Midnight Blue

by Pauline Fisk

  When Arabella awoke again, Florence was crawling across the floor.

  'Hello, Florence,' she said. 'Come here. That's right. Come here, you clever girl.'

  She sat up and pulled Florence onto the bed. Florence kissed her with her wet, red lips and put her soft head against her cheek. Arabella thought of Grandmother Marvell getting her too, like she’d got Jake. She thought of the mirror in the Special Room, and held Florence hard.

  Bonnie was up and pulling back the curtains, looking out and pronouncing it the brightest and best of days. Arabella got up too, Florence still in her arms, and peered over Bonnie's shoulder. The mist was all gone. The sun was bright and breakfast high. The morning birds were singing. But it was not - they both knew it - the brightest and best of days.

  'Let's go and find Mum,' Arabella said with a heavy heart.

  'All right,' Bonnie sighed.

  But Mum’s bedroom was empty. Arabella frowned, surprised. There was no sign of Mum and the house was never usually quiet like this. You could always hear Mum singing and the sound of laughter and voices downstairs.

  'Something's not right.'

  Bonnie and Arabella tumbled downstairs. 'There you are,' said Dad when they reached the kitchen. 'And Florence. Give her to me. I was just coming to get you. Breakfast's ready. Sit down.'

  The girls stared. Mum sat at the table, weakly stirring a cup of tea. Dad stood over the stove, smoke rising from a pan of overcooked bacon and eggs. The kettle boiled. The toast burned. Mum didn't move.

  'What's wrong, Mum?' Arabella said.

  Mum looked up at her and smiled weakly. 'Nothing's wrong,' she said, reaching out to touch her flower arrangement in the centre of the table. 'Which of you put it there? It looks nice, doesn't it? I'm tired, that's all. You may not have noticed, but we've had a harvest the last couple of weeks, and yesterday we had the Show.'

  'The grain man will be here in a minute,' Dad said. 'I'll have to go. Will you be all right? Perhaps you girls could help get the food on the table.'

  They piled breakfast onto plates. Mum wrinkled her nose when one was given to her. 'I can’t,' she said. 'I think you should,' Dad replied. Mum reached for an orange from the fruit bowl instead. 'This will do for me,' she said. 'Don't look like that. I'm quite all right. All I need is to wake up properly. Bonnie, could you feed Florence for me?'

  There was the sound of an engine chugging into the yard. Dad flung himself into his overalls. Then there was the scraping of the scullery door and footsteps beyond the kitchen door and then its latch lifting. Mr Onions' face appeared.

  'Evans is here.'

  'I'm just coming,' said Dad. 'Girls, you stay and help Mum.' He took a few quick mouthfuls of breakfast, then made for the door.

  Bonnie put Florence in her high chair. Dad called that he’d ask Mrs Onions to come down and help. Mum smiled wanly. Then Dad was gone.

  Bonnie fed Florence and finished her own breakfast. She watched Mum eat the orange and lick her fingers clean. She still wore her dressing-gown. And her hair, usually so carefully pinned and combed, hung over her shoulders in untidy tails. Maybelle's hair was always like that, and she always wore a dressing-gown at breakfast time, and she always slouched over the table as if she couldn't wake up, and sniffed at food and stirred and stirred her cup of tea…

  Arabella stared at Bonnie. They were alone. Now was their chance. Bonnie took a deep, nervous breath. It had been easy telling her story to Arabella in the first relief of their escape. It had all just tumbled out. But this was different. She didn't know where to begin. Her mouth went dry. What should she say?

  'Jake's not back,' Mum said, helpfully. 'I can't understand it. I thought he would have been by now. I'm feeling quite bad because I didn't go down again last night to look for him.'

  'Jake isn't coming back.' Bonnie seized her chance. Her voice came out all harsh and lumpy. She hardly could believe that it was hers. 'We didn't just lose him like we said. We didn't want to tell you. You see, something happened.'

  Mum stared foggily at her. 'What do you mean?'

  'And it could happen to us all,' Arabella said. 'You, Florence, Dad, Bonnie, me… '

  Out in the yard, there was a sudden din of tractors turning and men shouting, engines revving, vehicles negotiating. Mum frowned. She got up and closed the window. 'Say that again…’

  'Jake's not coming home,' Bonnie said. 'You see…' Mum turned from the window with a puzzled frown. 'Jake's dead,' Bonnie said. 'We saw it happen. We saw him die.'

