“He said … He said that another bulb had blown and until he’d looked at the wiring we shouldn’t switch any of the lights on.”
Sam gasped. “What, ever? In the whole house?”
I nodded.
“He’d been living with us for a nearly a year then. Like I said, it all happened slowly.”
I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry, and I took a deep breath to stop myself.
“Mum … Mum was just shocked, I think. I don’t know what he was like with her when I wasn’t around, but I can imagine it … it wasn’t good. When I got home from school Mum would keep the kitchen light on and shut the door and I’d sit in there and do my homework and we’d chat and she’d cook dinner while Gary was at work, but as soon as we heard his car pull onto the driveway she’d quickly switch the light off. One evening he came straight into the kitchen still wearing his shoes and coat. Mum had turned the light off when she’d heard his car, so we were sitting in the dark as usual, but he was acting all weird, pacing around the kitchen like he was really angry. He dragged a kitchen chair to the middle of the room, then stood on it and felt the light bulb, flinching when it scorched his hand. It was hot from where we’d had it on. Mum started to apologize, saying I needed the light so I could do my homework, but he didn’t say anything. He walked out of the kitchen and went to their bedroom, where he stayed for the rest of the evening.”
My hands were trembling while I talked, and I stuffed them under my legs to keep them still.
“The next day he removed every light bulb in the house.”
“He did what?!”
I just looked at Sam, and he shook his head and stared at the floor.
“If that had happened to me, I’d be freaked out by the dark too.”
I gave him a weak smile. “We lived like that for months. The summer wasn’t too bad, as it was light in the evenings and the mornings, but winter was awful.”
“What if someone came to visit? Didn’t they notice something wrong?” said Sam.
I shook my head. “No one came around. By the time Gary removed the light bulbs we hadn’t had any visitors for weeks. Mum had stopped inviting people because Gary would make the air all tense. I remember her friend Laura turning up one evening with a bottle of wine and some flowers. I think she was worried about Mum, to be honest. I was listening upstairs, and Mum turned her away, saying now wasn’t a good time, but all they were doing was watching television. I think she was just doing whatever made life easier, and that meant not letting on that Gary was the way he was.”
The wind was picking up outside and whistling over the top of the chimney like it was blowing across a bottle.
“You know what, Nate? You were so brave to go into that ice house. To confront your fears like that.”
I shrugged. I hadn’t felt brave; I’d felt terrified.
The two of us sat in silence for a bit.
“Where do you think your mum is, Nate?” said Sam.
I swallowed, not looking at him. The thing that had been worrying me for so long pushed itself to the front of my brain. A horrible thought trying to be let in, to be made real.
“I think she’s gone back,” I said. “I think she’s gone back to Gary.”
When I next looked up, Sam had vanished.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Gary always did have some kind of weird control over Mum. She must have given in to him, yet again. She’d probably called him from a pay phone when she went shopping and he’d managed to convince her to go back. She just couldn’t live without him. Or worse, maybe, just maybe, this had been her plan all along—to get me out of the house so that she could go back and live with him on her own, happily ever after. Maybe I was the issue. Perhaps if I wasn’t around, then Gary would be easier to live with. That’s why she brought me here. She couldn’t exactly take me to Grandma’s with them not talking to each other any more. Where else was she going to take me? I paced around the front room. Was that it? Had I been left here? All alone in an abandoned cottage? My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. As I walked from one side of the room to the other, Sam appeared in the armchair. I was pleased he was here.
“You don’t know what’s happened,” he said.
I rubbed at my forehead. “I know I don’t, but … I can’t think straight …”
Sam watched me walking up and down. “Well, let’s look at the facts. Was your mum unhappy before you left?”
I perched on the edge of the sofa, squeezing my hands together. I thought about how anxious Mum had been. She used to frown all the time, and she had a permanent pool of tears in the bottoms of her eyes. “Yes. She was really miserable.”
Sam nodded. “Right. So she was unhappy enough to pack her bags, find a car, and whisk you away in the middle of the night … How was she when you got here? Did she seem miserable then? Did she act like she’d made some big mistake?”
I stood up again. I couldn’t keep still.
I remembered when we’d arrived she’d got upset about the chicken being outside on the window ledge, but the next day she’d seemed fine. In fact, when we’d been hitting the rug with the sticks in the garden, I think that was the first time I’d see her laugh for years.
“No … I … er … I think she was happy.”
“Okay,” said Sam. “Let’s think about it again. Nate, do you think your mum has gone back to live with Gary? That she deliberately brought you here so that she could go back and live happily ever after with him? Do you really think that?”
I looked at Sam and I sighed.
“I don’t know, Sam,” I said. “I really don’t know.”
Sam gazed at me sadly from the armchair, and then he faded away again into a yellow haze. I opened the wood stove’s door and was raking the ash when I heard something in the kitchen.
“Hello? It’s me! I brought you a cheese scone. To make up for the ice house thing. I’m sorry you were so scared.”
Kitty was standing by the door clutching another brown paper bag in her hands.
“I didn’t hear you come in. Don’t you ever knock?”
She shrugged. “Sorry.”
