by Mary Chase
Loretta did not care for Mister Louis. She pointed to a picture of a beautiful blond movie star who had a pageboy cut, softly turned under at the ends. Who did it look like? Irene Irene Lavene, of course. “I’ll have one like that,” she said.
Mister Louis dropped her braids. “Whoa,” he said, “you are not the page-boy type. Better for you a nice little guzz-guzz here and a kind of oop-de-doop feather edge there.”
“I’ll have that,” said Loretta and pointed again to the picture.
Mister Louis said “Whoa” again.
But Mother said, “Let her have what she wants, Mister Louis. She has been away so long.”
When they left the beauty shop, Loretta had a soft page-boy cut and soft bangs. She looked better, but she did not look like Irene Irene Lavene.
The next stop was the “Junior Miss” dresses on the sixth floor. Mother looked through a rack of nice cotton dresses and navy blue serge suits with trim little jackets and skirts with kick pleats. “Which one do you like, Loretta?”
Loretta looked everywhere but she did not see anything she liked. “These cost too much. Just get me a little yellow dress with yellow lace up to here.”
“But that’s a ballet dancer’s costume, Loretta. You could not wear that to school.”
“I don’t have to go to school, ma’am. I can stay home with you and do the dishes.”
“You dear child,” Mother sighed, “you dear, dear child. Just for that I will get you two of everything.”
So when they took the elevator to go downstairs, Loretta was wearing a little blue serge coat and a little blue serge suit with a white collar, and on her head was a small straw hat with blue ribbon streamers down the back. On her feet were shiny new black patent-leather slippers. Mother looked at her and beamed with pride.
“You look so nice, Loretta. I am so proud of you.”
Loretta dropped her eyes. “You look nice too, ma’am, and so does your mink coat.”
Mother did wish Loretta would call her “Mother” and not always “ma’am,” but she decided that would come in time.
They stopped in the fountain room downstairs. There were glass cases filled with white cakes, chocolate cakes, caramel cakes and strawberry cakes. Waitresses were carrying trays of butterscotch and ice-cream sundaes, fudge sundaes and ice-cream sodas.
“I’ll have a chocolate ice-cream soda,” Mother told the waitress. “What will you have, Loretta?”
Loretta suddenly remembered something Mr. Potts was always saying. She said it now. “It’s a hard thing to earn a dollar. Just bring me a glass of water.”
Mother smiled softly. “Thoughtful child,” she murmured to the waitress. “Bring her a double chocolate ice-cream soda.”
The next stop was the office of the principal of the Aaron Heinkerberger Junior High School.
“Miss Jennings,” Mother pushed Loretta forward, “this is my daughter Loretta, who has been away from us for so long. I want you to enroll her.”
Loretta was startled. She did not know what the word “enroll” meant. It sounded as though she was going to be thrown down on the floor and rolled over by a steam roller into something flat and thin.
So she said, “Ma’am, I don’t care to be enrolled.” Then she pointed at Miss Jennings. “Enroll her,” she said, “if you want to enroll somebody.”
Miss Jennings looked puzzled as she heard Mother introduce Loretta as her daughter, but she decided not to ask questions. “Loretta Mason, age twelve. We will put her into section six. Send her tomorrow promptly at eight-thirty, sharp.”
“Ha—ha,” thought Loretta as they walked out, “tomorrow I will not be here. I will be out on the Potts farm and I will have my new clothes and Irene Irene Lavene and I will show her to—Them!”
She was getting impatient. She wanted to return home now and sprint up those stairs into that room and kneel down by that doll.
But Mother had more plans. “We must go to Penny’s and get you new underwear and then we will stop at the jewelry store and buy you a nice little wrist watch so you can tell time.”
Loretta said, “But I don’t want a watch, ma’am. I can tell time. When it snows, it’s wintertime, and when it’s hot, it’s summertime. So why spend money?”
But Mother insisted and they bought a tiny little gold wrist watch just the same.
Downtown they met one of Mother’s friends, Mrs. Moore, who looked so surprised when Mother introduced Loretta as her oldest daughter.
