‘He must mean the pendant Uncle Jack found, and gave to Phoebe for Christmas,’ Mary whispered.
‘Be quiet!’ the Magician snapped, making Mary jump back and then pout. ‘Right,’ he said, looking up at the sun, ‘time to be off. Ask questions.’
The three children looked at each other.
‘Can we really live in animals?’ Alice asked.
‘Not exactly, no. You can experience them and they can carry you with them. But you couldn’t become one of them. It would be a form of blasphemy to change the nature of things. That we would never allow. Besides, what would be the point? It would serve no useful purpose, becoming an animal. Or a bird,’ he added, as if it were an afterthought. ‘Or a fish,’ he continued. ‘Why not? A fish might be a useful experience.’ He turned once more and stared at them with flashing eyes. ‘Remember always that the creatures are here to serve you. But be very careful; remember also that you are here to serve them. The day man first believed he was superior to the animal kingdom, that day the slow decline began. For you it is now very late. Your world is dying around you. My world. My future. All that we have striven for; the few of us who saw and knew and understood the signs. Am I too late? I don’t know. That is why I have had to project myself forward in time to your age. From one Elizabethan age to the next. From light to dark. From the high hope of the Renaissance to the high hope of the age of space.’
This long speech ended with the Magician mumbling to himself and shaking his head. Once again it seemed almost as though the children had ceased to exist for him; that he couldn’t see them, or rather that they were not part of his world.
‘Please,’ William asked. ‘When you’re not here with us – where do you go?’
‘Oh, dear. That is a very difficult question. I can’t actually claim ever to “be here” with you. No, not that. I’m not living here. I am projecting myself here. Do you understand?’
‘Like television?’ Mary asked, hazarding an inspired guess.
‘Very good,’ the Magician cried. ‘Precisely!’ Then he frowned. ‘What is – television?’
‘They don’t have one here,’ Alice said in a subdued voice. ‘Otherwise we could show you.’
‘Explain to me,’ the Magician snapped. ‘What is this . . . television?’
‘Oh, sausages!’ Alice sighed. ‘It’d be very hard to explain. You have this box, and when you switch it on, you get pictures.’
‘You get paintings?’
‘No.’ Alice shook her head. ‘Moving pictures. I mean – d’you know what a film is?’
‘A film of oil on water?’ the Magician asked.
‘No!’ Alice laughed. ‘A film – you know. Like ET or Indiana Jones . . . A film?’ she ended on a hopeful note.
‘Indiana who?’ the Magician demanded.
‘William – you try,’ Alice said, retiring from the debate.
‘I can’t,’ William protested. ‘It’s quite complicated really.’
‘So is projecting oneself forward in time,’ the Magician agreed. ‘Suffice to accept that you can see me. All right? Now, if you’ll excuse me. I am expecting company tonight.’
‘Where?’
‘At home,’ the Magician replied.
‘But – where is your home?’
‘Here – at Gelden House,’ the Magician replied.
‘Is it Christmas with you?’ William asked him.
‘Naturally – oh dear, I do see that it is complicated for you. It is time of course that is the culprit, because it doesn’t really exist. Time is just a thin . . . film perhaps? . . . a layer . . . Yes, that’s it. A layer. We simply belong to different layers, that’s all. Now do you understand?’
But he had only to look at their faces to know that they didn’t.
‘No. Not many of my pupils do, at first. But we must persevere,’ he declared.
‘Are you a schoolteacher?’ Alice asked, hearing him mention his pupils.
‘Not exactly, no. But, of course, we must pass on all that we learn. Knowledge that dies with us is dead knowledge. It benefits no one.’
‘Will we ever come back to your time?’ Mary asked him.
‘Possibly. But we must be very sure that you know how to get back to here again. Oh, you have a lot to experience. A lot to do. It is absolutely essential that the Tyler baby is prepared for the great work. I suppose a woman will be able to manage it. But it’s very different in my day.’
‘You’ve got a woman on the throne, though,’ Mary couldn’t resist pointing out.
