The Swallow

by Charis Cotter

  “All right, I’ll tell her it was me. Big deal.”

  “Just—stop stealing them!” said Mark.

  “Since when did you guys get so goody-goody? You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Matthew, shifting his weight on my legs. “Tell her about the other thing, Mark.”

  I tried to get up again, but Mark held my arms down and I didn’t get anywhere.

  “Second of all,” said Mark, “we saw you with that Ghost Girl last night and we told her to leave you alone.”

  “What? It’s none of your business who my friends are!”

  “She’s dangerous, Polly,” said Matthew. A little frown creased his forehead. “She’s going to hurt you.”

  This was too much. The twins were never this serious. They were always teasing and making fun of me. This had to be another trick. With an enormous heave I knocked them off and managed to sit up.

  “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I asked furiously. “I don’t want to play your stupid game!”

  They looked at each other. “We’re just trying to help, Pol,” mumbled Mark. He looked upset.

  “You don’t realize,” began Matthew, “you don’t realize what she is. She can really, really hurt you. She wants to steal your soul. We don’t want that.”

  “Yes,” added Mark, “and we’re not playing a trick, honest. That Ghost Girl is going to wreck everything.”

  I pushed off the covers and jumped out of bed. I must have startled Susie because she jerked and I think she bit her thumb.

  She let out a wail, and the boys exchanged a look of alarm and then scurried out of the room.

  I bent over the railing of the crib and patted her little back. She was wearing pink flannel snap-up PJs with the feet in them. She was warm and soft. I picked her up and gave her a hug. She put her arms around my neck. She smelled good.

  “Olly,” she gurgled.

  I looked down at her in surprise. “Susie! You said my name! I didn’t know you could talk.”

  She smiled at me and said it again. “Olly.”

  I hugged her again. Suddenly I felt a surge of something in my chest—not sure what—but it kind of hurt and made my eyes tingle.

  “Susie,” I whispered, putting her back in her crib. “You’re a good baby, aren’t you, Suze? No more crying?”

  She shook her little head and put her thumb back in her mouth. She understood me! Weird! I know babies grow fast and learn things and change and all, but this was a first for Suze. Maybe she’d actually be a fun little sister one day. She seemed to like me, which was more than I could say for Lu, Moo or Goo.

  I half expected my mother to appear after Susie’s outburst, but the house remained still. The clock beside my bed said 5:30. I had time to go up to the attic before breakfast.

  Rose

  I woke up early. Something had been troubling me all night as I slept, and finally I swam to the surface to find out what it was.

  I turned on the lamp. The room had an unreal, sort of blank look. The books and wallpaper and curtains I’d been waking up to every day were suddenly unfamiliar.

  I sat up and tried to focus on what was it that had kept me tossing all night. Something that had happened last night, something different. The twins? Why were they so scared of me? But that wasn’t it. The old lady? I’d seen her before.

  But I’d never touched her. Last night was the first time I had ever touched a ghost. She didn’t feel dead. She felt as real as Polly, or Kendrick, or the Horrors. What was happening to me? First the Door Jumper/Winnifred, who had to be the scariest ghost I’d ever encountered. And the first one to actually do some harm, apart from frightening me.

  I’d met up with scary ghosts before. Like the skeletal old lady whose fingers kept falling off. I’d seen her last spring in a department store with my mother. We had gone shopping for an Easter dress, and every time I found a dress I liked the ghost would howl like a banshee and stretch out a finger to touch it—and then one of her fingers would fall off. This went on through about six dresses and six fingers, and then I couldn’t bear it anymore and made my mother take me home.

  And there were others, more terrifying. But although they frightened the wits out of me, they had never hurt me. The Door Jumper had done something to Polly, something serious.

  I wondered if a ghost could actually kill a living person. In all the stories I’d read, if anyone died, it was from fear. Was that what the Door Jumper was trying to do? Scare Polly to death?

  And then there was the old lady, so kind and so real. Who was she? How could I have actually touched her? Unless … unless Polly was right and I was a ghost myself.

  No. I wasn’t going to think about that. I threw back the covers and hunted up my slippers from under the bed. I needed to find out more about Winnifred. There were still unopened boxes in my grandmother’s room.

  SECRETS IN THE ATTIC

  Polly

  If anything, the attic was colder than usual. I was glad that I’d stopped to put on my woolly housecoat and warm slippers. I huddled under the blanket and put my head up against the wall, listening.

  “Rose?” I called out. “Rose, are you there?”

  It was all quiet next door. No creaking floorboards, no singing, no whirling Door Jumper. No earthquakes. My dream came back to me then, as clearly as when I was having it. I saw Rose with that awful look on her face, climbing out of the crack. I shuddered.

  I wondered if the twins were right, that Rose was somehow dangerous and I wasn’t seeing her properly.

  I remembered how she’d hugged me last night on the doorstep and the worried look on her face as she’d told me go to bed early. She was the first real friend I’d made in ages. I didn’t care if she was a girl or a ghost. Nobody was going to take her away from me. Not the twins, not the Door Jumper, not anybody.

