The Children of Green Knowe Collection

by Lucy M. Boston

  It gave a loud chirp, as if it were making an important statement, something like ‘I’m as good as you are’, but with no boastfulness, only friendly confidence. Then it flew out of the window. In a moment it was back. ‘I’m as good as you are’ it said, and went into the cage for the last of the pastry crumbs.

  It hopped round the room examining everything with its head tipped sideways as if its eye were a spotlight. It tugged at Toseland’s shoe-laces, picked up his Twig T that he had put carefully by his bed, tried to fly away with it, but found it too heavy and threw it away. In front of the big mirror it bowed to its own reflection, announced as usual ‘I’m as good as you are’ and seemed to wait for a reply. Getting none, it flew out of the window again.

  ‘How quickly it makes up its mind about everything,’ thought Toseland, getting out of bed and climbing on to the rocking-horse. He worked hard, making it rear high and higher until it stood right up on its hind-legs and he had to clutch it round the neck and lean forward to bring it down again. ‘My golden eagle, my wise horse, my powerful otter,’ he chanted as he rocked. Before he went down to breakfast he brushed its mane and tail and put two rugs over it, belting them round with the strap of his trunk.

  He went to the bed to get his mouse from under the pillow. As his hand closed over it, it felt warm to his touch, and with surprise he saw pastry crumbs in the bed. Suddenly he remembered Mrs Oldknow’s question: ‘And did the mouse squeak and the dogs bark?’

  ‘Mouse, mouse,’ he said, looking into its shiny black eye, ‘where have you been? This house is full of shiny black eyes, all looking at me.’

  As he went down the winding wooden stairs he heard someone whistling in his bedroom behind him. A bird? He turned his head to listen, but what he heard was laughter in the Music Room below him. He pelted down the stairs, making a great noise with his shoes, but by then children’s voices came from his great-grandmother’s room beyond.

  Mrs Oldknow was there, turning her head and bending down as if she were listening to a child that was clutching her skirts. She looked up with a queer smile as Tolly came in, rather as if she had been caught. ‘What a hurry you are in for breakfast this morning! Pelting down your stairs as if you were chasing butterflies.’ Toseland had a feeling that she was hiding something from him. The voices and laughter had vanished.

  All that day it seemed that the children were determined to tease Tolly. In the house, in the garden, wherever he was not, they were. They sounded so happy, so full of games and high spirits that Tolly, in spite of all disappointments, still ran towards it when he heard ‘coo-ee’ in the garden, or stopped and crept stealthily round a corner when he heard whispering. But he found no one. While he was loitering round St Christopher’s feet he was playfully pelted with beechnuts through the window-opening in the garden wall. When he visited the Green Deer he found twigs on the ground arranged like arrows pointing a trail. He followed these past the green squirrel, the green hare, the peacock, and the cock and hen, till he arrived at the fish platform. There all he found was more twigs arranged to form the letters T, A, L. He broke off two more and put another T underneath. There was a little dog barking somewhere, rather muffled as if someone were trying to keep it quiet.

  He visited Feste’s stall, walking in on tiptoe as some people do in church. The sugar was gone again! Joyfully he put another piece.

  He felt very good-tempered all morning, but by the middle of the afternoon he had forgotten that yesterday he had been dull because there was no hide-and-seek. Now he was cross because there was too much of it.

  ‘I hate hide-and-seek when you never find anybody,’ he said to himself. ‘It’s a perfectly horrid game.’ He walked to the house kicking sticks and stones as he went. He even felt inclined to kick St Christopher, but stopped in time and was ashamed of having such a thought.

  As he went along the entrance hall, past one of the big mirrors, something in it caught his eye. It looked like a pink hand. The glass reflected a dark doorway on the other side of the stairs. Behind the door-post, flattened against the wall on tiptoe to make themselves as thin as they could, their faces puckered with holding in their laughter, he saw Linnet and Alexander. It was Linnet’s hand on the door-post. Their black eyes were fixed on him. There was no mistake, he knew them.

  ‘I spy!’ he shouted, whisking round to chase them, but they did not run away, they simply vanished.

