by Emma Carroll
Astonishment spread quickly through the group, with cries of ‘Wow!’ and ‘Blimey!’ and Clive Spencer telling everyone the house was really a castle.
‘No, dear me, it’s not a castle.’ Mrs Cartwright shook her head, then with a proud flourish, explained, ‘This is your new home. Frost Hollow Hall.’
Stan didn’t know what to make of it. The house looked nothing like ‘home’ to him. It didn’t look remotely frosty, either, sitting in the valley bathed in hot sunshine. He remembered what Lalit had said about requisitioning. The lady who lived here had to take them in: it was the law, not a friendly invitation.
All around the house were gardens, the posh kind, with hedges cut into shapes and trees growing in impossibly straight lines. Beyond them, something else sparkled in the sunlight. Stan stood on tiptoe for a better look.
‘That’s water, isn’t it?’ he asked, all of a sudden interested. ‘It is! It’s a lake or something!’
‘It’s a big one. Look how far it goes.’ Lalit pointed way beyond the trees, to where the water stretched almost to the valley’s edge. It was a proper lake, not like the pond in the park at home where they sailed paper boats sometimes, and the water only reached their knees.
Already Stan was imagining swimming in it. The lake would be ice-cold and clear, and so deep you could dive down for ages and still not reach the bottom. He couldn’t wait to give it a try.
Excited now, he nudged Lalit. ‘Fancy a dip later?’
Lalit mimed a shudder.
‘Don’t you swim?’ Stan asked. He’d assumed someone good at sport like Lalit would be a strong swimmer too.
‘A little.’ Lalit waggled his hand. ‘But deep water can be very dangerous, my friend. You never know what’s underneath.’
‘That’s what my sister says,’ Stan admitted.
Talking of June, he was surprised to see her discussing something with Clive. She still didn’t look happy.
‘Bet you wouldn’t,’ Clive said. It sounded as if he was daring her to do something.
‘Bet I would.’ She didn’t look at him, though; she too was staring at the lake as if hypnotised.
3
On the front steps of Frost Hollow Hall, a woman in tweeds greeted them.
‘Aha!’ she exclaimed. ‘Our invaders have arrived!’
Which made them sound like the enemy, Stan thought grimly, even though the woman herself was smiling. Twisting around her ankles in one squirming, yapping mass were so many little sausage dogs that it was impossible to count them.
Stan hung back. He wasn’t a great fan of dogs, especially little ones. June had been bitten by one once, and he never forgot how much she’d said it’d hurt.
‘That woman looks bonkers. Who is she?’ Lalit whispered.
‘Miss Barrington, the owner, I think,’ Stan whispered back. He’d expected someone young like Mum, but the woman had bobbed grey hair and wore a gentleman’s suit, which must’ve been stifling in the heat.
When the woman introduced herself, she was in fact Miss Potter, the housekeeper. Along with the dogs, who were now licking the children’s dusty shoes, it added to the general air of confusion.
‘Go on inside, that’s right. Don’t cause a log jam!’ she told them bossily. Thinking her rather terrifying, Stan hurried past.
They found themselves in an entrance hall that was easily the size of a ballroom, and full of people carrying army-issue blankets, bed frames, piles of starched white sheets. It was a job to know where to stand and not be in the way. Though the army had clearly taken over, there was plenty of the old house still to stare at. The walls were full of paintings of men on snorting horses and women wearing floppy hats. Chandeliers dripped light from the ceiling. A huge dark-wood staircase disappeared up to the floor above.
‘Does the king live here?’ Maggie asked, wide-eyed.
She had a point: Frost Hollow Hall was like a palace. Even the floor they were currently standing on was polished marble, which would be superb for skidding across in your socks. Stan’s gloomy feeling began to lift again. Perhaps being here wouldn’t be too bad. What with the lake outside, and the house being so splendid and grand and old, maybe he’d have an adventure here.
As they waited, not sure what to do next, a woman stopped to speak to Miss Potter. She had untidy grey hair that was coming loose from its bun, and she looked too old to be lugging things upstairs.
