The force of the current was so strong now that it buffeted her body, knocking her sideways and making her gasp. As she did so, she opened her mouth, and swallowed a mouthful of icy water. She choked, coughing and spluttering and making herself sick. A tight band encircled her lungs, squeezing the breath out of her. She could see strange lights flashing in front of her eyes.
The eerie silence that had accompanied her from the surface of the lake was suddenly shattered by the terrible sound of tearing water as it crashed and sucked and roared its way through the narrow opening.
‘Blackwater Sluice,’ a voice in her head whispered. ‘I hates this place as much as anywheres I knows. I only ever comes here when he makes me – and once when I was a young cub and that was by mistake. Hold on now, Minimus . . . We’s going through.’
With a sickening lurch, Alice felt herself falling head-first into a bottomless pit. All around her sharp cold water was tearing at her body and the sound was so deafening that it made her want to scream. Spikes of stone tore at her fur and she knocked the side of her head against a protruding rock. Then, almost before she had time to feel the pain, the falling sensation altered to a spin. Turning and squirming and horribly sick, Alice was sucked through the black water until, as if shot from a gun, she found herself free of the water and flying through cold, damp air.
A moment later she landed with a jolt on a stony spit of land beside which she could hear the water churning and raging as it rushed on into the black.
It was the darkness that she noticed most. It was more intense than any night. It hemmed her in on every side. It was so thick and impenetrable that it felt solid, like a wall. She realized that up until then she had never really known true darkness before. Always in the past, however black the night, once her eyes had grown accustomed to where she was there had been a lessening of the dark until, gradually at first, vague objects had begun to materialize in front of her. But here, now, the darkness remained; however long she waited, it wouldn’t go away.
Her shoulder hurt where she’d landed on it. She was freezing cold and wet. She started to shiver violently. The sound of the water rushing through the narrow opening was deafening. She put webbed claws to her ears, blocking out the sound, and as she did so, she felt the sleek, oily fur that covered her body. This discovery – the unfamiliar feel of her body, so foreign to her that she couldn’t even recognize what it was she had changed into – was too much for Alice. She crouched down on the cold, wet, ground and started to sob pitifully.
‘Alice!’ Mary shrieked, making a dart for her sister’s body. But she was too late. Alice was leaning too far out over the side of the boat and, just as Mary’s hand brushed her shoulder, she toppled out and hit the water with a gasp of surprise and fear, before disappearing under the surface.
‘William!’ Mary screamed, turning back to look at him.
William was standing up, beside Mary, swaying giddily. He’d leaned forward also, trying to grab at Alice as she was falling. Now, with his youngest sister’s weight suddenly removed, the small craft rocked back and bobbed about on the disturbed water. William, still leaning forward in a most precarious position was thrown off balance. With his arms flailing and legs kicking, he fell, back first, into the lake on the other side of the boat.
William was a very good swimmer. But the sudden shock of the cold took him unawares. His thin shirt billowed and his shorts grew heavy as the water soaked the material, weighing him down. His sandals had an unfamiliar feel in the water; they made his feet clumsy. He wanted to get rid of them, but they were too firmly attached for him to be able to kick them off.
The weight of his clothes and his thrashing feet forced William backwards further down into the water. He could see the light receding above him and his arms and feet reaching towards it as though in some desperate way he was trying to hold on to the outside world and to pull himself back up towards it.
On first impact, he must have swallowed a lot of water. He was choking and spluttering. Gasping, he inadvertently took another mouthful. He started to panic and this panic made him thrash his arms and legs with renewed vigour, exhausting his energy and doing nothing towards helping him back to the surface of the lake.
‘Easy,’ a voice whispered in his head. ‘That’s no way to treats the water. Yous do it my way.’
Later he would claim that he saw the otter swimming towards him through the green half-light before they merged and became one. But he could never be sure. All he was aware of was seeing his arms and legs, still reaching out towards the distant surface of the lake, shrink into claw-ended stubs and a thick, flat, wonderful tail came into view.