  He felt the wall where they had been; he looked all round. He ran out to the Green Deer, but the clearing was empty and quiet. Certainly the Green Deer looked magic enough, ready to spring away. The light was queer too, the sky was dark green, the wind dead. Tolly was half frightened. Something was going to happen.

  As he looked up at St Christopher’s face a snowflake drifted past it, then another, and suddenly it was snowing thickly. Like millions of tiny white birds circling home to roost, the flakes danced in the air. They filled the sky as far up as he could imagine. At the same time all the sounds in the world ceased. The snow was piling up on the branches, on the walls, on the ground, on St Christopher’s face and shoulders, without any sound at all, softer than the thin spray of fountains, or falling leaves, or butterflies against a window, or wood ash dropping, or hair when the barber cuts it. Yet when a flake landed on his cheek it was heavy. He felt the splosh but could not hear it.

  He went in plastered with snow, and here tea was ready, with Mrs Oldknow sitting by the fire waiting for him. In the fire the snow drifting down the chimney was making the only noise it ever can – a sound like the striking of fairy matches; though sometimes when the wind blows you can hear the snow like a gloved hand laid against the window.

  Tolly made the toast and his great-grandmother spread it with honey. They talked about Christmas. Mrs Oldknow said Boggis was going to buy the tree the next day, unless they were snowed up. Tolly hoped they would be. He liked the idea of being snowed up in a castle. By the light of the candles he could see the flakes drifting past the windows.

  ‘What will the birds do?’ he asked.

  ‘They do not mind the snow so long as we feed them. Is your window open enough for the chaffinch to get in? Take some shortbread and make him welcome.’ Tolly did as she said. When he came down again the curtains were all drawn, and he settled down by the fire in hopes of another story.

  ‘Granny, both my pieces of sugar have gone out of Feste’s stall.’

  ‘Perhaps Boggis takes them and puts them in his tea,’ she said, laughing.

  Tolly’s face fell. He had never thought of anything so low-down, so common. He was shattered.

  At that moment, while Mrs Oldknow was still laughing at him, outside the door that led into the garden someone began a Christmas carol. Children’s voices, delicate and expert, were singing ‘The Holly and the Ivy’. Tolly had never heard such beautiful singing. He listened entranced.

  O the rising of the sun

  The running of the deer

  The playing of the merrie organ

  Sweet singing in the choir.

  ‘What will they sing next?’ he asked in a whisper, and waited in silence. ‘I saw three ships come sailing by’ was the next, and then a carol Tolly did not know, which began, ‘Tomorrow shall be my dancing day’ and which ended:

  Sing O my love, my love, my love, my love,

  This have I done for my true love.

  When that was finished there was a pause and a little girl’s laugh – ah, he knew that laugh now! Mrs Oldknow’s eyes were fixed on him and she saw him start.

  ‘Shall we let them in?’ she asked. Tolly nodded, unable to speak. In his mind he could see the three of them standing there in the snow with their lanterns, ready to come in. She opened the door. Cold white snow blew in out of the darkness, nothing else. Mrs Oldknow stood there smiling at nobody. Tolly flung himself face downwards into one of the big chairs, with angry tears.

  ‘I want to be with them. I want to be with them. Why can’t I be with them?’ he cried. Mrs Oldknow came to comfort him.

 
; ‘Don’t cry, my dear. You’ll find them soon. They’re like shy animals. They don’t come just at first till they are sure. You mustn’t be impatient.’ She stopped, then shook him. ‘Toseland, listen! Listen! Do you hear what I hear?’

  Tolly sat up and strained his ears. Did he? Mrs Oldknow opened the door again, and then he heard it. Faint and muffled by the falling snow a high insistent whinny came from the stables. Tolly listened with bright dry eyes, till the whinny ceased. Toby and Feste were together, and he, Tolly, was content that it should be so.

  That night Mrs Oldknow, when she came to see him to bed, stayed longer than usual. The chaffinch was already there, fluffed up in his cage with his head under his wing, taking no notice of either of them. The night-light was lit, and Tolly was pleased to see on the ceiling in the patterned shadow of the cage, the shadow of a bird, as big as a football.

