Thornyhold

by Mary Stewart

  I spun round.

  It was a boy of perhaps ten or eleven years old. He wore shorts and a tattered sweater, and dirty sandshoes with holes in the toes. He had dark hair and eyes, and he was as thin as a garden rake. He was holding a fawn-coloured ferret in his arms.

  He hadn’t much colour at the best of times, I guessed, but now he was quite spectacularly white. His mouth was a round O of shock, and his eyes were twice too big for his face. The ferret, perceiving a lack of attention, gave a quick wriggle which brought the boy back to his senses.

  ‘You’re wearing her clothes.’

  He spoke abruptly, almost accusingly, and it made things plain. Seen from behind, and stooping over the bicycle, in the old green Wellingtons and jerkin I must have looked very much like the Miss Geillis he had known.

  ‘Only the gardening things,’ I said apologetically. ‘Miss Saxon was my cousin and I’ve come to live here now. I’m sorry it gave you such a shock seeing me here like this. My name is Geillis, too. Geillis Ramsey. What’s yours?’

  ‘William. William Dryden.’ A pause. Another wriggle from the ferret. The colour slowly crept back into the boy’s face. ‘You did look just like her from the back. And I – I was at the funeral, you see. I didn’t expect anyone to be here at all.’

  ‘I see.’ I considered him. ‘Then – forgive me for asking, but Thornyhold is so far from anywhere – if you didn’t expect anyone to be here, why did you come?’

  A half lift of the ferret in his arms. ‘Him. She used to look at them for me.’

  ‘My cousin looked after your pets, you mean?’

  ‘Not pets. They’re working ferrets.’

  ‘Sorry. You mean she used to doctor them for you?’

  ‘Cured them. I’m not so worried about Silkworm, because I know what to give him, but if anything else goes wrong, with the others, or with the rabbits … You aren’t a witch, too?’ Wistfully.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A witch. Curing things. It’s what—’

  ‘I heard you. I was a bit shocked. She was not a witch. Just because she was a herbalist, and used plants and so on to heal with—’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. It was only a joke. She used to laugh, and say it was a bit less arro – arrogant than calling herself a wise woman.’

  The last words were spoken, muffled, into the back of the ferret’s head.

  I spoke gently. ‘It’s all right, William. I was joking, too. Miss Saxon was certainly wise, and she did have a kind of magic. I’ve met it myself. I’m sorry if you miss her so much. And I do hope you’ll still come and visit here whenever you like. But I’m afraid I’m neither wise nor magical myself. I wouldn’t know what to give to Silkworm. Isn’t there a vet in the town?’

  ‘Not enough pocket money,’ said the boy shortly. ‘My father says I can only keep what I can look after myself, and it doesn’t stretch to vets. Miss Geillis would have done it for nothing, because she loved them all, but my father said I had to earn it, so I used to come and help in the garden, and cut wood and clean things. I could do that for you if you like?’

  ‘I’ll probably be very glad of your help, once I’ve found my way about. But I’ll have to pay you in other ways, William. All I know about medicine is a kind of elementary first aid.’

  ‘But I do!’ He said it eagerly. ‘I know which medicine she gave Firefly, and this one’s just the same. It’s just a tonic. Couldn’t we give him some, just to try?’

  ‘I don’t know where it’s kept. I only came yesterday evening. I haven’t really explored yet.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter.’ My mild objection was swept aside. ‘I’ll show you. I know where everything is.’

  ‘Do you? Well, there’s a door upstairs, over the dining-room. Mrs Trapp called it the still-room. Is that where the medicines are kept?’

  ‘That’s right. Opposite Miss Geillis’s bedroom.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid it’s locked, and I don’t know whether the key’s on the house ring. I haven’t had time to try yet. Perhaps—’

  ‘Oh, she always kept that one locked. I expect,’ said William cheerfully, ‘that it’s chock full of poisons. But it’s all right. The key’s not with the others, but I know where she kept it.’

  ‘Do you indeed? And the back door key, too, or has Mrs Trapp got that one?’