‘I like the tail best!’ he whispered and he beat it powerfully. At once he shot through the water, his body turning and diving as he propelled himself forward. This new found skill fascinated William. He wanted to beat the tail for ever. It was such fun driving through the water. But a voice in his head whispered severely:
‘Leaves all the moving to me, if yous don’t mind. Besides, we let the water do mosts of the work.’
‘That’s what we were told in life-saving,’ William suddenly remembered. ‘Let the water do the work.’
‘All that tails wagging only makes yous tired. I’s don’t want to be tired. Do yous?’
‘I suppose not,’ William thought. But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. The tail wagging had been fun.
‘Yous not here for fun,’ the voice whispered sternly. ‘Where we’s going isn’t fun. We needs our strength for Blackwater Sluice, I don’t mind yous knowing. I hates this place. I only ever comes for him – except once when I was a little pup and came by mistake . . .’
The tug of the current was strong now. The otter stretched his paws in front and behind, making his body into a long, sleek cigar-shape from the tip of his whiskered nose to the end of his tail. Opening their eyes a little, they were able to see, through the murk, a narrow crack in the rocky side of the deep cleft into which they were being dragged. The force of the water, driving through this cleft was so strong that it seemed not to move at all. It appeared instead like a solid substance, black and hard. As the otter’s body connected with this water, William felt a huge surge of energy. It was as though he had reached out and taken hold of a swiftly moving vehicle and now, having been whipped off his feet, was being dragged along at an alarming speed.
‘Here we go!’ the otter-voice in his head whispered and then with a piercing ‘Aaaahhhh!’ of desperate sound, which William suspected was more of his making than the otter’s, they both, as one, hurtled towards the narrow opening.
‘We’ll never make it!’ William screamed, mentally ducking his head and trying to avoid the hard, jagged rocks that sped towards them.
The sound of the water roared in his ears. The rock closed in, tighter and tighter, all around his otter-body. They turned and dodged and flicked and spiralled down and through the solid earth.
‘Blackwater Sluice!’ a voice screamed in his head and, a moment later, William heard Alice’s terrified voice, shouting:
‘William! William!’
‘I’m here,’ he told her. ‘It’s all right,’ and, as he spoke, panting and gasping for breath, the otter-body left him and he saw his own arms, reaching through the water, to where Alice was thrashing and shouting on the surface of the lake.
As William went overboard, the boat rocked horribly. Mary managed to grasp hold with a hand on each side and to hang on, as if she was on a roller-coaster at a fun fair. If she hadn’t she would certainly have landed in the water as well.
The boat meanwhile was pitching backwards and forwards and from side to side, throwing her in all directions, as though it were trying to shake her off. Great draughts of water slapped into the shallow trough beneath her feet, dragging the boat lower into the water with its weight. The surface of the lake crept closer and closer. It seemed inevitable that they would sink.
But Mary forced herself to keep calm. She took deep breaths and clung on to the sides
of the boat, willing it to become still and steady once more. Gradually peace returned to the gleaming surface of Goldenwater.
As soon as she was able, Mary turned, looking over her shoulder, searching for any sign of William or of Alice. The pale reflection of the encircling hills was as flat and as clear as a mirror. She swung round, panic grabbing at her, and searched the water in the other direction.
Then, with a gasp, she realized she was alone in the boat. The Magician had also disappeared. Where he had gone to, she didn’t know. When he had gone was an equal mystery. Why he had gone seemed almost unimportant.
‘Typical!’ Mary said, out loud. ‘Just when we need you!’ and then, as she spoke, she felt a terrible wave of nausea and fear sweep over her. ‘William!’ she shouted. Kneeling in the cold water at her feet, she leaned over the side of the boat, staring down into the depths of the lake. ‘Alice!’ she yelled.
