The Mulberry Tree

by Allison Rushby

  “Go and fetch your mother, Imogen,” Caitlyn’s mother said, her arms crossed.

  Immy turned and ran into the kitchen.

  “Who is it?” Immy’s mum asked, inspecting the pasta sauce on the stove.

  “It’s Caitlyn’s mother.”

  “Who?” Her mother looked over.

  “Caitlyn’s mother. Who owns the house.”

  “Really? What’s she doing here? Legally they’re not entitled to . . .”

  Immy didn’t care what was, or wasn’t, legal. “It’s about the party. It’s got to be. Caitlyn’s in my class, remember?”

  Her mother finally put everything together. “Oh . . .” She started toward the front door, Immy in her wake.

  “Hello.” She held out a hand when she got there, offering to shake Caitlyn’s mother’s hand. “Katie Watts.”

  Caitlyn’s mother didn’t uncross her arms.

  After a second or two, Immy’s mother dropped her hand with a sigh. “And how can we help you this evening?”

  “I was hoping you could explain this.” Caitlyn’s mother held up Immy’s crumpled party invitation.

  “It’s a party invitation,” Immy’s mother said.

  Caitlyn’s mother drew herself up to her full height. “Exactly. I knew I shouldn’t have leased the cottage to outsiders. You’ve done nothing but make fun of our situation since you arrived here. Do you think the tree is a joke? Something to be laughed at? Thrown in our faces? Two girls disappeared. Do you know what that means to this village?”

  “I think what happened to those two girls is awful,” Immy’s mother answered calmly. “An awful thing to have happened to their families, to the village. But I also think the tree is simply a tree.”

  “You shouldn’t be having a party in that garden!” Her words were angry, but there was something else in her voice. Something a bit . . . frantic. She was scared, Immy realized.

  “Perhaps if you could look at it in a different way,” Immy’s mum said. “Getting everyone together — it could be quite healing.”

  “No. No, I don’t think so.”

  “Immy isn’t even related to the other girls! Look, I know this . . . curse has been hanging over the village for generations, but maybe for a moment you could entertain the thought that it’s not true. I’m hoping the party will put all the rumors to rest. It would be good for the village if it did.”

  “You’re throwing the situation in our faces! You have no idea how this has affected my daughter. She’s behaving very strangely. She’s not herself these past few days. Something’s wrong.”

  Immy frowned. Caitlyn had been away from school on Friday, and then, in the playground today, she’d definitely been behaving strangely. She remembered her lighter eyes. The words she couldn’t seem to get out. And was it her imagination, or did Caitlyn’s mother look a bit different, too?

  “I’m sorry you feel this way,” Immy’s mother replied. “You’re quite welcome to come along on the day if you change your mind.”

  Caitlyn’s mother lifted her chin. “We will not be changing our minds, and we will not be coming. In case you haven’t realized it yet, no one else will be either.”

  “Actually, I’ve already had a number of people text us to say they will. But if you won’t, all the more cake for us, I say. Good night!” And, with that, Immy’s mother shut the door on their visitor. She immediately turned and looked down at Immy. “Goodness, talk about sour. Living with the tree for so long has done it to her, I expect. It’s given the whole family black little hearts!”

  Interesting, Immy thought. That was her theory, too. “Who said they’d come to the party?” she asked.

  “Well, Jean and Jean’s daughter for a start. Riley and his parents.”

  “Who else?”

  Her mother looked sheepish. “That’s it so far. I hope you’re hungry for cake.”

  By lunchtime at school on Tuesday, all the kids were talking about the party — even the ones not in Immy’s class. Several of them gave her weird looks, and Immy made sure to keep well out of Caitlyn’s way. As she ate her lunch, Immy wondered what would happen over the next four days. Would others say something to them? Would the guests decide to come? Or would they stay away?

  She was almost done with her lunch when Erin came and sat down beside her, placing her tray on the table.

  “Oh,” Immy said, surprised. “Hello.” And she was surprised. Because while Erin had been coming to the library every day, they hadn’t yet sat beside each other at lunch. Immy had never said anything about this, because she knew why — Erin was scared of what Caitlyn would say. Or do.

  “You going to the library after?” Erin asked after a little while.

  Of course she was. Where else was there for her to go? “Yes,” Immy said. “You?”

  “Why not,” Erin replied.

  Immy could think of a million reasons why not, but she didn’t mention any of them to Erin.

  Immy and Erin had both settled in on their respective beanbags in the library and were reading when Immy realized this was it. Erin had really taken a stand now. She wasn’t just hiding out with Immy in the library. She’d had lunch with her, too.

  They were officially friends.

  Immy’s head thought this was great. Her stomach, however, wasn’t so sure. It churned, sensing the fight that was sure to come with Caitlyn.

  The two girls hadn’t been in the library for long when the library doors were pushed open, making Immy glance up.

  It was Caitlyn.

  Watching her, Immy sat up in her beanbag. As soon as she saw her, she remembered the exchange in the playground. And Caitlyn’s mother’s visit to their house. There really was something . . . different about Caitlyn. She sensed it instantly. It wasn’t just how she looked. It was her attitude as well. The way she let the door close limply behind her. The way she looked wary as she glanced around the library. The Caitlyn of before would have stormed in here. Demanded that Erin come outside with her.