  ‘I don’t think she has a key, but she’ll know where it’s kept. It’s usually hanging on a nail under the jasmine beside the back door.’

  ‘I see. And you intended to go in, otherwise you wouldn’t have brought Silkworm over, since you didn’t know I would be here. Did you really intend to go into the house, William?’

  ‘She would have let me.’ He added, a little stiffly: ‘I don’t think she thought of me as a child. Of course I know where the keys are. She told me.’

  ‘I see. Well, then, lead on. You can show me, and we’ll see if we can find something for Silkworm.’

  10

  I disposed of my wellingtons by the back door, then the boy led me, not upstairs as I had expected, but into the den. I thought he would make for the desk, and perhaps even disclose some secret drawer, but he crossed the room to the fireplace.

  This had not seen a fire for a very long time. The pretty mantelpiece framed a chimney that must have been blocked off from above. It was dusty, but there was no sign of soot. On the wide hearth stood an electric fire.

  Before I realised what he was doing William had put the ferret into my arms and was reaching forward and up into the chimney. I had never handled a ferret before, and if I had been given the choice, would have refused to touch it. Something about the pink eyes and nose, the ferocious reputation, the whiplash strength of the hot little body, inspired wariness. But the little beast nestled comfortably into my hands, and without thinking I cradled it close to me. Its skin was like smooth silk, its body all slender muscle, and very warm. It lay still as a sleeping kitten and watched with me as William turned from the fireplace with a key in his hand.

  ‘There it is.’

  ‘Why on earth did she keep it there?’

  ‘I expect she didn’t think anyone would look there. I mean, if Mrs – if anyone wanted to hunt for a key, they’d look in the desk, or the drawers, or something like that. She didn’t want anyone going into the still-room when she wasn’t there.’

  ‘Except you.’

  A sideways look. ‘I told you, I helped a lot. I helped pick them and dry them, too. The herbs and things. I even helped make some of the medicines.’

  ‘It’s all right, William. I’m only teasing you. I can see that I’m going to rely on you a lot. Perhaps you can even teach me something about the herbs. Let’s go upstairs now, shall we?’

  The still-room was the same size as the dining-room below, but was much lighter. The furniture was simple. There was a big table in the centre of the room, and another under the window. They were plainly made, like kitchen tables, and were obviously working benches. In the alcoves to each side of the boarded-up fireplace were shelves full of books. Against the inner wall, alongside the door, stood a big, ancient dresser, with a locked cupboard below, and on its shelves, instead of plates, rows of jars and bottles. In a corner, where possibly a washbasin had once stood, was a small sink with an electric water-heater above it.

  ‘Here,’ I said, ‘take Silkworm, will you?’

  William, who was already looking along the rows of bottles, turned quickly. ‘I say, I quite forgot! I’m terribly sorry. You don’t mind ferrets? A lot of ladies don’t like them. I never thought, because of course Miss Geillis could do anything.’

  ‘I’ve never met one before, to tell you the truth. Here. He’s certainly got very nice manners – or perhaps he isn’t well enough to bite?’

  ‘That might be it. But he likes you, anyway. I say, should I run down and get his basket? It’s strapped on to my bike.’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

  He ran off with his ferret, and I looked about me.

  The room was very cle
an and very tidy. The books were all in place, and looked, from one or two titles, to be in order. The wood of the tables was scrubbed white, and nothing stood on them, except, on the long table by the window, a pair of scales and a biggish mortar and pestle. From the absence of all the things I had expected – bunches of herbs, sacks of roots, and so on – it looked very much as if the room had been scoured and everything put away. As if Cousin Geillis had tidied it all away at the end of her life to leave it ready for me. Apart from the orderly rows of bottles and jars the only sign of herbs was a big bowl of pot-pourri which stood on the end of the dresser nearest the door. It was mostly of rose petals and lavender, with geranium leaves and wild heartsease scattered over, but there was some strange fragrance about it that I couldn’t place. I stooped to sniff, just as William came running back into the room, with the ferret now in its carrying-cage.

  ‘Trefoil, John’s-wort, Vervain, Dill,

  Hinder witches of their will,’ he chanted.

