Into the Woods

by Lyn Gardner

  Storm could see the open gates beginning to close. Beyond them she could see the mountain. She could smell freedom. She had to get herself and Any through those gates before it was too late. She scooped Any up in her arms. Any responded by nipping Storm on the cheek. Storm dropped her with a yelp.

  Any looked at her with stony eyes. ‘The kiss. It was some kind of a signal, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I’m not coming. I am not leaving Aurora. How could you even think I would, Storm?’ asked Any in an outraged voice. ‘Have you forgotten? For ever and together.’

  ‘I had no choice,’ screamed Storm. ‘He made me.’ Out of the corner of her eye Storm could see the gates swinging shut. Another few seconds and they would close, trapping them all inside Piper’s Peak for ever. She began to run towards the gates, her legs feeling like sludge, her brain turned to mush.

  ‘Of course you had a choice,’ Any screamed after her. ‘You could have chosen to stay with us, to face whatever was thrown at us, even if it was the very worst. Better that than betraying your own sister!’

  Storm felt Any’s critical words like tiny pinpricks all over her skin. It was so unfair. After everything she had been through, after everything she had suffered to try and save Any. She felt furious that Any was choosing Aurora over her. Aurora, whom she still loved, but who had deliberately left her to die. Who had betrayed her. Still running for the gates, Storm yelled back,‘She betrayed me, she cut the rope to save her own skin, and look what good it did her.’ She slipped through the wrought-iron gates just before they clanged shut. Then she crouched on her knees, trying to catch her breath and calm the roaring in her head.

  Storm heard footsteps behind her and then a little voice from the other side of the closed gates said very coldly,‘She didn’t betray you, Storm. She didn’t cut the rope. Dr DeWilde did. Aurora was desperate about it. She tried to tell you what happened. But you wouldn’t listen.’

  Storm spun round, her face a spasm of shock and utter despair. Any gave her a look of terrible pity, and then, clutching her blanket, she toddled back towards Aurora and Dr DeWilde. Storm stared into his face. His cruel smile was the very last thing she saw as, with a great creaking of thunder, the mountain closed itself up before her eyes. Crying, she threw herself against the hard rock again and again until her body was bruised and battered. The rock did not yield.

  Storm had never felt such despair. She had set out to save one sister and in the process she had lost them both. And even if she could find some way back into the mountain, she knew they would never forgive her now. Hot tears ravaged her face as she realized that she had played right into Dr DeWilde’s hands: he had the pipe,Aurora and Any, and she had nothing. Nothing at all. She was an outcast to her own sisters. Storm’s legs and heart turned to lead as the creeping exhaustion of the defeated enveloped her.

  Little Red Firework Maker

  The gates at the end of the drive to Eden End were wide open. Storm stood at the entrance as if turned to stone. A very battered Ted Bear hung limply from one of her hands. She had been standing in the same position for at least twenty minutes. She longed to rush towards the familiar old house, but she felt paralysed, as if she had forfeited the right to call Eden End home. Despite the wide-open gates it felt as if the way forward was barred to her. She stared at the ramshackle house with its lopsided chimneys and winking windows that rose up out of the ravelling morning mist. It was all silence, as if the house was waiting to be awoken from a long, deep sleep. A silvergrey hare streaked across the park, leaving a visible path towards the house in the dew-drenched lawn.

  Storm hardly knew how she had made her way this far. She could remember almost nothing of the journey from Piper’s Peak. She had scrambled and clambered her way blindly across the mountains, taking no care for her safety whatsoever, just wanting to get as far away as she could from the scene of her betrayal of Aurora. She had wanted to die more than to live. As she had passed the disused mineshaft she had stopped and rummaged in her abandoned rucksack for Ted Bear, but she had taken nothing else to help her on her journey. It was a miracle that she had survived it, yet Storm felt that that in itself was a punishment. She was consumed with regret. Every waking moment was scorched with the image of Any’s pitying face and Aurora’s sad one, and her fitful sleep was troubled by terrible dreams that echoed with Dr DeWilde’s sneering laugh and the howl of hungry wolves.

