Mennyms in the Wilderness

by Sylvia Waugh

  She rummaged through the junk Soobie had once tidied away into a packing chest but, apart from a black lace scarf that looked as if it might come in useful some day, there was nothing worth having.

  She opened the front of the doll’s house and shut it again when she saw a large spider crouched inside surrounded by cobwebs and dust.

  Then she rocked in the chair and dozed.

  She awoke to hear noises from the room below. Joshua, waking from his daytime rest, was on his way downstairs again. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. All day he had hoped the telephone would ring, sleeping on Granpa’s bed so as to be within reach of the handset. He had searched all of his pockets for the number Vinetta had written down. He had even looked under every clock and ornament. It was nowhere to be found. He was longing to speak to his wife and family. It was not exactly an ‘emergency’ but there was news that needed telling. Brocklehurst Grove was saved. The long loneliness was nearly over.

  Appleby was irritated by the thought of her father sitting by the fire in the lounge, doing whatever he felt like doing, reading a newspaper or a magazine, even watching the television. It wasn’t fair. She stuck it out for another hour. It grew dark and she tiptoed onto the landing and switched on the light. There was nothing for her to do. The television set was back in Soobie’s room. Even the record player had gone. It was no use. No matter what her father might say or do, she could not stand the sheer boredom of the attic any longer.

  So she went noisily down the attic stairs, ready to bluff it out. Serve him right if I give him a shock, she thought. All he thinks about is his job. Sydenhams, Sydenhams, Sydenhams!

  Joshua, in the lounge with the door open in case the phone rang in the breakfast-room, had not thought about his job all day. He had thought about Vinetta and a house full of noise. So when Appleby clattered into the room, it came as no surprise.

  “So you’re back,” he said. “Where are the others?”

  It was Appleby who was shocked. She was used to her father’s unflappability, but this surely must be the ultimate!

  “I’ve just come down from the attic, Dad. I’ve been here since last night. Are you not surprised?”

  Joshua drew on his pipe before speaking. It was a very useful pretend.

  “What were you doing in the attic?” he asked, trying to focus on what she was saying.

  Appleby gave him a look of exasperation.

  “I was in the attic hiding from you. I’ve run away from Comus House. I borrowed Albert’s scooter. It’s in the garden shed.”

  Now it was Joshua’s turn to look surprised.

  “I thought Albert must’ve brought you. I thought you must all have found out,” he said.

  “Found out what, Dad? You can be very irritating at times, do you know that?” snapped Appleby.

  “About the Grove being saved,” said her father. “Did you not see the new banner?”

  Appleby dashed to the bay window. There was a banner all right, out on the front street slung between Number 1 and Number 9. And it wasn’t the same banner. This one was gold with blue lettering.

  She read the words with difficulty. They were a fair distance away. Their message faced the world outside and appeared to her as mirror-writing.

  Appleby was overjoyed. She even gave her father a hug, which he had not expected, and being a very undemonstrative man, did not appreciate.

  “Don’t go wild,” he said. “I knew what would happen, though I must say they’ve taken their time.”

  “Have you not rung Mum?” demanded Appleby. “They’ll all want to know, and fast.”

  “I don’t know the number,” said Joshua. “Your mother wrote it down somewhere, but I can’t find it. I’ve been waiting all day for a call.”

  “Do you never know anything? That number was one of the first things I learnt when we moved up there. I figured it might come in useful some day.”

  “So you phoned your mother as soon as you got here and told her you’d arrived safely,” said Joshua, knowing perfectly well that she hadn’t.

  Appleby had the grace to look guilty, but she brushed guilt aside and said sharply, “Well, I’ll ring her now. So that’s all right.”

  But it wasn’t all right. She dialled the number only to find that the line was completely dead.

  “Bother!” she said. “Their phone’s off. Nothing’s ever right at that place.”

  Appleby flounced back into the lounge and flung herself full length onto the settee in front of the fire.

  Joshua drew very hard on his pipe and didn’t speak for some minutes.