‘True,’ the Magician replied. ‘And a deal of trouble she gives us all. They have to be flattered all the time.’
‘What about her father? I bet you had to flatter Henry the Eighth even more,’ Mary said.
‘That is very true. Those were not particularly auspicious times. It is certainly better now, with Bess on the throne. She’s actually quite keen on the alchemical arts, though of course she doesn’t like her subjects to know.’ The Magician nodded at her and smiled. ‘You are very wise. Have you been to my time, little girl?’
Mary blushed and shook her head.
‘She’s awfully good at history,’ Alice explained in a bored voice.
‘History? Am I history to you? How very odd. And you are the future to me. I tell you, magic startles me sometimes. Now, heigh ho! And no more questions, or I shall want to sleep all through the company.’
And turning his back on them, he marched towards the snow-covered hillside.
‘Wait!’ William called urgently.
‘Now what?’ the Magician asked, crossly.
‘The rat. Is the rat part of your plan?’
‘The rat?’ the Magician asked, surprised. ‘I don’t care for rats. The house is overrun with them. Morden has been doing experiments with rats. The rat will be Morden’s creature.’
‘We think the rat tried to prevent the baby being born.’
‘That’s more than likely,’ the Magician replied, sounding unconcerned. ‘Morden has followed me here before. I suspect he finds your world very much to his liking. Morden also is only interested in gold. Yes, he wouldn’t want me alive in your time. Morden would want your time to himself. It’s a pity really I took him on, but – he’s very good at the job. I knew at the time he would try to destroy me. What I didn’t realize was that he had his mind set on your acquisitive age. But really,’ he added as an afterthought, ‘I should have thought of that for myself!’
‘But, what shall we do?’ William was desperate.
‘Do?’ the Magician asked. ‘What should you do? Well, if you’re no match for Morden, you’re no match for anyone.’
‘Is this our test?’ Mary asked.
‘All life’s a test,’ the Magician replied, ‘or so I have found. Did I say I’d set you a test? Oh, well, I expect you’ve passed. I need you, so I can’t exactly afford to fail you, can I? You’ll do. You’ll do very well. Constant was my best assistant. Now I really must say farewell. The creatures will be a great boon to you. Happy the day I first projected into the owl. Not this owl, of course. Or is it perhaps this owl? I get so confused. Really, magic is very puzzling . . .’
‘If we need to see you . . .’ William called after him.
‘Then I’m sure that you’ll find me. But I expect you’ll manage very well on your own. The three of you. Two girls and a boy. Of course in my time we keep our girls at home. Customs obviously change most significantly after my death. Fascinating, really. Things never quite work out the way one expects them to . . .’
And, still chattering away to himself, and without looking back, the Magician walked into the deep forest and disappeared from view.
‘He’s gone,’ Alice said sadly.
Then Phoebe’s voice prevented any further discussion.
‘Children,’ she called, from the house. ‘I’ve been watching you all standing there in a dream! Come inside. It’s far too cold to play out there.’
‘Play!’ William said, scornfully.
But Mary sm
iled.
‘I think it’s rather sweet, really.’
‘What, Mare?’ Alice asked.
‘How little grown-ups really know,’ Mary replied.
And fortified with this reassuring observation the children went back into the house.
24
A Naming
THE SNOW STARTED to thaw three days later and by the time the children were due to leave Golden House it was sliding off the steep roofs in wedges and falling to the ground with wet thuds. Everywhere was dripping with water as the icicles melted and the trees released the captive snow. Soon stones started to show through the rough snow on the drive and a few blades of long grass forced their way through the slushy surface of the lawn.
On the night before the children’s departure Phoebe cooked a special meal for them all to make up for having missed Christmas.
Jack’s leg was still in plaster and he had to hobble about with the help of a crutch.
William spent the last day getting a whole stack of logs into the house and Alice and Mary tied up bunches of twigs for kindling and laid the bundles in the dry. They were concerned that the house should be kept warm for the baby and they knew that Jack would find these jobs difficult to do on his own until the plaster was removed from his leg.
