by Pauline Fisk
'What was that?' said Mum as if she knew it was something dreadful.
There were shouts in the yard, and footsteps coming up onto the terrace. Dad rushed past the kitchen window, followed by the grain man and Mr Onions and Henry and Ned. Mum dropped everything and made straight for the door. Arabella followed her. They stumbled through the darkness of the scullery, tripping over each other in their eagerness to get outside. Mum hauled back the scullery door. Arabella chased her down the step. The crowd of men at the end of the terrace looked up at the sight of them. What was it, down there between them? They shifted slightly, and Mum and Arabella saw…
There, on the ground between the men, lay Bonnie. Her eyes were closed. Her body was strewn across the stones like an unloved rag doll that had been thrown away. Her hair was spread around her and her head lay right beside a great stone flower trough. Another inch, and it would have been split open.
Mum pushed between them all. Arabella did the same. Bonnie's face was parchment white. There was not a movement, not even a breath. Arabella remembered that first morning when Bonnie had been a stranger lying exhausted, weak and dew-drenched in the holly grove. This time it was different. Bonnie wasn't a stranger any more. This time was different. She was really dead.
'Mum,' she said. 'Oh, Mum...!'
Mum leaned forward. Dad got hold of Arabella by the shoulders and held her tight. Mum began to scrape Bonnie up into her arms. Her face too was ghastly white. She touched the necklace and looked up questioningly towards the open attic window. Then she looked down at Bonnie's face, with not a mark on it.
'Help me,' she said to the men. 'She's not dead. Help me get her indoors.'
Dad put Arabella aside. He reached down and with gentle hands took Bonnie from Mum. Mum stood aside and let him carry her back along the terrace.
They reached the scullery door in a little procession. And Grandmother Marvell greeted them. She came out of the darkness like a farm rat comes from its lair. All the niceness was stripped away and the bright light of day was cruel to the face beneath the powdery makeup. Her eyes swept impatiently over the men and the bundle of Bonnie. As Mum and Arabella made to pass her by, she plucked at Mum's arm.
'Leave it to the men,' she said, in a wheedling voice. 'Don't fret. They'll take her in, they'll sort her out, they don't need you, she'll be all right.' She plucked again. 'Come and see my mirror. You mightn't have another chance. Come on, do... '
Mum stared at Grandmother Marvell. Really stared at her. As if she'd never seen her before. As if she recognized her for what she was, even if she didn't know the half of what she was.
'Get off me,’ she said, and she pulled her arm away. 'What's wrong with you? Can't you see what's happened?'
'But this matters more.' Grandmother Marvell said as if she truly couldn't see what had happened. She smiled blindly, awfully, from one to the other of them, and there was no kindness in her voice now. 'You don't understand. This matters more.'
'It doesn't matter more,' Mum said in a voice that anyone who knew her would never have argued with. 'It doesn't matter at all. Get away.'
There was a flicker of a pause while Grandmother Marvell registered surprise, rejection, failure. Then the smile disappeared like sunshine behind dark clouds. The black eyes shone like headlamps in a storm. The hand reached out again. Arabella recoiled. The hand was reaching for her. What was it about those fingers?
'You'd better come with me instead,' she said, fixing Arabella with her eyes. 'They don't need you in there. Come on. My magic mirror… '
Mum pushed Arabella ahead of her into the scullery and slammed the door behind her. She locked and bolted it. Locked the door with Grandmother Marvell on the step outside. What was she doing? This wasn't like her! She picked at her arm where the old woman had touched her, as if trying to pluck even the memory of the touch away. Her hand shook. She looked up at the shut bolts.
'I've locked her out, Belle,' she said. 'I've locked her out.'
A furious knocking began outside. Mum felt as if she could almost see those burning headlamp eyes through the thickness of the wood. She could almost see the knuckles hammering.
'Let’s go and see to Bonnie,’ she said firmly.
Arabella looked uncertainly at the door. The bolts were shaking.
'She can't get in,' said Mum. 'Hundreds of years of storms have never knocked that door down. The best thing to do is to forget she's there.'
'But…’
'Forget she's there, I said.' Mum turned her back on the door, and led Arabella away to where Bonnie was laid out on the settee in the cold, unused living-room.