  The scullery door scraped again. There were footsteps. 'No,' said Mum, shaking her head as the latch lifted on the kitchen door. 'No, Bonnie, you've got that wrong.'

  Arabella went to say she hadn’t, but was interrupted. 'Is anybody home?' called a voice. And Jake came bounding in.

  19

  Bonnie recognized the voice straight away. She could see the black-and-bead-coat in her mind's eye seconds before the kitchen door opened properly and Grandmother Marvell appeared, wearing, as it turned out, not Grandbag's famous coat, but a searing green, gaudy summer dress.

  'Didn't mean to startle you,' she said, twitching at the neckline of the dress. 'Found him this morning underneath my trailer. Someone said he was yours. He is yours, isn't he? People get so attached to their animals, don't they?'

  The old woman stood hesitantly on the threshold. Her voice, Bonnie realized, was struggling to be soft and nice. She smiled round at them, even at Bonnie, whom yesterday she'd more or less ignored. If it hadn't been for the bandaged hand where Jake had bitten it, Bonnie might have wondered if her distrust was misplaced. That, and the sudden stinging pain around her neck, and a quick dart of the old woman’s eyes that took in everything, so that Bonnie could imagine her - just as Grandbag might have done - adding Dad's silver cup and Mum's flower arrangement and the hanging lamp and the old copper pans to some nasty, greedy jackdaw's hoard somewhere.

  Jake sniffed his way round the room. He stopped at Mum's feet. Mum ruffled his hair. Her tired face smiled over his head at the visitor.

  'Yes, he's our dog. How kind of you to bring him home. Come in and sit down. Come on. Don't just stand there. We were getting a bit worried because he never usually runs away.'

  'You're busy,’ Grandmother Marvell said. 'There's all that going on outside and you haven't even finished breakfast. It's not a time to call, I know. I'm sure you've got lots to do, and I don't want to hold you up. What a lovely baby you have. How old is she? What a lovely house this is.'

  'We're not busy,' Mum said. 'Of course you're not holding us up. I'll put the kettle on. It's the least I can do after you've come up here all this way. It is a nice house, isn't it?'

  Grandmother Marvell allowed herself to be persuaded in. She sat down at the table and looked around. Her cold eyes throbbed with good will but there was something behind that good will, wasn't there?

  'We don't often get visitors,' Mum said. 'The track, you know. Did you come up with the grain man?'

  'I brought my car,' Grandmother Marvell said. 'It wasn't too difficult.'

  Bonnie stared out of the window at an ancient car. It was just Grandbag's sort of vehicle. She remembered a succession of rusty Cortinas and a creaking Hillman that smoked on every hill. She stared beyond the car, at the twisty track and the distant valley. How had Grandmother Marvell got it up here, especially with that huge wrapped bundle tied onto the roof-rack? It must have been terrible trying to get up the bumpy track, over the little bridge and between the deep ruts of the twisty canyon.

  And what was that bundle on the roof-rack?

  Arabella was sitting at the table now and Mum was telling Grandmother Marvell their names. She poured boiling water into the teapot. The surprise of a visitor had stripped her of her earlier weariness. She looked like herself again. That was more than Bonnie could say for Jake. He stood awkwardly on the rug by the stove as if he didn't know what to do, or where to go. He looked so lost...

  'He's not himself,' said Mum.

  'Poor thing,' said Gr
andmother Marvell. 'He missed you all. He was really unhappy. That's why I thought I'd better bring him back as quick as possible.'

  'He's feeling ashamed,' said Mum. 'That's what's wrong with him. He's never gone off overnight like that before.' She glanced across at Bonnie. 'He loves going out with you,' she said. 'Why don't you take him for a run? Let him stretch his legs and get the feeling of being back at home again.'

  'But… ' Bonnie began.

  'Arabella, get the teacups will you?' Mum went on. 'Bonnie, we'll save you a cup. You don't have to take him on a real walk or anything. Just let him run up and down.'

  Bonnie hovered. How could she go? What would happen when her back was turned? What would Grandmother Marvell do? Her eyes met Arabella's. 'I don't know what to do,' they said, and Arabella's eyes said the same.

  'Go on,' said Mum. 'Or the tea will get cold.'

