by Lyn Gardner
‘Come on, Aurora. Let’s go and find Netta,’ said Storm, and she started pulling Aurora back towards the gate. The girl had skipped away and resumed her plaintive snatch of song again, her ghostly voice echoing through the silent, milky graveyard. She was reaching the point in the song where she always broke off, unable to carry the air any further because she didn’t know the notes. Storm felt the pipe burn and tingle around her neck. Quickly, as she walked towards the road, she pulled out the instrument, took a deep breath, and blew.
As the child’s voice faltered, the pipe took up the tune. The sound of the instrument swelled over the graveyard in a great mushroom of music, and entwined within it was the joyous laughter of Hope Goodchild. The pipe burning in her hands, Storm blew harder still and the sound magnified as if it was trying to fill the whole world up with its sweet music. The tune lingered.
At the gate the sisters looked back through the swirling mist. Hope was sitting quite alone on the gravestone with its daisy garland. As Storm and Aurora walked away they heard her begin her plaintive song once again, her tune mingling with the dying sounds of the pipe in a ghostly round. And this time Hope didn’t break off her song, but continued singing it right through to the very end.
Storm and Aurora smiled at each other as they plodded wearily up the hill in search of Netta. If they had glanced back again they would have been very surprised to see that Hope was no longer alone. Standing on the stone grave were six people: a beaming man who held two tiny sleepy babies in his arms and a laughing woman and a young boy, who joyously hugged Hope as if they would never, ever let her go.
Dinner at Truelove Cottage
Storm and Aurora stood in the clearing in the woods in front of a crooked little cottage with a thatched roof and wisteria-clad whitewashed walls. A curl of smoke rose from the chimney. There could be no doubt that this was Netta’s cottage because at the edge of the clearing was a small signpost. The signpost had two arms. The arm pointing towards the house said, TRUELOVE COTTAGE; the other, pointing away, declared THE REST OF THE WORLD.
The sisters knocked long and hard at the door of the cottage, but there was no answer.
‘She must be out,’ said Storm disappointedly. ‘But she can’t have gone far because the fire is lit.’
Aurora, who was quite exhausted, sank to the ground and buried her head in her knees. A little tabby cat, looking remarkably like the one from the inn, rubbed its ears against her legs. Storm peered through the letterbox. She saw a table laid for three people. A bowl of soup steamed at each setting and there was a fresh-baked cottage loaf sitting next to a large pat of pale, creamy butter and a bowl of ripe tomatoes.
‘She must be around,’ said Storm excitedly, her mouth watering. ‘She’s expecting somebody. The table’s laid and there’s food set out. It looks yummy.’
Aurora lifted her head and said sharply, ‘Storm Eden, you should know it’s very rude to look through other people’s letterboxes, and you should also know by now that anything that looks like a free lunch almost certainly comes at a price.’
‘I’m going in anyway,’ said Storm, turning the handle on the door.
‘Oh no, you’re not,’ said Aurora, leaping to her feet and barring Storm’s way. ‘I once heard a terrible story about a girl walking in the forest who came across an empty cottage and made herself at home there. It turned out the owners were really violent, ferocious types. Part of the notorious Bruin family. Apparently she had a very narrow escape. I know for a fact that it’s true because Betty in the post office in the village knows somebody who knows somebody who was the girl’s third cousin twice removed.’
Storm sat down grumpily on the step. She was so tired, hungry and wet that she longed to rush into the warm cottage and help herself to the food, but she also knew that Aurora was right to be suspicious. She sighed very loudly and had just started biting her fingernails, ignoring Aurora’s disapproving look, when a silver hare darted across the clearing and ran around the back of the cottage. It had just disappeared from sight when the front door was flung open and they heard Netta Truelove’s laughing, silvery voice: ‘Storm Eden, how lovely to see you. And this must be Aurora.’ The little tabby cat rubbed against Netta’s legs.
‘Is that your cat?’ asked Storm.
‘Yes,’ said Netta. ‘Cobweb is my eyes and ears.’ She grinned. ‘Sometimes I think that she is a witch’s cat, she’s so clever. But come in, girls, out of the weather. You’re both soaked through. You need baths and a change of clothes.’