  “We’ll just have to wait for Albert to come, then,” he said at last. “He promised he’d be here some time today.”

  “Thanks for telling me!” said Appleby. “Getting any information out of you is like drawing teeth. If their phone hadn’t been dead, you wouldn’t have even mentioned Albert. You’re useless.”

  If Appleby had spoken like that to any other member of the family there would have been a terrible row. But Appleby knew what to expect from her infuriatingly quiet father. He looked at her, shook his head, sighed a sigh of resignation and said nothing. It was not entirely unimpressive. Appleby looked back at him and felt ashamed. She didn’t apologise. But she felt ashamed.

  33

  The Clouty Doll

  ON TUESDAY MORNING, Vinetta awoke just before eight o’clock feeling dazed and not sure where she was or what was happening. She had stayed awake till five and then sleep had come unwanted and unbidden.

  “Appleby,” she said as she came fully awake. “Oh, Appleby! Why do you have to do such things?”

  The clock on the wall did not answer and the dull heavy furniture that overcrowded the room was even more silent.

  Vinetta rose stiffly from the sofa, switched off the light and opened the curtains. Outside, the day was at the grey stage which can hardly be described as day at all. The distant landscape slumbered under a blanket of mist.

  Vinetta felt suddenly angry. It was not fair. She had done her best. She had always done her best. And now everything had fallen apart. Joshua was miles away, and oh how she missed the steadiness of his silence! Soobie was sulking. Appleby had disappeared. As for the rest of the family . . . here was a new day, it could be even worse than yesterday . . .

  “Let’s hope it’s a better day today,” said Tulip briskly as she came into the gloomy lounge. “A mistake to put the lights out this early. You can hardly see your hand in front of your face.”

  She switched on the light again. Vinetta automatically closed the curtains and went back to sit on the sofa. Tulip sat beside her and took both hands in hers.

  “It can be better today, you know,” she said. “As soon as the phone’s back on we’ll ring home. Appleby’s probably there already. Remember, if we can’t ring out, she can’t ring in either.”

  “It’s not just Appleby,” said Vinetta. “It’s Soobie too, and Poopie with his tantrums, and Hortensia hardly speaking. This place is a curse, Tulip.”

  “I’ve never heard such rubbish,” said Tulip. “You sound like a silly, superstitious teenager. This place is a house. It doesn’t suit us. We don’t like it. But there it is.”

  It wasn’t raining any more but the day stayed raw and dull. Soobie, of course, did not appear. Poopie also stayed in his room, the warrior sulking in his tent. Granpa slept all day. Tulip and Vinetta sat in the breakfast-room where Hortensia, after a lot of tactful persuading, joined them. They talked sporadically of old times and took turns nursing Googles. Pilbeam looked after Wimpey, played Snakes and Ladders with her half the day, and cards for the rest.

  “Where do you think Appleby is?” asked Wimpey.

  “She’s at home in Brocklehurst Grove,” said Pilbeam firmly as she threw the dice, “and soon we’ll all be back there.” She had no idea how true those words might turn out to be. It was a feigned optimism, meant to reassure Wimpey.

  Pilbeam’s throw landed her on a snake’s head and she ended up back at square one.
With all the superstition of an adolescent, she shivered.

  “I’d have preferred to go up a ladder,” she said.

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” said Wimpey, “’cos I’m going to win.”

  No one bothered to open the curtains again at the front of the house that day. Only the library curtains were open, and that was because they were never shut.

  So when Joe and Billy, playing detectives, came snooping around looking for clues early in the afternoon, the place looked genuinely deserted. The boys had chosen this way to spend a day’s holiday from school. They left their mountain bikes carefully concealed in the hawthorn hedge. Using all their skills as commandos (learnt at the local Scout hut) they crept stealthily round the house, close to the walls, going in sharp bursts from one window to the next.

  “Nothing here,” said Joe in a loud whisper. “They must’ve got the stuff away in the night. Let’s look for tyre marks.”