On an earlier day William had walked all the way to the moor road and found the farmhouse from which he had borrowed the sledge. He returned it to the farmer’s wife, who insisted on his having tea and waiting for her husband to return from milking. Then the farmer drove him back along the snow-packed lanes to Golden House on the back of his tractor.
The farmer, whose name was Mr Jenkins, was introduced to Jack and Phoebe and he told them that if they needed anything at all, they had only to ask.
‘There is one thing,’ Jack said, looking a little embarrassed to be taking up this kind offer so quickly.
‘Just ask,’ Mr Jenkins said. ‘If I haven’t got it, then you can’t have it!’
‘No, it’s . . . because of my stupid leg, I won’t be able to drive the children to Druce Coven Halt . . .’
‘Good gracious now,’ the farmer said with a smile. ‘Tell me the time, tell me the day and keep your eyes open. I’ll be here. It’d be a pleasure.’
So it had been arranged that Mr Jenkins would call for them at nine o’clock on the morning of their departure.
Now, as the night drew in, stuffed full of Phoebe’s leek and lentil tart, followed by chocolate mousse, they all sat for the last time in front of a roaring fire in the hall of Golden House.
Phoebe was holding the baby, fast asleep, on her lap and Jack had his plastered leg propped up on a footstool in front of him.
The children stared into the flames of the fire and watched the sparks from the burning logs leap and dance up the dark cavern of the chimney.
It was a quiet, relaxing time and they would probably have nodded off to sleep if a sudden, impatient barking hadn’t sent Alice running to the front door.
‘Come in, Spot,’ she said, opening it wide, and the big black and white dog trotted into the hall and over to the fire.
Here he paused and looked up at Jack, expectantly.
‘What d’you want, eh?’ Jack asked him, leaning forward and holding his hand to the dog’s nose. ‘What is it, Spot?’
‘He wants you to say he can stay, Uncle Jack,’ Alice told him.
‘I thought that had been decided,’ Jack said with a smile.
‘By all of us, yes,’ Phoebe said. ‘But he wants to hear it from you, Jack.’
‘Please, Uncle Jack,’ Alice implored. ‘You’ll never regret it. He’ll be the best house dog.’ As she spoke she glanced at her brother and sister, trying to get them to side with her.
‘It’s true,’ William said. ‘This is a lonely place, And when you’re away, Phoebe will be glad of the dog’s company.’
‘And protection,’ Alice added.
‘And the baby,’ Mary said. ‘The dog will guard the baby.’
‘Now what does the baby need guarding from?’ Jack teased them.
‘You never know,’ Alice said, feeling desperate. ‘I’m right, aren’t I, Phoebe?’
‘She is, Jack,’ Phoebe said, quietly. ‘They all are. Just look at him. He looks as if he belongs here and well, there is a rat about somewhere. I told you I could hear one. Well, I was right. We saw it, didn’t we, Mary?’
‘Yes,’ Mary said, shuddering as she remembered.
‘A dog would soon frighten that old rat away . . .’
‘I give in! I give in!’ Jack said, laughing, then, very formally, he turned to Spot and said: ‘Spot, would you like to come and live with us in Golden House?’
The dog’s excited barking woke the baby, but no one minded.
‘Now, children,’ Phoebe said, as she rocked her in her arms, ‘Jack and I have decided to ask you if you will be the godparents of the baby. We can’t think of anyone we would rather have to look after her and what is more, we want you to decide on her name.’
‘But – haven’t you thought of one already?’ Mary cried, surprised by this request.
‘We always said the baby would tell us,’ Jack told them with a laugh. ‘But she doesn’t seem to say much yet.’
‘If she had been a boy, we were going to call him Stephen,’ Phoebe said. ‘I don’t know why exactly. We just liked the name. But we never thought she’d be a girl.’
‘Stephanie,’ William said, without hesitation. ‘Stephanie Tyler.’
‘Taylor,’ Phoebe corrected him. Then she said thoughtfully: ‘Stephanie. Stephanie Taylor. That’s nice, Jack. What d’you think?’
