by Amy Brown
Not trusting Jade with the antique taps, Zoe turned them off herself, then left Jade with instructions to be downstairs by six-thirty for dinner.
Lying in the deep, quadruped bath, Jade stared at the pink mould on the ceiling and strained her ears. The bathroom was silent now that the pipes had finished their loud work. If anyone was in the attic, they were keeping very still and quiet.
Jade began to rinse and soap the dried mud off her neck, hair and ear. Her jersey and helmet had borne the brunt of it, but somehow her ear lobe had been liberally coated, too. She lay back and ducked her head right under the water — mud and soapy residue swam past her open eyes. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer, she sat up. As the water seeped out of her ears, she heard a voice.
‘Roland, I know you’re there!’
Jade froze, listening to the deep, female voice.
‘It’s important, Roland.’
Surely she wasn’t going crazy? That was definitely, definitely a woman’s voice. An angry woman’s voice.
‘Maybe you’re downstairs with your family right now, but as soon as you’re back in your office we need to talk!’
Pulling the plug out and wasting a lot of still-hot water, Jade dried herself as quickly as she could, dressed in her clean sweat shirt and jeans, and, hair still dripping down her neck, ran down stairs. The others were watching TV. The way they were staring at a re-run of Friends, eyes glazed, mouths slightly open, Jade could tell that no one else had heard the voice.
‘Laura,’ Jade whispered, lying on the floor next to her friend, who was sprawled by the open fire. ‘I heard a woman’s voice coming from the attic.’
‘Honest?’ Laura asked, eyes widening.
‘I swear. Either that or I’m going mad.’
‘What’s the secret?’ Zoe asked as the ads started. ‘It’s rude to whisper, don’t you know?’
‘I didn’t want to interrupt Friends,’ Jade said weakly. ‘I was just telling Laura the story you’d told me about the possum.’
‘What story?’ Laura said without thinking. Becca glared at her friends.
‘I guess it wasn’t so much a story as an anecdote,’ Jade said. ‘You told it way better, Zoe.’
‘Tell me,’ Becca demanded.
‘OK,’ Zoe sighed. Laura smiled apologetically at Jade. The crisis had been averted, for now.
While Becca was brushing her teeth, Jade and Laura plotted. Huddled in their pyjamas and sleeping bags on Jade’s bunk, the girls predicted that Zoe would suggest another cross-country ride tomorrow. Becca, Cosima and maybe even Mrs Death would ride, too. Bronson would no doubt sleep until at least ten, and then leave in his car.
‘And, while you were in the bath, Mr Death said he’d been called into town for a meeting tomorrow. That means the house will be empty!’ Laura whispered, louder than Jade usually talked.
‘So, I’ll say I’m not ready for a cross-country ride yet — which is true,’ Jade said. ‘And, maybe you could offer to keep an eye on me or something, if you don’t mind not riding?’
‘No, I’d much rather be here with you. If there is a lady in the attic,’ Laura said gravely, ‘we have to do something.’
‘We know where the ladder is. And there’s bound to be a key for the trapdoor somewhere.’
‘There’s a bowl full of keys in the kitchen,’ Laura whispered again, excited.
‘Perfect. It’s all decided then,’ Jade said. Tomorrow they would investigate the attic.
‘Should we tell Becca about it?’ Laura said, scrambling up to the top bunk with her sleeping bag on.
‘It might be dangerous,’ Jade said, vaguely, feeling like one of the detectives on the shorts of Criminal Minds, a show her dad never let her watch.
‘She feels left out,’ Laura said. ‘But I guess you’re right.’
Jade didn’t reply. But, as she closed her eyes, an uncomfortable feeling set in. It intensified when Becca finally returned from the bathroom, switched off the light and said goodnight to her friends. Was her voice sad, or was Jade imagining it?
As Jade stirred, morning light was filtering through the orange curtains, making the room seem much warmer than it actually was. Waking instantly, as she did on important mornings like Christmas Day and the date of the Flaxton Show, Jade wriggled out of her sleeping bag and dressed quickly.
Becca was already up and, presumably, down at the breakfast table, but Laura was still sleeping deeply, pillow held in place over her head.
‘Laura, wakey-wakey,’ Jade said.
‘It’s too cold to get up,’ Laura moaned.
