“Of course you can,” said Selina. “It’s only been sitting in a crate for the last two hundred years gathering dust.” Selina put her arm around her niece’s shoulder, and they went down the stairs together.
They both did feel better after a hearty meal of casserole and chunky bread. After dinner, they went out for a walk to get some fresh air. It was a warm, sultry evening, with the occasional light breeze and it felt good to be out of the dark, stuffy attic. Clara tried to forget how disappointed she was and breathed deeply, feeling her muscles relaxing a little bit more with every step.
After their walk they both decided to have an early night.
***
The next day, Selina noted Clara’s intense disappointment. It was an emotion she was familiar with having experienced it often with her Aunt Phoebe.
“It was a long shot that we’d find it,” said Aunt Selina.
Clara nodded distractedly.
“And we don’t even know what the key would’ve done, had we found it,” Selina added. “It may have been nothing, a red herring.”
Clara nodded again. While her aunt appeared to be being kind, Clara thought she could detect a faint smugness in Selina’s attitude. Finding this unbearable, Clara volunteered to go out to the garden and water the pots.
Later that morning, they went into the village to stock up on food supplies and, while there, they received an invitation to a barbecue.
The weather stayed dry and warm and it seemed everybody in the village turned up for the party. Selina had a great time catching up with everyone and Clara enjoyed sitting quietly, watching people and listening to their conversations. She’d never been to a barbecue before and enjoyed the beef burger she ate.
It was starting to get dark when Selina and Clara left the party and walked home.
When they arrived back at the cottage, Aunt Selina made them both a hot chocolate to take to bed. Carrying the hot drink carefully into her room, Clara didn’t have a free hand to switch on the lamp. As her curtains were open, she used the fading light to make her way over to the bedside table to put the hot mug down. In doing so, she accidentally brushed up against the jewellery box and knocked it to the floor with a thump.
Frightened that she may have broken it, Clara quickly put down the mug and switched on the lamp, before bending down to pick the box up. It rattled. Alarmed, she sat on the bed and examined it closely. The box appeared fine. It’d landed on the soft rug, so it wasn’t dented or scratched on the outside. Clara opened the lid and checked inside. It also seemed fine. She moved on to the drawers, taking each one out and checking for breaks. Curiously, there didn’t seem to be any damage to the box at all.
Frowning, Clara shook the box. It rattled again. There was definitely something loose rattling inside the box.
Clara turned on the overhead light to provide the maximum illumination available and examined the box again. After a while, she noticed that the lower drawer was narrower than the top drawer. The only reason she could think of why this would be was that there was a hidden compartment in the lower portion, at the back of the jewellery box.
“But how do I get into it?” she muttered to herself, turning the box this way and that and pressing and pushing the wood to see if she could get it to open.
After a while, she managed to get part of the trimming to shift slightly. Concentrating on this part of the box she realised that, though it was a bit stiff, the trimming could be slid away at the bottom. She eventually managed to tease it off. She then tried pushing out the bottom section of the box. Again, after a bit of teasing, the wood started to slide away. When it was about halfway out, something fell from the box onto the floor.
Looking down to the floor, Clara’s heart fluttered. She bent down and picked up a small metal key that had fallen from the secret compartment.
Clara wanted to go straight to her aunt’s room to tell her about the discovery, and then she wanted to go to the village hall right away and try it out. But something held her back. Selina’s attitude earlier that day made Clara hesitant. After all, she thought, it may still be nothing. It might not be the right key at all.
No, better to keep it to myself for now, she thought. I’ll tell my aunt if I find something.
Clara tucked the key away in her purse and climbed into bed. She fell asleep thinking about the key, a small smile of satisfaction on her face.
Chapter Eighteen
The following day was the flower show. With all of the expected bustle and crowds, Clara thought that it’d be the ideal opportunity to try out the key. It would be relatively simple to slip away from her aunt’s company and melt into the throng.
Selina and Clara walked into the village, admiring the crafts and baking stalls along the way. They tried their hand at the raffle and admired the street bunting. Clara was impatient of the delays but hid her feelings. She didn’t want to make her aunt suspicious. When they eventually arrived at the village hall, it was already filled with visitors eagerly admiring the elegant displays of flowers. Selina joined the crowds, admiring the various flowers on show and was soon involved in discussions with the various gardeners about their growing methods, leaving Clara able to slip away unnoticed. She made her way to the back of the hall, where the door leading to the stairs had been covered with a drape to discourage people from entering. Clara looked around to make sure that no one was watching and then slipped under the drape, along the empty corridor and up the stairs.
At the top, she paused for a moment to make sure she was alone. Hearing nothing but the babble of cheerful voices coming up from the hall, she moved over to the door of the room with the mysterious keyhole. Turning the doorknob, she was inside in a moment, and closing the door behind her. Clara then considered the cupboard door, her breath catching in her throat. This was it. Only one more obstacle between her and the answers she craved. Clara could barely contain her excitement.