  And yet somehow, here she was – so close to home, but unable to enter the grounds. Storm was about to turn away when Desdemona came hurrying down the driveway, clucking selfimportantly, followed by Tabitha and her latest litter. Storm sighed deeply and moved leaden-footed up the path to greet them. Clucking and mewling, this odd menagerie urged her towards the house, like sheep dogs attempting to round up a lost sheep.

  At the front door they stopped, apparently waiting to see what she would do. Desdemona sat down firmly on one of Storm’s feet and Tabitha on the other, as if to prevent her from turning and running. The cat reminded Storm of Netta’s. She felt sick at the thought. She had betrayed everybody’s faith in her: her mother’s, Netta’s and most of all Any and Aurora’s. She felt completely worthless.

  She stared at the front door. The children had not been away from Eden End for long, but in that brief time the old creeper that covered the walls of the house had slithered its way across the entrance, and the rambling roses had rambled through the knocker and meandered across the door, their thorns making a vicious necklace around the handle. The downstairs windows of the old house were completely covered with creeper too, and huge stinging nettles had sprung up all around the edge of the building and in the cracks in the steps leading to the front door, as if providing a natural barrier to unwanted visitors or intruders. For a split second, Storm imagined Aurora pursing her lips at this invasion of the wild; her sister would quickly set about taming and tidying unruly nature, cutting back the creeper and pinning the roses to the trellis. The thought of Aurora made her feel faint again.

  She walked up to the door, oblivious of the nettles attacking her bare legs, and laid her hand upon the handle, not flinching as the thorns tore at her flesh and tiny pinpricks of blood erupted across her palm. She opened the door and walked into the hall. Even from here she could see the violence that Dr DeWilde had inflicted on the poor old house in his search for the pipe. Furniture was upturned and trampled, and drawers had been emptied out, so that paper lay like banks of huge snowflakes across the floor. Ghost-like, she wandered into the kitchen. It too had been turned upside-down, pots and pans higgledy-piggledy all over the floor, the kitchen table and chairs hacked about in a frenzy of rage and destruction. She picked up a single crumpled sheet of paper. It was Aurora’s recipe for madeleines. It could not have hurt Storm more if it had been a dagger.

  She wandered through the silent house, followed at a respectful distance by the posse of watchful animals. She carried Any and Aurora’s absence with her in her bones. Every room was full of whispered sadness; every mirror mocked her with her reflected solo image; the bedrooms, kitchen, library and drawing room all screamed their reproaches. She found traces of her sisters everywhere, and jagged memory crowded upon jagged memory. In the kitchen she thought of Any laughing as Storm made Aurora toss marshmallows up in the air so that she and Any could catch them in their mouths like sea lions. Aurora had pretended to disapprove, but really she had enjoyed the game as much as the others. In the library Storm stumbled across the old dressing-up box and the billiard table, now broken and collapsed, that one afternoon she had persuaded Aurora and Any to pretend was a boat. The three of them had spent a happy few hours atop it, with Storm dressed as the ship’s captain, imagining that they were intrepid explorers sailing around the world pursued by cut-throat pirates and a giant squid with nine tentacles.

  Upstairs she remembered how Any would clap her hands when Storm slid down the banisters and how Aurora would shout how dangerous it was and that Storm was irresponsible, although there had been a
curl at both corners of her mouth even as she protested. She also recalled Aurora’s shocked face when she had walked into the house one afternoon to find Storm and Any tobogganing down the stairs on an old tea tray with a broken handle. Aurora had been furious, but after much coaxing she had been persuaded to try it herself on the lower stairs and had sped down pinkcheeked and laughing, although afterwards she had said breathlessly that one go was quite enough to last her a whole lifetime. At last Storm wended her way up the 147½ steps of the nursery turret to the girls’ empty bedrooms. There in the corner of Any’s room stood her little cot, still intact. Storm leaned over and carefully placed poor, worn Ted Bear in the cot, and pulled up one of the sheets and nuzzled it. She could smell her sister’s warm, sweet honeysuckle smell. As she dropped the sheet a tiny silver star fell out. Storm gave a dry sob and rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