But she knew it was pointless. She had seen Alice disappear over the side and, a moment later, she’d heard William cry out as he fell backwards into the water behind her. Now, gazing at the unbroken surface of the lake, she could only suppose that they were both drowned. She covered her face with her hands and felt the hot tears that sprang from her eyes.
She didn’t know how long she remained kneeling in the wet, but eventually, a strange jerking motion caught her attention. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to discover that the boat was moving. As if drawn by invisible hands, it was being pulled slowly across the water.
Scrambling forward to the prow, Mary looked over the side. The length of rope that Stephen Tyler had used to pull the boat along the shore was now pointing at an angle down into the water a few feet ahead of the boat and, as Mary watched, she saw the wet, gleaming head of an otter break the surface, the end of the rope firmly clenched between its teeth.
The otter was dragging the boat slowly towards the shore. As Mary saw it, so it turned and looked back at her.
‘Had enough for one day?’ the familiar voice of the Magician whispered in her head.
‘Oh, please,’ Mary sobbed. ‘Where are William and Alice?’
‘We tooks them to Blackwater Sluice,’ the otter told her, leaning back in the water and holding the rope between his two big claws as he spoke.
‘But where are they now?’ Mary asked.
Then, before the otter could reply, she heard William calling to her from the shore.
‘Mary!’ she heard him say. ‘Are you all right?’
Looking up, Mary saw William, wet and bedraggled, but seemingly unhurt, standing in the shallow water at the edge of the lake.
‘Where’s Alice?’ she yelled.
‘She’s here. Didn’t you see me? I just helped her ashore,’ and, as he spoke, Mary saw Alice kneeling on the ground behind her brother.
‘Is she all right?’ Mary yelled.
‘’Course she is,’ William replied. ‘I got a badge for life-saving, didn’t I? What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing,’ Mary replied quietly, and, taking the oars she started to row the boat slowly towards the shore, tears of relief and tiredness running silently down her cheeks.
The otter swam for a moment beside her. It raised its head out of the water and watched her with bright, twinkling eyes.
‘Don’t cries, little girl,’ the otter called, his voice a high, fluting whistle. ‘It’s all over now. All’s safe again. I hates Blackwater Sluice . . .’ and before he’d finished the sentence he dived out of sight, surfacing a moment later with a silver fish caught between his jaws.
The sun beat down. William and Alice were draped in their swimming towels and their wet clothes were spread out beside them, drying in the hot air.
Mary beached the boat further along the shore and waded through the shallow water to dry land. Then, turning, she pulled the boat up after her on to the shingle.
As she was about to leave, something glinted on the long seat, catching her attention. The back of the boat was still bobbing in the water and Mary waded back out, to discover what it was. The Magician’s golden pendulum was lying on the wooden seat. Mary reached over and picked it up, gathering the thin chain into her hand. As she did so, she thought that without this proof she would almost have believed that he had never been there at all; that they had only imagined him.
‘That’s so often how it is,’ she thought and, placing the pendulum in the pocket of her jeans, she turned and hurried along the beach towards William and Alice.
‘Are you both all right?’ she called.
‘Yes!’ Alice replied, sounding cross. ‘Don’t fuss, Mary. I just nearly drowned, that’s all!’ and she shrugged and made a face, as though nearly drowning was the sort of thing she did every day.
‘Thank goodness you were there, Will,’ Mary said, kneeling down between them. ‘I’d never have been able to save her.’
‘I could have swum, you know,’ Alice said, and then she shivered and hugged herself.
William was sitting cross-legged, tossing a pebble from one hand to the other, staring out across the lake.
‘What happened?’ Mary asked.
‘I fell in,’ Alice replied, sounding petulant again.
‘But after that. Did you see Blackwater Sluice?’
‘Oh, stop, Mary!’ Alice whispered, clamping her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t ever want to think of that place again.’
William took the stone and threw it as far as he could out into the lake.
‘Will?’ Mary pleaded. ‘Please tell me.’
‘What?’ William asked, trying to sound brave.