Aurora gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘That would be pure bliss.’
Some time later Storm and Aurora were huddled in front of a fire, bathed and wrapped in warm towels, and full of spiced pumpkin soup, doorstep slices of fresh-baked bread thickly spread with butter, and apple cobbler and custard. The girls told Netta everything that had happened to them and Any.
‘So,’ concluded Storm in a rush, ‘we’ve got to find this place called Pie Man’s Squeak before Dr DeWilde eats Any up.’
Netta smiled and fixed them with her serious silvergrey eyes. ‘The place you are looking for is called Piper’s Peak, and it is indeed imperative that you get there very soon if you want to see Any again. You have no need to fear that she is going to be eaten: that is not Dr DeWilde’s way. But a terrible fate awaits those who are taken to Piper’s Peak.’ Her grey eyes were serious. ‘They are doomed to become slaves in the Piper’s kingdom.’
Storm and Aurora gasped in horror.
Netta continued quickly, ‘But you’ve made an excellent start by getting through the village unscathed. It’s enchanted, you know. Stay there for the night or allow any of the food to pass your lips and you would be doomed to stay there for ever.’
Aurora shivered. ‘Why do you live in such an awful place?’
‘I’ve always lived here,’ said Netta, ‘and somebody has to give passing travellers a helping hand.’ Then she added lightly, ‘Besides, I’ve been waiting for someone. I’ve been waiting a very long time. But I think that maybe my wait is over.’
‘What happened in the village?’ asked Storm.
Netta shivered. The little tabby cat jumped on her lap and purred. ‘Well, I know you will be familiar with the ancient story of Piper’s Town and how the Pied Piper, enraged that the town refused to pay him for ridding them of a plague of rats, led all the children of the town away. He bewitched them with the tune he played on his pipe, and they danced after him across the mountains and into the highest peak of all. That’s how Piper’s Peak got its name. The children’s desperate parents searched all over the mountain for them, but no trace was ever found. There has always been talk of a great gemstone mine hidden in the mountains, where the descendants of the children lured away by the Pied Piper worked as slaves digging for precious stones. But few believed it. They put it down to old wives’ tales.
‘What fewer people know is that, around the same time as the events in Piper’s Town, something similar happened in other smaller, more isolated villages too. But in these places it wasn’t just the children who disappeared, but entire populations. That’s what happened in the village you passed through. One day it was a thriving community; the next it was entirely deserted: every man, woman and child had disappeared overnight. Even the animals were gone. There wasn’t even a cockroach left.’
‘But there was somebody left,’ said Storm excitedly, and she told Netta about Hope Goodchild and finding the skeleton in the cellar and using the pipe to show the little girl how to finish the song.
‘Ah, little Hope and the Goodchilds,’ said Netta with a soft smile.‘You did the right thing, Storm. I tried to help her but it wasn’t in my power. You have released that poor little girl from centuries of loneliness and allowed her to rest in peace.’ She sighed. ‘Such a lovely family: always so kind, and they never served anything other than a full measure of brandy at the inn, not like some cheating landlords.’
A puzzled look passed over Storm’s face. ‘But I thought you said this all happened centuries
ago, so how could you possibly have known them … ?’
Netta ignored Storm’s interjection and continued with her story. ‘In more recent years I heard rumours that something was going on again in the mountains. The forests and the mountains beyond the villages have always been wild places: nobody travels there if they can possibly avoid it. Those who venture into the wilderness seldom return. People say they are haunted places, best left to ghosts, wolves and the ice witches. People have short memories; they easily forget what they do not want to remember, and although they kept alive the story of the Pied Piper, they forgot the warning that the Piper had given as he led the children out of the town.’
‘What warning?’ asked Storm.
‘As he stood on the low hill that overlooks the town, he took the pipe from his mouth for just a few seconds and shouted, “I will return!” and the words echoed around the hill and down every street and byway and alley.