  She ran along the polished gallery floor towards the room that had been her parents’, and skidded to a halt as she encountered a small mountain of trampled, tangled sheets and towels all over the gallery floor. They were ripped and dirty. Storm pulled open the door to Aurora’s beloved linen cupboard. It had been wrenched apart: torn sheets were wrapped around splintered wood in wanton destruction. Dr DeWilde had brought his full fury to bear upon the cupboard and its contents. It was too much. Her knees buckled, she fell to the floor of the linen cupboard and, clutching a heavily darned Irish cotton pillowcase, she sobbed until she had no tears left. She lay slumped on the floor, staring sightlessly and hiccupping quietly. She had never known before that it was possible to feel quite this lonely and quite this miserable. She couldn’t think of any reason why she should ever stand up again. It wasn’t worth the bother: she was completely without hope. Gradually her hiccups subsided and she fell into a listless doze.

  She was roused by the creak of the great oak front door and a soft voice calling, ‘Hello? Is there anybody there?’

  Storm drew back into the linen cupboard. ‘Storm! Are you here?’

  She blinked. Who knew that she was here at Eden End? Who could be calling her name? Cautiously she crawled along the gallery floor and peered through the struts of the balustrade. She caught a glimpse of the face of the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. He was a few years older than her, and he looked like an angel. A very thin angel. Despite the bitter weather he was wearing only a grey jerkin over soft brown trousers and, beneath it, Storm could see his alabaster skin and his ribs rising and falling with every breath. He caught sight of her tear-wrecked face and smiled, full of concern. It was a smile so dazzling it was as if it had been polished to a shine. Blinded, Storm smiled uncertainly back; then she realized that this was a stranger in her house and stood up indignantly.

  ‘Who are you and what are you doing in my house?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m a friend, offering you a helping hand,’ he said. His voice had a seductive country burr touched with a beguiling hint of melancholy. Storm knew that she had heard it somewhere before.

  ‘I don’t need a friend or a helping hand,’ she said, and she marched down the stairs, walked pointedly to the door and held it open for him.

  The boy laughed again. He moved closer to her. ‘I’ve a message for you.’

  Storm stared at him. Her heart was racing. He smiled again, and as she basked in its warm glow she saw with a start that his eyes were different colours: one as green as emerald; the other an icy blue. She blinked. She was sure she’d seen those eyes somewhere before, but his smile was so dazzling that she was finding it hard to think straight.

  Storm shook her head to clear it. ‘How do you know who I am?’ she asked coolly.

  The boy leaned very close to her. ‘You’re lost, like me.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I can read it behind your eyes,’ he said.

  Storm laughed, a tiny tinkle of derision. ‘A lie, told quite beautifully. You’ll have to do better than that.’ She drew herself up to her full height, pulled the door wider and indicated he should leave.

  ‘Wait,’ called the boy urgently, a note of panic rising in his soft voice. ‘I do have a message.’ Storm stared at him. He suddenly seemed desperately young and vulnerable. There was a shadow of fear in his mismatched eyes.

  ‘Well, spit it out, then,’ she said.

  The boy opened his hand and brought it up towards her face. Storm stared at the handkerchief in his grip. The ornately embroidered ‘A’ in the corner was unmistakable. The handkerchief belonged to Aurora.

  ‘How did you get that?’

  ‘Your sister gave it to me. She needs your help.’

  Storm’s breathing quickened. ‘Why does she need my help?’ she whispered.

  The boy’s breath was hot in her ear. ‘She is to be married tomorrow night. To Dr DeWilde. Only you can prevent it.’ The boy’s icy-blue eye burned bright.

  ‘Married? To him! But she can’t!’ cried Storm.

  ‘He’s forcing her. She has no choice. If she refuses, the consequences for her will be terrible. And for Any, too.’

  Storm’s brain slowly started to click and whir. ‘Where is this marriage taking place?’

  ‘In Piper’s Town. The ceremony is to be quite sumptuous. They have already put up the bunting and there is to be a huge firework display.

  Catherine wheels, foaming fountains of fire, gigantic rockets to light up the sky. Dr DeWilde has ordered a public holiday. And the next day, he is to be made honorary mayor and given the keys to the town, although he rules the roost in any case.’ A flush rose across the boy’s ravishing cheek. ‘It will be quite a festival, two days of celebration.’