  Out on the terrace, Jake began to sniff and explore. Bonnie followed him away from the busy yard, up into the orchard. She talked to herself. 'I don't understand it,' she said. 'We saw him go. He died. I’m sure he did.'

  The necklace stung her neck again.

  'Oh, wretched, wretched necklace,' she thought. 'Why can't you tell me what'll happen next? Instead of just stinging, why can't you tell me what to do?'

  Bonnie sat on the edge of the well, where she could see up between the trees towards Edric's Throne. 'If you're really there, why can't you come and help us? A stupid, stinging necklace is useless on its own. We want to see you galloping to the rescue with horses, flowing hair and flashing jewels…'

  Her eyes turned back to Jake. He was standing very still. He didn't seem to look at anything. He didn't, somehow, seem like Jake.

  'Jake,’ Bonnie called. 'Jake, come here!'

  He came up to her, but not as though in answer to her call. His response seemed detached, almost accidental. He lifted his head and stared at her. It was as though he'd never seen her before. As if he was a stranger.

  'What's the matter with you?' Bonnie said, and as she said it she knew. As she put out her hand and felt the dog that looked like Jake, she knew he wasn't. He didn't feel the same. He didn't smell the same or behave the same. He only looked the same. And, when you lifted his face and looked into those pale, limp eyes, he didn't even really look the same. Bonnie let the dog go. Relieved that the scrutiny was over, he turned away and began his half-hearted explorations again.

  'You're not Jake!'

  At that moment, Dad turned the tractor in the yard. Bonnie looked up at the noise, and caught a brief glimpse of him between the trees. 'Would he know,’ she said to herself, 'if Mum and Arabella disappeared, the same as Jake, and Grandmother Marvell sent back empty shells instead?'

  'Of course he would,' she said right back. And then, 'No, he wouldn't. Oh, he'd know something was wrong. But he'd never think, nobody would, that they were really gone.'

  Bonnie got up and began to run back towards the house. So where was Jake really? What had Grandmother Marvell done with him? If she captured Mum and Arabella and Florence, where would they go too? Would they be dead? Would they be in some dark, bodiless, terrible place, never to be set free again?

  'No one would ever come and rescue them. No one would know. It would be worse than death, and all the time there'd be... ' Bonnie looked towards the Jake-creature, 'things like that, here in their place. And no one would know.'

  Frantically Bonnie squeezed through the orchard gate and ran along the terrace, through the scraping scullery door, through the darkness and back, with pounding heart, into the kitchen.

  Mum sat at the table, with her tea. Arabella leaned over her. Grandmother Marvell was laughing the ordinary, friendly laugh of one who enjoys good company and has not a bad thought in the world. Postcards were spread in front of them. They were all looking and laughing and turning them over. It was a happy scene. Grandmother Marvell's jet-shiny hair bounced as she laughed, her red lips parted. She smoothed down her dress. But as Bonnie got close she saw that the hair was dyed, the smooth face was powdered thickly, the skin beneath the lipstick was wrinkled and coarse. That things were not what they seemed to be.

  She too peered over Mum's shoulder. The postcards were of exotic places. Arabella, by her side, hardly seemed to notice that she was back, but Grandmother Marvell looked up and wrapped her long fingers round her cup of tea and said in a voice that had an edge to it, 'How's that dog, then? Settled down, has he?'

  Bonnie looked at the stringy fingers, the long, painted nails. The fingers were just like the ones in the tickling dream. Grandmother Marvell's nails clacked against the china cup. Clack, click! She smiled at Bonnie, and Bonnie remembered how Grandbag loved to taunt. She remembered those nails digging into her and she thought, 'Maybe it was a dream, but once it was something more, wasn't it? It really used to happen.'

  Clack, click!

  Arabella turned a flushed, unnatural, excited face - a face that made Bonnie feel cold inside - towards Grandmother Marvell. It was as if she'd been bewitched. As if she'd forgotten what had happened yesterday. She brandished a postcard. 'Have you really been there?' she said.

  'Of course I have,' Grandmother Marvell took the postcard and looked at it. 'I've been everywhere.'

  'You’re lucky then. I've never been anywhere.'

