by Natasha Lowe
“You will not speak to your mother in that way,” Nanny Grimshaw fumed, following Mabel into the room.
“Mabel, please,” Nora said, hurrying over.
“Is it true?” Mabel sobbed. “Have you been pretending all this time to be my mother? Was I abandoned as a baby?”
“Mabel.” Nora’s face drained of color. She held out her hand. “It’s not like that.”
“And Dr. Ratcliff. He’s not my father, is he? Is he?” Mabel repeated. Nora slowly shook her head. “You should have told me,” Mabel cried out. “And to hear it from horrible Winifred Delacy.”
“Oh, Mabel, please,” Nora said, but Mabel was already squeezing past Nanny, trying to get to the stairs.
“Not so fast,” Nanny Grimshaw exploded, grabbing Mabel by the arm. “You insolent, rude child. I have never seen such disrespectful behavior. Talking back to your mother, screaming.” She pulled Mabel into the hallway and yanked her umbrella out of the stand. “Hold out your hand,” Nanny Grimshaw ordered, raising the umbrella above her head. “This deserves a proper beating.”
“No,” Nora shouted from the doorway. “Put that down right now.” The color had returned to her face and she was shaking. “How dare you threaten to hit my child! How dare you.” Mabel had never seen her mother so angry. “You may pack your bags and leave. I will not tolerate such behavior.”
“You won’t tolerate such behavior?” Nanny Grimshaw gasped, not letting go of Mabel. “After all I’ve put up with, looking after this—this charity case for eight years. And I’ve never said a word, have I?” she spat out. “Oh, I knew,” Nanny Grimshaw said, breathing hard. “The Cranfords’ nanny was most informative. But I kept it to myself. You should be thanking me for all I’ve done.”
“I’ll thank you to leave,” Nora said in a low voice, pointing at the front door. “I have clearly been blind about a great many things.”
“You’ll never find another nanny to take my place. Mabel is ungovernable.” Nanny Grimshaw sniffed and pulled back her shoulders. “I was planning on giving my notice anyway. I know she put me under some kind of spell the other night, and I will not stand for such behavior. I’ve a good mind to report her to Miss Brewer.”
“Please go,” Nora said sharply. “Now.”
The moment Nanny Grimshaw loosened her hold, Mabel yanked her arm free and ran upstairs to her room. She closed the door and banged against it, over and over, until her fist was swollen and throbbing. Then Mabel climbed into bed, burying herself under her feather comforter. It was warm and dark and she never wanted to come out. Shutting her eyes, she hunched into a tight ball, and with tears slipping down her cheeks, Mabel escaped into a shocked sleep.
She slept for a long time, noticing when she woke up, that the light was soft and mellow, full of the golden glow of a summer afternoon. Someone had left a cup of tea and a piece of seedcake on the little table beside her bed. But Mabel wasn’t hungry. Tea and cake couldn’t fill the emptiness she felt inside her right now. Somewhere out there she had another mother. Getting out of bed, Mabel went to find Nora.
“I’d like to know the truth, please,” Mabel said, standing beside Nora’s chair.
Nora nodded and reached for Mabel’s hand. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, Mabel. I really didn’t. But I hated seeing you get hurt. Eliza Cranford was awful to you. All the children were, and when we moved to Potts Bottom, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for a fresh start. I didn’t want you being teased at school, or judged. I just wanted to protect you.” Nora squeezed Mabel’s fingers. “I love you, Mabel.”
“Did you really find me in a flowerpot?” Mabel asked, sinking down on the footstool by Nora’s chair.
“I did.” Nora nodded. And in a soft voice she told Mabel all about her beginnings, about finding her tucked up in one of the terra-cotta flowerpots by the front door, covered in a blanket of ferns.
“How could my mother do that to me?” Mabel whispered.
“It was full of earth and nice and soft. Your mother did it out of love, Mabel. You must believe that. She wanted you to have a better life.”
“I don’t believe any mother would abandon her baby out of love,” Mabel said fiercely.
“If she couldn’t take care of you, she had little choice,” Nora murmured. “Otherwise you would have ended up in an orphanage.”
Mabel picked at a loose thread on the embroidered stool cover. “Why did she choose your house?” she asked. “Did she know you?”
