The Tunnel Behind the Waterfall

by William Corlett

  At supper that night Phoebe had told them that Meg was sorely tempted by the offer to sell Four Fields.

  ‘What should I do, dear?’ she said. ‘I never thought to be offered money for Four Fields. I mean, it isn’t good land and the house is falling down. Of course I don’t want to move, I never even contemplated such a thing. Never thought I’d be able. Thought I’d live and die at Four Fields. But with the money they’re offering, I could buy a little cottage in a village. I’m not getting any younger, dearie. And the life here is hard . . . Hard for an old woman like me . . . One fall of a bad winter’s day and then where would I be? Who’d milk the cows then? Who’d even know? There are days on end when the snow’s lying, when I don’t see a soul. I could lie for a week. I wasn’t fit last winter. But I kept myself going. You have to think about these things. This place . . . Well . . . It’s all right when you’re young. Not quite so good when you’re past your time.’

  The children had all been horrified at the news, though Jack seemed to understand it.

  ‘But . . .’ Alice had exclaimed, ‘she can’t want to leave Four Fields. We’ll visit her every day. Would that help?’

  ‘And what about when you’re at school?’ Phoebe had reasoned with her. ‘And when your Mum and Dad return from Africa and you’re not living here any more?’

  ‘But we’ll always visit,’ Alice had protested, suddenly appalled at the thought of not living at Golden House, even although she missed her mother and father.

  ‘But if she sells,’ William had said, ‘those horrible people will take the place and tear down the cottage and plough up the fields. Meg couldn’t let that happen.’

  ‘Who’s to say it won’t happen after her death anyway?’ Jack asked.

  ‘She has no one to leave the place to,’ Phoebe said. ‘She told me today that she has no family.’

  ‘She could leave it to us,’ Alice had cried, eagerly.

  Phoebe had smiled. ‘She was thinking of doing just that,’ she told her. ‘Meg thinks of you as her family.’

  ‘There, then,’ Alice said, blushing slightly and helping herself to another spoonful of Lemon Snow. ‘That’s settled.’

  ‘And what would you do with Four Fields?’ Phoebe asked. ‘You’re not going to farm it.’

  ‘I might,’ Alice had replied, with her mouth full. But she knew in her heart that farming would bore her and, being honest, she’d screwed up her face and sighed. ‘No. What I really like is Meg farming it and me being able to go and see her when I’m in the mood.’

  ‘I thought you were the one who welcomed the theme park idea, Alice,’ Jack said.

  But Alice had shaken her head and shuddered, glancing fearfully at William.

  ‘No. I’ve gone off that,’ she’d told them, and then she’d stared glumly at her plate and refused to say anything more.

  And indeed none of them had spoken about the boating accident even to each other. Alice was too scared to want to think about it. Mary felt rejected and William . . .

  William’s head had been in a turmoil. He had to work it out. Now, as he sat cross-legged on the floor of the secret room, doodling with his finger in the dust, his brow was still knitted into a frown as he went over and over the events of that afternoon.

  Alice and Spot were sitting together under the mirror. Spot was trying to persuade Alice to play ‘try and catch me’ – a really boring game that he was partial to, which consisted of Alice making a dive for him and he jumping away backwards, tail wagging and always just out of her grasp. (The only way that she sometimes won was to get him trapped in a corner and then they always ended up fighting, although however much Spot bit her, he never actually hurt her).

  It was William who’d suggested that they should come up to the room. He had a lot of questions for the Magician. But of course, when he was needed Stephen Tyler very seldom appeared.

  ‘I think,’ William said aloud, his voice making the others jump. ‘I think that what happened was – you fell out of the boat Alice and I dived in to rescue you.’

  ‘No you didn’t, William,’ Mary said, indignantly. ‘You fell in – and what’s more, you yelled as you did so.’

  ‘Well anyway, that’s not important, Mary . . .’

  ‘Trying to make yourself out a hero,’ Mary muttered.

  ‘I was awfully glad you came, though,’ Alice admitted.

  ‘And anyway – that doesn’t explain you both going through that horrible tunnel thing and the otter experience . . .’ Mary said.