  Immy rose from her beanbag. Despite every bone in her body telling her not to, she approached Caitlyn.

  She looked her in the eyes.

  And she couldn’t believe what she saw.

  Caitlyn’s eyes — they were lighter still. Her hair was lighter, too. It now had a reddish tinge to it.

  Something about the change made Immy shiver.

  The two girls stared at each other. As they did so, Immy was reminded of the tree. Of how it was fading. Sick and drooping.

  “I don’t feel well” was all Caitlyn said. “I feel so strange.”

  Mrs. Garland must have been watching them, because she approached at this point. “Caitlyn, are you all right? Are you not feeling well again?” she said. “I might call your parents.”

  Before Immy could say anything at all, Mrs. Garland had shepherded Caitlyn out of the library.

  Immy returned to her beanbag, where Erin was looking on, curious.

  “Caitlyn’s been acting weird. It’s almost like she’s a different person. What was all that about?” Erin asked.

  Immy continued staring at the spot where Caitlyn had been standing. “I don’t really know,” she replied.

  But, somehow, she suspected she was about to find out.

  Caitlyn didn’t come to school the following day. Mrs. Garland told Immy that Caitlyn had a virus.

  Immy didn’t know what to believe.

  When Immy walked home from allotment club on Wednesday afternoon, she was surprised to find her dad in the back garden, cleaning off a large wooden table and eight chairs under the still-sickly mulberry tree.

  “Where did that come from?” she asked.

  “The little noticeboard at the supermarket,” he said. “Someone was selling it, and I thought it might be useful for the party. They had a trailer, so they were even willing to drop it off. So, do you think a party will cheer the tree up? It looks like it needs it.”

  The pair turned to inspect the tree.

  “Or maybe it’s not the partying
kind,” her dad continued.

  “Maybe not.” If only she could figure the tree out.

  “Oh, well. That wasn’t my only good idea. Look . . .” He nodded farther into the garden, and Immy saw that the wooden playpen, which had been in the shed, was now set up on the grass.

  Immy went over to take a closer look. “Oh, wow, they’ll love this!” she said, realizing what her dad had done. He’d run some thick, clear plastic around the bottom half of the playpen, and the hoglets were romping about, having obviously just been fed while their mother slept the day away.

  “They seem to like it.”

  Immy grinned as she pretended to watch the hedgehogs, but really it was her dad she watched, out of the corner of her eye.

  She realized that it felt like ages since she had checked to see if he was taking his pills.

  It was strangely hot on Thursday afternoon, and Immy and Erin were sprawled out on the table and chairs in the back garden. They were supposed to be doing their homework but really were mostly eating cookies (thankfully ones out of a package, which Immy’s dad hadn’t made). Immy hadn’t had the courage to quiz Erin on her change of mind about visiting Lavender Cottage the last time she’d come over. But now she asked. Erin confided that her mother had encouraged her to spend more time with Immy. She said her mother had never really gotten along with either Caitlyn or her family and she didn’t like all the village talk about the tree. She was pleased that Erin was making new friends.

  Caitlyn had remained away from school, which made Immy nervous. She wasn’t sure what to think about the change in her — in her eyes, her hair, her personality. She wanted to go and see Caitlyn for herself, but she didn’t dare. As Immy looked up at the tree, she wondered if there was still a danger of Caitlyn being taken. It didn’t make sense. It was her birthday coming up, not Caitlyn’s. Immy knew that it was herself she should be worried about, but the truth was, as time passed, she was becoming worried about the tree in a different way entirely. The tree really didn’t look well now. It seemed smaller somehow. As if it were trying to curl up inside itself and die. As she thought about this, something caught her eye. Something at the top of the tree, near her window . . .

  Something brilliant and glittery hovering in one of its sagging branches.

  She blinked and looked again. Was it the sun playing tricks on her eyes? No, something was definitely there. Something amethyst-colored and shimmering.

  And then, just like that, it was gone.

  Immy stood, almost knocking her water over in the process. “Did you see something? Up there. In the tree.”

  Erin looked up. “No. What was it?”

  Immy’s eyes searched for it again. “Something purple and bright.”

  Erin took another look at the barren tree. “Well, I don’t think it was berries you saw. . . . Did you know there’s a sort of story about this tree’s berries? People say the tree used to have loads of fruit. Just like the one on the village green. That the whole village would stop by and pick some and take it home and make jam and pies and all sorts of things. But that was centuries ago. You know, before the first girl disappeared.”

  “The real estate woman said the same thing,” Immy replied.

  Both the girls stared upward, where not a leaf or bud was in sight. Both their expressions were doubtful.

  “Do you think it’s dying?” Erin said.

  “I hope not,” Immy replied quickly. She meant it, too.

  “Maybe it was a bird you saw?” Erin said as Immy sat down again.

  “Maybe,” she replied slowly, trying to picture what she’d seen in her mind — a glint of bright, reddish-blue.

  What if it wasn’t a bird but something else? Like Jean had said, maybe it wasn’t a person Elizabeth had seen outside her window. Not a person, or an animal, but something . . .