She rustled the brown paper bag toward me.
“I warmed it up in the oven and it’s still hot. I wasn’t sure if you were still going to be here.”
I kept silent as she walked in and passed me the bag. The smell of warm cheese filled my nostrils and my mouth watered. Her eyes darted around the room, and I was sure she was looking for signs that I was really here all on my own. She caught me watching her and quickly clapped her hands together.
“Well, eat the scone then! And I’ll tell you all about the next clue.”
I reached into the bag and took out a warm scone. I took a small bite. It tasted of butter, with a little salt, and strong, creamy cheddar. It was possibly the best scone I could have ever imagined eating. It was even better than her butterscotch muffin.
I sat down at the dining table, and she pulled a gray tin out of her satchel. It was the one she had been holding in her hand when we’d gotten out of the ice house. Opening it up, she took out a card that had the same handwriting as the other clues. She held it up so that I could read and eat at the same time:
Kitty smiled. “It’s going to be an easy one—‘you’ll find me boxed in green.’ All we need to do is find a green box.”
She looked around the room and at all the ornaments on the mantelpiece.
“It’s no use looking here. I’ve already searched everywhere,” I said, pushing the last of the crumbs into my mouth. “There’s definitely no green box in this cottage.”
Kitty frowned as she walked around the living room.
“Okay. And I guess it would be a bit odd to hide the next clue in the same area as the last,” she said. “And it’s almost too simple. A green box … There must be more to it than that. What about the huntsman? Up on high?”
Kitty frowned, and then her face lit up.
“Maybe the green box has something to do
with gardening. The shed! There’s an old potting shed near the house. We could start there.”
She headed to the back door.
“Are you coming? We’re getting closer to finding Charlotte’s treasure now. William only ever left three clues—the treasure must be in this green box.”
I looked down at my empty plate. I was still thinking about what I’d said to Sam and if Mum had actually left me. The thought clutched at my heart, and I felt it tighten its grip.
Kitty was watching me. Waiting.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go and take a look.”
We walked through the woods, but when we got to the edge, Kitty stopped. It was almost as if she didn’t know the way.
“You said it was near the house, didn’t you? The potting shed?” I asked.
“It’s this way,” she said, and she turned right and began walking down a hill in the opposite direction. It looked like we were skirting around the bottom of the garden.
“Wouldn’t it have been quicker to have gone the other way when we came out of the woods? Past the maze?” I asked. “Aren’t we just going in a big circle?”
“No,” said Kitty firmly. “This is the way.”
She was lying. I just knew it. I’d seen the map, and she was walking in the opposite direction to where we needed to go. It was as if she was deliberately trying to avoid her house, but why? What was she hiding? I could see the edge of the house out the corner of my eye and was going to stop and have a proper look when Kitty ducked behind a high hedge.
“Nate! You might get spotted.”
I brushed against the shrubbery and a dusting of snow fell on my head. We were right at the bottom of the garden. When we got to the end of a long green hedge, Kitty carried straight on. We were heading farther away from the house. I was confused.
“Shouldn’t we have turned left?” I asked, struggling to keep up with her.
“No, this is the best route,” she said. “It’s not far.”
Kitty darted between various shrubs and overgrown arches in the garden, and I kept behind her, running as quickly as I could. We passed a rectangular pond that was full of frozen brown sludge and what looked like a stone seat that had cracked in two. I tried to get a look at the house, but there were overgrown shrubs blocking the view.
“Keep up! Come on!” said Kitty, and then she turned left, back up toward the house.
She’d deliberately skirted around the bottom of the garden, taking me in a big semicircle, keeping the house out of sight. I only managed to glimpse the corner of a wall before we got to the potting shed. I pulled open the little wooden door, and we stepped inside into the gloom.
Hanging on hooks around the shed was an assortment of garden tools. A workbench ran along one side beneath a window so dirty you couldn’t see out. There were lots of black plastic pots on the bench and a small mound of earth with a trowel sticking out of it. Up on a shelf was a big mug with Head Gardener written on the front. It felt like William Blakelore was going to walk in and carry on potting his seeds at any moment. Kitty began to whisper.
“I’ll start over here. You take a look through that old cabinet.”
She put her brown satchel down, climbed up on to the bench, and inspected the tools.
“Remember, it’s a green box we’re after. It must be in here somewhere.”
I went over to the old metal filing cabinet. It had three drawers, and when I pulled on the top one it opened with a screech. Inside was a bundle of scrunched-up plastic bags, which I took out.
“Urgh, there’s something dead in here,” I said, looking at a curled-up, furry skeleton in the corner. “It’s a mouse. It must have gotten stuck, poor thing.”
I stared at the little mouse for a moment, then covered it again with the plastic bags and closed the drawer.
Kitty was clattering around, stopping now and then to hold something up to the light, probably checking whether it was green or not. The next two drawers were full of old gardening books and magazines.
“This is such good fun, isn’t it, Nate? I’m so pleased you’re here with me.”
She stopped what she was doing and gave me a goofy smile, but I didn’t smile back. I was freezing. The shed was dark and it stank and I really didn’t want to be here.