'Michael,’ Mum said to Dad, 'open out the sofa bed in the sewing-room. Arabella, go and get some blankets…'
Mum sat with Bonnie while they were gone. She didn't even notice that the knocking had stopped. The men hovered anxiously by the fireplace. Mr Onions said he'd go for his wife. Mum didn’t even answer. Her shoulders had sunk and she looked drained and tired. Bonnie's eyes flickered and she moaned. Mum felt her all over for cuts and bruises and broken bones. The side gate creaked outside, and footsteps faded away. Then the shaky old car turned, screeching in the yard, and clattered off.
'Who was that?' Dad said, returning to the room. Mum shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. I don’t know. All I know is she's gone.'
'I’d best call for an ambulance,' Dad said.
Mum looked down at Bonnie. 'I don’t think we need it,’ she said in a strange voice. ‘Her bones aren’t broken. I’m sure of that. And I’ve got the weirdest feeling that nothing else is wrong. Look, she’s coming round. I know this sounds crazy, but I think she’s all right.’
'How can that be?'
'I don’t know.'
Bonnie was carried through to Mum’s little sitting-room. When she came round, the first thing she saw was Edric and Godda looking down at her. Edric and Godda, who had caught her as she fell, who had saved her, hadn’t they — and here they still were. Bonnie looked up and tried to thank them. Godda's necklace shone down at her from round Godda's neck, and her hand was outstretched, and Edric’s hand was on Godda’s shoulder and both of them were smiling…
Then Bonnie saw the cracks in the paintwork across Edric's face, and the gilt frame. She realized she was in the sewing-room on the sofa bed. She was looking at a painting, not the real thing. And yet she had a memory of the earth coming up at her and hands as light as angels' wings – Edric’s and Godda’s hands - bringing her down. She closed her eyes and lived through it all again. The open attic window. The slide down to the flat bit and the wall. The hardness of that parapet wall. The almost-taste of her heart beating in her mouth as she pushed the bricks and mortar away. Then Edric and Godda and their hands. Then the darkness. Bonnie went through it again. And then again…
Somewhere close, someone was crying. Bonnie opened her eyes. Arabella was by her side. She felt something gently moving. It was Arabella's thumb rubbing the back of her hand. She turned her head and Arabella looked at her, wiped her eyes and smiled. Why had Arabella been crying? What had happened? All she had was the memory of falling. No memory of anything before. No understanding of what it had all been about. What she wanted was peace, to go to sleep again. But how could she when there were things she was plainly missing? Bonnie tried to speak.
'She's gone,' Arabella whispered. 'She's gone away. It's all right now. Oh, Bonnie, she'd have had us both if it wasn't for you. I'd never have had the courage to do what you did. It was crazy, but you were so brave. And it worked. Oh, Bonnie, Mum hated her. She showed herself for what she really was, and now she's gone and Mum will never let her back.'
Bonnie frowned. She didn't understand. She didn't know what Arabella was talking about. All she knew about was the fall. Every time she blinked, every time she closed her eyes…
The door opened. Mum came in. ‘You’re awake,' she said and smiled with relief. She sat down on Bonnie's other side. Bonnie struggled to speak to them.
'Don't,' said Mum. 'Not yet. There's ple
nty of time later. You fell out of the window but by some miracle you seem to be all right.' She smiled again and patted Bonnie on the arm. 'Your bones don't seem to be broken,' she said. 'They should be, you know. You've been very lucky and you've got to rest.'
'I... I can't… remember… '
'You won't yet. Don't worry. You knocked yourself out,' Mum said. 'You're going to feel a bit confused, but it'll all come back when it's ready.'
Bonnie fell asleep again and dreamed. She woke and slept and woke and slept again. Distantly she became aware of Mrs Onions and Mum and Arabella. Then she came round and Dad was leaning against the fireplace, just looking and looking at her.
‘This has happened before, hasn't it?' Bonnie thought, and a picture of herself in the bed upstairs came into her mind. She saw Mum sitting by the window, looking for all the world like Maybelle, and Arabella standing in the doorway looking just like her.