‘Centuries passed. Then a couple of winters ago bad things started to happen. In the villages nearer to the mountains there were stories of howling wolves and children who disappeared. Occasionally a ragged, starving traveller would turn up on this side of the mountains, claiming that villages on the other side were entirely deserted – no sign of life, entire populations completely vanished. They talked of somebody called the Exterminator. The travellers’ ravings were put down to mountain madness. Maybe people didn’t want to believe them; maybe they thought that history wouldn’t and couldn’t repeat itself. That’s why I was in the town that day that I met you, Storm. I had heard that there had been another invasion of rats, as there had been centuries before, and I heard gossip that the Exterminator had been invited. It all seemed too convenient. I wanted to see if what I feared was true.’
‘And what did you fear?’ asked Storm, wideeyed.
‘That the legend had real truth in it. That if we didn’t learn from history, it could happen again. That the Piper had indeed returned, but in a new form – as Dr DeWilde, the Exterminator – and that this time the people of Piper’s Town, led by Alderman Snufflebottom, would be all too eager to dance to his tune. What I saw convinced me that the old legend was true. But I knew that I couldn’t do anything alone. I also knew that Dr DeWilde was not yet all-powerful, that he didn’t have the thing he needed to make him invincible. So I came back here and waited. I knew something or somebody would turn up sooner or later.’ She smiled and added, ‘And now you have.’
‘Us?’ shrieked Aurora. ‘What can we do?’
‘Rescuing your little sister would be a good start,’ said Netta firmly.
‘All on our own? Why can’t you come with us?’ asked Storm.
‘I have other business that I must attend to. You are not the only ones who need my help. I have every confidence that you two can succeed without me.’
‘But what do we have to do?’ asked Storm.
‘You’ll have to find a way to get inside Piper’s Peak. They say the mountain is impregnable: nobody has ever been able to find a way in or a way out, so you’ll need some help. There is talk of a secret disused mine shaft that leads right into the mountain, but nobody has discovered the entrance – or if they have, they have never returned to tell the tale. But I have made studies and I believe that there is one person who knows its exact location and has the map upon which it is marked and the key you’ll need to get inside. Her name is Mother Collops, and you two are going to have to pay her a visit,’ said Netta seriously.
‘Mother Collops? Who is she?’ asked Storm.
‘An ogress, if you’re inclined to believe that sort of village tittle-tattle,’ said Netta lightly.
‘An ogress!’ whispered Aurora faintly. ‘Don’t ogres eat children?’
‘It’s probably just gossip that she’s an ogress,’ said Netta soothingly. ‘She knows more about the legend of the Pied Piper than anyone alive. And about Dr DeWilde and Piper’s Peak. Mother Collops’ map and key will lead you into the very heart of the mountain.’
‘How do we get them off her?’ asked Storm.
Netta spoke gravely.‘You’ll have to ask her for them. Very politely.’ she said.
Storm looked nonplussed and said with a sarcastic edge to her voice: ‘You mean you want us to walk up to a well-known ogress and say, “Excuse me Mother Collops, but would you be so kind as to hand over the map and key to Piper’s Peak,” and she’ll give it to us and wave us on our way with her blessing ? Somehow I don’t think so.’
‘It’s your only chance of saving Any and the others who have been snatched away. You have to accept all Mother Collops’ hospitality and refuse nothing, thank her profusely and then ask for what you want. You mustn’t just try to take it,’ said Netta patiently. ‘If you try to sneak in and steal the key she’ll lose her temper, and I can assure you that is not a pretty sight.’
Netta pointed away to the moorland beyond, across which were scattered several massive boulders. ‘That happened last time she got in a temper. Something to do with some lad and a beanstalk, according to gossip.’
‘It must have been some tantrum,’ said Aurora brightly. ‘Maybe you’ve met your match, Storm?’ Storm grinned sheepishly.
‘No,’ continued Netta. ‘You need to ask her for the map and key very politely and offer to play her for them. Apparently she loves games, particularly if the stakes are high.’
‘What kind of games?’ asked Storm.
‘Any kind of game. Backgammon, ludo, tiddlywinks. Poker. But her favourite is hide and seek.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ said Storm chirpily.