  Grandmother Marvell smiled as if this was exactly what she'd been waiting for. 'In that case, there's something outside you might care to see,' she said. ‘Something far more interesting than postcards.’ She turned to Mum, and so did Bonnie. Mum looked flushed, just like Arabella. What had Grandmother Marvell done to them? 'I wonder if that nice husband of yours would help me get it down,’ she said. ‘Then we can unwrap it together and you can see what it is.'

  Arabella jumped up. Suddenly Bonnie knew, even without Godda's necklace leaping warnings round her neck, what Grandmother Marvell was talking about. It was the magic mirror, wasn't it? She tried to warn to Arabella with her eyes, but Arabella refused to look at her.

  Bonnie cried out in a panic.

  'What is it?' Mum said.

  Before Bonnie could reply, Grandmother Marvell leaned across the table and focused on Mum's eyes. She spoke very softly, as if just between the two of them. 'You’d like to see the future, wouldn’t you?’ she said. ‘To see the world beyond this kitchen and this point in time. Don't deny it. I know. You've got things on your mind. I saw right away when I walked in that there are things you'd like to know.'

  Mum's face flushed. It was as if Grandmother Marvell had tapped some spring of secret things inside her. 'You can't really tell the future, can you?' she said. But behind the lightness in her voice, secret words pleaded, 'Please, please do.'

  Grandmother Marvell tapped her nails together and smiled her best smile. Mum got up to go. 'Wait!' cried out Bonnie. They all stared at her. What could she do to hold them back? 'Wait for me,’ she said. ‘I want to come too, but I’m not dressed. I haven’t even got my shoes. Will you wait for me? I’ll just be a minute…'

  For the first time Grandmother Marvell's eyes lost their battle to be nice. They became Grandbag's angry black eyes and Bonnie thought, 'If I beat her now, I'm beating Grandbag too. If I can get rid of her, I'm getting rid of Grandbag. Whatever do I mean by that? I don't know. What am I going to do? I don't know!'

  'Well, hurry up then,' said Mum. 'I'll wash up the cups while you’re gone.'

  'I won't be long.'

  Bonnie raced upstairs. She could halt the process for a minute, but she'd have to come back down again and what would happen then? In her panic, as if trying to put as much space between herself and Grandmother Marvell, she climbed the attic stairs too. She hadn't been up here since the first day, hadn't even thought of it, but the stinging necklace seemed to drive her on. It weighed a ton and was hot like fire. Oh, Edric! Oh, Godda! Where were they now?

  Bonnie slid through the attic hatch, picked her way along the holes in the floor and peered out of the window at the end. No Edric on horseback stood in the apple orchard ready to res
cue them. No Godda. Was this the best they could do?

  'Edric, Godda, tell me what to do.'

  Bonnie opened the skylight, slid out onto the roof and down onto the flat bit. Over the little parapet wall she saw that the Bank Holiday Show down in the valley was being dismantled. Marquees were collapsing, rides were being taken down, lorries were driving across the showground onto the road. Oh, it was a long, long way down there, and yet something from it had struggled all that way up the hill to get them. It was here in the yard tied to the top of an old car. Bonnie looked down. It was a long way to the ground.

  Bonnie's heart fluttered. She swallowed hard. If she fell, she'd break something - her back or legs or head, no doubt about it. But they'd have to rush her off the hill to hospital and there’d be no time for unwrapping magic mirrors. Grandmother Marvell’s spell would be broken. In the panic she’d be forgotten.

  Bonnie swallowed again. It might be a crazy idea, but there were no Edric and Godda to come to her rescue. She had no choice, she reckoned. Suddenly it was just like being in the tent again. Like when she put out her hand to push Arabella into the mirror and her arm had gone ahead of her and she’d felt detached from things. Everything became incredibly slow. Bonnie climbed onto the little wall and watched herself doing it. Quickly, before she changed her mind. She slithered along the edge. She watched her body go.

  This time no hand reached out to grab Bonnie back. Then the film changed speed. The terrace rushed at her. She never knew before that, when you fell, you did it so fast…

  20

  There was a thud outside. It wasn't like any of the other sounds out in the yard already, the reverberating tractor engine or the clatter of the gate or grain tumbling into Evans' truck with its succession of small sucks and echoes. It was softer than these sounds and yet they all heard it, muffled, flat and sore as a bruise.

  Mum looked up sharply. The strange flushed look disappeared from her face. Arabella shook her head as if a spell had been broken. Outside someone switched off the tractor engine.