Then slowly Bonnie began to remember other bits and pieces too. Pictures came back to her of the house, the yard, the orchard, the meadow, of the dusty attic with its telescope, of wooden beads and books in trunks, of Dad standing in the dark with his pipe, his eyes glinting as he looked down the valley. Looked down the valley at what?
Something was still missing. Something important. Bonnie looked around. Dad was gone. Arabella sat in the armchair by the fireplace. And suddenly the memory of Grandbag's face slithered out of Bonnie’s mind. She heard her emphatic voice say, 'Well, well, well, and how are you?' She saw her lift a tent flap and step outside wearing her special, gloating, triumphant look.
Of course! Bonnie cried out.
'Bonnie, what is it?' Arabella said
'Grandbag… ' Bonnie said.
'I told you. Remember? She's gone.'
Bonnie stared at Arabella. Grandmother Marvell and Grandbag flickered in green-summer, black-bead pictures through her head. Grandmother Marvell, Grandbag, Grandmother Marvell, Grandbag, Grandbag… Unwelcome memories rushed forth demented from Bonnie’s brain, all the memories that made up her life tumbling forth like circus acrobats. Bonnie couldn't see Edric and Godda shining above the fireplace any more. She couldn't even see Arabella. It didn't matter what she was saying about Grandmother Marvell being gone. It didn't make any difference if she was. The hot balloon of hatred hovered above Bonnie’s head, drank the smoke of her pain. Hatred of life, of people, of everything. That hadn’t gone.
'Things can seem so pretty, so nice,' Bonnie found herself shouting at the mellow, soft room. 'But underneath it all there's nothing you can really trust.'
It was like her real voice speaking for the first time, something deep inside herself daring to come out and make itself known. Bonnie closed her eyes tight and held her hands together over them as if she was in pain.
Then Arabella's voice cut softly through her darkness, swelled with unexpected confidence.
'You're wrong, you know,' she said, leaning forward urgently. 'It doesn't have to be like that. Not everyone’s like Grandmother Marvell, you know. Not everyone’s like Grandbag either…’
Bonnie heard the new tone in Arabella’s voice. Her hands didn't move. 'What do you mean?'
'Not everybody’s out for themselves,’ Arabella said. ‘Take Mrs Onions. She looked after me when Mum was expecting Florence. She did it for ages because Mum was ill. When Florence was born, she told me she'd love to have a baby too, and I said, "Why don't you?" and she laughed and said, "Some things aren't meant to be. Besides, I'm too old now."’
'I don't see what you're getting at,' Bonnie said.
'If anyone could have turned all bitter and greedy and nasty, you'd have thought it would be her,' Arabella said. 'But it never happened.'
The words dripped into the darkness inside Bonnie's head. A picture began to form of Mrs Onions with Florence in her arms making for the tea tent down at the Show. Mrs Onions, with her baby birds and sick badgers and once, it seemed, Arabella too.
'You can trust Mrs Onions,' Arabella said. 'You can trust Mum. You can trust Dad. You can trust me…'
The door opened. It was Mum again with a drink of some kind in her hand. 'Off you go, Arabella. I'll sit with Bonnie now.'
Arabella left, and Mum sat down and offered the drink. Bonnie's head spun. She wanted peace. She wanted peace. She didn't want the drink, or Arabella telling her she could trust people. And there was still something… some final, unhappy memory that struggled to get free… something that had not returned to Bonnie yet. What was it?
'Come on, Bonnie. Have this little drink. Open your eyes. Take your hands away. Come back to us. Don't leave us,' Mum said.
And then Bonnie knew. For Arabella had said it too, out in the barn. 'Don't leave us, Bonnie,' she'd said. Those exact words, full of forgiveness when it could so easily have been anger. 'When it's all over, don't, you know, fly off with your balloon.'
And in her mind how had Bonnie responded? 'She may forgive me,’ she’d thought, ‘but I'll never forgive myself. I will have to go.'
'What's the matter?' Mum said.
Tears began to splash down Bonnie's cheeks. She thought of Mrs Onions with somebody else's Florence in her arms. 'Life's not fair,' she said, and then, 'Oh please, oh please, I don't want to go… '
Mum put her arms around Bonnie and held her tight. She didn't say 'don't cry'. 'You don't ever have to go,' she said instead.