  ‘But, Mare,’ William insisted. ‘You say that the whole thing was over in a moment. There wasn’t time for everything to happen that Alice and I think happened. And,’ he emphasized, stopping Mary from interrupting him, ‘Alice thought she went in Lutra – or whatever the otter was called – and I thought I went in him . . . but we weren’t in him together . . . and at the same time you saw him pulling the boat towards the shore . . .’

  ‘Maybe there were three otters,’ Alice chimed in.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ William said, shaking his head.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Mary asked.

  William paused for a moment and stared at the floor.

  ‘I think it’s all in our minds,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, terrific!’ Mary exclaimed, sardonically. ‘That’s really cleared everything up for us, hasn’t it?’

  ‘All right. You explain it, Mary, if you’re so brilliant,’ her brother snapped.

  ‘I can’t, can I? It didn’t happen to me, did it?’ Mary answered.

  ‘’Course, there’s one way to find out . . .’ William said, deep in thought again.

  ‘Find out what?’ Alice asked.

  ‘If Blackwater Sluice was imagined by us or if we really went there . . .’

  ‘How?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Well – if we ever go there again,’ William replied, quietly, ‘Alice and I will recognize the place, won’t we?’

  Alice put an arm round Spot’s shoulder and hugged him to her.

  ‘You see – we were told that the magic is what we believe in. You said that, didn’t you Spot?’ William asked.

  But the dog merely yawned and put on his haughty look. He had a habit of doing that.

  ‘I think,’ Alice said, looking at him, ‘that you put on that face when you don’t know the answer.’

  ‘We wouldn’t have known about Blackwater Sluice if Mr Tyler hadn’t just told us about it,’ William persisted with his working out.

  ‘So?’ Mary said, seeing where it was leading.

  ‘He put the idea in our heads.’

  ‘But . . . when we found this room . . . we hadn’t even met him then,’ Mary argued.

  ‘But this room isn’t magic. It’s real. What happens here sometimes is magic . . . Or is it all real, really? What did he mean by the energy field? What did that mean . . .?’

  They became silent again. William retired inside his head, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. Alice stroked Spot, who lay back beside her and yawned and pretended to go to sleep. Mary walked back to the window and looked out at the gradually gathering dusk.

  ‘We should go down,’ she said, more to herself than to the others. ‘It’ll be dark soon.’

  Behind her, William suddenly looked up.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘It’s late,’ Mary explained.

  ‘No!’ William cried, a look of dawning recognition spreading across his face. ‘Of course,’ he cried. ‘That’s it!’

  ‘What, Will?’ Mary said, moving towards him. ‘What’s it?’

  ‘What you said about the dark,’ he said. ‘It’s getting dark . . . Oh, thank you, Mary! That’s it!’ he exclaimed, jumping up. ‘If it gets dark – what do we do?’

  ‘Switch on the light,’ Alice replied, facetiously – William was getting boring again. But this time he clapped his hands and hugged her.

  ‘That’s right, Alice. Electricity. That’s it!’ He was so excited that he was bouncing up and down.

&nb
sp; ‘What is?’ Mary demanded.

  ‘The energy field – what Stephen Tyler was talking about. The energy . . . it must be something like electricity. How does electricity work?’

  Mary frowned and shrugged. Alice shrugged and yawned.

  ‘You just switch it on,’ she said.

  ‘Then what happens?’

  ‘Light comes on.’

  ‘How?’

  Alice sighed. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, grumpily. ‘It’s just one of those things that happens.’

  ‘Like magic . . .’ William agreed, quietly. ‘Except it isn’t. It’s scientific. Uncle Jack could tell us. It’s something to do with a positive force and a negative force and a neutral force.

  ‘Oh, that’s really clear, William!’ Mary sneered. ‘We all know about electricity now, don’t we?’

  ‘No. Of course we don’t. It’s really difficult. It’s electrons and protons and all that stuff . . .’

  ‘All what stuff?’ Alice protested, in a sudden bad temper. ‘You’re getting as bad as the Magician. He’s always using long words . . . What’s the point of long words? They just stop you understanding anything.’