‘I like it,’ Jack replied. And so it was agreed.
Stephanie meanwhile sighed in her sleep as if to say that she was pleased with the decision. And the children hoped that Stephen Tyler, who even now might be sitting beside the same fire that was warming them, in the distant past where he belonged, would approve of the name also.
Spot stretched out in the warmth with a contented yawn and distantly, outside the windows, an owl hooted in the night and a sharp, staccato barking reminded them all of the wild presence of a fox.
‘Listen to them,’ Phoebe whispered to the baby. ‘All the creatures are saying hello, Stephanie. Do you hear that?’
And the infant kicked her legs and reached up a tiny hand and touched her mother’s face.
Eventually it was time for bed. Alice was already half asleep and Mary and William had to help her up the stairs.
‘Good night,’ their uncle called to them.
‘Good night,’ Phoebe whispered.
‘Good night,’ they said in return.
But Spot didn’t say anything. He was asleep already.
A pale watery sun shone from an almost cloudless sky. Everywhere was filled with the sound of running water as the brooks and the ditches filled up with the snow melt.
Mr Jenkins arrived punctually at nine and the children bade farewell to Jack and Phoebe and to Stephanie and Spot.
‘But not for long,’ Jack called to them, as they clambered up on to the trailer that Mr Jenkins had hitched to his Land-Rover and in which, after a lot of pleading, Phoebe had said it would be all right for them to travel.
They drove slowly away from Golden House, while Jack and Phoebe stood in the porch, waving them out of sight. Then they wound up the steep hill towards the moor road. The sides of the drive were still piled high with snow and the distant tree-covered woods were black and white against the blue sky, like a drawing that was just beginning to be coloured.
At one moment Mr Jenkins stopped and leaned out of the window, calling to them:
‘Fox! Can you see him?’ and he pointed up through the trees to where a smudge of red lurked behind a trunk, watching. ‘Dratted creature,’ Mr Jenkins shouted. ‘I’ll get you. He’s had half my chickens this winter, blooming thing!’
William turned as the Land-Rover drove on, watching the bright eyes. He lifted his hand in a small gesture of friendship.
&nb
sp; ‘Go carefully,’ he whispered. ‘Be safe.’
Then, realizing that Mary and Alice were watching him, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked embarrassed.
‘Well,’ he said with a shrug, ‘foxes have to live, like everyone else. I mean, what’s the farmer got chickens in a hut for in the first place? He’s going to eat them, isn’t he? It’s either him or the fox.’
‘Poor chickens,’ Mary said, fighting back tears. She was remembering the owl and the taste of the blood. I think, maybe, I’ll be a vegetarian, she thought. Phoebe can give me recipes.
‘Wasn’t it all wonderful?’ Alice said quietly. ‘I don’t think anyone would ever believe how wonderful it’s all been.’
‘I don’t think we should tell anyone,’ William said.
And so they agreed to keep it a secret between the three of them.
‘Solemn honour,’ they said in unison, as they clasped hands.
‘And this time, William,’ Mary said in a threatening voice, ‘you’re not to go breaking the vow.’
‘Oh,’ William groaned, ‘aren’t you ever going to forget about that?’
‘When we get to Bristol, Mare,’ Alice interrupted them, ‘do we have any time before our next train?’
‘Half an hour, I think,’ Mary replied.
‘I shall have three sausages in the snack bar,’ Alice said contentedly.
Then they all fell silent once more and watched as Golden Valley receded into the glimmering distance and with it the magic and danger and the friends they had made there.
‘Won’t be long till the spring holidays,’ William said.
Also by William Corlett
Kitty
The Dark Side of the Moon
The Magician’s House Quartet
The Steps up the Chimney
The Door in the Tree
The Tunnel behind the Waterfall
The Bridge in the Clouds
THE STEPS UP THE CHIMNEY
AN RHCB DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 448 10065 1
Published in Great Britain by RHCB Digital,
The Steps up the Chimney Page 18
