He took it from her. ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘But the fetch was after me. And everything went wrong.’ His voice was fading. He sighed and gazed at the photograph again.
After a moment, Mr Cornelius said, ‘My grandmother used to say that generations ago, one of our ancestors was a sprite, and that’s why music runs in our family. The creatures of the underworld crave music. They were always known to snatch musicians. That’s always a particular danger for our family. No singing in the street, especially after dark, she used to tell me.’
‘What is a sprite?’ asked Stella.
‘They were the spirits of the air. Invisible creatures, with singing voices like silver bells, so beautiful that they could send people into an enchanted sleep.’ He smiled. ‘So the story goes.’
Stella and Luna exchanged a glance. ‘We do that,’ said Luna. ‘Not so much the silver bells, I reckon. And I don’t mind if I never sing again. But we go invisible. Me a lot, and Stella a bit.’ She faded slightly, and then appeared again.
Mr Cornelius blinked with astonishment. He said, ‘Well, that is quite remarkable. I never entirely believed the story. But it was true, after all. These things often come out with twins, I have heard.’
Their father took a breath and started to speak again. ‘I knew the fetch was after me. I had tickets for a ship. We could escape her family, and the fetch too, and sail away. I sent her a message in the musical box, and I went to the crossroads in the wood every night, and I waited. I would have waited forever. But then the fetch came. I knew it would take the little children, if it could. So I led it away. It followed me, and it caught me, and it snatched me up and took me down underground to play for the King of the Mountain. I played for as long as I could. I knew that as long as I played, my children would be safe.’
‘She brought us to meet you,’ said Stella softly. ‘But there was a monster in the wood. It bit her, and it killed her. She was turned into stone.’ She thought about the stone figure in the wood and the flowers that Luna had placed around her feet.
Their father gazed at them for a moment. He looked very sad. He whispered, ‘And so I played and played. And slowly, I got weaker and weaker. Weeks went by. My harp was broken. And my voice was gone.’
‘It weren’t weeks. It was years,’ said Luna. ‘Ten years. Time goes different down there.’
He said, ‘I did not know. I believed you were still babies. I believed I was keeping you safe. And then, when I could play no more, and the door was opened, the fetch went to find another musician to replace me, and they found you, Luna, and they brought you down to join me.’
‘I was singing in the wood, when it came,’ said Luna.
‘Just where I had been.’ He nodded. ‘I am so sorry. I wanted so much to keep you safe.’
Luna patted his shoulder. ‘We’re safe now,’ she said. ‘We are, and you are too.’ She looked at the hole where the fountain had been. Water had seeped up from below, forming a muddy lake. ‘The door’s locked tight and buried deep under all them rocks and water. The fetch ain’t never comin’ out again.’
Their father smiled and closed his eyes.
Twenty-Five
They all walked down the High Street through the town together. They stopped and said goodbye to Joe and his family, and a bit further along, they said goodbye to Ottilie and her mother. Then they turned the corner and walked along the street towards the school.
Agapanthus was frowning. ‘I utterly refuse to go back in that horrible album.’
‘It does sound rather iniquitous,’ said Mr Cornelius. ‘I will request a word with your Headmistress.’
When they reached the school, Stella and Agapanthus hesitated, but Mr Cornelius marched up the steps and rang the bell. After a few minutes, the door opened. The maid gave a little gasp of surprise.
‘I wish to see the Headmistress, if you would be so kind,’ said Mr Cornelius.
They were ushered into the entrance hall. Stella and Agapanthus looked at each other nervously. Agapanthus pulled a face.
Miss Mangan came down the main staircase. ‘Stella Montgomery,’ she said. ‘Agapanthus Ffaulkington-Ffitch. Where on earth have you been? Your behaviour has been absolutely disgraceful. Miss Garnet has written to your relations. What do you have to say for yourselves?’
Before Stella or Agapanthus could say anything, Mr Cornelius stepped forward. ‘Good evening. I am Stella’s great-grandfather. I wish to speak to Miss Garnet.’ He tipped his hat. Nicholas flapped his wings and cackled.
Miss Mangan stepped back, looking startled. She hesitated, and then said, ‘I will enquire.’ She turned and made her way back up the stairs.
They waited. After a few minutes, Stella started to whisper something to Agapanthus, but she was gone. Stella turned around to Luna. ‘Where is she?’
Luna shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’
Raised voices came from somewhere overhead. Someone squealed. There was a whoop of laughter and the sound of running feet.
Suddenly, Agapanthus came leaping down the main staircase, three steps at a time.
‘What happened?’ asked Stella. ‘What did you do?’