  ‘And a magnet,’ William continued, thoughtfully, having failed to hear a word his sister had said. ‘A magnet’s the same sort of thing . . . Magic and mysterious – and yet real. You know that piece of gold he had – on the chain? What was it he called it? His pendulum . . . It was picking up . . .’ he searched for a word to describe what he was feeling for, ‘waves . . . energy . . . electricity. Oh, I don’t know . . .’ he sighed, covering his head with his arms, utterly defeated by the struggle in his mind. ‘If only he wouldn’t go off when we need him. If only he’d help . . . Why is it all so difficult?’ and he sounded so desperate that Mary crossed to him, wanting to comfort him.

  ‘Will,’ she said gently. And, to her amazement, as he turned away from her, she saw that there were tears on his cheeks.

  ‘Go away, Mary. I’m all right,’ he said, his voice breaking.

  Mary sighed and, putting her hands in her jeans pockets, she walked back towards the window. As she did so her fingers wrapped round an unfamiliar object in one of the pockets. She couldn’t for a moment work out what it was. Then she remembered.

  ‘Oh, William!’ she cried. ‘He hasn’t quite abandoned us. He left us this.’ And, as she spoke, she turned to the other two, producing from her pocket the golden pendulum.

  10

  Jasper Comes to Help

  WILLIAM AND ALICE stared at the piece of gold on the thin chain that Mary was holding out towards them.

  ‘But what’s it for?’ Alice asked. ‘I mean, so it went round in a circle. So what?’ Then she sighed. ‘It’s very difficult being the youngest, you know,’ she said. ‘I haven’t had time to know as much as you both do.’

  ‘I don’t know what it’s for either, Al,’ William told her. As he spoke he reached out to the piece of gold and then pulled back, as if he were afraid to touch it. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t have taken it, Mary,’ he said.

  ‘But it was lying there. Mr Tyler must have dropped it. He’d be furious if he’d lost it. It’s obviously important to him.’

  As she spoke, she picked at the chain with the thumb and forefinger of her other hand. Then, slowly, she lifted the pendulum and let it dangle in front of them.

  ‘Why a pendulum, anyway?’ she said, staring at it thoughtfully. ‘A pendulum’s what you have in a grandfather clock.’ She swung the gold piece backwards and forwards. ‘Tick tock. Tick tock,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m sure we’re not supposed to touch it,’ William said, moving away from her.

  ‘Why are you afraid of it, Will?’ Alice asked in a quiet voice.

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ William said, without much conviction. ‘It’s just . . . Well, it belongs to the Magician. It comes from another time. It’s the first thing of his that’s remained behind when he wasn’t here himself . . .’

  ‘Apart from the mirror, of course,’ Mary said, walking across to the corner where the round, convex mirror was attached to the wall. As she drew closer to the mirror, the pendulum – which was still dangling in front of her – started to sway. ‘It’s moving,’ she said.

  ‘Only because you are, Mary,’ William told her, following her.

  But as Mary reached a point just in front of the mirror, the piece of gold shot forward, as if it were being pulled. It took Mary so by surprise that the chain almost slipped free of her grasp. She had to nip her thumb and finger tightly together to stop it flying free.

  ‘It’s really strong now,’ she said.

  Then, as they all continued to watch closely, the gold piece started to describe a circle in the air between Mary and the mirror – like a propeller, it whizzed round and round.

  ‘Are you making that happen?’ Alice whispered.

  ‘No,’ Mary cried. ‘Honestly I’m not.’ Her voice sounded anxious and she shied away from the whirling pendulum as though she were afraid it would hit her. ‘I don’t like it, William. What’s happening?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ William said, sounding equally alarmed.

  ‘Spot,’ Alice called. ‘Help us! Tell us what to do.’

  The dog had risen from the floor and was standing watching the pendulum, with his head on one side and his tail between his legs.

  ‘Morden!’ he growled.

  ‘Where?’ William cried.

  ‘Through the mirror,’ the dog growled again. Then, barking loudly, he sprang at the mirror, jumping up as if trying to reach it, snarling and biting. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and he seemed angry and dangerous.

