Grub had been only six years old at the time of their first visit to the estate grounds. On that particular day he and Neely had been playing a game in the grove. The game, if Neely remembered correctly, had been based on The Jungle Book, which was one of their favorites that year. Grub, as Mowgli, had run off pretending to be kidnapped by the Bandar Log. But when Neely, playing the part of Bagheera, the black panther, went to the rescue, Grub wasn’t in any of their regular hiding places.
She had looked everywhere and was getting a little frantic when she heard a giggle coming from the other side of the huge wrought iron fence that surrounded the estate grounds. And there she had finally found Grub, sitting on the ground in the middle of the Hutchinsons’ weed-grown driveway, being enthusiastically slobbered over by the terrible Lion. Lion, it seemed, like almost every other animal Grub had ever met, had fallen in love with him at first sight.
After that amazing discovery they had returned many times to visit Lion—and the grounds of the estate. All they had to do was watch and listen for Reuben’s pickup as it chugged past their house, and they would be off, up the hill, down into the grove, and from there into the estate grounds. Then, with Lion trotting happily along beside them, they would explore the weed-grown lawns and gardens, the crumbling tennis court, the grand old stable with its high-domed hayloft, and even walk along the leaf-strewn verandas of the huge house, trying to peek in through the shuttered windows.
Neely was particularly fascinated by the windows. Windows of deserted houses, she had always thought, were like sad, empty eyes, forever weeping invisible tears for the warmth and life they had once known. And the windows of Halcyon House were particularly spellbinding because of all the strange things she had heard about the people who had once lived within its walls.
But it was impossible to see very much through the cracks in the heavy old shutters. So the secrets of Halcyon House remained hidden away. Hidden, that is, until that day. The day of Grub’s cholesterol anxiety attack.
Chapter 5
NEELY WAITED UNTIL REUBEN HAD COMPLETELY DISAPPEARED into the fog before she crawled out from behind the ferns. Standing in the middle of the road, she looked back to where her brother was again staring mournfully at the dead squirrel. “Come on, Grub,” she said suddenly. “Let’s go.” She didn’t have to say where.
Grub gave the dead squirrel one last lingering glance, got to his feet, and without a word led the way into the estate grounds. Not, of course, by way of the grand gateway where wrought iron vines twisted up sturdy pillars and formed themselves into an archway of ornate letters spelling the word Halcyon. Passing by the gate, which as always was locked and chained and doubly padlocked, they went on up the slope to where a dense thicket of Scotch broom grew up on both sides of the fence. There, in the midst of the thicket, a socket had rusted out, so one of the iron fence poles could be pushed to one side, leaving a sizable gap. A gap through which Grub had crawled on that first day when he discovered that Lion was really a pussycat—and through which he, and Neely as well, had crept many times since.
Inside the fence they zigzagged through the weeds, tiptoeing carefully and as lightly as possible to avoid establishing a telltale path to their secret entrance. But once on the driveway they needed only to follow the deep ruts worn by Reuben’s pickup. The road rose steeply here as it curved and twisted through a grove of ornamental trees and bushes, ending on the high plateau from which Halcyon House had looked down for more than eighty years...down over the narrow wooded valley that cut through the treeless plain and on out to the endless blue of sea and sky. They had just reached the plateau when Lion emerged from behind the house and bounded out to meet them.
Grub’s giggle sounded almost normal when Lion showered him with sloppy kisses, and later when they discovered the tadpoles in the stagnant water of the swimming pool, his behavior certainly seemed to be typical Grubbiness. Squatting at the water’s edge, he stared at the bug-eyed black blobs in the slimy green water with the kind of concentration that most kids save for their favorite TV programs. Watching Grub watch the tadpoles, Neely decided the sky-is-falling syndrome was over, at least for the time being, which was a decided relief.
