Into the Woods

by Lyn Gardner

  Storm had seen the photograph many times before, but it was as if she was seeing it for the first time. An electric shock passed down her spine as she realized with sudden clarity that Zella and Reggie still loved each other more than they loved anybody else, including their own children. They were too bound up with each other to be anything more than the most benignly negligent parents. And shocking as this new information was, Storm also found it strangely comforting. All her life she had believed that it was she, Storm Gillyflower Alice Eden, who was completely unlovable, but perhaps her parents had simply used up all their love on each other and had noneleft to spare for her. She suddenly felt a terrible pity for her father, who was weeping as if his heart had cracked in two.

  Storm went to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he was so taken up with his own all-consuming misery that he swiped it away like a fly that was making a nuisance of itself. Storm felt her lip tremble and the granary toast feeling in her throat expanded. She would have spilled into hot tears of fury and misery if she had not felt Aurora slip a cool hand into hers and give it a little squeeze. She looked gratefully at her big sister, and found herself liking her competent, bossy sibling more than she had for years.

  At that moment Zella stirred on the bed and opened her violet eyes very wide. ‘Darlings, I am quite exhausted,’ she whispered in her low, distinctive purr. ‘But I have something to say to—’

  She got no further because her husband had flung his arms around her.

  ‘Reggie,’ she murmured sleepily, ‘my one true love.’ Then she added testily, ‘Now put me down Reggie, dear. I need to talk to Storm. This is important.’

  Storm thought she must have misheard. She couldn’t remember when her mother had last had anything important to say to her except ‘Run along and play, darling, Mummy needs her rest.’

  Aurora pushed Storm forward with such force that she almost landed on top of Zella. Her mother tugged her sleeve and pulled Storm close up against her face. Storm caught a whiff of her distinctive, delicious smell – like caramelized pineapples crossed with nightscented stocks. Zella’s eyes were shut and Storm wondered if she had fallen asleep again. But when she tried to move she realized that her mother was clasping her hands with a surprisingly strong grip. Then Zella’s eyes opened and looked into Storm’s, as if searching for something buried there.

  ‘Storm, my wild one, you are the strongest of us all. Only you can keep the wolf from the door. I entrust them to you. Only you can keep them safe.’

  Storm was astonished. She, Storm, the strong one? It didn’t make any sense. Perhaps her mother was delirious and confusing her with Aurora? But she didn’t have time to ponder any further, for Zella opened the palm of Storm’s hand and pressed a small musical pipe into it, closing Storm’s fingers over the top.

  ‘Our secret – use it wisely and only if you have desperate need. Beware of its terrible power,’ she whispered, and a little shudder passed through her body.

  ‘But what am I supposed—?’ began Storm.

  Zella put her finger to her daughter’s lips. ‘It’s my special gift for you. Look after it, Storm. Don’t be careless with it. It’s not a trinket. Whatever you do, don’t let it fall into the wrong hands. If you do, you will regret it, for such an event would put you and your sisters in terrible danger. I have chosen you, Storm, because I know that you will not betray my trust.’

  Then she let go of Storm, fell back on the pillow, announced, ‘I am so very, very tired,’ and stopped breathing.

  As if they were actors who had received their cue, the baby whimpered and Captain Reggie Eden started wailing, a terrible howling desolation. Aurora burst into tears.

  Knowing instinctively that there was nothing any of them could do for a grief so wild as their father’s, Storm tucked the baby in the crook of her arm and tugged at Aurora’s sleeve, pulling her towards the door. Her sister followed Storm meekly from the room.

  As they left, Storm took a backward glance at her dead mother and thought she saw a tear glistening like a tiny perfect diamond in the corner of Zella’s left eyelid. Storm fingered the metal object that her mother had thrust into her hand and that she had discreetly slipped into the bottom of her pocket. It felt warm to the touch.