“I mean, we’re good friends now, aren’t we? We’re a proper team!”
She giggled but I didn’t laugh. Being dragged around wasn’t my idea of fun. It was okay for her; she had her nice warm mansion with its heating, cozy fire, and parents waiting for her. This was all just a game, and I was just going along with her like a stupid plaything. And I had far more important things to be worrying about.
“Actually, Kitty, I don’t think we’re going to find anything here,” I said, ignoring what she’d said. “Maybe we should give up.”
She climbed down from the bench, dropped to her knees, and crawled under it, emerging with a pair of old brown boots that she tipped upside down and shook. A shower of dirt fell out onto the floor.
“Give up? But he must have hidden it here,” she said. “We’re so close to the end, we can’t give up now.” She was beginning to sound desperate again.
“Well, you can carry on looking, if you like. I’ve had enough. I’m going back,” I said.
“But we only just got here,” said Kitty. “I thought we were friends? Aren’t we?” Her big blue eyes sparkled in the cold air.
“I, well, I guess … But I’ve got to go. Sorry, Kitty.”
Kitty stood up and glared at me with her hands on her hips.
“What time are your parents going to be back again?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you have left them a note saying where you were going?”
I got ready to say something about them not being worried but shut my mouth. She was obviously working out that my story wasn’t adding up. How long would it be before she told someone?
“Look, Kitty. I’m sure you’ll manage to solve the clues all on your own. But count me out.”
Her jaw dropped as I made my way to the door.
“I’m going back to the cottage now. And just so you don’t waste more time coming around again, I think it’s best that you carry on with the treasure hunt on your own. Okay?”
I walked out into the bitterly cold air and left her standing there, openmouthed. My footprints were still visible in the light snow, but rather than follow their line I headed across the lawn. It would be much quicker going the other way, and I could just dart between the shrubs to keep out of view of anyone.
I felt guilty for talking to her like that, but her treasure hunt really was not my problem. I couldn’t understand why she was so desperate to solve it. It was just a stupid thing created for some bored kids many years ago.
I walked past a large concrete fountain that had icicles hanging from it and I started to speed up. I was out in the open now, so I glanced to the right and got my first proper look at Kitty’s house.
I stopped.
Across the snowy lawn was the mansion I’d pictured so many times in my head. In my mind I’d seen a large, grand building with lots of white-edged windows of all different sizes. Some of the windows would have stretched from the ground to the ceiling, and some would be arched with maybe a semicircle of colored glass fanning across the top. There would be a wide, glazed door that would open onto a patio area surrounded by tall marble statues of Greek gods. All those rooms would have needed roaring fireplaces back when it was built, so standing to attention across the roof would be an orderly line of chimneys. Yes, in my mind it was a magnificent, stately home.
But it wasn’t like that at all. There were lots of windows, but most of them had gray boards blocking them up. Clambering up the side of the house was a mass of ivy that was strangling a crumbling chimney stack. Across the roof were giant, gaping holes as if a huge monster had bitten great chunks out of it. Blue plastic sheeting covered one section of the roof, probably put there as an attempt to cover another hole. It flapped loose in the wind like a blinking eye.
The patio area did have statues as I’d imagined, but they looked like zombies, covered in thick green moss and black slime. One was even missing its head.
I was stunned.
Kitty appeared beside me.
“B-But I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought … I thought your dad owned a big company and …”
I looked at her face, and she seemed to be close to crying.
“It’s not how it looks,” she said. “I’m not … I’ve not been lying.” She looked worried, scared even.
This was why she’d been trying to steer me away from the house. So that I didn’t see what an utter ruin it was.
“But … how can you live here? I mean, are you even allowed to?”
Kitty pressed her lips together but didn’t say anything. I looked her straight in the eye.
“Kitty?”
She kept opening her mouth to say something but then closing it again as if she’d thought better of it.
“I thought if you lived in a mansion, you’d have a lot of money,” I said. “Did your dad lose it all? Did the business fail?”
Kitty nodded slowly. She bit on her lip and I waited for her to say more, but she kept silent.
“And is it safe? Is it safe to live there?” I said. Suddenly William’s drafty old cottage didn’t seem so bad after all.
“We … We can only use a couple of rooms,” she said.
It looked like a skeleton of a house. It certainly wasn’t a home.
“Why did you lie to me, Kitty? You could have told me the truth.”
Kitty huffed. “I didn’t lie, exactly. It was you that assumed I was some spoiled little rich kid with heaps of money. I said nothing of the sort.”
She pulled her woolly hat down farther.
“Anyway, if we’re not careful someone is going to spot you and realize you’re staying in a cottage that doesn’t belong to you. We’ve got to get moving.”
She buried her fists into her coat pockets and ran behind the tall, hedged maze. I took a final look at the house and followed her.
Kitty stopped at the entrance to the maze. Her words had panicked me a bit. Were we actually allowed to stay in the cottage? Mum had taken us there, but did she have permission? Maybe we shouldn’t have gone there at all. And how close was Kitty to telling her dad or someone else?
The Light Jar Page 11