  Storm shivered, not with cold but with excitement. ‘Do you know if Any will be there too?’ she asked urgently.

  The boy nodded. ‘She is to be a bridesmaid,’ he said, smiling his gleaming smile.

  Storm felt its radiance as much as she saw it. She clutched at the boy’s sleeve. ‘Did Aurora ask for my help?’

  ‘Of course,’ said the boy comfortingly, laying his warm hand on top of Storm’s own.‘She knows that only you – her sister – can save her.’

  Storm felt as if a tiny flame had been rekindled inside her, as if she was springing back into life after a long hibernation. Aurora needed her, and if Aurora needed her it meant that Aurora must have forgiven her! She felt dizzy with excitement.

  Her brain whirred even faster. ‘You say there are to be fireworks?’

  ‘Well … there’s supposed to be. But I heard that the firework maker has fallen sick. When I left town they were putting up posters everywhere advertising for a firework maker capable of organizing a grand display – the biggest ever seen. Bee Bumble and Alderman Snufflebottom at the Ginger House are in charge of finding someone else who can do the job.’

  A gleam crept into Storm’s eyes and she looked thoughtful.‘What time is this wedding?’ she asked.

  ‘As darkness falls. Six o’clock,’ said the boy. He looked her deep in the eye. ‘I’ll help you rescue her,’ he promised. ‘I’ll meet you at the southern corner of the square, at five-thirty. I know one of the Piper’s police: he is my uncle, he’ll let us through. We’ll be able to get right up to the platform where the ceremony is taking place.’

  ‘And how exactly are we supposed to free Aurora and Any?’ asked Storm impatiently.

  The boy looked earnestly at her, his blue eye glittering. ‘I’ll leave you to come up with a plan. Aurora said that you are clever and brave, that she trusts you to know what to do. She has every confidence in you.’ Storm felt the tiniest swell of pride.

  At that moment the landing clock with its carved wooden figures and calendar began to strike the hour. The clock face only had one and a half hands, and the elaborately decorated carved figures had long ago lost their heads but they still moved jerkily in their prescribed hourly dance below the face of the clock. Storm looked upwards, and as she did so the clock struck the final chime of the hour and one of the little figures pointed to the calendar. Storm stared at th
e date and felt a shock along her spine, as if somebody had run their fingertips lightly down her back. Tomorrow would be Aurora’s sixteenth birthday.

  She remembered the christening curse that Aurora had told her about. How she was doomed to prick her finger on her sixteenth birthday and fall into a sleep from which she would never awaken. Aurora was in double danger! She must go to her. She must save her.

  A little cry rose in Storm’s throat. Tears and hopelessness all forgotten, a new determination fired her. She would put the past behind her and do everything she could to save her sister. If Aurora had had the extraordinary generosity to forgive her, then the least she could do was to prove to Aurora how much she loved her, and how bitterly she regretted leaving her in Dr DeWilde’s clutches. And if she died in the attempt, so be it. At least Aurora and Any would know that she had tried to make it up to them and undo the terrible damage she had done. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll meet you tomorrow at the south end of the market square.’

  The boy nodded, something sad in his smile, and, with a bow, slipped quickly away through the door. Storm watched him go, his shoulders slumped as if in defeat as he started to dissolve into the mist. Then her heart skipped a beat. She remembered now when she’d seen him before – he was the boy she’d met in Piper’s Town on the day she’d first seen Dr DeWilde! And with the return of that memory several things clicked into place. She was suddenly sure that it had been his glittering emerald eye that she’d seen in the darkness of the liquorice pipe in the Ginger House – and his warning that had stopped her from eating the food. And he must have been the boy who had broken the enchantment binding Aurora to Bee Bumble. Kit, Aurora had said his name was – in a voice that had quivered as though she was speaking the most beautiful name in all the languages of the world.

  Well, Storm thought grudgingly, he is beautiful. But dangerous too. For she was now almost certain that it had been Kit who had tried to steal the pipe from Eden End, and that he was the one who had convinced her of Aurora’s betrayal at the well. Storm frowned. She wondered how her mind could have been so sleepy. But then, there was something about Kit’s smile that made it easy to forget things.