The Hidden World

by Graham Masterton

  ‘How did she sound?’

  ‘She believed me, if that’s what you mean.’

  Our magic sleigh will take us through the whirling snow-beasts to the Palace of the Old Ones, where we will be fed with many good things, jellies made from roses and rainwater, peacock pies, swans fashioned out of sugar. There will be music and dancing, and the blowing of many trumpets to salute us.

  ‘Look at this guy, he’s weaving all over the road.’

  They had caught up with a huge black tractor-trailer with NORTH POLE REFRIGERATED DELIVERY written on the back, and a picture of a penguin with a scarf on, giving them the thumbs-up. Even though it was traveling at less than 20 mph, the truck was swaying from one side of the carriageway to the other and churning up a filthy blizzard of slush and spray, so that her father had to switch his windshield wipers on to full. Jessica liked that, when they flapped really fast, whip whap, whip whap!

  Her father flashed his headlights and blew his horn.

  ‘Come on, John, there’s no point in getting impatient.’

  ‘All he has to do is pull over and let us pass. Is that too much to ask? Guy’s drunk, by the way he’s driving.’

  More flashing, more horn-blowing. Jessica had the oddest feeling that the penguin was smiling only at her, and giving only her the thumbs-up. Don’t worry, kid, you’re going to be fine. We shall invite all the penguins and the polar bears to our banquet, Princess Fay, and we shall feed them on mackerel and mint ice-cream.

  Her father suddenly put his foot down and swerved the car to the left, starting to overtake.

  ‘John! Don’t! You can’t see!’

  ‘It’s OK, trust me. How well do I know this road? There’s a left-hand curve here and if there was anything coming the other way we would have seen it.’

  They drew up alongside the tractor-trailer and Jessica’s window was filled with its huge sizzling wheels. Her father accelerated faster and faster but the truck seemed to go on forever; it felt as if they would take a week to get past it.

  ‘He’s putting his foot down! What’s the matter with him? Can’t he see me?’

  The windshield wipers flapped and flapped but there was so much spray coming from the truck’s wheels that her father was practically driving blind.

  ‘John!’ said her mother. ‘John, pull back, let him go!’

  ‘No way, not this bastard.’ They edged forward little by little until they were neck-and-neck with the truck, and suddenly they were clear of the spray. That was when the interior of the Buick was abruptly flooded with brilliant light. Jessica heard her mother say, ‘Oh, God,’ very quietly, as if she were talking only to herself.

  The oncoming panel-van hit them head-on. Jessica could never remember hearing any noise, although there must have been. But she remembered the jolt of her seat-belt across her chest and her fairies flying through the car, and then a terrible bumpety-bumpety-bumpety as they careered down a steep graveled embankment and into a stand of pine trees. There was a bang that almost knocked her teeth out, but she didn’t feel any pain, even though her mother’s seat had been forced backward and downward by the impact and comprehensively crushed her foot.

  She remembered the car door being opened, and a flashlight shining in her eyes. ‘Everybody OK?’

  ‘Call nine-one-one, Lance. Looks like these two have bought the farm.’

  ‘How about you, little lady? Are you OK?’

  ‘I’ve lost my fairies.’

  ‘OK, don’t you worry, we’ll find your fairies. Let’s see if we can get you out of there.’

  She stood by the bedroom window, looking out over the snowy garden. This morning Dr Leeming had called to examine her and had taken her turban off. Her hair had been shaved off in a triangular patch and there were seven stitches in her scalp. She still had to wear a dressing, but now she could cover her head with a red-and-yellow silk scarf that used to belong to her mother.

  In the center of the garden stood a bronze statuette of Pan, with cloven hoofs, and horns, and a sly, untrustworthy smile. He was dancing and playing his pipes, even though there was a large blob of snow on top of his head.

  She looked around her room. It was hard to believe that it was nearly eleven months since the car crash. Her room on East 86th Street had been airy and pale and very modern, even though the basketwork armchairs had been overpopulated with all of her various fairies and elves, and her painting-table had been cluttered with pencils, brushes, pots of water and squeezed-out tubes of paint.