“I have a feeling that she did. Frank and I spent many afternoons distributing blankets and food to the poor, and after he died I continued on for some years, doing what I could.” Nora was silent for a few moments, and then said, “It was well known that Frank and I had wanted children.”
For a long time the room was silent. Mabel wrapped her arms around her legs, trying to picture what her mother looked like. Did she ever think of Mabel and wonder what had happened to her? Did she have the same achy feeling in her heart that Mabel was experiencing right now? At one point Nora handed Mabel her handkerchief, and Mabel dabbed at her eyes with it, not realizing she had been crying.
“I pushed Winifred,” Mabel said at last. “And I ran out of class. I’m bound to get in a lot of trouble.”
“Would you like me to go and talk to Miss Brewer tomorrow? Try and explain things?” Nora said.
“No, thank you,” Mabel replied. “I’ll manage.” She heaved a heavy sigh, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the clock.
“Is Nanny really gone?” Mabel suddenly asked, not quite believing that Nanny Grimshaw wasn’t waiting on the other side of the door, ready to march Mabel up to the nursery.
“I should have let her go a long time ago. That was another of my mistakes. I didn’t listen to you, and I’m so sorry. You tried to tell me, Mabel. I should have paid more attention. Not been so busy with my roses.” Nora put her head in her hands and groaned.
“That’s all right, Mama. Nanny was different with you. I’m just glad she’s left,” Mabel said. “And I don’t think we need another nanny.”
“No.” Nora nodded in agreement. “I believe we can manage without one.”
“I think, if you don’t mind, I would like to change my name to Magnolia,” Mabel said. “Mabel doesn’t feel right anymore. Perhaps my real grandmother was called Magnolia? Maybe that’s why I have always liked the name.” Mabel squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, Mabel.” Nora’s eyes filled with sadness.
“You should have told me,” Mabel whispered, pressing her face against her knees. “Mothers don’t keep secrets from their daughters.”
Lying in bed that evening, Mabel couldn’t sleep. She kicked her covers off and then yanked them back on, unable to settle. Somewhere out there she had a mother and a father she had never met. Perhaps it had all been a horrible accident, Mabel thought, flipping her pillow to the cool side. Perhaps she had bounced out of their carriage driving over a pothole one night and they didn’t see. Maybe someone found her outside the Ratcliff house and put her in the flowerpot to keep her safe. Maybe her parents never realized she was gone until they got home, and by then it was too late. Maybe they grieved for years and years, not knowing what had happened to her. Mabel’s eyes filled with tears, imagining what they might look like. Her father would be tall with kind eyes, and her mother would have the softest hands and the sweetest smile. They would have loved Mabel so much that they never went on to have any more children. Mabel thumped her pillow, and then thumped it again, over and over until tiny feathers leaked out. She dropped her head down and started to sob, knowing in her heart that she had been left in that flowerpot on purpose.
Chapter Eighteen
* * *
Cobweb-Sweeping Duty and a Brain Wave
IT FELT SO STRANGE THE next morning, not having Nanny Grimshaw there, flinging back her curtains. And when Mabel washed her face, she realized that Daisy had brought up warm water in the pitcher and not cold. Nora rose early to have breakfast with her, and Daisy had m
ade scones, spread thickly with butter and homemade gooseberry jam.
“I’m never going to make another pan of porridge again as long as I live,” Daisy whispered, braiding Mabel’s hair for her. “Now that the mean old nanny goat has gone.” Mabel knew Daisy was only trying to cheer her up, but she couldn’t smile. There was too much to think about, what with Nora not being her real mother, and the thought of facing Miss Brewer and all the girls at school. Mabel’s stomach ached. All she wanted was to crawl back into bed.
Nora gave her an extra-long hug before she left. “Miss Brewer is a sensible woman,” she pointed out. “I’m sure she won’t judge you too harshly.”
Ruby was waiting for Mabel outside the house, admiring Nora’s magnificent roses. “I thought we could walk to school together,” Ruby said, “since you left Lightning and your broomstick behind yesterday. To be honest I’d rather walk than fly, anyway,” she added.
