by Mali Baker
Now River was face to face with the door, she noticed that it wasn’t the same as all the others in the house. It was worn, and the handle was different. Perhaps it was the only one they hadn’t changed after all these years. Nana had never lived anywhere but this house. She’d grown up here as a child and never left. She always said she couldn’t imagine leaving all her memories behind.
The light was now flashing through the keyhole much the same way as the swirling light on the top of a lighthouse. River grabbed the handle once again, this time with both hands, and twisted it with all her might, shoving her shoulder against the door in an attempt to force it open.
‘Come on!’ she said, through gritted teeth.
‘River Baker, what on earth are you doing?’
River had no idea she’d been making so much noise. She had woken Nana up! Scared to turn around, she kept her face and body firmly against the door.
‘I have told you time and time again that this door is not to be meddled with.’ Nana was cross.
‘I – I…’ River stuttered, not quite sure how she was going to get out of this one. ‘I couldn’t sleep because of the storm, and then this light was shining and I was going to have the leftover brownie…’ Knowing she wasn’t explaining herself very well, she turned to Nana and pointed at the keyhole. ‘The light, Nana. Look!’
But all of a sudden the light didn’t look so bright any more. In fact it had faded so much, it just looked like early morning sunlight peeking through a gap in the curtains.
‘You, River, have a very sleepy head on you,’ said Nana.
Feeling frustrated, River stayed put beside the door. What could possibly be in there that was so top secret that no one was allowed to see it? She and Nana were locked in a stare, neither one prepared to look away.
‘It’s just the table light, poppet, I leave it on every night. You know, to keep the room awake, just in case…’ Nana’s words faded to silence. River noticed she was now looking longingly at the door.
‘Just in case what, Nana?’ River asked gently, sensing that her grandmother was feeling wistful. Nana smiled to herself, took River by the arm and encouraged her to walk towards the stairs, but River resisted. ‘Please, Nana, tell me what’s in there,’ she begged.
‘River!’ Nana, rarely serious, spoke to River in such a warning tone that River buckled under her words and looked down at the floor. ‘It’s time to go back to bed.’
River knew she couldn’t push it any further tonight. She dragged her feet back up the stairs and climbed into bed. There was something in that room, she could tell by the way Nana had looked at the door. Now she was more intrigued than ever. It was a forbidden place – and one that she had the key to unlock.
CHAPTER 4
Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover
When River woke up again, she was alone in the bedroom. Kit’s bed was perfectly made and her pyjamas were folded neatly on top of the pillow. River stretched and yawned before climbing out of bed. She quickly threw her clothes on and grabbed the key, then made her way to the kitchen.
Kit was alone at the table when she got there.
‘Where’s Nana?’ River asked, cautiously, knowing she was probably in her grandmother’s bad books after last night.
‘She went out shopping,’ Kit said, between spoonfuls of cereal. ‘Grandpa is in the front room.’
River left Kit in the kitchen and went to say good morning to Grandpa. He was sitting in his usual chair, engrossed in his crossword. ‘Morning, Grandpa,’ River said.
‘Morning, River,’ he answered, without lifting his head. ‘Seven letters – brave soldier?’
‘No idea,’ she said. She sat on the sofa, watching Grandpa scratch his head, trying to figure out the answer. She squeezed the key in her hand and realised this might be her only chance to use it. Nana wasn’t home, Kit was busy with breakfast and, well, Grandpa was likely to be stuck on that question for a while!
‘I’m just going to…um…’ She edged herself off the sofa.
‘Ends with R,’ Grandpa grumbled, still puzzling.
‘I bet Kit would know,’ she said, leaving Grandpa to it.
River crept on her tiptoes to the mysterious door, begging the floorboards not to make a sound. When she was face to face with the door she looked down at the key, her heartbeat picking up in pace. She was astonished: on the bow of the key there was a glowing light emerging from the butterfly, just like the light she had seen last night! Not wasting another second, she slotted the key into the lock. It fitted perfectly, sliding in with ease like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. An electric surge of light flowed up River’s arm as she turned the key. At last, the door to Great-Auntie Violet’s room was open.
‘Oh!’
River hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but she had been expecting something a little more exciting beyond the door. She’d imagined this room would be full of Violet’s possessions – old clothes, jewellery and diaries. She had envisaged having lots of different things to inspect. She had been hoping to discover the secrets of this room, her great-aunt and more. But the long rectangular room was practically empty. Other than a small white desk accompanied by a small white stool, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing!
The desk and stool were right in the centre of the shabby room, facing a long window that was hidden by a pair of scraggly old purple curtains. The walls had no pictures on, and hadn’t seen a coat of paint for many years; presumably once white, they were now a grubby grey. River took a few steps inside the room, trailing her fingers along the bubbly wall. She stopped and leant against it, observing the room from a different angle. She was lost in thought. This room had once been used; there had once been life in it. Knowing that Violet had been in here when she was alive fascinated River. Nana had always called it Violet’s special room, and that was why River had been trying to get into it, even though no one ever said why it was so special.
