over to Great-Aunt Clara. “After what happened to Henry, I thought it best if the key remained lost,” she said, and Octavia could see the tears shining in her grandmother’s faded green eyes.
“What do you mean? The key fell out of Henry’s pocket in Fairy Land. That’s what we both concluded,” Great-Aunt Clara said, confusion written across her face.
“We landed back in the attic, and after the two of you left to go down to the kitchen, there on the floor was the tiny key shining up at me. I took it, and I placed it on my charm bracelet so that I could ensure no one would ever go through the door again!” Grandmother finished vehemently.
Great-Aunt Clara was momentarily speechless. “But… but that was not for you to take – I was the Key Keeper, not you!”
“Yes, and my jealousy of that fact is what started all of this!” Grandmother collapsed into a chair as sobs wracked her slim frame.
Great-Aunt Clara and Mum exchanged horrified looks at this display of weakness from Grandmother, who always bore everything with an iron reserve.
“There, there; don’t take on so, Evy,” Great-Aunt Clara said with sympathy in her voice, and went over to rub her sister’s hand. “We were both in the wrong. I lorded over you with the fact that I, the younger sister, got to be Key Keeper and not you. Look where our spite and jealousy got us; with poor Henry, and now Otto, paying the price.”
“Maybe that’s what needs to happen, we go full circle – this all started in Fairy Land; I have a feeling it needs to end there,” said Mum musingly. “I have to try, for Otto’s sake.”
Outside in the library, the girls were jostling each other to hear better. Beatrice accidently fell into Octavia, who fell against the door, pushing it fully open.
“Girls!” Mum stood with her hands on her hips. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” Octavia said, running over to hug her mother, who squeezed her tightly for a moment before releasing her.
“Listen, there is so much you need to know, but now is not the time. You should go back to bed whilst I finish talking to Grandmother and Great-Aunt Clara.”
“About Otto?” said Octavia slyly. There was a captive silence in the room as the three older ladies looked at one another in shock.
Chapter Four
The Truth Will Out
Mum narrowed her eyes at Octavia. “What do you know about Otto?” She addressed Grandmother and Great-Aunt Clara: “Mother, Aunt?”
They both shook their heads in confusion.
“They didn’t tell me; I had a dream about him last night after we discovered the Fairy Door,” said Octavia matter-of-factly.
Mum gasped. “You dreamt about him? What did he say, how did he look?” she demanded. Gripping the arm of the nearest chair, she slowly lowered herself into it.
Octavia, shocked by the sudden whiteness of Mum’s face, sat on the footstool and held her hands. “Well, he looked like me, only with freckles. He said I had to find the key and save him. Oh! And he was holding out a pearly, violet flower,” she remembered.
A rush of colour flooded back into Mum’s face. Triumphant, she looked at her mother. “I knew it. The last flower is in Fairy Land!”
Grandmother’s face fell in horror, and a sudden, inexplicable pang of sympathy for the older woman rose up in Octavia.
“But, Mum, why do you need the flowers?” Felicity asked, joining Octavia on the footstool.
Mum sighed; a mix of emotions waged a war across her face. She took Felicity’s hand so the three of them were linked. “I didn’t want any of you girls to find out like this, but I’m afraid we have been keeping a bigger secret from you.” She paused and looked deep into Octavia’s eyes. “We thought it was for the best to keep it hidden; we had planned for this to all be resolved years ago, but sadly that has not been the case. You should know that fairies can be tricky, and not all of them are the kind, wish-granting ones you read about in your books, Octavia.”
Martha and Beatrice silently sat on the green velvet sofa next to Great-Aunt Clara, who patted them absentmindedly. Bronwen whined and went over to lick at Octavia’s hand. She plunged her spare hand into the dog’s thick fur for comfort.
“If we are going to tell this story, I think we need to start at the beginning,” Grandmother said in resigned tones. “I am not proud of my part in this whole debacle, but I have done my best to shelter you girls from any more danger.” Taking a sip of fortifying tea, she sat in her chair. “It all started the summer when your Great-Aunt Clara turned ten; our mother and our aunt held this grand ceremony in the ballroom with all of our other of-age female relatives. Clara was made the new Key Keeper, and I am ashamed to say I was very jealous of her. I tried to take my role of Guardian seriously, but I’m afraid my jealousy got the better of me.”
“It’s not entirely your grandmother’s fault, girls – I did show off a bit, and as siblings are wont to do, teased her about it. I felt I had always been in your grandmother’s shadow and now it was my time to do something important,” Great-Aunt Clara said, turning to look at her sister with an apologetic smile.
Grandmother nodded and took a deep breath. “You girls all know we had a brother, Clara’s twin brother Henry – he died young, just after the end of the second world war.” Her hands momentarily tightened on the arms of the chair. “Well, in my envy I told Henry about the key, which was strictly forbidden, as only females in our family are to know of the secret we guard in the attic. It was a windy day in autumn and Clara was up in the attic; she loved to sit up there, daydreaming.”
Octavia shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. That sounded familiar.
Great-Aunt Clara spoke up. “I was up there practicing revealing the door. We had to know how to call it into being in case of emergencies, and I had just run my hand along the skirting board when Henry raced in with Evy right behind him.” Her usually twinkling eyes dimmed as she recounted the painful memory. “I kept the key on a piece of ribbon, and he whipped it from around my neck and threatened to open the door. He thought it was all a great lark. I tried to stop him messing about with the key, but it all happened so fast – he placed the key in the lock and before I knew it, we were all standing in a clearing in a wood.” She paused before continuing. “I had tried to pull the key out from its lock, but in all of the jostling, I must have inadvertently turned it; only a Key Keeper or key-keeper-to-be would be able to turn the key,” she explained. Rowan cast solemn eyes upon her pale face.
Grandmother took up the story. “In the clearing stood a fairy queen. She was beautiful, with her long dark hair and glittering black dress, but her wrath w
as terrifying. We had interrupted a ceremony of some sort – she was facing the enormous moon, her staff pointed at it, and speaking strange, foreign-sounding words when our arrival obviously distracted her. She was absolutely furious with us. She shouted at us that she had lost her chance to rule because the Dragon Moon only came once every 200 years. None of this made any sense to us, so we didn’t know what to say. She, however, recognised us for who we were, and wanted to make us suffer. A long time ago, we Blooms had been allowed to visit Fairy Land at our leisure, hence why we still had the key, but something had changed since then and a new Guardians’ code had been put in place to keep all humans out. A code which we had just inadvertently broken.
“The evil fairy queen took her staff, and with the last vestiges of the magic from the Dragon Moon, cursed Henry and all subsequent boy babies to early deaths, making us Bloom girls watch as we lost brothers and sons.” Grandmother finished the tale. “Oh, she was cruel – told us we wouldn’t miss them, as it was the females who held the power.”
Octavia gulped in horror as she listened, the fairy-tale adventure she longed for becoming a nightmare. Silent tears were making their way down Mum’s cheeks. Great-Aunt Clara, who was also crying, blew her nose loudly, making Rowan leap from her shoulder in fright.
“Nesrin, for that was the dark fairy queen’s name, left us huddled on the forest floor together, not knowing how to get back home. We weren’t alone for long, as another fairy queen appeared, but this one was serene in her beauty, and light glowed from within her, illuminating the dark clearing. Her name, she told us, was Rhosyn, and whilst she could not undo the curse her sister, Nesrin, had placed upon Henry, she could offer protection and sanctuary in Fairy Land to any baby boy born into the Bloom family up until their tenth year.”
Octavia Bloom and the Missing Key (Through The Fairy Door Book 1) Page 3