After the tadpoles finally lost their charm, they moved on past Reuben’s tiny cottage and Lion’s enormous doghouse, and then through the rose garden, to pay a visit to the stable. The beautiful old stable, built in the same massive rustic style as the house itself, was one of Neely’s favorite places and a visit there was always included when she and Grub visited the grounds of Halcyon.
They entered the stable by the small door set into one of the large double panels that had once opened to accommodate wagons or trucks. Once inside it was necessary to wait for a few moments while their eyes accustomed themselves to the dim light before they could move forward over the dusty inlaid brick floor. Neely loved walking down the central corridor sniffing carefully for the faint faraway odor of hay and horse and imagining beautiful Thoroughbred and Arabian heads sticking out over the doors of the roomy box stalls on either side.
Leaving the stables, they moved on slowly across the weed-grown lawns, pushed their way through the trailing tentacles of vine in the sagging grape arbor, and then came back to rest on a stone bench at the edge of what had once been a rose garden.
The bench faced the south wing of the house, where an ancient wisteria vine coiled around the stone pillars that supported the roof of the veranda. From that angle, facing away from the weed-grown lawns and gardens, the house, seen by itself, still looked grand and imposing. The lower level with its walls and pillars of gray fieldstone looked as if it would last forever, and even the upper floors with their heavy wooden shingles seemed almost untouched by time. It was only the peeling paint on door and window frames and a few sagging shutters that spoiled the illusion. But if Neely squinted her eyes only a little, the house looked almost as magnificent as it must have during its days of glory.
She often thought about those olden days at Halcyon House.
“Dad says there were parties here all the time,” she told Grub, “with people going up our road in fancy cars with chauffeurs in uniforms.”
Grub’s eyes were unfocused. “And carriages with lots of white horses.”
Neely laughed. “No, silly. Dad’s not that old. And the house isn’t that old. Dad says it was built in 1910, and there were already cars by then. And by the time Dad can remember, there were lots of cars.”
Grub shrugged. “There were carriages once, with white horses. I read all about it in the encyclopedia.”
He hadn’t, of course. Anytime Grub wanted to win an argument he claimed to have read about it in the encyclopedia. But Neely didn’t ask him if he was telling the truth. She and Grub had always had a kind of silent agreement about certain kinds of questions. The agreement was that they didn’t ask questions about whether something was “really true” or not. “Really true” questions were absolutely out. And besides, she rather liked the thought of the horse-drawn carriages herself.
She was still imagining the horses when Grub asked, “Why did they all go away?”
“You know why,” Neely said. “Dad told us. And I’ve told you before. Lots of times.”
“I know, but I want to hear it again. I want to hear it now, while I’m looking at the house.”
That made sense. Neely was sure she could tell it better while the grand old house was right there in front of her.
“Well,” she began. “The first Harold Hutchinson was a very rich man. The richest man in the whole world.” She wasn’t sure about that last part, but it did make the story more exciting. She could tell that Grub liked it, too, so she added some more.
“He was so rich that he had dozens of houses all over the world. So many houses that some of them he only lived in for three or four days out of the whole year. He had grand palaces in Europe and everywhere and when he was going to visit them a whole army of servants would come first and clean everything up and put flowers in all the rooms. An
d then the Hutchinsons would come roaring up in huge silver Rolls-Royces, with all their friends and relations, and they’d stay for two or three days and then they’d go away for another year.”
That part of the story was mostly new, but Neely was really sure about the next part because she’d heard her dad say so. “But Harold Hutchinson the First loved Halcyon the best of all his houses, and as long as he was alive all his family, and a lot of relatives and friends, too, came here every year and stayed all through the summer.”
“But why did they stop coming?”
“Well, Dad says it was partly because they weren’t so rich anymore. Dad says after the first Harold died, Harold the Second was better at spending money than at making it. So maybe they just couldn’t afford to come anymore. But that’s just part of it. The other part of it was”—Neely paused and widened her eyes—“the other part was because the Hutchinsons were star-crossed.”
Chapter 6
“TELL ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE star-crossed,” Grub said.