  Magical.

  Immy ducked in and out of the house all evening, trying to catch another glimpse of what she’d seen in the tree that afternoon.

  She didn’t see a thing.

  “What on earth are you doing?” her mum said when she’d run outside and back in again for what felt like the five hundredth time during a commercial break on TV.

  “Oh, just checking . . .”

  “For what?”

  “I . . . thought it might rain.”

  Immy sat back down on the sofa, her spine ramrod straight. Should she tell her parents what Jean had told her? Should she tell them she’d seen something? She felt like she shouldn’t. It was strange, but she knew she was on the brink of something with the tree. An understanding. Could she trust the tree? Maybe it was trying to trick her into trusting it? Maybe that’s what had happened to the other girls.

  She really wasn’t sure what to do or think.

  They went upstairs to get ready for bed not long after that, and between having a shower and brushing her teeth, Immy peeked out of her bedroom window another five hundred times or so.

  Still nothing.

  After her dad had fed the hoglets, her parents both came in to say good night. Immy tried to sleep and couldn’t, so she turned on her bedside lamp and read for a while, her eyes shifting to the open bedroom window every so often.

  When she finally flicked the light off, she still couldn’t sleep. Eventually she got up and brought her desk chair back to the window, where she sat and stared and waited and wondered.

  Immy awoke to a noise, and her clouded mind attempted to remember something. She thought back and was surprised to find herself in her bed. She’d been sitting in her chair by the window, hadn’t she? She couldn’t recall crawling back into bed, but she must have.

  Tap, tap.

  The noise came again.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  It was coming from the open window.

  She pushed back the covers and got up from her bed.

  She approached the window cautiously, not knowing what to expect. What she might see.

  What the tree wanted.

  Because it was the tree tapping upon her window. Not the wind making the branches brush against the glass, but the actual tree. She knew it was.

  It wasn’t until she was standing right up against the window itself that she finally saw it properly — what she’d caught a glimpse of earlier that afternoon.

  It was a berry — a single berry glinting and gleaming on one of the tree’s slender branches.

  With a cool breeze blowing in from outside, Immy stared at it, hypnotized.

  She’d known, that afternoon. Known it hadn’t been a bird she’d seen. Or something ordinary.

  And it wasn’t.

  Because this berry was no ordinary berry. It was ablaze in the moonlight as if made of crystal, its colors changing from dark red to magenta to mauve and everything in between. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It begged her to reach out and touch it. To take it. To taste it.

  She’d never wanted to eat anything so much.

  Without hesitating to consider the danger, Immy stretched out her hand.

  And then she plucked the mulberry from the branch and ate it.

  Immy stood in the dark, next to the open window of her bedroom. To her right a shuffling noise made her jump. She whirled around to see what it was and, with a gasp, took a step back, clutching on to the windowsill as she realized there was someone in her bed. Except . . .

  It wasn’t her bed.

  She looked around quickly in the half-light.

  It wasn’t her bed, and it wasn’t her room. That is, it was her room, but it was different.

  There was no desk or chair or lamp, and instead of the large wardrobe with the sliding glass door, there was a small, plain, wooden one.

  Immy held her breath as she took one step closer to the bed. Long dark hair lay on the pillow.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Immy’s eyes moved back to the window. It was exactly the same noise she’d heard just moments ago — the noise that had wakened her. It seemed to be waking the girl in the bed now as well, because
she turned in her sleep, disturbed.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The girl shifted again, rolling over, and then, finally, sat up. She glanced around the room, seeking out the noise. Immy sucked in her breath as the girl saw her.

  Until she realized the girl couldn’t see her at all.

  Instead of crying out or demanding to know who Immy was, the girl skimmed over Immy and took in the rest of the room.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The insistent noise came again, making both sets of eyes snap toward the open window. Now the girl got out of bed and went over to peer out, just as Immy had done when the noise had woken her before.

  Following her over there, Immy caught a glimpse of the girl’s features as she went, the moonlight shining in from outside.

  The first thing she noticed was the girl’s eyes.

  Jean had spoken about someone with startling bright green eyes. Someone who had also lived in this room. Immy took in the furniture again.

  The girl she was looking at could only be Elizabeth.

  Her mouth hanging open in horror, Immy followed Elizabeth’s gaze outside, already half knowing what she’d see.

  And there it was.

  A berry. The exact same sort of magical sparkling berry that she’d eaten herself.

  Elizabeth stared at the berry, looking as mesmerized as Immy had felt. Immy, however, stared at something else. The tree — it was different. It didn’t look like the tree she knew. Not only was there just one knot upon its trunk, but it was also darker. Fiercer. More menacing. The tree Immy knew was scary, but this tree — it was a tree of nightmares. When it had offered the berry to Immy, it had been asking her to take it. This was different. Now it dangled the berry in a different way. In a torturous way. As if it knew full well Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to resist and was laughing at her feebleness to do so.

  “Elizabeth!” Immy cried out, trying to grab her. “No! Don’t . . .” Her hand passed straight through her.

  It was too late anyway. Elizabeth had already taken the berry from the tree, and it was in her mouth.