‘Where are we putting the boys, Edith?’ she asked, pushing strands of hair back with her arm.
‘Master Kit’s room,’ Miss Potter replied.
The older woman’s arm went still.
‘That’s all right, is it, Mum?’ Miss Potter added hastily.
‘’Course ’tis, lovey.’ The woman finished tidying her hair and picked up her buckets again. Stan could see the likeness then. Though the mother was skinny where her daughter was stout, they both had the same lively dark eyes. ‘It’ll do the room good to have a bit of life in it, won’t it, eh?’
It left Stan wondering who Master Kit was, and why his bedroom was empty. He glanced again at the portraits on the walls – family pictures, he supposed, of people who’d lived here a very long time ago. And died here, he thought uneasily.
*
When their bedrooms were finally ready, the children were taken upstairs. The house was less grand up here, with dusty dark furniture and worn patches in the carpet. Around some of the windows the wallpaper was peeling off.
The wild-haired old woman, who Stan guessed must be called Mrs Potter, led them down a corridor full of doors until she stopped at what seemed to be the front of the house. ‘Girls on the left, lads on the right,’ she said. She had a thick country accent, soft round the edges.
Behind her, Stan glimpsed a stupidly large room in which were rows of narrow hospital-type beds. Out of nowhere, he thought of Mum, all bandaged up and bruised. As the other boys charged in to claim their beds, he hung back, biting his lip. The need to cry suddenly overwhelmed him.
Stuff adventures. Stuff swimming in the lake. He didn’t want to be here, sleeping in a room with boys he hardly knew. Right at that moment, he’d rather have shared with his sisters, though they’d gone off quite cheerfully with the other girls. Even June had looked slightly less sour.
Stan sniffed back his tears, unaware that Mrs Potter was still in the corridor.
‘The first night away from home’s always tough,’ she said, making him jump. ‘A kind person told me that, many years ago.’
‘I’ll survive.’ He quickly dabbed his eyes with his shirtsleeve.
She smiled. ‘’Course you will. I was about your age, you know, when I went away from home. I didn’t have nobody with me that first night, but I soon made a good friend. You’ve got a head start though, son. Some of your family are here with you, aren’t they?’
He didn’t mean to snort. ‘Fat lot of help that is, Mrs Potter. My big sister bloomin’ well hates me!’
‘Pah!’ Her eyes went skywards. ‘Sisters, eh? Well, I ain’t spoken to mine for over sixty years!’
Stan was amazed. He couldn’t imagine any argument lasting that long.
‘She took off to America with my pa – stole him away from me, more like, when I was always his favourite,’ Mrs Potter said. ‘Never came back home again, neither.’
She wasn’t laughing any more. She looked almost sad, or angry, or a mix of both.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ Stan muttered. ‘I’m not usually a crybaby.’
Mrs Potter patted his arm. ‘Daft, in’t it? Everyone expects boys to be strong and brave, but in my experience, they’re far more likeable when they’re honest about what they’re feeling.’ She sighed. ‘So, as we’ve shared a few confidences, you’d better call me Tilly.’
‘I’m Stanley,’ he replied. ‘You can call me Stan.’
He liked Tilly. She had a sparky, cheeky glint in her eye, like maybe she’d been a bit of a mischief-maker in her day. He betted she wouldn’t be afraid to tackle a German if she ever saw on
e.
‘Frost Hollow Hall is a fine old house. Belongs to a fine old family too,’ Tilly told him. ‘You’ll settle in soon enough.’
‘Best thing I’ve seen so far is the lake,’ Stan ventured.
Tilly’s face changed.
‘Can’t we go in it?’ he asked, wondering if he’d said the wrong thing. ‘I’m a really good swimmer, and can hold my breath underwater for nearly—’
‘No,’ Tilly interrupted sharply. ‘You can’t.’
‘Why not, though? It’s baking hot today, and swimming’s such a jolly good way to cool off.’
Tilly narrowed her eyes like she was considering how best to answer. ‘Places have memories, young man,’ she said eventually. ‘That lake harbours some very bad ones, and they’re best left in peace.’