“Thanks, Ruby.” Mabel tried to keep the glumness from her voice.
The girls walked in silence for a while, Ruby’s cat trotting along beside them. It was only as they turned down Glover Lane that Ruby spoke. “No one cares what Winifred said, Mabel. It’s not important where you came from. I’m just glad that we’re friends.”
“It’s important to me,” Mabel whispered. “Apparently I came from a flowerpot, Ruby.”
“Then you were meant to be found by Mrs. Ratcliff,” Ruby said firmly. “Because judging from her roses, she is amazing at taking care of things.”
Mabel swallowed the lump in her throat. It was impossible to explain how she felt inside. But things were different now, and Mabel couldn’t sweep away what she had discovered. Or ignore it. “I’ve decided to change my name to Magnolia,” she said. “Mabel is a family name, and it has never felt right to me.”
“Well, I like it,” Ruby said stoutly. “I always have. But I’ll try and get used to Magnolia,” she added quickly, “if that is really what you want.”
“It is,” Mabel said. “The best news is Nanny Grimshaw has gone. Mama fired her because she tried to beat me.” Giving a shaky laugh, Mabel added, “It was almost worth finding out where I came from to be rid of her.” But knowing that Nora had kept the truth from her all these years hurt. And turning her head away, Mabel brushed a hand across her eyes.
“So no more cold porridge for breakfast,” Ruby said. “That must make you happy.”
Mabel nodded, glad that she had Ruby to walk into school with. As soon as Tabitha saw her, she raced over and gave Mabel a long hug.
Feeling ready to face her doom, Mabel walked straight to Miss Brewer’s office.
“How nice of you to join us today,” Miss Brewer said, folding her hands on her desk.
Mabel wasn’t sure if Miss Brewer was being sarcastic or not, but at least she hadn’t taken down the whipping wand, which hung from a hook on the wall. “I apologize for my behavior yesterday,” Mabel said. “I should not have pushed Winifred or run away.”
“No, you should not, Mabel Ratcliff. That sort of conduct is unacceptable here at Ruthersfield, and we do not tolerate it. When you put on your uniform and walk outside, you represent this school, and young witches do not shove other students. They do not leave class in the middle of a lesson, either.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Brewer. I really am.”
“Nor,” Miss Brewer continued, “do they behave with the petty meanness that Winifred displayed. So you will both spend the morning on cobweb-cleaning duty.”
Mabel stared at the headmistress, waiting for her to say more. “Well, go on, Mabel, shoo.” Miss Brewer picked up a pen. “I cannot spend all day dealing with your problems.”
Sometimes Miss Brewer could be surprisingly human, and as Mabel opened the door, she decided it was worth the risk. “About the flying petition, Miss Brewer?”
“Leave,” Miss Brewer said, pointing at the whipping wand. “Before I get that down.”
Mabel spent the rest of the morning flying around the school with Lightning, dusting all the cobwebs from the corners. She tried to keep out of Winifred’s way, but at one point they both found themselves sweeping the great hall together. Surprisingly, Winifred didn’t say anything to Mabel, and at lunchtime Mabel noticed that her eyes looked all red from crying. Diana and Florence kept hovering over her, patting Winifred’s back and murmuring things in her ears. Mabel asked Ruby and Tabitha if they knew what the matter was.
“Diana told me that Winifred’s upset because she doesn’t want to let her father down,” Ruby said. “Apparently he’s expecting her to enter the competition and win. At least that’s what Winifred told Diana.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s been so horrid lately?” Tabitha said. “Because she’s worried about the competition. And she’s taking it out on you.”
“I thought she might have felt bad about being so mean,” Mabel sighed. “But clearly not.” And by the end of the day, apart from her puffy eyes, Winifred was back to her confident, bragging self.
“I think Winifred has never forgiven me for getting that glamorizing spell right in year one,” Mabel said, flying part of the way home with Ruby after school. At the bottom of Canal Street, Ruby would veer off down the path toward her cottage, and Mabel would fly on to Trotting Hill.
“She’s scared of you,” Ruby replied, swerving a little as she flew.
“Winifred! Scared of me! That’s ridiculous. She’s beautiful and elegant and—”
“Especially now,” Ruby broke in, “since she knows you’re going to come up with something wonderful and Mabelish for the competition, and she won’t.”