‘What happened?’ his sister repeated, anxiously.
William shrugged. ‘You tell me,’ he said.
‘Well, one minute we were all looking at the otter and the next you and Alice were in the water and you seemed to have completely disappeared and the boat nearly sank and then . . . you turned up here on the shore. Oh! – and the otter. I saw the otter again . . .’ She frowned, as she remembered, scarcely believing what she was saying. ‘It was pulling the boat along.’
‘That’s all that happened?’ William asked, looking at her.
‘So far as I know,’ Mary replied.
‘How long did all this take?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mary replied. ‘Not very long. Why?’
William shook his head and frowned.
‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’ Mary asked him, looking at him closely. ‘Please tell me the rest, Will. Please.’
‘I think,’ her brother replied, speaking slowly, ‘that Alice was drowning and I went to save her . . . Just like you said. That’s all.’
‘Yes, that’s all,’ Alice said and for a moment she and William stared at each other.
‘It isn’t,’ Mary cried. ‘There’s something that you’re not telling me. There’s been some magic, hasn’t there? Something happened – and I was left out. Why? Why do I always miss out on things? Why?’
‘Oh, Mare,’ Alice said in a small voice. ‘It wasn’t very nice magic . . .’ and she and her brother started, between them, to try to describe what had happened to each of them.
‘It was horrible,’ Alice gasped as she came to the end of her story. ‘I never want to go on a ride like that again. Not ever.’
‘It’s not fair,’ Mary said, ignoring this last remark. ‘I always miss out on things,’ and, lying back, she closed her eyes to hide from them the fact that she was crying again.
9
William Works Things Out
THE SECRET ROOM was bathed in late afternoon light. The rays of a pale apricot sun streamed in through the back window, colouring the steeply sloping ceiling, the walls, the floor, and even the dusty air, with gold. Birds were singing that strange, expectant chorus that heralds the night. Distantly, across the valley, the low drone of nature, the buzzing and humming, the sighing and breathing, the long chord of creation, echoed through the trees of the forest and the high lands beyond. A tiny breeze stirred, sighing across the outer roof, bringing
the scent of roses and the toasted smell of herbs from the walled garden below.
Mary couldn’t stop crying. Not that noisy, sobbing, painful crying that comes with despair; but silent tears, caused as much by the beauty of the scene that she watched through the circular window as by her own state of mind. She had been vaguely sad since the afternoon at the lake. But she hadn’t spoken about it to the others. She hadn’t wanted to share the feeling with anyone. She would scarcely have been able to put it into words. It was no more than a slight, nagging sense of rejection. She felt as though she’d been left out. Magic had taken place and she hadn’t been a part of it. Why? Was it because she wasn’t good enough for it? Or ready for it? Or . . . why? She shrugged, wiping her cheeks with her hands, and sighed deeply.
Maybe the best thing to do would be to just not bother – as she wasn’t bothering about Dan any more. What was the point of wasting time trying to put herself in places where he was bound to see her if, when he did see her, he just treated her as a kid and wouldn’t talk seriously to her? He was just like the magic, really. He left her out too. And this view . . . Even this view through the window . . . She wasn’t really a part of it. She was only an outsider, watching, looking, removed. Even the view excluded her. She felt as if she didn’t belong anywhere; as though she were invisible; or didn’t exist. She was tired of only looking, tired of feeling, but tired most of never seeming to belong anywhere.
They had returned from the lake via Four Fields where Phoebe and Steph and Spot had been waiting for them. Meg had given them tea in thick, chipped mugs and big wedges of shop fruitcake, which William and Alice had devoured ravenously. They had, of course, none of them breathed a word about what had happened, although William did ask Meg if there was a boat at the lake.
‘No, dear. There used to be one, I think. But not now that I know of,’ Meg told him. She seemed subdued herself and Phoebe soon suggested that she and the children should be getting home.
The Tunnel Behind the Waterfall Page 6