She gave him a clean hankie that smelled of peppermint. ‘Dry your eyes properly, there’s a good lad. We’ve seen enough tears at Frost Hollow Hall.’
4
Right from the word go there were leaders amongst the children, and it was no surprise to Stan who they were. Early the next day, in the ten minutes after breakfast before lessons started, June called a meeting. Everyone piled into the girls’ bedroom, where his sister settled herself cross-legged on her bed. Clive was next to her, leaning on the bedside table. They had the look of a king and queen, if you ignored June’s turned-away shoulder and Clive’s smirking face. Stan could see it was an uneasy sort of truce.
‘If this place is going to be our home like Miss Potter says,’ June told them, ‘then there shouldn’t be so many stupid rules.’
She was referring to the moment at breakfast when Miss Potter had stood up, tapping her teacup for quiet. Everyone stopped talking but carried on eating so all you could hear was the sloshy sound of twenty sets of chewing jaws.
‘We want Frost Hollow Hall to feel like your home.’ Miss Potter’s smile was tight. ‘But please bear in mind it is our home as well, and so parts of the property will remain out of bounds to you.’
Which immediately got everyone listening a bit harder.
‘Firstly, no passing through the green baize doors to the servants’ quarters. Secondly,’ she ticked the places off on her fingers, ‘stay away from the East Wing of the house. Those are Miss Barrington’s quarters, and let’s just say she wasn’t very agreeable to having you here.’
We didn’t exactly want to come either, Stan thought to himself.
‘The other place you’re forbidden,’ she went on, her eyes scanning the room, ‘is the lake. It is completely, utterly out of bounds.’
A blush crept up Stan’s face. He’d a sneaking suspicion this was to do with what he’d told Tilly yesterday about wanting to go swimming. It disappointed him that she’d passed on what he’d said, yet her reaction, and now her daughter’s, was pretty intriguing. There was something about that lake: something mysterious and strange.
‘I know it’s summer, and a hot one too. But if I catch any of you out there, there’ll be consequences. Is that understood?’ Miss Potter went on, fiercely enough to get the message across.
As soon as she sat down, Clive started trying to catch Tommy’s eye. That was the trouble with him: you told him not to do something, and straight away he’d work out how to.
Which was exactly what was happening here now, in the girls’ bedroom.
‘So.’ Clive took over from where June left off. He rubbed his hands with glee. ‘We’re going to have a little game.’
Stan’s heart sank. Clive’s games usually involved hurting someone or smashing up people’s stuff. It didn’t help that Maggie was listening eagerly, hanging on Clive’s every word.
‘Here’s what we do,’ Clive explained. ‘All them places we’re banned from? We go to each one – the servants’ quarters, the East Wing, the lake – and nick something to prove we’ve been there.’
A hum of excitement spread around the room.
Lalit gave Stan a knowing look. ‘I can guess where you’ll be going first.’
He didn’t reply. He’d wanted to go swimming, that was all. To dive beneath the water and block out the world. But after what Tilly told him yesterday, he sensed something bad had happened out there, that the lake was somehow jinxed. And now that it’d become part of Clive and June’s stupid game, it felt well and truly spoiled.
‘It’ll be a competition,’ June added. ‘Two teams: boys versus girls. Whichever team gets the most daring things will be the winners.’
‘And remember the rules,’ Clive told them. ‘You absolutely have to take something as proof you’ve done the dare. Otherwise, we’ll think you’ve fibbed.’
A few of the boys flexed their muscles, thinking themselves champions already. But Stan knew all too well that his sister had more nerve than any of them. She’d never let Clive’s team win. He wished he was on her side, but as she still wasn’t really talking to him – and he was a boy – he supposed he could forget about it.
‘What’s the prize for winning?’ Lalit asked.
‘Chocolate?’ one of the younger boys suggested hopefully.
‘Cake?’ Maggie added.
‘To go home?’ Stan blurted out.
The room went quiet.
‘That ain’t going to happen.’ Clive gave him a withering look. ‘So you’d best get used to it.’
It was the sort of moment where normally June would step in and tell Clive to leave off teasing her little brother. Today, though, she looked the other way.