  The strength of whatever it was that had been attracting the gold piece diminished at once. The whirling became weaker until finally the pendulum was hanging downwards again from Mary’s outstretched hand.

  ‘How d’you know that was Morden?’ William asked Spot.

  But the dog ignored his question. He was energetically sniffing the floor in front of the mirror, his tail moving slowly, his nose flat on the floor. Suddenly the dog jumped, as if he’d been stung. He turned in mid-air, looking towards the window. Then, springing forward, he started to bark again.

  ‘Morden! Morden! Morden!’ he seemed to say.

  ‘Where?’ William cried, desperately scanning the shadowy corners of the room.

  Alice and Mary hung back and Alice slipped a hand into Mary’s for reassurance.

  ‘What is it, Spot? Please tell us,’ William pleaded. Now Spot had made for the window, and was standing up on his hind legs, trying to see over the high sill.

  ‘Morden!’ he barked again, a long, wailing, agitated sound.

  Then he was silent – and in the pause that followed they all heard a crow squawking somewhere outside the room.

  ‘What was that?’ Alice hissed, ducking behind Mary and covering her eyes with her hands – a sign that now she was really scared.

  ‘Bird!’ Mary whispered.

  ‘Crow!’ William exclaimed and, as he spoke, he brushed a fly away from his face. It buzzed noisily, landed on the candle sconce in front of the open window and sleeked its head with its two front legs.

  ‘Is Morden in the crow, Spot?’ Mary asked, stepping out of the corner towards him and William.

  ‘Don’t know,’ the dog answered. He was still standing on his hind legs, supporting himself against the sloping ceiling under the window with one front paw. The other was poised in an elegant fashion and, as he spoke, he looked back over his shoulder, sniffing the air of the room. His nose twitched, the hair on the back of his neck bristled again. Turning his body, Spot dropped down on to all fours once more and silently padded round the room, sniffing in the corners and going out on to the landing at the top of the spiral stairs.

  ‘He’s not still here, is he?’ Alice whispered, her hands clamped over her eyes.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Spot growled, returning to the room.

  ‘What is wrong, Spot?’

  ‘Something bad,�
� he muttered.

  ‘Is it another spider?’ Mary asked, searching in the fading light for a web.

  Spot sat down in the middle of the room, yawned and scratched with a back leg behind his ear.

  ‘Scent’s too weak now,’ he told them, as a gust of perfumed breeze blew in from the world outside.

  William, who had been silent, crossed and squatted on the floor in front of the dog.

  ‘Spot . . .’ he started, using his working-out voice. The dog yawned again and, having finished scratching, shook his head vigorously.

  ‘You know when, sometimes, Alice is in you . . . or, when the Magician is in you . . .’ William continued. Spot stared at him, his head moving slowly from side to side, as though he were listening carefully to the words. ‘Well,’ William continued, ‘what really happens? I mean – what does it feel like, to you?’

  ‘Don’t ask a dog,’ a voice hooted behind them and, with a flapping of wings, the owl sailed in over the sill and settled on the candle sconce. As his claws gripped the metal, the fly that had settled there buzzed away from him, up towards the apex of the roof, where it landed, upside down, and continued to watch the scene below through its single eye. The owl, distracted by this, watched the flight with more than a little interest. Then it hunched its shoulders, whistled loudly and glared down at the children.

  ‘A pupil is only as good as his or her teacher,’ Jasper continued. ‘If you have serious questions, don’t waste them on the dog.’

  Alice put her arm round Spot and hugged him towards her. But he didn’t seem unduly upset by the owl’s remark. He yawned, licked Alice, and then slid down on to the floor, still half leaning against her, and gnawed at his haunch where he had an irritating tickle.

  ‘Owls are all brain,’ he said, in a contented voice. ‘You listen to the owl. He’ll talk and talk . . . and send you off to sleep in no time,’ and he proceeded to fall asleep himself, with a contented sigh.

  ‘What is it you want to know?’ Jasper asked, looking at one of his talons closely and then sucking off a little piece of mouse flesh that he’d missed from a recent meal.