  I straightened. ‘What do you mean?’

  He pointed to the pot-pourri. ‘They’re all in there. I helped her make it. She told me about it. It’s an old charm, or something.’

  ‘Goodness. Well, now, what about Silkworm?’

  He set the cage down on the table and reached for a bottle from the dresser shelves. The label, in my cousin’s neat writing, was in Latin and meant nothing to me.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, quite sure. Anyway, it can’t do any harm. I’m allowed to touch any of the bottles except the ones with red labels, and all those are locked in the bottom cupboard. This is the one. Look at the instructions.’

  He handed me the bottle. Underneath the Latin inscription were the words: ‘Small a. one p.d. for 3 d.’

  ‘That’s small animal. It was one a day for Firefly.’

  I opened the bottle. In it were some small, blackish pills. ‘Well, it’s your ferret. If you’re really sure—’

  He nodded.

  ‘Then I suppose we’d better have a go. Do you know how to do it?’

  ‘Just open his mouth and pop it down.’ For the first time, he looked uncertain. He eyed me. ‘It looked awfully easy when Miss Geillis did it.’

  ‘I’m sure it did. Well, we’d better start by getting him out of the basket. We can’t get at him like that. Put him on the table and hold him. That’s right.’

  I tipped a pill into my hand and looked dubiously at the ferret.

  William swallowed. ‘Would you – would you like me to try? It’s my ferret, after all, and if anyone has to get bitten it ought to be me.’

  I laughed. ‘I never heard a braver word. No, I’ll have a go. I’ve got to start some day, that’s for sure, and you did say it was easy … If you’ll just stop him squirming like that … Aah!’

  The ‘aah’ was one of sheer surprise. It was easy. I had done it a hundred times. Swiftly, expertly, I cupped my left hand over the ferret’s head, squeezed the cheeks gently till the pink mouth gaped, then dropped the pill in, far back, and held the jaws shut till it swallowed. As I lifted the little animal and settled it back into William’s arms, I got the sharp impression that if it had been a cat it would have purred.

  I went across to the sink to wash my hands while William put the ferret back into its cage. When I turned, it was to see the boy regarding me with what looked like awe.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘You said you’d never touched a ferret before. You did it just the way she did. How did you know?’

  The brush of gooseflesh along the skin. The moment of suddenly clear sight. There stood the bottle whose label I had not understood. There, all at once wide awake, and weaving to and fro in its cage with whickering sounds and tiny sharp teeth showing, was the ferret which, now, I would not dare to touch.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t thinking about anything but getting the pill into him. William, where does – where did Miss Saxon keep her bicycle pump?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Her bicycle pump. Something reminded me. I can’t find it, and the tyres are flat. I wanted to go into town fairly soon.’

  ‘It’s usually on the bicycle.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t now.’

  ‘I don’t know, then. Sorry. I expect it’ll turn up. I’ll tell you what, shall I blow them up with mine before I go?’

  ‘Oh, great, if you would. Thanks very much.’

  ‘I say,’ he exclaimed, ‘look at Silkworm! That’s good stuff, isn’t it?’

  ‘It does seem to have done the trick. Look, William, it says the pills have to be taken for three days. Can you come back, or would you like to take a couple home and try it yourself? Could you manage? He really did take it very easily.’

  ‘For you he did.’ He hesitated, then flashed a sudden smile. ‘Well, I could try. Dad would probably hold him for me if he had his driving gloves on. There’s some empty pill-boxes in that drawer. Here.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I dropped the pills into the box, capped it, and gave it to him. ‘Do you know what’s in them?’

  ‘No, not really. There’s gentian, and honey, but I don’t know what else, or how they were made up. She had a machine for doing pills; I think it’s in that other drawer—’

  ‘Never mind now. I’ll look later.’ I glanced at the book-shelves. ‘I dare say it’s all there somewhere. It does look as if I’ve got an awful lot to learn.’