  They headed towards the drive on the north side of the house and came to the only window with its curtains open – the library. Cautiously raising their heads above the low sill, they peeped in.

  “It’s a clouty doll,” said Billy in astonishment, “a bloomin’ big blue clouty doll!”

  And it was.

  On the sofa that faced the window, stretched full length, was a life-sized cloth doll. Its hair was short-cropped and navy blue. Its face was a lighter blue and its eyes were silver buttons. Its blue-striped suit looked crumpled and dirty. Its blue leather slippers were clearly well-worn.

  “I know what us could do wi’ that,” said Joe excitedly, forgetting all about his role as senior detective.

  “Yeah!” said Billy, catching on more quickly than usual. “A guy for the bonfire. It’d be tremendous!”

  “We’ll ride down to the village and tell Geoff and Jimmy, and the four of us can come back the night after dark and get it.”

  “Will we be able to get in the window, d’ye think?” asked Billy. He had no experience of breaking and entering. Smashing the window seemed a bit drastic. His dad would fell him if he found out. Jamie Maughan’s rules were very, very strict.

  Joe Dorward gave an expert look at the loose catch in the centre of the window.

  “No problem there, Watson,” he said, going back to playing detectives. “If our investigations take us into the house, entry through this window will be a cinch.”

  Soobie, wallowing in his own private misery, stared towards the window unseeing, and saw, and heard, nothing.

  34

  The Chase

  IT WAS SIX-THIRTY when Albert arrived at Brocklehurst Grove. He grinned broadly at Anthea’s triumphant banner. It was delightful, if somewhat flamboyant, confirmation of what Kate had told him.

  “Marvellous, isn’t it?” he said when Joshua opened the door to him. “All we have to do now is fetch them all back home. I tried ringing them earlier on, but the phone’s off.”

  Appleby had not gone to the door to welcome Albert. She had stayed discreetly in the lounge. She was brash and cheeky with the family and far from polite to Albert as a rule. But this was different. He would want to know what she was doing there and she did not want to be put on the spot when she was so obviously in the wrong. Her pride wouldn’t suffer it.

  “You tell him when he comes, Dad,” she had said to Joshua in a wheedling voice. “Tell him how miserable I was at Comus House, and how brave it was of me to make my escape on the scooter.”

  Joshua hadn’t said that, but he’d said enough.

  “There she is,” he said as he led Albert into the lounge. Appleby was sitting as upright as a queen in her high-backed basket chair beside the round table. She looked at Albert defiantly.

  “Well, I’m here,” she said, “and it’s a good job I am. It’ll make one less for you to bring back. I managed on my own. Not one of them could.”

  Albert gave her an amused smile which was rather infuriating, but then made it better by going on to congratulate her on her part in saving Brocklehurst Grove.

  “My part?” said Appleby.

  “Yes. Remember, the petition was your idea. You started the ball rolling. If it had been left up to me, we would have just cut and run.”

  That was a master-stroke. Appleby, reinstated in her own eyes, said, “I don’t know where they’d all be without me. They haven’t a clue.”

  Albert rang the ‘faults’ number. For the third time that day he reported to the engineers the failure on the Comus House line.

  “They won’t get it on tonight,” he said, “but another day won’t make much difference. I only wish your mother knew you were safe, Appleby.”

  “Of course she knows I’m safe,” said Appleby. “She’s not stupid. And Granny will have guessed where I am anyway.”

  Albert still looked doubtful but contented himself with saying, “I have no lectures tomorrow morning. I’ll dash up to Comus early on and let them know the news.”

  A peaceful night for Albert? Some hopes!

  They were all going up to bed. It was only nine-thirty, but late enough considering all there was to be done the next day. Joshua was already in his room. Appleby was going up the second flight of stairs to hers.

  “Goodnight, Appleby,” Albert called. “I don’t suppose I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll go straight to Comus House. I’ll have to set out at six, or maybe earlier.”

  “You’ll go now,” said a sharp voice behind him, a voice that only he heard.