'Don't ever have to go?'
'We love you, Bonnie, you silly girl.'
'But you don't know what I've done. You don't know the danger I brought into your lives.'
'I don't want to know. It's over now. It's gone,' said Mum as if she understood. And, as she said it, the strangest thing happened to Bonnie. The memories seemed to fade, slide, slither away as if they weren't real any more, as if they didn't matter.
'They've both gone,' thought Bonnie, though she didn't quite know why. 'Grandbag too... '
PART SIX
The Magic Mirror
21
They sat in the meadow eating blackberries and looking down on the farmhouse roof. Smoke from the kitchen chimney rose, straight and thin, into a morning sky. Bonnie tilted her head and followed its path up, up, up…
'I haven't looked at the sky for ages,' she said. 'Not the way I used to do. Funny how things change.'
Arabella looked all around her. ‘They do, don’t they?' she said. 'I used to be so lonely and bored. Even when Florence came along. I can't imagine life without you now.'
'It's only a month since the Bank Holiday Show,' Bonnie said. She looked beyond the farmhouse roof at the showground which had become a farmer's field again. ‘Yet it seems so long ago.'
'The leaves aren't yellow yet,' Arabella said, 'But autumn definitely is here. Funny how things change.'
Mum came up through the orchard towards them. She leaned on the stile, Florence in her arms, and called. 'Bonnie, Arabella!'
She wore a thick cardigan over her frock and Florence wore a coat. The morning air was more than fresh. It was sharp. Things were changing. Arabella got up brushing blackberry crumbs out of her lap. 'She'll want us to help,' she said. 'There'll be lots to do with harvest supper tonight.'
They ran down the meadow and climbed over the stile into the orchard, heavy now with apples and plums. Mum had set Florence down to crawl through the grass. She'd seated herself on the low wall of the blocked-up well and, as they approached, she patted the stones by her side.
'Sit down,' she said. 'There's lots to do today. Mrs Onions will be down soon to help me cook but, before she comes, I wanted to talk to you.'
There was something in her voice. 'It's school,' Arabella hissed. 'She's going to start school again. I thought we wouldn't get away with it much longer.'
They sat down. Florence crawled to them and pulled herself up. 'There's no simple way to tell you this,' Mum said. 'Dad wanted me to make an announcement at breakfast time, but I'm not much good at things like that. I'd much rather just slip it out while we're piling logs or picking plums or getting ready for the harv
est supper. But, even then, it doesn't come out easily.’
She clasped and unclasped her hands. This wasn't about school.
'You must have noticed I haven't been quite myself,' she said. 'It's a bit like last time. Doctor says I've got to be very quiet, and I might have to spend a lot of time in bed. I hope he's wrong, because I hate it. I'm not used to being ill and I get so cross with myself. It's going to be hard for you, Arabella. You've already put up with it once. I'm having another baby.'
Another baby? The girls sat, stunned. Then Florence stood all on her own, announcing in the only way she knew that she wasn't a baby any more. Another baby!
Bonnie fell upon Mum. She'd never thought she'd be part of a family where the Mum had a baby. 'Mum, oh Mum… Another baby? That's just wonderful…' Her eyes shone with excitement and Mum caught hold of her and wobbling Florence too, and looked over their heads at Arabella.
'When Mum?' was all Arabella said.
'March, April… If all goes well, of course. I mean we nearly lost Florence. You know that. And we don't want to lose this baby.' Mum shivered.
'But we won't,' Bonnie said. 'I mean, you won’t. There's two of us to help this time. You won't have to worry about a thing. We can cook and clean and help with Florence, and Mrs Onions will help too.'
'I am pleased, Mum,' Arabella said. 'It's just… '
'I know,' said Mum. 'It was hard with Florence. Who'd have thought it would happen again. And so soon.'
'Are you pleased, Mum?' Arabella said.
'Yes, I am,' said Mum.
'And Dad?'
'He's delighted.'
Arabella's face broke into a smile and suddenly she was in Mum's arms too and all four of them were hugging each other and clinging on tight.
'You shouldn't have to teach us this term,' Arabella said. 'It'll make you too tired. And we won't have time for lessons anyhow. We'll be too busy helping.'