  ‘See how much quicker the shadow-horse goes than the rocking-horse,’ said Mrs Oldknow, giving it a forward push. The shadow-horse leaped ahead, stretching out a long neck and forward-pointing ears, as if it could leap out of the room at a bound.

  ‘When I was little, I used to pretend the rocking-horse had got Feste’s shadow instead of its own.’

  ‘Who told you about Feste?’

  ‘My grandfather first. But afterwards I used to hear them talking.’

  Tolly had a very big question troubling him, that could not wait. He wriggled under the bed-clothes until only his eyes showed, and then in his smallest voice he asked: ‘Granny, do you see them?’

  ‘Not always,’ she said, as if it were quite a simple thing to talk about.

  ‘Did you see them tonight when you opened the door?’

  ‘Yes, darling. They were all three there. At the very beginning I only saw them sometimes in mirrors.’

  Tolly came out from under the bed-clothes. ‘I do,’ he said proudly. ‘At least, only Alexander and Linnet, once.’

  ‘Toby is always the rarest. You see, he is often with Feste.’

  ‘Do you ever see Feste?’

  ‘Never,’ she said sadly. ‘But my grandfather told me he did sometimes.’

  Tolly breathed again. There was still hope.

  ‘Was his name Toseland too?’

  ‘Yes, my dear, it was.’

  Tolly put the ebony mouse into his pyjama pocket, thinking to himself it would make it come warm more quickly. Mrs Oldknow watched him.

  ‘Is the mouse behaving?’

  He grinned happily. ‘Not bad,’ he said.

  *

  IN THE MORNING HE was woken up by the chaffinch scolding and tut-tutting, and the sound of its feet skidding on the polished floor. At first he thought it must be having a fight with another bird, in the far corner of the room behind some boxes. He got up to look. Outside it was still snowing hard. He could see nothing out of the window but passing flakes.

  The chaffinch was tugging at a piece of string that went down between two floor-boards where the crack was rather large. His claws were spread to give him a better hold on the floor, but when he arched his back to pull and jerked his head, his claws slipped again, so that he was clearly cross.

  Tolly gently moved him away and lay down to look into the crack. He pulled on the string, but the other end was fast to something. It looked to him like an iron ring. He could not move it however much he pulled or poked. At last he remembered an old silver button-hook that lay at the back of a drawer in the table. (The chaffinch by now had lost interest and was collecting fluff under the bed.) With the button-hook Tolly was able to give a tug on the ring and work it about. It proved to be something quite big, and when at last he was able to pull it out of the crack he saw that it was an old key.

  His first thought was the right one. The toy-box! The key fitted and turned. Tolly put his hand to the lid, and then stopped. He would not open it without Mrs Oldknow. Down his narrow winding stairs he went helter-skelter, shouting for her at the top of his voice.

  ‘Come and see what I’ve found. Come quickly, come and see.’

  Mrs Oldknow was getting dressed. She came in a quilted black dressing-gown and without her teeth. She looked so old that Tolly could easily believe she was as old as the house. He would not tell her what he had found till she had panted up the stairs and they were kneeling together before the toy-box.

  ‘Shall we open it now?’ she asked.

  Tolly nodded and they each put out a hand and lifted the lid.

  The box was full. Lying right on the top was a long, narrow, leather case decorated with gold patterns. Mrs Oldknow gave a long ‘Oh!’, as if for once she was really surprised. ‘It’s Alexander’s flute! Oh Tolly, will you learn to play it?’ She took it out of its box where it lay in a velvet slot, put it to her lips and began to play.

  In almost no time there was a sound like wind, and outside the windows the air was as full of birds as of snow. Somewhere downstairs a little dog barked, and in his pyjama jacket Tolly was sure the mouse squeaked.

  The old lady was trembling with excitement. She laid down the flute. Under the flute-case there were books, which her hands touched one after the other, as if she dared not take them out. Suddenly she shut the lid. ‘Come, Tolly, let us go and feed the birds since we have called them. We’ll look at the rest after breakfast.’

  They hurried to finish their dressing and met again downstairs, both their faces so bright with excitement that for all the difference in their age they were very much alike.