She took a deep breath before opening the cupboard door and lying down on her front. Feeling about in the dark, she found the keyhole. Clara’s breathing became shallow and she quivered with anticipation. She pulled the key out of her purse and pushed it into the hole. It fit perfectly. Clara sighed. She tried to turn the key. It didn’t budge. She tried to turn it the other way with no more success. Clara kept trying to twist and turn the key one way, and then the other until her fingers were sore, but she still hadn’t made any progress.
She pulled the key out of the hole and stared at it in exasperation. She was sure it was the right key, why wouldn’t it work? She peered back at the keyhole, thinking. Maybe there was something blocking it?
Clara took a deep breath, put her face near the hole and blew hard. She was immediately overcome by a large cloud of dust. She backed out of the cupboard and sat up, coughing and spluttering, her eyes streaming as she gulped for air. After a while the coughing fit subsided and she wiped her tears on her sleeve and lay back down on her belly.
Okay, she thought. Let’s try this again.
She pushed the key into the hole with trembling fingers. Was it her imagination or did it go in a little further this time? With rising hope, she tried wiggling the key, to see if she could get it to turn. When she pushed it hard in an anti-clockwise direction, it moved fractionally and then became stuck again. Gritting her teeth, Clara turned it with all her might. This time she managed to get it halfway around before it jammed again. She was not going to be beaten by the key though, encouraged by her success, Clara shook her fingers to ease the soreness and then put all her effort into one final push to turn it the rest of the way. She almost called out when the key turned completely and she heard a soft click, then a thump on the other side of the cupboard. Surprised, she spun around and saw a section of the cupboard wall had fallen forward slightly.
Sitting up, Clara put her fingers behind the section of fallen wood and pulled it forward. It swung creakily down, revealing a shelf hidden in the wall of the cupboard. And on that shelf was a small pile of thin books. Clara pulled the books out with shaking
hands. They were leather bound volumes, and when she flicked through them, they were filled with pages and pages of handwriting. Gently opening one of the fragile books to the front-page Clara read, with awe
Clara Elizabeth Cartwright’s Diary 1845
This was it. She’d found them. They did exist. Clara felt bubbles of happiness rising up through her chest.
“Jackpot!” she exclaimed and punched her fist in the air.
Lost in the excitement of her find, Clara had temporarily forgotten where she was. She was startled, therefore, when she heard someone clumping up the stairs. Heart thumping, Clara put the journals into her backpack and closed the cupboard door.
She crept over to the exit and put her ear to the door. The footsteps outside passed by and carried on along the corridor. When she could no longer hear them, Clara opened the door and, after a quick peek to make sure the coast was clear, she slipped out and trotted quietly down the stairs.
When she returned to the hall, she edged her way through the crowds, back to her aunt who was still chatting, oblivious to Clara’s disappearance. Clara was anxious to get back to the cottage to read the diaries and, as her aunt showed no sign of tiring of her conversations, Clara became fidgety, stepping from foot to foot, swinging her bag around her legs and checking her watch every two minutes with a sigh. Eventually, her behaviour attracted the adults’ attention and Selina scolded her for her bad manners. Chastened, Clara went outside and sat on a bench by the village square. She was tempted to pull one of the diaries from her backpack but resisted, as they were old and extremely precious, and she didn’t want to risk damaging them. Instead, she watched people passing by and impatiently waited for her aunt.
“Did you enjoy the flower show?” A familiar voice asked loudly.
Clara jumped. She hadn’t heard her aunt coming up behind her.
“Yes, thank you, Aunt Selina,” Clara replied, getting up so that they could start their journey home.
Back at the cottage, Clara unpacked the diaries from her backpack and left them in her room. She wanted to sit down there and then to read through them, but her aunt was getting dinner ready. Maybe after dinner, Clara thought hopefully.
They ate together in silence, both considering the night ahead, which would be the first night of the full moon. After dinner, Clara told her aunt she was going to have a nap in preparation for their late night. Selina looked at her suspiciously, but after a beat, wished her a pleasant nap and went out to the garden to watch the sunset.
Running up to her room, Clara excitedly picked up one of the diaries and lay down on the bed to read it. A thrill of anticipation ran up her spine as she opened the diary at the first page.
***
A couple of hours later Clara closed the book. She’d developed a mild headache from concentrating on the cramped slanting script and formal language of the nineteenth century. She closed her eyes, and relaxed her facial muscles, reflecting on what she’d read. She’d learnt, for instance, a great deal about how her ancestor had lived, and lied to her family, about her gift, but she hadn’t learnt much about the curse. Maybe, she thought, one of the later diaries would be more fruitful on that subject.
She’d also learnt that her four times Great Aunt Clara was not at all afraid of her gift. She’d completely embraced it and all its possibilities and risks. From her stories in the diaries, Clara thought her ancestor was brave and resourceful and adventurous in her transformations. She wrote with relish about the excitement and fun of being in animal form and, on reading this, Clara felt resentful of Aunt Selina’s recent caution and how she’d tried to hold Clara back.
As her headache faded away, and day turned to dusk, Clara felt inspired by her Great Aunt Clara’s boldness. In fact, she decided, she was going to adopt the same attitude and confront Selina right now.
With her headache gone, Clara went downstairs to find her aunt still sitting peacefully in the garden. Deciding on a direct approach, and before she lost her nerve, Clara marched up to Selina, put her hands on her hips and spoke as firmly as she could.