  Grandpa Willy had lived in this house since 1948, and even then it was already eighty-five years old. It stood about two miles out of New Milford, on the road to Allen’s Corners, in six and a half acres of its own grounds. It had steeply sloping roofs and very tall brick chimneys and Jessica could never imagine why anybody would have wanted to build it, unless they had been wealthy and lonely and sad. Like every other bedroom, her own room was wallpapered with pasture roses and wild irises and blessed thistles. The wallpaper was faded now, and stained in places, but she supposed that Grannie and Grandpa Willy didn’t notice things like that any more. Grandpa Willy had walked in this morning with dried egg yolk on his vest, and Grannie was always wearing odd socks.

  On one side of the room loomed the large closet in which she kept all of her clothes. It was so tall that it almost reached to the ceiling, and it was veneered in walnut, which had knots that looked like eyes and dark jagged shapes that looked like animals’ faces. On the other side, next to the brown-tiled fireplace, stood her dressing-table, which also had her computer on it and her carved-wood mirror. She talked to the girl in the mirror every day. The girl in the mirror didn’t have any friends, either – even though, exactly like Jessica, she was skinny-waisted and pretty, with glossy brown shoulder-length hair and large dark eyes and a slightly elfin look. Grannie’s mother had come from Norway, that’s what Grannie said, and that’s why Jessica looked like that. There were lots of elves in Norway, and they often married humans.

  She decided to go downstairs. It was all very well being the fairy princess in the attic, but she was growing bored now, and hungry. She could smell ham boiling and cookies baking. Grannie may have fussed too much, but she was a wonderful cook.

  ‘Help us.’

  She was reaching for her bathrobe, but she stopped, with her hand still raised. A cold feeling slowly crept down her back like a melting snowball.

  ‘Help us,’ the voice repeated. It sounded weaker than it had before, but it was just as frightened. ‘It’s coming closer. You have to help us.’

  ‘I can’t—’ Jessica began, but then she had to clear her throat. ‘I can’t see you. How can I help you if I don’t know who you are?’

  ‘Help us, there’s a way.’

  ‘What way? I don’t understand. I can’t even see you – what can I do?’

  ‘You don’t know what it’s going to do to us. It’s going to take us all, but it’s going to do far worse than that.’

  ‘Where are you? Let me see you!’

  ‘We’re here. We’re here. Help us.’

  The voice seemed to come from somewhere very close, only inches away from her ear, and yet it seemed to be all around her, too, like fifty people all whispering at once.

  She looked toward the fireplace. The voice must be coming from there, that was why it echoed so much. Somebody was whispering into the fireplace in another room, and the sound carried through all the complicated chimneys until it came out here. Whether her grandmother knew it or not, there must be other children living in the house somewhere. Maybe they had run away from home. Or perhaps they were orphans, who had escaped from a local orphanage.

  Whoever they were, Jessica decided that she had to find them. Whatever was after them, they were scared for their lives.

  ‘Tell me where you are,’ she said, clearly. ‘Don’t be frightened. Tell me what room you’re in, and I’ll come and rescue you.’

  ‘We’re here. Help us.’

  Jessica was about to ask the voice agai
n when Grannie appeared, wearing an apron and a big, hot smile. ‘I thought I heard you calling, sweetie-pie. Do you want to come downstairs? There’s chocolate muffins and pecan cookies and some of my lemon cake, if you’re interested.’

  Jessica thought she heard a furtive scamper, like a rat running behind the skirting-board. ‘Yes please,’ she said. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Is everything all right? You look … worried about something.’

  ‘I’m fine. My head doesn’t hurt nearly so much. I think I might do some drawing this afternoon.’

  She was following Grannie down the wide oak staircase when the front doorbell rang. Grandpa Willy came across the hallway with his paper under his arm and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it!’

  He opened the large oak door. Inside the house it was winter-gloomy, but outside the light from the snow was dazzling. At first, blinking, Jessica didn’t recognize the boy standing in the porch. He was pale and skinny with a blond crewcut and his nose was red from the cold.

  ‘Young man called Renko here to see you,’ said Grandpa Willy.