Mrs. Moore smiled, however, and said, “Hello, Loretta.”
Loretta said, “Good-bye, Mrs. Moore!”
When Mrs. Moore walked away, Mother whispered, “When you are introduced to people, Loretta, you say ‘hello,’ you do not say ‘good-bye.’ ”
Loretta thought this over. “It saves time, ma’am,” she said “and you want me to save time, don’t you? You bought me this watch!”
5. THE SECRET TUNNEL
At last they were home. Before Mother had the key out of the front door, Loretta was halfway up the stairs. She stood still one second before the door of her room—or Kathy’s room—and enjoyed a delicious moment of waiting, the kind just before you bite into a piece of candy.
Then she opened the door slowly, closing her eyes as she stepped inside, and then she opened them. She could not believe it!
Was she in the wrong room? Oh, no, because on the wall paper there were still the marks where the shelves had stood. And in the corner on the rug the marks where the little rocking chair had sat. But there was no shelf full of dolls. More than that! There was no Irene Irene Lavene! She let out a cry.
Mother ran into the room. “Loretta, what’s the matter? Did something frighten you?”
“She’s gone,” gasped Loretta. “She’s gone.”
“But of course she’s gone. She is Kathy’s doll, and Rosalie moved all of Kathy’s things to the other room—to your room. Loretta!” Mother looked at her in surprise. “You didn’t think Irene Irene Lavene went with this room, did you?” And that was what Loretta had thought. But she didn’t say that.
“Irene, Irene?” She made her eyes get big and wide, “Gosh, who’s that? I meant my little sister, Kathy.”
It was a few minutes before dinner. Mother and all of the children except Loretta were sitting in the living room. The house felt warm and cozy. There was the smell of roast beef and gravy and mashed potatoes drifting from the kitchen.
Colin was stretched out on the sofa. Kathy was lying on the floor reading a book. Sharon was coloring a color book with crayons. Jerry had one leg over the arm of one big chair and he was halfheartedly clicking his gun.
Mother laid aside the evening paper. “Children, while your sister, Loretta, is upstairs hanging up her new clothes I want to speak to you. Colin, sit up. Kathy, stop reading. Jerry, stop clicking. Sharon, stop coloring.”
There was silence. Mother’s face was so serious. Her eyes were misty.
“Your sister, Loretta, is a wonderful girl. I was wrong ever to believe anything else. I will never again trust anyone by the name of Potts. Loretta is sweet, unselfish, affectionate and thinks of saving money. She is starved for love. I want each and every one of you to be nice to her—always—nicer than you have ever been to anybody before.”
The children exchanged uncomfortable glances. They waited for Colin to speak. He did.
“Who’s hurting her?” he asked.
Jerry aimed his gun at the green vase on the table and went “Bang—bang.”
“She better leave my guns alone. If she does, okay. If she don’t, bang, bang, bang—dead.”
Kathy’s face was puzzled. “Why can’t I have a new blue suit, too?”
Mother frowned. “Shame on you, Kathy! You have beautiful clothes and Loretta’s clothes are old and torn. You have twenty-five dolls and she has none. Poor girl.”
Kathy thought this over. “I will let her play with one of my boy dolls sometime.”
Mother kissed her. “You are a sweet girl, Kathy. That will make he
r very happy.”
“Next Christmas maybe,” Kathy added, “for a few minutes before church.”
It was bedtime, nighttime. The house was dark. Every bedroom door was closed. Outside the wind blew through the maple trees with a swishing swooshing sound.
Mother, lying in her bed, often said to herself at night, “It sounds like wind and water outside. What if this house turned into a ship during the night? What if it were to rise up from the ground and sail off through the skies—on and on—forever and ever?”
But always at this thought she would say, “Oh no, ship, not yet. Don’t sail yet. Not until everyone I love best is on board with me.”
And here she would always sigh, thinking of her oldest daughter, Loretta.