Agapanthus grasped her hand. ‘I nipped up the back stairs to Miss Garnet’s parlour, and I snatched up that horrible album and threw it on the fire.’
Upstairs, the voices were getting louder. Someone yelled. There was a shriek and a tinkle of broken china.
They heard Miss Mangan call, ‘Girls! Girls! Quiet there!’
A chorus of loud, giggling voices began to sing.
Wakestone Girls march on and on,
Doing just what must be done.
Never turn or flee in fright,
Always Righteous, Always Right.
The song ended with a squeal of laughter, and then dozens of copies of The Young Ladies’ Magazine and Moral Instructor were flung over the bannisters into the entrance hall. They fluttered down like a flock of strange white birds.
Miss Mangan and Miss Feldspar were shouting. Miss McCragg was clumping and bellowing. And above the growing uproar came a high, shrieking wail from Miss Garnet.
Agapanthus gave a snort of laughter.
The doorbell rang, and a giggling maid appeared and opened the door. A large coach stood in the street outside. Its door opened, and Stella caught her breath. Aunt Condolence tottered out, followed by Aunt Temperance and Ada. The coachman unstrapped a Bath chair from the back of the coach. Ada helped Aunt Deliverance into it. She tucked the blankets around her.
Stella hesitated, and then went out onto the steps. Aunt Deliverance glared at her. She beckoned with an imperious finger. ‘Come here at once!’ her voice boomed. Her beady black eyes were like angry currants in a suet pudding. Stella felt the familiar sinking feeling.
‘Stand up straight. Feet together. You look a complete disgrace. Have you lost all sense of propriety? Miss Garnet wrote to us. The mortification. We have come to collect you,’ said Aunt Deliverance. ‘Your behaviour has been completely unforgivable.’
‘Inexcusable!’ said Aunt Temperance.
‘Deplorable!’ said Aunt Condolence.
Stella looked at her angry Aunts. She supposed that it was probably too much to hope that Agapanthus burning Miss Garnet’s album would make any difference to them. They had been dreadful for years and years — they were not going to change now. She said, ‘Aunt Deliverance, please let me introduce you to my sister, Luna. And this is my father, Finn. And this is my great-grandfather, Mr Cornelius.’ She beckoned them down the steps. Luna gave a little bob. Their father bowed, and Mr Cornelius lifted his hat. Nicholas flapped his wings.
‘And that is Nicholas,’ said Stella, pointing. ‘He is a jackdaw.’
Aunt Deliverance opened her mouth, and then shut it. She opened it again, but only a faint wheezing sound came out. Aunt Temperance’s wandering eye circled madly. She made a series of startled, squeaking sounds. Aunt Condolence gasped for breath. She clutched at her middle, and her Particular Patent Corset gave a loud twang.
>
‘Thank you for coming to get me,’ went on Stella. ‘And for everything you have done for me. I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused you.’ She looked at her father and said, ‘But I will stay with my father now.’
For a long moment, Aunt Deliverance just glared and said nothing. Then she gave one quick nod. ‘Well,’ she said. Her mouth twitched. It was almost a smile.
Stella blinked. Surely she had been mistaken. She had never seen Aunt Deliverance smile. Not once.
Aunt Deliverance gestured to Ada to help her back into the coach. Stella watched Aunt Condolence and Aunt Temperance climb in after her. The coachman lifted the Bath chair up and strapped it into place.
Stella waved. Ada gave her a grim, approving nod. The Aunts frowned. The coachman flicked the reins, and the coach drove away.
Mr Cornelius arranged for Stella’s trunk to be sent to his home. He tipped his hat to Miss Mangan, who was looking completely agitated and flustered by the sounds of commotion throughout the school. They said goodbye to Agapanthus, who was looking quite pleased with herself. As they left the school, a window was flung open on the third floor, and two girls poked out their heads. They were screeching with laughter and thumping each other with a pillow. The pillow split open, and the feathers burst out like a flurry of snowflakes.
Then they walked home together through the town. Stella and Luna held their father’s hands.
‘I hardly remember our mother at all,’ said Stella quietly.
‘I remember her singing,’ said Luna. ‘And I remember her crying. That’s all.’
‘She was very brave, and very kind, always,’ said their father. ‘And to me, she was beautiful.’
Stella sighed. ‘It’s sad we left her musical box underground. It was the only thing of hers that I ever had. It was lovely.’
Their father smiled. ‘I made it for her,’ he said, ‘and it saved our lives. She would have been happy about that.’
‘You made it!’ said Stella.
‘Of course. I made it for your mother, and for you as well. I put all your names on it.’
‘It said Patience on it,’ said Luna doubtfully.