  Down in the kitchen, Aurora slumped on a chair like an old teddy that had lost all its stuffing. Storm slipped into the pantry, felt in her pocket and pulled out her mother’s gift. It was a little tin pipe, nothing special by the look of it. No more than nine centimetres long, and very light, as if it had been fashioned from the cheapest material. It had a dull, unattractive sheen and looked as if it was in need of a jolly good polish. It was as unremarkable as a child’s toy found in a Christmas cracker. Use it wisely, her mother had said. How could you use a pipe wisely?

  Laying the baby carefully on a shelf amid the jars of pickled onions, Storm put her fingers to the pipe. She blew gently, and a strange tune filled the air: tumbling fragments of melody that gave Storm a strange, shivery feeling in her stomach, as if she was going to throw up. She was puzzled. It was a trinket, but no more. Not even a particularly pretty one. And surely not of any value. Why had her mother wanted to keep it a secret between them? And why had she warned her to beware of its power? She must have been delirious.

  Anger and hot tears welled in Storm’s eyes. How silly she was to think that her darling, scatty mother had chosen her in some way for some special task. Sadly, she blew the pipe again, then picked up the baby, who was watching her with big, saucer eyes. She felt eaten up with a terrible loneliness. She laid her hot forehead against the tiny child’s cool one.

  ‘Poor motherless little thing,’ she murmured. ‘Well, at least we have each other.’ She smiled at the baby, who gazed solemnly back as if she was listening hard to every word. ‘If only you could talk,’ whispered Storm as the melody from the pipe faded. ‘I need a friend so very badly.’ The baby gave an enormous burp. Storm smiled, but felt guilty when she heard Aurora’s heaving sobs.

  Leaving the pipe behind a jar of pickled onions, Storm ran back to the kitchen. As she did so the back door banged open with furious force and a blizzard of snow blew into the kitchen on gusts of freezing air. Storm was so startled that she nearly dropped the child. Aurora looked terrified.

  Storm ran to the door and tried to push it shut with her shoulder, but the wind was too strong. Snow was filling the kitchen, dancing hither and thither in the air. Seeing her struggle, Aurora ran to help and together the sisters pushed with all their might. As the door finally clicked shut Storm was certain that she heard the eerie and unmistakable cry of a far-distant wolf. She looked at her sister’s wan, tear-stained face. It betrayed nothing. Perhaps I imagined it, she thought. Though in her heart she knew that she had not.

  The Three Almost Orphans

  In the days and weeks and months that followed, Captain Reggie Eden was oblivious of the needs of his three young daughters, and so bound up in his own grief that he failed to acknowledge that Storm and Aurora had lost a mother and were in need of fatherly love, comfort and understanding. The evening after Zella’s funeral, Captain Eden locked himself in his study and refused to come out again despite the increasingly desperate pleas of his children. Aurora took to leaving trays of his favourite food and drink – shepherd’s pie and best Burgundy, gooseberry fool and vin santo – outside the door. When Aurora sent Storm to collect them, they were often untouched.

  The baby was growing fast. She was almost six months old and starting to crawl when Storm said, ‘You know, we really can’t go on calling her Baby forever.’

  ‘Well, we could,’ said Aurora, ‘but it will sound very silly when she is grown up and has become a high court judge or a primary school head teacher.’ So that evening when they took their father his supper, they resolved to ask what to call the child.

  ‘Papa,’ called Aurora through the door. There was a long silence. She tried again.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ came the reply.

  ‘Papa, we want to know
what we should call the baby.’

  ‘Oh, call her anything,’ came the emphatic reply.

  ‘Well, it’s most unusual, and not even particularly pretty, but if that’s what he wants, it’ll have to do,’ said Aurora, shaking her head ruefully.

  Storm was aghast. ‘It’s worse than calling her Baby.’

  But Aurora was insistent, arguing – rather optimistically in Storm’s view – that it was a small sign that their father was beginning to take an interest in family life.