  Great flakes of snow blotted out all the distant view. The bushes in the garden were upholstered with fat snow cushions. The yew trees by the house were like huge tattered snow umbrellas. The branches were weighed down nearly to the ground and shielded it from the snow. Underneath them the birds had gathered to wait for their breakfast, shaking off the snow that had settled on their heads and backs during their flight round the upper windows.

  ‘We’ll have a bird party to celebrate finding the flute,’ said Mrs Oldknow. ‘Yes, I’ll butter your hands again, and we will put plates of cake crumbs and grated cheese on the floor.’

  When it was ready she opened the door wide. She had the flute in her hand and, as she played, the birds flew in – chaffinches, cole-tits, blue-tits, longtailed-tits, robins, wrens and hedge-sparrows were there immediately. They behaved as if quite at home: Tolly was nearly covered with them. The air was electric with the whirr of wings. The blackbirds stood off by the threshold at first, then one by one, as if in a tournament, they charged in long galloping hops into the room and out again with their loot. Close outside in the branches, the most exciting bird Tolly had ever seen was waiting to pick up what the blackbirds dropped.

  ‘Is that a phoenix?’ he asked, pulling Mrs Oldknow’s arm. She still had her lips to the flute. She shook her head.

  ‘Woodpecker,’ she said, between two notes.

  The little birds were well mannered. They gave the impression of talking and laughing and enjoying themselves very much. Tolly thought it was the gayest party he had ever been to. When everything was eaten the robin sang a little song, perching on top of a picture. The tits explored the room, perching right way up or upside down on chair backs, on curtains, on candlesticks and light shades, showing great curiosity and making little polite remarks. They seemed pleased to stay in out of the snow. The blackbirds fought like border raiders all over the garden for what they had taken away. The woodpecker had flown. Mrs Oldknow was just closing the door to keep out the snow when the starlings arrived, late and noisy as usual.

  ‘I won’t have them in the house,’ she said, throwing out a plateful of crumbs and shutting the door.

  She and Toseland took their breakfast and sat by the fire to eat it. Outside their castle walls all was silence again and falling snow, but inside they laughed to each other as happily as if they were bewitched. When they had finished she gave him his first lesson in playing the flute. It was difficult, but he made some sounds that he thought were lovely.

  While she was showing him how to do it, his eyes wand
ered to the window, and there outside, sitting up in the snow with its ears pricked, was a hare. When Tolly ran to look, with shouts of joy, it lolloped away. Too late then he began to whisper, ‘Toby’s hare, Granny, Toby’s hare!’

  They went upstairs together to see what else was in the box. The chaffinch came too, hopping round hopefully as if there might be something for him inside. The books were very big, bound in leather, the pages spotted with brown marks. There were lots of pictures.

  ‘Ah,’ said Mrs Oldknow, ‘here’s the Aeneid. That’s the book Alexander has in the picture, that his father brought with him from Germany. And here’s Aesop’s Fables. That’s Linnet’s. She used to look at it in bed, and laugh! Especially at the Ass in the lion’s skin. Here’s Merlin the Sorcerer and Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Those are Toby’s, but they all loved them. The History of Troy. That’s Alexander’s again.’

  ‘What’s this?’ said Tolly, dragging out something like a big dog-collar, except that it was so beautiful, in blue enamelled leather with tiny jewels on it.

  ‘You know what that is. Think! You’ve often seen it.’

  ‘I know, I know! It’s the deer’s collar. It belonged to Toby, then. I’ll put it on Toby’s heap. Couldn’t we clean it? It looks almost like a crown. Something for Linnet now – she’s only got one book.’

  Mrs Oldknow poked into the corner of the box and brought out a small painted wooden figure. Its skirts came down to the ground and there was a large shawl over its head and shoulders so that it was the shape of a round bottle and stood up by itself. The paint was rich and old and nearly worn off.

  ‘It’s a box,’ she said. ‘See if you can open it. The lid’s at the bottom.’

  The bottom came loose with a loud wooden squeak, and out fell another figure, exactly like the first but painted in different colours and just a little smaller.