Still, presumably it was Violet who’d spent the most time in here. River smiled, imagining her great-aunt sitting at the desk. ‘I wonder what she was like,’ she said into the room. There was no reply from any of the four walls. River could feel the room’s loneliness. It felt nothing like the rest of her grandparents’ house. She almost felt sorry for it; clearly no one took care of it.
The wall grew cold against her back; she could feel the chill seeping into her body. She quickly pulled away and shivered before continuing to inspect the room. She walked around it and came to a halt next to the window. It almost filled the wall, and the curtains fell from top to bottom, limply touching the ragged old carpet.
The window wasn’t open but there was a breeze coming from somewhere. River traced her fingers around the frame to see if she could feel a crack, but instead noticed that there was no way to open the window; it was sealed shut. She drew back the curtains to get a clearer look, being very gentle with them because she could see the rail was loose and ready to fall. The glass was roughly smeared all over with white paint, like when a shop was empty. Whoever did this clearly didn’t want anyone looking in or out. Perhaps there was something worth seeing through the glass. She used one fingernail to try to scratch some of the paint off but it wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, she stepped back. There had to be a way to open the window!
Then she noticed something. Whoever had painted the window had also tried to paint over something else. She stepped back and bent down to take a closer look. She ran her fingers over the wooden ledge at the bottom of the window and felt a dent in it. As her fingers moved in the shape of the dent she realised it was an engraving of a butterfly. Exactly like the butterfly on the key! She used her fingers to brush away the gathered dust and excitedly scratched off as much of the paint as she could, to be sure that what she had found was what she thought it was…
‘River! You weren’t supposed to open the door!’
Kit walked straight into the room an
d stopped, hands on hips, ready to lecture River. River stood up and subtly slipped the curtains carefully back to where they had been, covering the window. She didn’t want Kit to see what she had been up to. She turned to explain herself but Kit’s expression had softened. River watched her walk over to the desk and gently place her hands on it.
‘This is kinda cool,’ Kit said, looking up at River. ‘I guess this was Violet’s desk.’
River was surprised at how much the room was drawing Kit in. Kit began opening and closing the drawers in the desk. ‘Look,’ she said, pulling out a bunch of old books from the bottom drawer and plonking them on top of the desk with a thud.
‘Shhh,’ River scolded, ‘you’re making too much noise.’ She ran over to the door, took the key out of the lock, shut the door and then locked it from the inside, so they wouldn’t get caught.
‘I mean, this desk is so old it’s probably an antique,’ Kit continued, ignoring River. ‘And look at these books!’ Her voice rose about an octave. Out of all things to get excited about, thought River, trust Kit to be most excited by a bunch of boring old books. What a geek!
Kit put everything she found in the drawers on top of the desk, making a small heap of stuff. There was nothing that looked like buried treasure in River’s opinion. She put the key on the desk then grabbed one of the books, flicking through the pages. ‘Boring!’ she said matter-of-factly, putting it down and picking up another. Neither book had a title on the front or any pictures inside, and the writing was way too small for her liking. As she flicked through the third one, though, a piece of paper fell to the floor, wafting through the air like a feather until it hit the carpet. She bent down to pick it up. The writing on it had faded; she was barely able to read what it said. She put it right up to her eyes.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
‘Don’t judge a book by its cover,’ she read out loud, turning it over in her mind. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She handed the piece of paper to Kit and then rescanned the cover of the book she was holding.
Kit looked at it briefly then put it back on to the desk. ‘Sometimes things aren’t exactly as they look,’ she said, in a mature voice. ‘You must have heard that saying before, River.’
All River thought was that Kit sounded like a smarty-pants. She didn’t have much time to mull over what her sister had said, though; she was distracted by a golden pen lying between a bunch of scribbled notes in the far corner of the desk. It was exquisite – by far the most beautiful pen she had ever seen. It had the same butterfly on the end of it as the key to the room, and engraved in italic lettering was the name Michael A. Whitlock. No one had ever mentioned a Michael in the family before…
Hold on… what? River was sure the golden pen was starting to glow. She blinked and blinked again, this time shutting her eyes tightly before reopening them; she thought she might be going mad. Could the pen really be glowing? It was. When she reopened her eyes the butterfly was throbbing with the same white light she had seen coming from the butterfly on the key earlier. She put the book back on the desk and stood very still, unsure what to do. This must have been the source of the light she had seen coming through the keyhole last night; there certainly wasn’t a table light on the desk as Nana had said. But how was the pen doing that?
‘Kit!’
‘River!’
Both girls spoke at the same time.
‘Look!’
As River pointed to the pen, Kit held up one of the other books, but there was something very different about this book. Kit opened it up to reveal that it wasn’t a book at all. It was a box, and inside it was a tiny golden butterfly.