But not so tonight. Loretta was on board tonight, too. So Mother heard the wind outside in the trees and she smiled happily. “Lift up the house—let it sail through the skies—in and out among the stars—on and on—forever and ever! At last tonight, everybody I love best is on board with me—so ship ahoy!” Then she fell asleep with a little smile on her face.
But Loretta in her bedroom was not sleeping. She was looking at the wall where the dolls had been and she was looking longest at the marks in the rug where Irene Irene Lavene’s little rocking chair used to be.
She listened. Hearing nothing now, she got out of bed, hurried over to the clothes closet, put on her new shoes and her little blue serge suit and felt in the pocket for her quarter. She opened the door of the room quietly and hurried down the hall to Kathy’s room. The door opened easily. Kathy was sound asleep with her head buried in the pillow. The smaller dolls were all sitting quietly in their little cubicles on the shelf. And there, patiently waiting, sitting upright in her little rocking chair in the moonlight, sat Irene Irene Lavene.
Loretta got down on her knees beside the doll. Almost fearfully she touched the soft yellow hair and felt the yellow satin dress. She patted the little red satin slippers with the cunning crisscross ankle straps. She breathed deeply in adoration. Oh Irene Irene Lavene!
Would they charge for her on the bus? She would hold her on her lap. And on the long ride out to the Potts farm she would talk to her. She would take off the little red satin slippers and put them on again. She would hold her across her arms and let her go to sleep. Then she would wake her up and sit her up again. She had never in her life seen anything quite so beautiful. She had never wanted anything so much.
Gently she slid her hands under the outstretched arms of the doll, the arms which seemed to be saying to her, “Take me—take me.” Gently she lifted her up.
Then it happened. From nowhere a sweet little voice began to sing:
“Don’t ever leave me, sweetheart. If you do
I’ll surely die.
Don’t ever leave me, darling, or the tears
will fill my eye.”
Light flooded the room. There was a scream! Kathy was sitting up in her bed, her eyes wild. Doors opened down the hall. There was the sound of running feet. There was Mother’s shocked voice calling, “Kathy, Kathy, what’s the matter?” Mother stood in the doorway in her blue velvet wrapper, looking frightened.
Colin and Jerry and Sharon stood behind her. All fastened their eyes on Loretta.
Now there are two kinds of people in the world. There are the kind who, when they hear a strange noise, drop whatever they are holding and let it crash. Then, there are people who grab on tighter than ever. Loretta was this type of person. So she held Irene Irene tighter than ever and the voice still sang:
“Please tell me, dearest playmate, that
we will never part.
O pick me up and hold me close or you
will break my heart.”
Then there was a silence and then a little whirring, whirring sound like a mechanical toy running down.
Kathy jumped out of bed and ran sobbing to her mother.
“Mother, Mother, she was trying to take Irene Irene Lavene.”
Mother smoothed her hair. Then she picked her up, big as she was, and carried her back to bed. She took Irene from Loretta’s arms and set her back down in her own little rocking chair. Then she moved the chair over beside Kathy’s bed. Mother’s face was stern. “Loretta, come here to me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Loretta said and she walked primly over to Mother’s side and stood close beside her. She stood so close to her she almost knocked her down. She stood on Mother’s feet.
“Not that close,” said Mother and she moved a step away so she could lift up Loretta’s chin between thumb and forefinger and look into her eyes.
“Listen to this. A long time ago your daddy saved a man’s life in the war. This man was a toymaker. He wanted to make a doll for Kathy. He spent a year making her the finest doll he had ever made. Kathy named her Irene Irene Lavene because she came wearing a ballet dancer’s dress and Kathy thought that name sounded like a ballet dancer. There is not another doll in the world like her. She sings when you pick her up and stops singing when you put her down. She can sing sweet songs and torch songs. She can also recite nursery rhymes when you stand her up by the chair and place one arm behind her back.”
“What?” and here Loretta gasped with astonishment.
Mother went on. “Whenever you touch her or pick her up she makes sounds. So no one can ever take her without Kathy knowing it. No one in this house ever plays with her except Kathy. We made Kathy a promise we would never touch her. In this house we keep our promises. You must not touch Irene Irene ever again. You hear me?”