‘No it doesn’t. It sounds perfectly horrid, like a cat toying with a mouse before eating it,’ said Aurora.
‘Something like that,’ replied Netta grimly.‘But I have every faith that you two can outwit her. It really is the only chance you have of saving Any.’
‘Then we’ll take our chance,’ said Storm firmly, and she took Aurora’s hand in her own and held it tightly; it fluttered like a trapped butterfly.
‘I’m frightened, Storm. I am frightened of Dr DeWilde, of Mother Collops, of the mountains, of everything.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, Aurora,’ snapped Storm, ‘but you’re just going to have to get used to being frightened. We’re going to save Any, even if it kills us.’
Later, as dusk fell, Storm went out into the garden. The moon had come out early and hung in the sky like a great wobbly tear. A silvergrey hare streaked across the grass towards the pumpkin patch. Storm had thought she was quite alone, but to her surprise she suddenly spied Netta by the duck pond adjoining the pumpkin patch. She was casting a small paper boat onto the water. As Netta let it go she threw a match into the fragile little boat. It bobbed across the glass surface of the water, a little blaze of fire that left a trail of sparks behind it, before it crumpled and sank, leaving no trace. Netta looked up, her strange silvergrey eyes serious, and held out her hand. Storm walked along the water’s edge and Netta put an arm round her as the two crouched on the damp grass.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Storm.
‘Casting away my demons, before they grow fat with gnawing at me. Do you want a go?’
‘Do I have demons?’
‘Everyone has demons. Only some people don’t admit it.’ Netta looked at Storm. ‘Maybe I am speaking out of turn, but I think you’re angry, Storm Eden. Angry with your mother for leaving you, with your father for being useless, with Aurora for not being brave and with me for not having all the answers. Above all, I think that you are angry with yourself. You are punishing yourself because you think you are to blame for Any being taken.’
Storm began to cry quietly, and Netta hugged her and, just for a second, Storm thought she caught a faint whiff of a smell that was something like her own dead mother’s distinctive scent.
‘Why can’t you come with us to visit Mother Collops?’ asked Storm wistfully.
Netta clasped Storm’s hand tightly.‘Believe me, Storm, I would if I could. But these are dangerous times. I have other pressi
ng work to do. There is a boy who needs my help. He has nobody else; at least you and Aurora have each other. But I will be closer than you think.
‘Come,’ she said, after Storm’s tears had subsided. ‘Let’s go in. You’ll need to make an early start for Hell Lane. It’s a long climb to Hell Heights, where Mother Collops lives.’
A Stroll up Hell Lane
Hell Lane did not immediately live up to its name. Netta drove the children to the start of the lane in a trap pulled by Pepper. The pony was delighted to see Storm and pranced along shaking his head to remind her what a handsome, clever fellow he was.
Unless you knew that Hell Lane was there it would have been impossible to detect, as its entrance lurked behind a tangle of briars and overhanging trees. When the main road took an unexpected twist, Netta stopped the trap in the middle of the road, stepped down and started to walk straight into a dense blackberry thicket.
Storm and Aurora looked at each other and then followed her into the bushes.
About five metres in, almost hidden by the brambles, they saw an old wooden signpost pointing forward, upon which was carved the legend HELL LANE.
Storm felt a quiver of anticipation pass through her body like a tiny electric shock: their journey to rescue Any was really underway.
Netta disappeared further into the thicket and Aurora followed, but Storm hung back. She ran her hands over the carved signpost, feeling the rough indentation of the writing beneath her fingers, and as she did so she whispered, ‘I will find you, Any. I will save you and the others. I promise.’
At that moment, her fingers located another line of much smaller carved writing. Storm brushed away the dried-on mud and peered at the letters. In the gloom she could just make out the words: GO FORWARD AND BE EATEN; GO BACK AND REGRET IT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.
Storm raised an eyebrow, murmured ‘some choice’ to herself, hoisted her knapsack onto her shoulders and set off after the others, deciding it was best not to mention the warning to Aurora.