Neely had to stop to think for a moment. But then she remembered where she’d heard it—about the Hutchinsons being star-crossed. It had been Greta Peale who called them that. Greta Peale, an old lady who had lived on the coast all her life, was one of the Bradfords’ nearest neighbors and once, a long time ago, Neely had overheard Greta telling her mom about the star-crossed Hutchinsons.
“A long time ago,” she told Grub, “I heard Greta telling Mom how the Hutchinsons were star-crossed and that was why all these terrible things happened at Halcyon House. I asked Mom about it afterward and she said it was nonsense. She said it was just more of Greta’s gossip.”
“What does star-crossed mean?” Grub asked.
Neely nodded. “I looked it up. The dictionary said ill-fated and, like, cursed. It said, like star-crossed people had a curse on them.”
“What kind of curses happen when you’re star-crossed?”
Neely wasn’t sure. Greta and Mom had lowered their voices when they noticed Neely was listening. But she had heard a little bit and she’d guessed some more. “Oh, like horrible accidents, like car accidents and drownings. And people getting sick and dying,” she told Grub. “And there was this little girl who died in the house. So after a while most of the Hutchinsons quit coming to Halcyon. But they couldn’t just sell it because the first Harold had it put in his will that Halcyon could never be sold, no matter what.”
“I know,” Grub said impatiently. “I know all that stuff about the will. You told me that before.”
Neely shook her head slowly. Grub could be so exasperating. “I know you know it, but you asked. Why did you ask if you didn’t want me to tell you?”
Grub looked surprised. “Because I thought you might tell some new parts.”
“But I don’t know any other parts. That’s it. That’s all I ever heard about it.”
“I know. But sometimes you put in some new things. I mean besides what you heard.”
Neely knew what he meant, of course. Like the part about Harold Hutchinson the First being the richest man in the world. What Grub meant was he liked it when she thought up exciting new details. She was considering one or two more when Grub asked, “That little girl who died. Why did she die?”
Neely looked at him quickly, fearing the worst. But this time Grub didn’t seem to be in a “why death” mood. At least not yet.
“I mean,” Grub said, “what made her die? Was it some terrible disease like diphtheria? I read about diphtheria in—”
“I know,” Neely said. “You read about it in the encyclopedia.” They grinned at each other. “I don’t know what she... Neely stopped. “Well, actually,” she went on more slowly—and much more dramatically. “Nobody ever really knew. It was like she...suddenly disappeared. Or at least that was what people said. One day...well, one minute she was right there, playing in her room and then suddenly she was gone. And no one ever saw her again.”
Grub nodded slowly, his eyes as blank and unfocused as a sleepwalker’s. Neely watched him, grinning inwardly. “Suddenly she was gone,” he said dreamily, “and no one ever saw her again.” He looked around the rose garden and then on up to the second-story windows. He stared at the windows for a while before he turned back to Neely. “I think that was her room,” he said. “That little window there at the end, but after that terrible day no one ever saw her—”
But at that moment the dreamy smile faded and Grub’s face stiffened. Following his gaze, Neely saw a gray squirrel running across the weed-choked lawn. “It’s the mother,” Grub said, and then went on whispering so softly that she couldn’t quite hear. But she could guess. From the expression on Grub’s face she could guess that he was telling himself that this squirrel was the heartbroken mother of the dead baby.
The squirrel seemed to be scouting around at the edge of what had once been lawn as if it were looking for something. Grub stared at it for a long time.
“She’s looking for her baby,” he whispered finally in a quivering voice, “but she’ll never see him again.”
“Grub,” Neely said firmly, “she—or he probably—is looking for acorns. Forget it. Besides, I haven’t finished telling you about the girl who disappeared.” She glanced around, looking frantically for inspiration, and her eyes fell on the corner window above the veranda. “What I wanted to tell you was that you guessed right. That was her room, right up there on the end, and...