“Magnoliaish, and I haven’t decided on anything yet,” Mabel said. “Although now that Nanny Grimshaw’s gone, I’ll have much more time to work on it.”
“I’m trying to make cloud slippers for my ma,” Ruby said. “Her feet hurt her all the time, and with cloud slippers she could feel like she’s walking on air. But clouds are so hard to work with. They keep falling apart, so I’ll have to chose something else.”
“I’m working on a hair-growing potion, but that’s not going very well either,” Mabel said, deciding to ask Daisy if she might have another go at experimenting when she got home.
“Absolutely not,” Daisy said, shaking her head. She was hanging laundry on the line. Mabel opened her mouth to speak, but Daisy cut her off before she could say anything else on the subject. “No more messing about with my hair, thank you very much.”
Mabel sighed and sank onto the grass next to Lightning, who immediately rolled over to get his belly stroked.
“Not a drop of wind,” Daisy muttered, pegging out Nora’s emerald dress. “And your mother wanted to wear this to one of her meetings tomorrow. It’s never going to dry at this rate.” Mabel sighed again, louder this time. “So how was school?” Daisy asked, as she hung up a pair of bloomers.
“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” Mabel’s voice grew tight and her chest ached. “But I just can’t believe I’m an orphan, Daisy. That my mother abandoned me.”
“Miss Mabel,” Daisy said, before Mabel quickly interrupted her.
“It’s Magnolia now, remember?”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t matter what your name is. Nora took you in and gave you a home. She loved you from the moment she set eyes on you. You should be very grateful to her. She’s as much your mother as the woman who birthed you.”
“Except I can’t stop thinking about what my other mother was like. Why she did what she did.” Mabel plucked at the grass. “I feel lost, Daisy, like I don’t know where I belong anymore.”
“That’s the shock of finding out,” Daisy said sensibly. “But you do know where you belong. Right here.”
“Nora’s not my real family though, is she?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daisy said bluntly. “Families are the people who look after us and love us. You and Mrs. Ratcliff are like family to me. I never knew my own parents, and that’s just the way it is.”
A deep wave of loneliness sw
ept over Mabel. Daisy hadn’t heard what she was saying. It didn’t feel ridiculous to Mabel, wanting to know her own story.
“Now, how about a cup of tea and a bun,” Daisy said more gently, “since this dress isn’t going to dry with me gawking at it.”
Mabel looked up and blinked. She took off her glasses and brushed away her tears, staring at Daisy.
“What is it?” Daisy asked suspiciously. “Something’s going on in that head of yours. I can tell.”
Mabel scrambled to her feet and gave a watery smile. “I think you have just given me an idea, Daisy.”
“So long as it doesn’t concern my hair,” Daisy said, protectively touching her cap. “It’s finally starting to grow back in.”
“No, it doesn’t. But I know what I’m going to make for the competition.” Mabel waved at the line of laundry. “What if you could have a drying spell in a bottle?”
“I’m not following,” Daisy said. “At all.”
“Well, supposing you want your clothes to dry and there’s no wind, or it’s a rainy day and you have to hang them inside,” Mabel explained a little breathlessly. “Imagine how much simpler life would be if you opened a bottle and a warm breeze blew out and dried them all for you.”
“I’ll say,” Daisy said with a laugh. “No more wet clothes dripping all over the floor in the winter. But how on earth could you do that?”
“I think it might be possible.” Mabel cleaned her glasses on her pinafore. “I’d need to collect some strong warm winds, which could be a little challenging,” she confessed. “Wind isn’t an easy ingredient to work with. But I have my guide to spell construction. I’m sure I can do it.”
“Are you now?” Daisy hitched the empty laundry basket onto her hip. “And where would you get this wind from?” she asked, glancing up at the sky. “Potts Bottom doesn’t seem to have much blowing around lately.”
“Somewhere like Melton Bay,” Mabel answered. “Remember those hot summery breezes that would gust in off the ocean?” She spread her arms out wide and spun around. “I’d have to collect lots of sample winds to see which strength worked best, and then construct a simple spell to go along with it.”