But Loretta did not hear her. She had turned her head to look again at Irene. She was more wonderful than she had guessed. Sing songs! Speak pieces! Oh Irene, Irene!
Mother shook her shoulder. “Loretta, Loretta, do you hear me?”
Loretta murmured, “She speaks pieces? Let me hear her speak a piece.”
But Mother’s voice was rising. “Certainly not! It’s late. And why aren’t you in your nightgown? Loretta, do you hear me?”
Colin, standing in the doorway, wondered what was wrong with his mother. Couldn’t she see that Loretta was not listening to her. And couldn’t she see that with every word she said about Irene Irene, Loretta looked harder at the doll and the little glint in her eyes got bigger and bigger like a bonfire growing and growing and crackling?
He watched Loretta as she finally raised her bonfire eyes to her mother and said softly, “Oh, yes ma’am.”
“That’s fine,” Mother answered and patted Loretta’s head. “That’s my good girl. Now go to bed and take off those clothes—and get into your nightgown. Everybody go back to bed.”
Loretta walked quickly out of the door and into the hall and they all heard the door of her bedroom slam.
Mother smiled at Kathy. “Go to sleep, Kathy. Your sister just did not understand. Now she understands and we will have no more trouble.”
Colin walked slowly to his room. Was it possible his mother had believed Loretta? He didn’t believe her. Oh well, maybe he was wrong. Mother knew best.
Loretta, in her nightgown, sat on the edge of her bed and wondered what to do. She had to get back to the hill in back of the Potts farm—to Them! And she had to take Irene Irene with her. But how?
As she sat puzzling she heard something. It was the faint sound of tinkling, tinkling music. Her eyes flashed. She jumped up. Her breath came faster.
“Them! It’s Them! It’s Their music!”
She ran to the window. There was nothing out there. She looked behind the dresser. There was nothing there. She even looked under the rug on the floor. Nothing there!
Then she saw a flash of light from under the door of the clothes closet. She ran over and opened it. Now there was a big flash of light and now the music was louder!
Mother’s voice came down the hall. “Loretta, Loretta! Why are you out of bed. I’m coming down there!”
Loretta closed the closet door and ran to her door.
“Don’t come, ma’am. I’ll come to your room. I’m coming. I
’m coming.” She ran out looking back all the while at the closet door.
Colin heard strange sounds of music and sat upright in his bed. He listened again and heard nothing. Then as he was about to lie down again he knew he did hear something. He got out of bed and went down the hall to Loretta’s room. Yes, there was funny music in there.
He opened the door. The room was dark but there was a ray of light from underneath the clothes closet door. He walked over to it and opened the door. He gasped at what he saw.
The wall at the back of the closet was swinging open —like a door—and through this door in the wall he saw a lighted tunnel!
“Gosh.” He rubbed his eyes. What was it? Where did it go?
He stepped inside the closet. He saw that the tunnel was dug down, down into the earth and little lights were strung along it—stretching far, far down, as far as his eye could see.
The first thing he knew he was running into that tunnel and his bare feet were going slap-slap as the walls of the tunnel echoed and echoed and echoed!
6. THE ASTONISHING CASTLE
Colin didn’t know how long he had been running through that tunnel. It seemed to him that it went on and on and on for miles and miles and miles. But never once did he think of turning back. And just as he thought it would never end, it did end and he found himself running out of it into a forest!
There were so many trees! Before him there was a small path cut through the trees. Gosh! Then he heard something. It sounded like—tinkling tinkling music again. Then it stopped. He heard water running. It sounded like a hose left running at night but it was a bigger sound than that. He felt the ground cold under his bare feet. He reached out and touched one of the trees. The bark felt rough under his hand. He looked around in amazement.
There was a black pointed hill rising up into the sky! Where was he? He looked down and at the foot of the hill he saw the lights of a farmhouse. The Potts farm! The Potts hill! Loretta’s hill!