*
All morning, they sat through Miss Potter’s attempt at a maths lesson. Despite a maid coming in to open all the windows, the room was like a furnace. It made the children sleepy and headachy. Usually Stan was quite quick at sums, but today his brain felt like treacle.
At least no one mentioned the dare game again, and by mid-morning break another bit of news was doing the rounds. One of the younger kids, a red-haired girl called Sadie, said last night she’d woken up to find a woman sitting at the end of her bed.
‘What a load of old codswallop!’ Clive snorted.
Although close to tears, Sadie stuck to her story. ‘I’m not fibbing, honest I’m not. I heard the bed springs squeak when she stood up again. She was real. I saw her.’
All the little kids, Maggie included, looked worried.
‘Don’t worry, Maggot,’ Stan tried to reassure her. ‘It was probably just a dream.’
But he wondered if maybe Frost Hollow Hall had a ghost. And from the anxious looks on the other children’s faces he could tell he wasn’t the only one thinking it.
Lunch was disgusting. Bone soup was its official name, though it looked like greasy dishwater. The only good thing was that there were no more lessons afterwards. Once they were dismissed from the dining hall, they were free to spend the afternoon as they wished.
‘Though don’t forget what I explained to you this morning,’ Miss Potter reminded them.
Clive tapped his nose at June, who folded her arms with a scowl. Stan groaned to himself: by the looks of things, the dare game was still very much on. So it was a bit of a relief when Lalit asked him if he fancied exploring the gardens.
‘Sounds like a top plan,’ Stan agreed.
Back home, he’d never had much to do with Lalit, who went to a different school on the other side of the city that Mum said was for ridiculously clever students. Stan was glad of him now though: he was easy company, and talked about stuff other than dares and ghosts.
It was hot outside, so they left their school jumpers on the bench in the front porch. Maggie’s cardigan was there too – Stan noticed the name tag sewn inside. He’d not seen her at lunch, he realised then.
‘I’ll catch up with you in a minute,’ he told Lalit. ‘I just want to check Maggie’s all right.’
He found her almost straight away on the upstairs landing.
‘There you are!’ he said. ‘Aren’t you hungry? You missed lunch.’
Instead of answering, Maggie beckoned him to come closer. He’d noticed by now that she
was wearing someone else’s school jumper: it was so big it reached to her knees. What’s more, there seemed to be something hidden inside it. Something that was moving.
‘What are you up to?’ Stan asked.
‘I’ve done the dare thing!’ she whispered. ‘Look! I’ve got Lobelia!’
He frowned. ‘Who?’
‘It says on her collar, look.’
Before she could show him, a sausage dog stuck her head out to see what was happening. Unlike the others Stan had seen, this one had a rough coat. Her little whiskery head made her look like an otter.
‘Oh, you haven’t!’ Stan gulped. ‘Miss Potter’ll go mad!’
He wasn’t sure if he was impressed or horrified. The dog, though, was actually rather sweet, and he gave her a tentative stroke.
‘She’s not Miss Potter’s,’ Maggie told him. ‘I got her from that east place, down there.’ She pointed back down the stairs into the hall where, in a dark corner, was the door to the East Wing. ‘It wasn’t very nice, either. Not like out here. The lamps were funny old ones, and it was dark and rather creepy.’
‘You went to the East Wing?’
‘Yes. There was a woman in there, asleep in a chair.’
‘Was it Miss Potter?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘She had a nice face, though. Lobelia was curled up on her lap.’
He stared at Maggie. Never mind that he didn’t think much of this daft game, or that being a boy meant he wasn’t even on his sister’s team. The woman Maggie had just stumbled across was probably Miss Barrington, the actual owner of Frost Hollow Hall. She was the only person he knew of who lived in the East Wing of the house. And to have scooped up the dog asleep on her lap, well, that was a seriously impressive dare.
‘Wowzers, Maggot! Good work!’ he gasped.
Maggie beamed.
‘You’d better go and show June, I suppose,’ he added reluctantly.
Lobelia had other plans. A sudden wriggle and she was out of Maggie’s arms, racing down the stairs.