  Thinking about the Door Jumper—Winnifred—made me sit up. I flicked the flashlight around the corners. At least she wasn’t in my attic. I wondered why she didn’t just jump through the wall to get me. Maybe there was some kind of ghost rule where she couldn’t leave the actual house she was haunting. Or maybe my house had something that kept her out.

  I sank down again among the cushions and the blankets. I’d have to go down in a minute and start getting ready for school. I felt a curious heaviness, like I could stay there all day and snooze. The thought of getting to my feet and climbing down into my closet seemed like a tremendous effort … my eyes closed. It was very quiet.

  The humming started very softly. I didn’t pay much attention until the words started to form.

  She’s like the swallow that flies so high

  She’s like the river that never runs dry

  She’s like the sunshine on the lee shore

  She’s lost her love and she’ll love no more.

  I sat up, sleep dropping off me with the blanket.

  “Rose?” I called out.

  The singing stopped.

  “Polly?” came her voice from behind the wall. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “Uh … I had a bad dream …” I replied. I didn’t want to tell her what the twins had said about her.

  “About Winnifred?” asked Rose.

  I didn’t want to tell her about the dream, either.

  “No, yes … oh, I don’t know. It was scary anyway, and I woke up. Why are you up in the attic?”

  “Oh … I just wanted to sit and think for a while.”

  “There’s no sign of the Door Jump—I mean, Winnifred?” I asked.

  “No. All clear.”

  We fell into silence.

  “Polly?” said Rose finally.

  “Yes?”

  “Polly, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come back here. I think it’s dangerous for you.”

  Dangerous. That’s what the twins had said.

  “Yeah. I guess you’re right. But where can we meet? I can’t sneak you into my house. There are always people around. Always.”

&n
bsp; Silence.

  “Rose? Are you still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Look, Rose, I gotta go get ready for school. What about the library?”

  “The library? What library?”

  “The one on Parliament Street. We could meet there. After school.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  “At four o’clock?”

  She took a while to answer. And when she did, it was as if she was speaking from a long, long way off.

  “Oh … that’s fine. Four. See you then.”

  She fell into silence again. I climbed down out of the attic back into my everyday life and left all the ghosts behind.

  Rose

  What Polly couldn’t see through the wall that divided us was the wooden box that sat on the floor in front of me. I didn’t want to tell her what I’d found because I knew she would want to come charging over, and I was determined to keep her out of harm’s way.

  I’d come across the box in one of the unopened cartons from my grandmother’s closet. They were filled with old clothes, scarves and a collection of purses. In the last one, under a big red angora shawl, I found the box.

  Locked. It was about the size of two shoe boxes laid side by side, made of wood that had a slightly red tinge to it. It had a band of darker wood near the top, covered with decorative carving.

  There was a little keyhole but no key. One corner of the box had been dented, and in places the wood was scratched or discolored.

  I knew it was important. I could feel it.

  I had hauled the box up to the attic where I wouldn’t be interrupted. And I’d been sitting looking at it, trying to figure out how to open it with no key, when Polly heard me singing. I hadn’t even realized I was singing until she spoke, as if she was breaking a spell.

  I had found it hard to focus on what Polly was saying. All I could think of was the box and the strange feelings I had when I looked at it. As if I’d seen it before. As if it held something precious that would somehow explain everything. It was almost as if the box was hypnotizing me—making me feel dreamy and sleepy. I wanted to get into it so badly, I could almost see breaking it open—if only it hadn’t been so beautiful.

  I could hear movement downstairs—Mother in the bathroom, probably. High time I was getting dressed. Reluctantly, I tucked the box out of sight under the chair. Then I climbed down the ladder to begin my day.

  THE LIBRARY

  Polly

  Of course the Parliament Street Library is just about my favorite place in the whole world. A building full of books! What’s not to love? There’s a big old counter at the front where you check your books out, and then it opens up into this huge room, with windows all along one side looking out over Gerrard Street. In front of the windows are four long wooden tables with benches along each side. The tabletops are about a foot thick and so are the legs. I wouldn’t want to have to move one of them. That’s where you sit to read your books and fill out your cards for the ones you’re taking home.

  On the other side are floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books, and in between are rows of bookshelves. In the farthest corner from the door there is a fireplace, AND armchairs. I’ve never actually seen a fire there, but it doesn’t take much to imagine one.

  I went right to the fireplace and plonked myself down in a chair. This corner was hidden from the librarian at the front desk by the bookshelves, and it was quiet now. Strictly speaking, this was the adults’ section of the library, but Mrs. Gardner, the librarian, didn’t mind, and she let me take out grown-up books whenever I wanted. She liked me because I was there at least twice a week, and I took out lots of books and always brought them back on time. I liked to talk to her about them sometimes. She knew so much about books. I think I might want to be a librarian when I grow up, so I can spend all my time with books.

  The children’s section was way over on the other side of the library, through a door beside the counter. It was cozy too, with low tables and small chairs and lots of great books, but it was always full of noisy little kids.

  Today Mrs. Gardner didn’t even look up when I came in. She was busy checking out books for a mother with three little kids in tow.