“I want to try and turn into a bird this evening,” she said.
Aunt Selina jolted in surprise and opened her mouth to respond in the negative, when Clara rushed on, “I won’t do it at home unless it’s an emergency. But what would happen if my parents caught me outdoors in the middle of the night? They’d probably ground me forever and then I would be in real trouble on the three nights of the full moon.”
Aunt Selina frowned and pursed her lips. Clara narrowed her eyes.
“If you don’t teach me,” she said slyly. “I’ll just try it by myself, that’s all.” And she nodded her head firmly as if to say, “so there!”
Clara could see indecision in her aunt’s eyes. This was what her aunt had been afraid of. Clara made one last attempt to bring her aunt on side.
“You said I was really gifted and was progressing quickly,” she said persuasively. “I’m ready for this Aunt Selina, I really am.”
After a minute of silence, Selina slowly nodded her head.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for this,” she warned, “but it seems I don’t have a choice.”
Clara didn’t say anything for fear her aunt would change her mind, but inside she was doing somersaults of glee.
A little while later, they made their way out of the back of the garden and into the woods.
“Now, I think you should try for a large bird to start with,” said Aunt Selina. “Then we’ll see how you go.”
Clara followed closely behind her aunt, wondering where they were going.
After a few minutes, they arrived alongside a small river and it all became clear. Gliding down the middle of the river were two, elegant white swans. Clara exclaimed at their beauty.
“Okay,” said Selina. “I think you get the idea. Swans are smaller than humans, so you’ll need to concentrate particularly hard on becoming swan shaped. It may not happen at once but don’t panic, we have some time.”
Clara and her aunt watched the swans for a while, Clara familiarising herself with their size, shape and behaviour and then Selina turned to Clara.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Clara nodded and closed her eyes. She brought a vision of the swans strongly into her mind’s eye and concentrated hard on becoming a swan, with its bright white feathers and orange bill. It’s thick, short legs and webbed feet.
Still concentrating, she opened her eyes a few moments later to be disappointed that she was still in her human form.
“It’s all right,” said Selina, consolingly. “It’s more difficult to become a small animal. This is where your imagination is going to come in handy. Close your eyes and imagine what a swan’s life would be like.”
Clara closed her eyes again and imagined herself inside a swan’s mind. She thought about her legs paddling in the cool water. She thought about her long slender neck and her large powerful wings. She imagined putting her beak down to the water and scooping up some tasty plants to eat.
This time, when she opened her eyes, she was looking down at a white feathered body and, when she crossed her eyes, she could see a blur of orange instead of a nose.
She opened her beak, “Fwah,” she said looking over at her aunt. “Fwah, Fwah”. Selina smiled at her.
“Well done, Clara,” she said quietly. “Off you go then.” And she waved Clara away.
A delighted Clara turned and waddled over to the riverbank, Selina watching nervously behind her. She had a little trouble getting down the bank to the water on her short legs and found that she had to use her wings to keep her balance. She ended up running the last few steps in an ungainly waddle and splashing straight into the river.
Once in the water, she found joy in gliding up and down and round in circles, being watched at a wary distance by the other two swans.
Eventually, she realised that she was not going to be able to swim up to her bedroom window; she was going to have to test her wings to see if they worked.
Clara opened up her wings to their fullest extent and started to flap. She flapped and flapped and managed to raise her body out of the water but couldn’t achieve enough momentum to fly out of the river. Getting a little frustrated and out of breath she eventually swam over to the edge of the river and flapped her wings to give her enough lift to get out of the water and onto the bank.
Clara waddled up and down the bank while she thought about her predicament. A swan is a big bird. Maybe I need to take a run at it, like an aeroplane.
She waddled along the riverbank a short way and then turned and started to waddle back the way she’d come. While accelerating, she spread her wings out wide and immediately felt the air rippling her feathers. She instinctively changed the angle of her wings and felt the air move beneath them, giving her lift. Still waddling, she beat her wings once and her feet came away from the ground for a second. She beat her wings again once, twice, three times and then she wasn’t touching the ground anymore. She continued to beat her wings as she rose through the air. She was above the trees and soaring – she was flying!
Clara was elated. She felt so free. She banked in the air and flew back towards the river, the ground whizzing, dizzyingly, by. She wondered how far she’d be able to go. Could she fly all the way home?
Remembering her promise to her aunt about being sensible, Clara turned back to where Selina would be waiting for her by the river. And this was when she realised that she had no idea how to land. Reducing her height, with the land blurring by below, she got a sense of how fast she was flying and started to panic. Then she forced herself to relax, her instincts had helped her to get off the ground, she should trust her instincts to get her back there safely. All the same, she decided that the river would provide the softest landing.
As the earth hurtled towards her, Clara’s instincts told her to angle her wings and back flap to reduce speed and get in the correct position to land. Quickly following her instincts, she stalled in mid-air and plopped into the river with a graceless splash, wet but in one piece. She gave herself a shake to get rid of the water that had splashed over her feathers and then turned and paddled to shore.
Under the Light of a Full Moon Page 13