‘No, it isn’t really. It’s sunny.’ Jade pulled open the curtains, exposing an unusually bright winter morning. The day really did look inviting — perfect for a long ride. If only Tani were easier. If only Jade hadn’t heard that voice.
Downstairs, there was a pot bubbling on the stove. Becca, Cosima and Zoe were already sprinkling brown sugar over their mounds of porridge.
‘I like watching it go all shiny as it melts,’ Zoe said, using the back of her spoon to spread the dissolving sugar more evenly.
‘I like the way the porridge floats like an island in the milk,’ Becca replied.
Jade didn’t really enjoy porridge at all, but thanked Zoe all the same when she handed over a big bowl. ‘You don’t want to fall off on an empty stomach.’ Zoe laughed heartily, before saying, ‘I’m sorry — I shouldn’t be so mean. Are you coming with us today, Jade? Perfect riding weather.’
‘It is a gorgeous day,’ Jade agreed, ‘but I reckon I’ll just ride in the home paddock again. At least that way, when I fall off, Tani won’t have far to run.’
Zoe laughed. ‘Fair enough. But you won’t be ready for the hunt on Saturday — not nearly. You’ll have to follow through the gates with the old ladies and toddlers.’
‘I know,’ Jade replied. ‘And it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to rush Tani anymore. If he’s not ready to jump, we’ll ride through the gates; and if he’s not ready for any of it, we’ll stay at home.’ It was easy to be assertive now that it seemed unlikely anyone would be hunting on Saturday — not if Jade and Laura did find someone in the attic. The hunt seemed impossibly far away.
‘Remember to use the martingale, and borrow some spurs, too,’ Zoe said.
‘No, thanks,’ Jade said, as politely as she could. ‘I might borrow the lunging rope, though, if that’s OK.’
‘I guess you can’t fall off if you don’t even hop on,’ Zoe said. ‘Sure — help yourself to whatever you need.’
‘I think maybe I should give Jade a hand with Tani; let Sofia have a rest,’ Laura added. ‘You don’t mind if we stay here, do you, Becca?’ she went on, seeing her red-haired friend frowning.
‘No, why should I? You two slow us down anyway. Now we can have a real ride, eh, Zoe?’
‘I guess.’
‘It’s true!’ Becca continued. ‘I don’t know why Jade and Laura don’t just go home. You’re not interested in the hunt this weekend at all,’ Becca said, glancing from Jade to Laura.
‘Don’t say that, Bec,’ Laura tried. ‘Jade’s having a hard time with Tani. She can’t help it.’
‘She could if she followed people’s advice for once.’ Clattering the porridge bowls, Becca began clearing the breakfast table.
The bickering stopped abruptly when Mr Death appeared. He was wearing a smart grey overcoat and carrying a brown leather briefcase.
‘Off riding again today, I suppose?’ he asked vaguely, distracted by his keys. Both Jade and Laura watched carefully as he dropped a long silver key into the bowl on the bench, and swapped it for the keys to his four-wheel-drive.
‘Yep. Jade and Laura are staying behind, but we’ll be going for a long gallop, I reckon.’
‘Ma will want to join you. She’s in a foul mood, the sort of mood that she says only a good gallop can clear.’ Mr Death paused and looked at Jade and Laura. ‘Will you girls have enough to entertain you this morning while everyone’s out?’
&nb
sp; ‘Yes,’ they said rapidly, in unison.
‘Yes, I’m sure you will,’ Mr Death said, smiling in a way that Jade found quite sinister. ‘C’mon, Alan,’ Mr Death called the German shepherd. ‘While I suffer through a dull meeting, you’re going to be tortured by Nicky, aren’t you?’
Jade’s eyes widened.
‘Check-up at the V-E-T clinic,’ Zoe spelt out, whispering just in case Alan could understand. The dog wagged his tail, apparently oblivious to his fate.
Jade and Laura joined the others in the stable, and went through the motions of preparing Tani for a morning of lunging. To be honest, Jade wished that that was how they would actually spend the next few sunny hours. The home paddock, glistening with frost and sunlight, looked so safe compared with the dark hallway, creaking ladder and ominous trapdoor.
‘Let’s lunge him for ten minutes on each rein, so it doesn’t look suspicious,’ Jade suggested.