CHAPTER 5
The Butterfly Pen
River snatched the fake book from Kit’s hand and reached inside, taking the tiny butterfly from its compartment. She was sure it must be for the window at the end of the room; it had to fit into the engraving she had found.
‘Kit,’ River said agitatedly – so many thoughts were racing inside her head she couldn’t keep up with them. ‘Keep an eye on that pen, will you? I’m going to check… something.’
She didn’t have to ask. Kit was standing mesmerised by the flutter of light that was now illuminating the desk.
‘How are you doing that?’ she asked the pen.
She reached for it in slow motion, clearly not wanting to disturb it, as though it were a real live butterfly sitting on the desk. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the golden stem and she carefully pulled the pen up to meet her eyes. As soon as it was in her hand, she began to write rapidly on a clean sheet of paper that seemed to have been waiting patiently on the desk for the pen’s ink.
Torn between watching what Kit was doing and her own idea, River ran to the window and pulled the curtains back. She ran her fingers along the windowsill until she found the engraving. She pushed the golden butterfly into it, expecting it to fit, but it didn’t. Full of frustration, she yanked the curtains closed again. But she had forgotten completely about the loose rail. The wall released the final screws that had kept the rail attached, and the curtains came crashing down on top of River.
‘Aaaarrrggghhh!’ she screamed, frightened by the unexpected heaviness of the cloth. All these strange happenings were starting to put her nerves to the test. The curtains completely cocooned River, leaving her tangled in the purple rags. She could hardly breathe for fabric and dust. ‘Help me,’ she bellowed as the material swallowed her up into darkness. ‘HELP!’
Kit didn’t even notice her sister’s plight. She seemed bewitched by the pen and couldn’t stop writing. Something had taken her over, and she needed to get the words out and on to the paper; it seemed to be a matter of urgency.
River punched her fists into the curtains until she found an opening. She pulled herself into the light, gasping for air. The room had now become so bright she could barely see Kit. She climbed out of the curtains and put the golden butterfly safely into her pocket.
‘What are you doing, Kit?’ she screeched. ‘Put the pen down and let’s get out of here!’ She ran towards the door.
Kit stopped for a split second to consider what River had said but immediately went back to writing, scribbling so fast that it made River uncomfortable. River stood waiting at the door but Kit kept on like a robot, writing faster than any human could. She obviously had no control over her hand; the pen was writing all by itself, and Kit was merely a prop, so its tip could glide over the paper.
‘KIT!’ River said panicking. The more Kit wrote, the brighter the room became. She was going through sheet after sheet of paper. ‘I’m going, now,’ River threatened, but even as the words left her mouth she knew she didn’t mean it. No matter how annoying her twin could be, River could never leave her here by herself, especially as she was the one who had got them into this mess in the first place.
The room felt as though it was spinning and River began to feel a little nauseous. Her tummy filled with butterflies ferociously trying to escape. She desperately wanted to leave. She felt a wave of regret rush through her body. If only she could turn back the clock, she would have stayed out of here just as Nana had told her to.
The light continued to fill the space like a thick fog. Before long River had to shield her eyes, once again blinded by the intensity of it. The power of the light and the sickness in her stomach made River drop to her knees on the dusty old carpet. Then, suddenly, everything went dark around her and she gave into the force of gravity, letting her body collapse on to the scratchy floor beneath her.
River was sure she hadn’t fainted but it felt that way. Maybe the curtain rail had banged her on the head a little harder than she’d thought. Her head felt fuzzy, her eyes were sore and her body weighed a ton, so much so that she dared not try to lift herself off the floor.
‘Kit,’ she croaked, hoping to hear Kit’s voice. When there was no answer she began to panic. ‘Kit!’
‘It’s alright, River, I’m still here.’
Kit softly put one hand on River’s back, rubbing it gently. River turned her head slowly in Kit’s direction then rolled on to her back so she was looking up at the ceiling. The room had stopped spinning and the light had gone but there was a lingering haze of mist hanging directly above her head. As she took in the room around her, she saw a change in the way it looked. She couldn’t put her finger on it, though, especially not through her clouded eyes.
‘Come on, slowcoach,’ Kit said bending over and sticking her face right over River’s. ‘I’ve been waiting ages for you to wake up.’
River waved her out of the way, wafting the mist in another direction at the same time. She was still too dazed for the kind of energy Kit had right now. ‘What do you mean, ages? It’s been, like, a minute.’
‘Whatever.’ Kit stretched out her arm to help River back on to her feet.
The swirling in River’s stomach was fading and she was beginning to feel a little less fragile. She gingerly propped herself up on her elbows and took a good look at the room again. It was different. The walls were a brighter white and the desk looked brand new. And the window – it was open, blowing a cool breeze into the room! River welcomed it, noticing how good it felt on her face. She took a deep breath and moved her head slowly back to look at Kit’s expectant arm.