  Where Are the Children?

  They sat at the big scrubbed-pine kitchen table and Grannie brought them muffins, cookies and fruit bread. The kitchen was always warm in winter because Grannie cooked on a massive old cast-iron range. On the walls there were glossy green tiles with convolvulus patterns on them, and the floor was covered in green-and-cream linoleum squares, which were always so shiny you could slide across them in your socks.

  On either side of the range there were two small stained-glass windows, with apple trees and puffy clouds and faraway hills. When she was little, Jessica had always wondered what it would be like to live in Stained-Glass Window Land, and walk along the winding path between the apple trees, to see what lay beyond.

  Renko had taken off his huge gray windbreaker with the fake-fur collar and Grandpa Willy had hung it up for him. He looked skinnier than ever in his blue-and-white Connecticut Huskies sweatshirt, and his wrists were so thin that his bracelet watch was loose. He sat opposite Jessica, but kept his eyes fixed on his chocolate muffin.

  ‘Milk or Seven-Up?’ asked Grannie.

  ‘Oh, Seven-Up’s great, thank you.’

  ‘Are you in Jessica’s class? What did you say your name was, Ringo?’

  ‘Renko, ma’am. David Renko, but everybody calls me just Renko. Yes … Jessica and me, we’re both in Mrs Walker’s class.’

  ‘Well, it was very thoughtful of you to pay her a visit.’

  Renko quickly glanced up at Jessica, and she saw for the first time how gray his eyes were. Gray like pigeon feathers.

  From the top of the stairs, Grandpa Willy called out, ‘Where d’you put my clean red flannels, Mildred? I can’t find the dang things anywhere.’

  Grannie said, ‘Excuse me a moment. Your grandpa, honestly. He couldn’t find his flannels if he was wearing them.’

  She went out of the kitchen and Jessica and Renko were left alone. Neither of them touched their muffin. Neither of them spoke, not for almost half a minute. Then Jessica said ‘Why—?’ and Renko said ‘How—?’ both at the same time, and then both of them stopped and stared at each other.

  ‘You first,’ said Jessica.

  Renko cleared his throat. ‘I was going to ask you – you know, if you were OK.’

  ‘I’m OK. I was going to ask you why you came to see me.’

  Renko lowered his eyes again. ‘I guess I came to say sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? Why?’

  ‘What happened to you, that was totally my fault. Totally.’

  ‘I don’t really remember much about it, to tell you the truth. I know that I was picking up my drawings, and I fell downstairs, but that’s about all.’

  Renko said, ‘It was me. Me and Sue-Anne and the rest of the gang, we were all teasing you. No we weren’t, we were bullying you. I dropped all of your pictures down the staircase. It was a totally dorkish thing to do, wasn’t it? But I was showing off in front of the others. Like I said, I’m really sorry.’

  ‘OK …’ said Jessica. ‘I didn’t even realize it was you.’

  ‘I was a total dork, that’s all.’

  Jessica looked at him for a while, and then she said, ‘I’m getting much better now, anyhow. They’re taking my stitches out Tuesday. Look – why don’t you eat your muffin, they’re really good.’

  Renko took a bite of muffin, and began to chew it. ‘I feel like such an idiot,’ he said. ‘It was just that Sue-Anne and the others … well, I don’t know. Sue-Anne’s a really nice person when you get to know her, but she always has to be the center of attention. Otherwise, you know, she’s the Incredible Sulk.’

  ‘I never tried to be the center of attention.’

  ‘You didn’t have to try, did you? You came to school last winter and your parents were dead and you had this walking-stick. So you were, like, somebody out of a story. As well as being pretty.’

  ‘I’m not pretty. What are you talking about?’

  ‘You don’t think you’re pretty?’ Renko seemed incredulous. ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Sue-Anne’s pretty. Fay Perelli, she’s pretty.’

  ‘Sure they are, but they’re like sort of, I don’t know, cheerleader pretty. You’re not like that.’ He swallowed. ‘You’re like, strange pretty.’

  ‘Is that why everybody’s been so horrible to me?’