  Appleby’s door had closed.

  Albert turned and faced Kate. He knew the voice. What was worse, he knew the tone of voice. There she was, standing just a few yards from him, as solid and determined as ever. As a ghost, she was not in the least frightening. As a person, she was formidable.

  “It’s a dark, misty night,” Albert protested feebly, “and I’m tired.”

  “Can’t do anything about the weather,” said Kate, “but I can take care of the tiredness. You’ll have me beside you all the way.”

  “Why tonight?” asked Albert, falling into the usual trap of asking questions when a flat refusal would really have been the only way out.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” said Kate, “but we’re going to have to be very quick.”

  Before he knew what had hit him, he was in the Range Rover with Kate beside him and they were half-way out of Castledean.

  “You’ll have to drive faster than this,” Kate protested, “or we’ll never make it in time.”

  “I’m already doing forty-five,” said Albert, law-abiding, careful Albert who never broke the rules, “and I should be doing no more than thirty.”

  “Faster,” said Kate. “Put your foot to the floor.”

  “You must be joking,” said Albert. “Have you any idea how fast this thing can go?”

  “I would never ask you to do more than ninety,” said Kate. “It would draw too much attention.”

  A startled Albert looked round at his passenger.

  They had reached sixty.

  “Keep your eyes on the road, Albert. Do you want to have an accident?”

  The traffic lights ahead turned red.

  “Drive straight through,” said Kate. “We really haven’t time to stop. The road’s clear.”

  Albert, law-abiding, careful Albert who never broke the rules, drove straight through. His heart was in his stomach and goodness knows where his stomach was.

  They made it to the country roads in one piece and without being arrested. Albert was almost relieved. True, the car was doing eighty-five along narrow, unlit roads, but at least there was no other traffic.

  “The worst that can happen, I suppose, is that we’ll land in a ditch,” he said, feeling light-headed and strangely detached.

  “Of course we won’t. What do you think I’m here for?” Suddenly her voice became more urgent. “Sharp bend ahead. Road narrows. Car coming this way. Hold on to your hat.”

  It was not an expression Albert knew, but he understood the gist of it. As they neared the bend h
e managed to slow down to forty. His eyes misted over. The wheel then developed a will of its own and the Range Rover (thank heavens it was a Range Rover!) entered a ploughed field through one bit of hedge and exited through another. The innocent driver of the passing Fiesta was so far from believing his eyes that he convinced himself that he had never seen it.

  They picked up speed again. It cannot be said that they were cruising at ninety. One cannot cruise at ninety along twisting roads in a Range Rover. Albert was terrified.

  About twenty miles from Comus House came the crunch. They had to join another road and shortly after the junction they came up behind an articulated lorry, heavy-laden, and doing a stately thirty-five.

  “Pass it,” ordered Kate. “For heaven’s sake, pass it. We haven’t got time to dawdle.”

  “I can’t,” said Albert. “I wouldn’t dare. There could be something coming in the other direction. There isn’t room. There could be one almighty accident.”

  “Will you stop worrying, Albert,” said Kate furiously. “I know what’s ahead for miles and miles. There are advantages to being what I am.” She never, ever called herself a ghost.

  But not even fear of Kate could make Albert pass that lorry.

  “I can’t. I won’t. And I daren’t,” he said. “It’s not just my own skin I’m worrying about. I could end up killing somebody.”

  “This is ridiculous,” said Kate. “You should know by now that you can trust me. Close your eyes. I’ll take over. Close them and keep them closed till I tell you to open them again.”

  Albert, careful, law-abiding Albert who never broke the rules, saw Kate’s hand reach over to the steering wheel and he shut his eyes. He just couldn’t bear to look.

  “Do exactly what I tell you,” said Kate, “and do it straight away.”

  The lorry was passed without disaster befalling them.

  “Put your foot down a bit harder now,” said Kate. “Give it all you’ve got. But don’t open your eyes. I’m managing better without you.”