  Rose was late. She got off school way before me so I thought she’d beat me there. After a while I started to get bored, so I headed over to the children’s section to see if there were any Philomena Faraday books I hadn’t read yet.

  The door to the children’s room had a big window in it. I was just about to push the door open when I saw something inside that made me freeze. Mark and Matthew, heads bent over a book at the table in the center of the room. I backed up slowly and then scuttled back to the fireplace. Whew. Close call. The last thing I needed was them bugging me some more about Rose.

  I must have just missed her as I walked across the library, because there she was, perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, in her dark cloak with the hood thrown back over her shoulders and her hair wild and everywhere. She looked like someone from another time, as if she had just stepped off a windy moor.

  “Hey, Rose!” I said, bouncing up to her and grinning. She looked up. Her eyes were so dark. Dark and troubled. If anything, the shadows underneath them were even darker today.

  “Hey, Polly,” she replied with a wan little smile. “Sorry I’m late! I was … um … looking for something at home.”

  “No problem, but I think I should warn you, the Horrors are here.”

  She stood up and peered behind me.

  “Where?”

  “In the children’s section. Don’t worry, they probably won’t come out here. Mrs. Gardner’s been keeping a close eye on them ever since they built book towers and then knocked them over …”

  “Oh. Okay. If you think it’s safe.”

  She sat down in the chair but kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she thought they would jump out of the bookshelves at any moment.

  “Why are you so worried about them, anyway?” I asked curiously.

  “They make me nervous,” she replied, examining her nails suddenly. “They call me Ghost Girl. I don’t like that.”

  Hmmm. Something there. She wasn’t going tell me, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell her what they’d said to me that morning. I thought it better just to leave it for the moment.

  “So, what’s new?” I said, settling into a chair and putting my feet up on the low table. Mrs. Gardner wouldn’t like that, but then Mrs. Gardner couldn’t see me from the front desk. “What were you looking for that made you late?”

  Rose smiled.

  “You’re going to love this, Polly,” she said. “A key. A key to a secret box I found in my grandmother’s room this morning.”

  Rose

  I hadn’t spent a lot of time at this library. My mother had brought me one Saturday after we moved in last summer and introduced me to the librarian so I could get access to the adult books. I’d been back a few times. I did like the quiet, secluded little corner by the fireplace. There were ghosts in the library, of course, but they were strangely contented, for ghosts, and I didn’t mind them. Sometimes I wondered if they oozed out of the books. Today there was a little boy in dark wool knickerbockers and a big cap who looked kind of hungry and shy. Something familiar about him. A character from Dickens? Or maybe a Parliament Street urchin from a hundred years ago? A young woman in an old-fashioned, long red dress stood gazing out the window, and a man in a black coat sat at a table, his work-worn hands turning the pages of a book with pictures.

  They didn’t bother me. What was bugging me was the thought of the twins just thirty yards away. If they saw me with Polly they might come after me again. I didn’t want her to hear them accusing me of hurting her and putting her in danger. I felt bad enough about that already.

  “Tell me about the box,” said Polly breathlessly, pulling her feet off the table and sitting up straight. “What do you think is in it? Where do you think the key is? Did it belong to Winnifred? Do you think it has a secret compartment?”
/>
  “The whole box is a secret compartment until I figure out how to get it open,” I replied. “I looked through my grandmother’s dresser drawers, in her jewelry box, in my parents’ bedroom, all through the drawers in the kitchen. I couldn’t find a key that fit.”

  “It’s got to be somewhere,” said Polly. “Maybe she kept it in a hidden drawer in her dresser, or under a loose floorboard in her room, or inside a false book—”

  “I could try the study …” I said doubtfully.

  Polly jumped to her feet. “Come on, let’s go look right now!” she said, shrugging on her coat and then pulling me along by the arm.

  I grinned, in spite of myself. Ever-enthusiastic Polly, always ready to leap into the next adventure.

  “Now wait a minute,” I said. “I don’t want you—”

  “Not so fast,” said a squeaky voice behind her.

  “You’re not going anywhere!” said another.

  Polly whirled and there were the Horrors, blocking our way and looking as fierce as two grubby eight-year-old boys can when they’re dressed in snowsuits and flap-eared caps. One of them was clutching a book and the other was pointing his finger at me.

  THE DRUNKEN GHOSTS

  Polly

  Before I could open my mouth to tell them to get lost, a tall figure swept out from among the bookshelves and came to rest between me and the Horrors. It was Mrs. Gardner. She stood with her back to me and her hands on her hips.

  “WHAT did I tell you about ever setting foot in the grown-ups’ library again?” she demanded in a surprisingly loud voice.

  The twins cowered. It brought joy to my heart to see them like that.

  “We were just—” spluttered Matthew.

  “We were only—” gasped Mark.

  “OUT!” thundered Mrs. Gardner, advancing on them. “You’ve checked out your book so now you have no more business in this library. I’m going to phone your mother. You made a promise never to come into this section and …”

  While she continued to lecture them fiercely, her back still to me, I beckoned to Rose and mouthed at her, COME ON, ROSE, LET’S GO!