  Aurora refused to make any concession to their mother’s death. She was stricter with Storm than ever, as if determined to take on the role of mother to her sister, even when Storm protested that Zella had never showed the slightest interest in whether Storm was wearing a vest or knew her nine times table or the correct usage of a comma. Much to Storm’s dismay, Aurora insisted on a tight schedule of lessons and weekly spelling and mental arithmetic tests. When it came to arithmetic, Storm always felt that at some point she must have missed a crucial lesson as a result of which nothing that followed ever quite made sense. Spelling was even worse. She hated the lists of words that Aurora gave her each week to learn and tried her best to lose them, much to the annoyance of her sister. Aurora also attempted to teach Anything to talk and count, arguing that it was never too early to start an education. But these attempts were all in vain as Any, as the baby quickly became known, remained resolutely silent and promptly yawned and fell asleep as soon as she spotted Aurora with her Teach Your Infant to Talk manual.

  While Aurora concentrated on Storm’s education, Storm concentrated on perfecting more practical accomplishments such as tree climbing, diverting the river and manufacturing fireworks. The latter activity she kept secret, knowing that Aurora would explode if she discovered what Storm was up to in the greenhouse. But when, just before Any’s first birthday, she finally perfected her version of fountains of fire – huge whooshing columns of red and gold sparks that rose like an unfolding ladder into the sky – she couldn’t resist the opportunity to show off.

  Aurora had decreed that they should celebrate Any’s birthday the day after the anniversary of Zella’s death so that sadness and happiness should not conflict. After an interminable morning, failing yet again to understand the intricacies of decimals, Storm spent the afternoon secretly arranging her firework display out of sight around the side of the house. For supper, to which Captain Eden was invited but failed to attend, Aurora had served all Any’s favourite foods – roast potatoes, liquorice, olive pizza, Bombay aloo, broccoli, pineapple with glace cherries and grilled aubergines, followed by her extra-special madeleines and a birthday cake with lemon butter-cream icing and a single candle.

  After the cake was cut, the sisters gave Any her birthday presents. Aurora had made Any seven embroidered handkerchiefs, one for every day of the week, and also gave the child her favourite recipe book – Plain Treats for the Thrifty Cook – which she said would prove invaluable to Any in years to come.

  After much consideration, Storm gave the baby her own beloved, battered teddy, a ragged brown bear with a tartan ribbon called Ted Bear. Any hugged and kissed Ted Bear and wouldn’t let go of him. After the sadness of the day before, it was the happiest of evenings, and as darkness fell Storm beckoned her sisters outside.

  She lit a match. Whoosh went the first fountain, a splutter of green and silver sparks. With a thunderous explosion the second fizzed into life: towers of flame – red, blue and gold – shot into the sky. A third fountain erupted with torrents of orange sparks like molten lava. Any squealed and clapped her hands in excitement and delight.

  Aurora’s face curdled. Storm didn’t notice; she was too busy assembling the pièce de résistance – a series of connected foaming fountains that had taken her hours of preparation and of which she was immensely proud. It was the first time she had attempted a display using a timer and she was longing to see if it would work. She lit the first fuse and stood back. With an enormous bang the first fountain sparked and sent bouquets of multicoloured sparks high into the air; the second fountain caught alight and silver dragons erupted into the night sky; the third began to fizz, and a stream of teddy bears made out of tartan sparks illuminated the darkness. One after another the fountains burst into life.

  Storm was thrilled that her simple timing mechanism had worked and Any grinned and bounced up and down on her bottom with excitement. More sparks crackled and spat. Suddenly there was the sad hiss of water on fire and the tartan teddy bears disappeared. Aurora stood next to the damp display of pulpy fireworks, an empty bucket in one hand, and two full pails of water still by her side. She was smouldering with anger. Any hid her face in her hands.

  ‘How dare you!’ Aurora screeched at Storm. ‘How dare you put our lives in danger by playing with high explosives. It’s reckless and irresponsible. I am doing my best to keep us safe and you’re doing your best to blow us all up!’

  ‘How dare you!’ Storm screeched back. ‘I spent hours on that. You’re a killjoy, Aurora. You never want anyone to have any fun,’ and she marched over to Aurora, picked up one of the pails of water and dumped it over her sister’s head.