That was when she noticed something very interesting. “And you know what?” she went on. “I’ll bet we could go up there and peek right in her window and see what her room looked like.”
What Neely had noticed was that the upstairs windows, with their open shutters, could easily be reached from the veranda roof. By standing on the roof you could...She’d gotten that far in her reasoning when she noticed that it was already working—Grub seemed to have stopped mourning over the grief-stricken mother squirrel and was staring at the upstairs window. “But how do we get up there on the veranda?” he asked.
Neely looked around and almost immediately found the answer. At the end of the veranda the trunk of the old wisteria vine, thick and heavy as a man’s arm, curled and curved its way upward around the corner pillar. “The vine,” she told Grub. “We climb right up the vine—just like Mowgli.”
Grub nodded. “Or Tarzan. We climb up the vine like Tarzan.” He got up off the bench and started toward the house so quickly that Neely had to run to catch up.
The climb was easy. The lower part of the vine was as simple to climb as a ladder. The only problem was near the top where the branches were thinner and tended to bend a little under Neely’s weight. But by careful placing of her hands and feet she managed to slither her way up over the eaves. And right behind her Grub, who was much lighter, came up as quick and easy as a monkey. And then they were both standing on the thick old roof shingles looking down to where Lion sat staring up at them with a puzzled look on his big saggy-jawed face.
Grub giggled, and Neely, congratulating herself on her successful sky-is-falling cure, began to make her way over the slippery moss-covered shingles toward the corner window. She had reached the window and was kneeling in front of it, trying to peer through the dirty glass, when she heard Grub say, “Look, Neely. It’s not closed. The window isn’t all the way closed.”
Chapter 7
AT FIRST THE WINDOW REFUSED TO BUDGE IT SEEMED TO be jammed in place as firmly as if the wood of window and frame had grown together. Neely pulled and tugged without any success at all, until she thought of pounding on the frame with the heel of her shoe to jar it free. After that she began to make some slow progress. When the opening was nearly wide enough to squeeze through, she sat back on her heels and looked at Grub.
“Maybe we shouldn’t... she started to say, and stopped. And to be honest, she probably didn’t mean it. To be absolutely honest, at that very minute, probably nothing short of the arrival of a half dozen police cars with screeching sirens could have stopped her from crawling through th
at window into Halcyon House. Particularly after she noticed the expression on Grub’s face. He looked excited, and even more important, positively cheerful. Not a trace of sky-is-falling syndrome. So that decided it. Neely put her head and arms through the opening, reached down and touched the floor. Walking her hands forward, she pulled and wiggled until she landed in a heap—and got quickly to her feet.
The large room was dim and shadowy. The fog-faded light, entering through two dirt-encrusted windows, seemed to be almost totally absorbed by the dark wood paneling of the surrounding walls. As her eyes became accustomed to the semidarkness Neely was able to see a fancy dressing table, a marble-topped dresser, and a large old-fashioned bed shaped like a sleigh. The sleek dark wood of the bed’s head and foot gleamed elegantly even through a thick layer of dust. Near a small fireplace there were two upholstered chairs, draped with sheets. The air smelled old and dead. Neely’s shoulders lifted in a sharp shiver.
“Look,” she heard Grub say. “Here’s some of her clothing.”
Neely’s breath caught in a quick gasp. She turned quickly but Grub was nowhere in sight. Then she noticed an open closet door and there he was bending over a large pile of what seemed to be old, faded rags. Dust flew as he lifted a ruffled blouse yellowed with age.
“Don’t,” Neely said sharply. “Don’t touch it.” She took the blouse away, pulled Grub out of the closet, and closed the door. He moved on around the room, humming softly to himself, examining each piece of furniture closely before moving on to the next. Neely particularly noticed the humming because it was something Grub always did when he was feeling especially good. Near the door he stopped to try the old-fashioned light switch that turned from side to side. Nothing happened. The chandelier, as well as the fancy wall lamps shaped like torches, stayed dark. “I guess it’s broken,” he said.
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