  Renko didn’t look up. ‘I guess you didn’t really fit in, either. I mean the fact your parents were dead and all those fairies you drew, and all those poems you wrote about fairies. And the teachers were all really nice to you, too, and I guess that made some people jealous. Not me, but some of the girls, for sure. Sue-Anne, Charlene, one or two others.’ He took a breath, and then he said, ‘We’ve been giving you a real hard time and I’m totally sorry. That’s all I came to say. I think I’d better go now.’

  ‘No, don’t. You haven’t had any cookies yet.’

  ‘Really, I should go.’

  Jessica said, ‘Do you want to be friends?’

  Renko hesitated. ‘Sure,’ he said, although it was more of a question than an answer.

  ‘Have some cookies, then,’ she insisted, and passed over the plate. Renko took one and bit into it. It crumbled so much that he had to push it all into his mouth at once.

  Jessica glanced toward the door to make sure that her grandmother was still out of earshot, and then she leaned across the table and whispered, ‘There are some children trapped in this house.’

  ‘Woff?’ asked Renko, spraying crumbs.

  ‘I’ve heard them. I don’t know how many. Sometimes it sounds like only one, but other times it sounds like dozens and dozens. I think they’re locked in a room somewhere but they’re calling for help up the chimney, so that I can hear them out of my fireplace.’

  ‘You’re kidding me! Have you told your grandparents?’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘How can I? Supposing it’s them that’s locked them up!’

  ‘What do you mean? They’re your grandparents! I mean, I don’t like to be rude but talk about a couple of old coots! What would they want to lock up a whole bunch of kids for?’

  ‘I don’t know, but they keep saying, “Help us, help us, it’s coming after us.” Like they’re really, really scared.’

  ‘You’re sure you heard them? You don’t think maybe that knock on the nut—’

  Jessica shook her head emphatically. ‘The first time I heard them was when I was coming out of my concussion. Actually I thought I was dead, but when I knew I wasn’t dead I thought I must be dreaming, or hearing things. But I heard them again this morning, just before you arrived, when I was wide awake, so I can’t have been hearing things. They’re real, and they’re trapped in this house somewhere.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? Call the cops?’

  ‘No. I want to find out what’s going on first. I mean, Grannie and Grandpa Willy would never do anything wrong, at least I don’t think so, and what would I do if they were a
rrested? Where would I go?’

  ‘You need to search the place,’ said Renko.

  ‘I know. It’s just that it’s kind of scary, doing it on your own.’

  Renko took another cookie and snapped it in half. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.’

  Jessica nodded.

  ‘Hey, I don’t know. I’m supposed to be going to basketball practice at eleven o’clock.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of time. Please.’

  At that moment, Grannie came back into the kitchen. ‘You young people have hardly eaten a thing! Something wrong with my chocolate muffins? They’re not poison, you know!’

  ‘Oh no, they’re outstanding, thanks,’ said Renko. ‘I had a big breakfast, is all.’

  ‘I’ll pack you some to take home. And how about some cookies too?’

  ‘Sure, that’d be great.’

  ‘I’m just going to show Renko my room,’ said Jessica.

  ‘That’s fine,’ smiled Grannie. ‘I hope Renko likes fairies.’

  ‘Actually I was going to let him take a look at my CD collection.’

  ‘Fairies are extremely cool, too,’ said Renko, with a completely serious expression on his face. ‘Fairies are extremely cool, too!’ Jessica giggled, as they ran up the wide oak staircase. ‘What made you say that?’

  ‘I don’t know. But if you like them so much, maybe they are. You know, maybe I’m, like, missing something.’

  They went into her bedroom. The low winter sun was shining directly into the window and everything was blessed with a gold-and-amber glow. Renko looked around at all the fairy dolls and the elves and the drawings that Jessica had pinned up on the wall – fairies flying through clouds of thistle-down; elves playing musical instruments made of acorns and horse-chestnuts and river reeds; fairies in crystal coaches drawn by stag beetles.

  Jessica sat on the bed and watched him. When he had finished, he turned and looked at her and there was an unspoken question in his eyes.