  ‘You little horror!’ yelled Aurora, spluttering and dripping, a puddle forming around her feet.

  ‘You tinpot dictator!’ retorted Storm furiously.

  ‘Spoiled brat!’ screamed Aurora.

  ‘Little Miss Perfect!’ sneered Storm.

  ‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that!’ shouted Aurora, picking up the remaining bucket and pouring the contents over Storm’s head.

  Storm looked at the dripping Aurora for a second and then at her own soaked clothes. Her face was white with passion and fury, and then she suddenly burst out laughing. She had never in all her life seen the normally perfectly turned out Aurora look quite so bedraggled.

  Aurora seemed completely nonplussed, then a tiny smile crept into the corners of her mouth and she pealed with laughter.

  ‘Oh, I am such a mess. I need a hot bath,’ she cried when she eventually stopped laughing.

  ‘Friends?’ asked Storm a little shyly, unfamiliar with this new Aurora who smiled rather than frowned.

  ‘Friends,’ said Aurora, and she crooked her little finger around Storm’s and they solemnly shook fingers. Any immediately did the same with Ted Bear’s paw.

  It was a turning point in Storm and Aurora’s relationship, and one that was strengthened the next night when, passing her father’s study, Storm found the door open and the French doors leading out into the park banging in the wind. There was no sign of Captain Eden and, as she went to shut the doors, Storm thought she saw a grey shape disappearing over the distant wall of the park.

  Storm’s heart knocked against her ribs – she was certain that she had just seen a wolf. She looked wildly around, expecting to find her father bloody and savaged on the floor, but there was no sign of him. Instead, atop one of the tottering piles of papers and books on the desk, she saw a note addressed to herself and Aurora. It was quite difficult to decipher as it had clearly been scrawled in some haste.

  Back in the kitchen, Storm showed the note to Aurora.

  ‘Are you sure that he’s gone?’ her sister asked. Storm nodded.

  ‘Aurora, what does Papa mean about you taking care on your sixteenth birthday?’

  Aurora went pink as a tulip and looked embarrassed.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just a silly old prophecy made by Mama’s horrible stepmother, the old hag who kept her imprisoned in the tower until Daddy rescued her. Apparently she only agreed to let Zella go with Papa if she got an invite to the christening of their first child. Well, you know Mummy and Daddy – they were so scatty. After I was born I suppose they just forgot to send her an invitation. But she turned up at the christening anyway and there was quite a scene. Mama said it made her feel so ill, she had to have a quick lie down. Anyway, the old hag was furious, and prophesied that on my sixteenth birthday I would prick my finger and fall into a deep sleep from which I would never awa
ke. It’s not true, of course – nobody believes that fortune-teller stuff. They’re all charlatans.’

  ‘But Mama and Papa believed it.’

  ‘I suppose they did,’ said Aurora with deliberate casualness. She looked at Storm from under her eyelashes. ‘Maybe it was convenient for them to believe it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that Mummy and Daddy were useless at all the everyday stuff of life. Oh, they were beautiful, like a pair of gorgeous butterflies, and they were the greatest of fun when they made the effort. There was something golden about them. They could charm all four legs off a donkey, not just the hind ones. But when it came to the ordinary boring stuff like cooking meals, changing nappies, making sure their children could read and write and putting a note out for the milkman, they just couldn’t be bothered. They were too engrossed in each other. Being protective of me was a way of ensuring that I was always around to do all those things.’

  ‘I always thought they wanted you around because they loved you more than me,’ whispered Storm.

  ‘Don’t be silly, it was because I was useful to them and they needed me. Actually I think they found me rather dull,’ said Aurora sadly. She saw Storm’s stricken, guilty face. ‘Oh, Storm, sweetie, don’t fret. It is really rather nice to feel so needed. I liked it. It made me feel special.’ Aurora hugged her sister very tightly and then added forlornly, ‘I suppose Papa’s disappearance means we are almost orphans.’