‘Are you sure? I was thinking that we shouldn’t waste any time. If there’s really someone trapped up there, we need to let them out and call the police before Mr Death gets home.’ Laura stared at Jade with great solemnity.
‘Just ten minutes — until they’ve ridden over the other side of the hill.’
Tani’s foibles seemed charming and easy to cope with compared with the thought of releasing a madwoman from an attic and calling the emergency services. Jade relished the rhythm of her pony’s pace. ‘Walking, waalking, waalking,’ Jade repeated hypnotically, tapping the whip a safe distance behind him, in time with the hoof falls, guiding his stride.
It occurred to Jade that lunging a pony might be a bit like conducting an orchestra. You had to pay attention to the head and legs, to the way the spine was bending; you had to keep reminding the pony how the stride, or song, was supposed to go.
Were Tani’s legs more like the percussion or the string section? Jade wondered, losing track of her metaphor.
‘It’s safe,’ Laura called. She’d been sitting tensely on the gate, watching the horizon for the last half an hour, waiting for the riders to disappear behind it.
‘They must have decided to go a different way,’ Laura said. ‘Maybe they know what we’re up to and wanted to keep an eye on us? They rode all the way along the ridge, rather than opening the top gate and cutting down the other side. We’ve lost so much time!’ Laura began to fret. ‘I’m sure Mr Death will come back too soon — and then what will happen? Jade, I’m scared.’
Jade was worried, too. But in the paddock it was difficult to believe that Mr Death had a terrible secret. She brought Tani in and gave him a big pat. It was a shame to have to stop schooling him now, as he’d been going really well. The sun, and Jade’s distraction, encouraged and calmed the pony, and he was being so obliging.
‘Hurry, Jade!’ Laura whined, watching her friend untacking slowly; out of habit, Jade had lunged Tani with his saddle on.
‘Five more minutes,’ Jade apologized. She wanted to brush thoroughly where his girth had been, and check one more time whether there was enough water in the home paddock, before turning him out where he could continue to enjoy the sun on his skin.
‘Mr Death could be home in half an hour!’ Laura yelled. ‘Jade, we have to hurry. If you actually heard someone in the attic, we can’t waste any more time.’
‘OK, I’m ready,’ Jade said, taking one more long look at her well-behaved pony. ‘Let’s do it.’
The long silver key slid all the way into the trapdoor lock, but, being an old key in an old lock, it was difficult to turn. Jade’s hand shook slightly as she tried both clockwise and anticlockwise. Laura, who was holding the ladder steady, stared up at her friend. She let out a sigh as she heard the lock click open, and only then did she realize that she had been holding her breath.
Jade could feel the blood leaving her face as she pushed the heavy trapdoor up and began to climb all the way into Mr Death’s attic.
‘Hello?’ she called softly.
There was no answer. Could she hear someone breathing, or was it her own heartbeat thumping in her ears? Standing up in the dark now, the next job was to find the light switch. The dim hallway, where Laura was standing ‘keeping watch’, provided little in the way of illumination.
‘How’s it going?’ came a small voice from below.
‘Just trying to find the light switch.’
Turning towards the desk, Jade’s breath was taken away for a moment: there seemed to be a figure — a female figure — standing, watching her, in the corner of the small room.
‘You OK, Jade?’ Laura must have heard her gasp.
On the desk was a lamp. Jade fumbled for the switch on the lamp’s base. A sickly halogen light filled the attic gradually, revealing a tall blonde woman wearing a hunting kit and blood-red lipstick. Jade screamed louder and higher than she thought possible.
‘Jade!’ Laura called. ‘What is it? Jade!’
Moving towards the figure, Jade’s heart rate gradually slowed. She let out a lungful of breath and even laughed slightly.
A cardboard cut-out. ‘Just cardboard,’ Jade said, laughing with relief.
‘What?’ Laura’s pale face peeked through the open trapdoor. ‘Oh!’ Even in the light of the lamp, the life-sized cardboard woman had fooled Laura, too.
‘Where have I seen her before?’ Jade asked, keeping a fingertip on the figure, making sure the cut-out wouldn’t come to life.