  ‘She used to say it was all there, magic and all. And—’ lovingly regarding the ferret – ‘it is magic, isn’t it? Look at him! Thank you ever so much for letting me bring him in, and for giving him the dose. It’s – I’m glad you’re here. You love them too, don’t you? I can tell. So could Silkworm. Actually, ferrets are good as pets. Even working ferrets,’ he added hastily. ‘You never had one, then?’

  ‘I was never allowed any pets.’

  ‘How awful. None? Not even a dog?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘No one to look after him when I was away at school. Who looks after Silkworm and co? You told me your father would only let you keep them if you did it all yourself. What happens in term time?’

  ‘I have to feed them before I go, and clean them out at night, or at weekends.’

  ‘Oh, you’re at day school?’

  ‘Yes, I’m a day boy at Arnside. I think my parents had always fancied a boarding school, but I didn’t, and then my father said okay, it probably wouldn’t have suited me anyway. He always hated his. He said they weren’t a good idea for loners.’

  ‘And you’re a loner?’

  ‘Well,’ said William, sounding all at once about twenty years older, in what must have been an unconscious mimicry of his father, ‘let’s say that my hobbies aren’t popular ones. Reading, gardening, collecting flowers and watching birds and animals, and I’m not terribly good at games. So I can do all that at home, and if I look after the animals properly I can have them. If not, not. It’s fair enough, isn’t it?’

  ‘More than fair. In fact, you’re lucky.’

  ‘I know. How awful not to have any animals. Not a cat, either?’

  ‘There was a cat, but she was an outdoor cat mostly, and I never got to know her. Which reminds me, do you know where Hodge is?’

  He looked troubled. ‘No, sorry, I don’t. I’ve been awfully worried, as a matter of fact. Miss Geillis was sure he’d be all right. He’s got a bed in the shed, and there’s a cat door, and when she knew she’d have to go into hospital she fixed with Mrs Trapp to feed him, and I said I’d come over whenever I could. I did see she’d put saucers out for him, but the food wasn’t touched – except where it looked as if mice or birds or something had been at it.’

  ‘Do you mean you haven’t seen him since Miss Saxon went into hospital?’

  ‘I did think I saw him once. It was last Saturday, when I was clipping the box borders in the herb garden, and I thought I saw him on top of the wall and I called to him, but he – if it was him – just slipped down the other side and disa
ppeared.’

  ‘Then it does look as if he might still be somewhere about. Was the house empty then?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Oh, I see what you mean. Well, Mrs Trapp was here when I came over on Saturday. When I went in to wash my hands she had the kitchen upside down, and I thought she was looking for something, but she said no, she was just cleaning up, because the old lady was expected some day soon.’ A bright glance up at me. ‘Was that you?’

  ‘It was. I was quite a surprise to her.’

  ‘Was she here when you came, then?’

  ‘Yes. I did ask her about Hodge, and that surprised her, too. All she said was that he’d be about somewhere. She was in a hurry, and she didn’t seem much interested. But if she did put saucers out … I’ll ask her again when she comes back.’

  He followed me out of the still-room, and watched while I locked the door again. We started down the stairs.

  ‘How did you know about Hodge?’

  ‘My cousin left me a letter, asking me to look after him. Don’t look so worried, William. Cats are pretty competent. And so was Miss Saxon. She obviously expected him to stick around till I came, and—’ I hesitated – ‘she knew I’d be coming soon. If you saw him on Saturday, that’s probably just what he’s doing.’

  But he still looked troubled. He paused on the landing, holding the ferret’s cage close in to his chest, his head bent as if to study the animal inside. ‘If anyone—’ He stopped, undecided, then tried again. ‘That is, if someone wanted to harm him—’

  ‘Oh, William, who would? Anyway, they’d have to catch him first, and have you ever tried to catch a cat that didn’t want to be caught?’

  ‘Well, but poison or something?’ The words, muttered into Silkworm’s cage, could hardly be heard.

  I drew a sharp breath, decided not to ask the question that instantly suggested itself, and instead said firmly: ‘That’s even more difficult than catching him. A vet once told me that it’s next to impossible to poison a cat. A dog, yes, but cats are far too fussy. You’ll see, he’ll be waiting to find out what happens here, and he’ll turn up just when he wants to.’