‘Yes. And there was a star and a moon. For Stella and Luna.’ He stopped walking. ‘When I heard two girls had been born, I knew what names she would have chosen for you. She named you after the night we ran away together. Stella for star, and Luna for moon. We talked about it that night.’ He smiled again and looked up at the sky. ‘See.’
The dark sky was cloudy, but high overhead were a thin crescent moon and a solitary, glimmering star.
Mr Cornelius made beds for them on the floor of his room with rugs and blankets. Stella was very tired, but could not sleep. It was warm under the blankets. She lay there, looking out of the windows at the night sky, and listened to her family sleeping.
She had so much to think about. So much had happened.
She dozed and woke again. Hours passed. At last, the sky outside lightened. She wrapped herself in a blanket and went to the window to watch the sun come up. Wakestone Hill was a looming dark shape. She thought about the King of the Mountain deep underground. She shivered and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.
‘It’s beautiful, is it not?’ said Mr Cornelius. He came to stand beside her.
Stella nodded. The sky gleamed like a candle flame. They watched the edges of the clouds turn yellow and orange.
‘Have you thought at all about what you will do now?’ he asked.
Stella felt in her pocket and found the ruby that she had picked up underground. ‘Will this be enough for tickets on a ship? For all of us?’
‘Certainly,’ said Mr Cornelius. ‘More than enough.’ After a moment, he asked, ‘Where will we go?’
Stella looked out at the distant hills beyond the town, hazy in the morning light. She remembered her beloved Atlas. When she had lived at Withering-by-Sea, she had spent hours and hours looking at the maps, and tracing her finger along roads and rivers and across oceans. There were so many places she would like to go. She wanted to see cities where people spoke in different languages. She wanted to see jungles full of tigers and elephants and parrots. Temples and towers and mountains and glaciers.
She wanted to see everything.
‘Our cousins are in the Sargasso Sea, looking for seaweeds,’ she said. ‘Perhaps we could go there.’ She held the ruby up to the sky. It sparkled in the light of the rising sun. ‘To begin with, anyway.’
Epilogue
Three weeks later, it was raining when they reached the docks. They made their way through the busy crowd and climbed aboard the steamer. The porters carried their trunks aboard. The sailors cast off the ropes. People were calling out and waving goodbye. The river water swirled, grey and blue, glittering where a shaft of sunshine shone through a break in the clouds. Seagulls cried.
Stella leaned on the railing as the steamer moved out into the river. She stood and watched until all she could see of the land was a grey shape, far behind. At last, she turned away from the railing and walked across the deck to where her sister, her father and her great-grandfather stood. Nicholas was perched on Mr Cornelius’s hat. He cackled and flapped his wings.
She joined her family and took hold of Luna’s hand. Their fingers twined together, gripping tightly. They stood side by side and looked ahead, towards the lighthouse that marked the line of breaking waves where the river met the sea, and to the wide ocean beyond, and they did not look back.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my brother Steve for taking me to visit the beautiful Victorian pumping station at Crossness and for introducing me to the fat walrus. My sister, my neighbours and my friends for listening to all my writing problems — thank you for never telling me to shut up, or to give up. A big thank you to everyone who has worked on this book: Chris Kunz, Tegan Morrison and all the lovely people at ABC Books, especially Chren Byng, Kate Burnitt, Cristina Cappelluto, Hazel Lam and Kelli Lonergan, and to my agent Jill Corcoran. Thank you to Varuna the National Writers’ House. And a big, extra-special thank you to all the readers who have followed Stella’s adventures.
About the Author
JUDITH ROSSELL is a writer and illustrator of children’s books. When she is not working, she practises her dance steps, sharpens her collection of hat pins and stages tableaux vivants of famous sea battles in her fish pond. She lives in Melbourne, Australia.
www.judithrossell.com
Also by Judith Rossell
Withering-by-Sea
Wormwood Mire
A Garden of Lilies: Improving Tales for Young Minds
Copyright
The ABC ‘Wave’ device is a trademark of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and is used under licence by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia.
First published in Australia in 2018
by HarperCollinsChildren’sBooks
a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Judith Rossell 2018
The right of Judith Rossell to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
HarperCollinsPublishers
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street, Sydney NSW 2000, Australia
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand
A 75, Sector 57, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India
1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF, United Kingdom
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower, 22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada
195 Broadway, New York NY 10007, USA
A catalogue
record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia
ISBN 978 0 7333 3820 5 (hardback)
ISBN 978 1 4607 0818 7 (ebook)
Cover design by Hazel Lam, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover and internal illustrations by Judith Rossell
Wakestone Hall Page 16