‘Look at the bookshelves,’ Laura said, her eyes sharper than Jade’s. There were at least ten copies of The Hunters, by Velvet de Latour. ‘I think that’s the lady from the cover — they had her in the book shop, too. But why is she in Mr Death’s office?’
‘Oh, my goodness,’ Jade said, looking now at the reams of paper next to the printer on Mr Death’s desk, each of them headed Full-Wire Girls. ‘Could Mr Death have written these?’
‘No, Jade — Velvet de Latour, see?’
Jade was about to use one of her favourite phrases — nom de plume — when the ringing phone cut her off. Both girls jumped.
‘Don’t answer it,’ Laura hissed.
Jade gave her friend a look. ‘Of course not.’
After only two rings, the answer-phone took the call. ‘Roland,’ the deep female voice Jade had heard the night before said, ‘great stuff today — we’re really excited about how Full-Wire is looking. We forgot to discuss cover art, though, and I was hoping you might be home by now—’
‘And so I am,’ Roland Death said. Both girls froze. ‘Excuse me, Jade, I have to take this call. Would it be too much to ask you two to wait downstairs?’ His voice was ice-cold.
Jade and Laura slid down the ladder as fast as they could.
‘Don’t go anywhere,’ he called. ‘I’ll be down soon.’
‘So there’s no woman in the attic?’ Laura asked Jade.
‘The voice must have been the answer-phone.’
‘What about all the laughing you said you heard?’
Jade didn’t know what to say. ‘I guess I must have imagined it. I thought I heard it …’
‘Jade, this is so embarrassing. You let your imagination run away with you. You trespassed on private property.’
‘So did you!’
‘I’m not the one who thought Mr Death was a character from Jane Eyre.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jade said, defeated.
‘Jane Eyre?’ Mr Death said, slowly climbing down the attic ladder, having carefully locked the trapdoor after him. ‘This should be good.’
‘I was really stupid,’ Jade admitted.
‘Go on,’ Mr Death said.
‘I thought I’d heard voices coming from the attic. I was convinced there was someone up there who needed help.’ Saying it out loud now, Jade felt ridiculous.
‘Sorry, just let me clarify: you thought I had a deranged ex-wife hidden in my office?’
‘I guess.’
Mr Death started chuckling. Soon the chuckle had grown into a deep belly-laugh. Wiping tears from his eyes, Mr Death looked at Jade
and Laura, who hadn’t so much as smiled.
‘There aren’t many excuses I’d accept for your entering an office so private that even my own wife doesn’t go there, but I think you’ve managed.’
Jade began to relax. She smiled a little.
‘You did, however, discover a secret: Velvet de Latour. She must never leave my office. Understand?’
The girls nodded.
‘I’m serious, Jade, Laura. If a single word of this gets out, I’ll be ruined. You must not tell a soul. No one knows that I write these books. Even Ma thinks I’m still an accountant. In a sense, I am — I do the farm accounts. But, please, you simply cannot tell anyone about this.’
‘Why is it so secret?’ Laura asked, after a pause.
‘Why? Because the books wouldn’t sell if the readers knew who I was. My family would be embarrassed. My friends would look at me differently. I’d become infamous.’
Jade thought about what a fantastic story this would be for her dad to break in the Flaxton Times. No, she couldn’t do it.
‘Promise me that this will stay between us?’
It felt odd being sworn to secrecy by someone else’s father, but the girls agreed.
‘I promise,’ they both said.
‘Good — it’s our secret.’ Mr Death smiled.
Swinophobia
Their late lunch consisted of delicious white-bread sandwiches filled with ham off the bone, sweet, seedy mustard and crisp iceberg lettuce leaves. Cosima ate only the bread, but liberally added peanut butter.
‘Just try a speck of ham, Cos; it’s such good meat,’ Mr Death said, in the overly jovial tone he had adopted since the riders had returned. It was as though he thought his good-humoured chatter might leave no room for the secret to slip out.
Cosima screwed up her nose.
‘Leave her alone, you know she won’t touch it,’ Mrs Death said. ‘Cosima rode beautifully this morning, so, as far as I’m concerned, she can eat whatever she likes. It really cheered me up, a good gallop with my girls.’ She certainly seemed in the best mood Jade had witnessed yet. ‘Becca, you did well, too: confident, brave, decisive — all the things I like in a rider. How was your morning, Jade?’
