Too Many Secrets

by Adele Broadbent

  ‘Stoked. What is stoked?’

  I had to laugh. ‘Stoked means pleased. You don’t know much, do you? Have you been living in a cave or something?’

  ‘No. I have lived in Papa’s house all my life. Until I left.’

  ‘Why live in the shack, though? How come you all didn’t live in Herrick House? It’s amazing! I mean, it was your house, wasn’t it? Haven’t you got tons of brothers and sisters? Why all squish in the shack?’

  I knew I’d pushed too far when he thumped a trunk with his fist. ‘It was my home, not a shack! And no good will come from the big house. It is a bad place. You will see.’

  Once again, he was gone in a flash.

  Chapter 28—Becs

  At least he’d stayed longer than last time. What did he mean about the house? A bad place? Sure it was old and run-down, but it wasn’t that awful. Weirdo greenie. Nice for trying to cheer me up—but weird.

  I backtracked along the paths, until I found one I recognized. The tiny bird boxes I’d seen the first day had come to be like street signs in the trees. The next time I saw Isaiah, I’d remember to ask who made them.

  I’d been longer than I planned but the others were just finishing their own lemonades when I got back to the house and picked up my sanding block.

  Mum’s curiosity got the better of her (that’s where I get it from), and after replacing some boards on the stairs and roping the railing, she checked out the top floor. I was right behind her. She put up ‘Danger!’ tape around the rotten floorboards Mark had found earlier (in case Nick followed us up there), and we began to explore—slowly.

  All five rooms upstairs were boarded up. It took a while but we opened them one by one. The rooms seemed to take a deep breath as we opened their doors, letting out thick musty air. One had rotten floorboards but the others were fine. ‘It looks like we’ve found bedrooms for us all,’ said Mum. ‘Even one for your friends. As long as they don’t mind mouldy wallpaper and peeling paint.’

  What would my friends think of the house? Mum wasn’t exaggerating about the mould. It streaked every bedroom wall. Caro was a real clean freak. She didn’t just wash her school uniforms during the week—she’d wash her school bag as well. Staying in a dusty room with mould on the walls and spider webs on the ceilings would send her ballistic. ‘Maybe we should wait a bit before inviting them,’ I said.

  Mum nodded and attacked the boards across the last doorway. They had more nails in them than the other rooms, and it took longer to wrench off each one. ‘Boarding up everything just doesn’t make sense,’ said Mum, yanking on a crow bar. ‘Every nail leaves such a mess in the woodwork.’

  I wondered again about Isaiah’s warning. ‘Is there anything we need to know about the house? You know, any spooky stuff or anything?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ said Mum, ‘and you know Mark. He’s talked of nothing else for months. Why would there be?’

  ‘It’s pretty old, Mum. Big old houses have histories.’

  ‘No, Becs. It’s just a house.’ The last board clattered to the floor. ‘There,’ said Mum. ‘Last room for the day.’

  This room was different. A wooden wardrobe towered in one corner. Thick dusty spider webs seemed to hold it against the wall.

  The opposite side of the room had a small fireplace with a fancy steel grate. It was full of leaves and pine needles that spilled out onto the floor. ‘I wonder why this fireplace was left uncovered,’ mumbled Mum.

  I crossed the room warily, checking for weak floorboards. A wide bay window almost filled one wall. I rubbed a clean spot in the glass to see out over the drive, where Mark and Nick were pulling branches away from a fence. I turned and grinned at Mum. ‘Can I have this room?’

  ‘I can see why,’ she said gazing around. ‘This was a special room. Maybe it belonged to the lady of the house?’

  ‘Really?’ I gasped. ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘See the flower mouldings around the fireplace? The roses in the corners of the ceiling?’ We stared upwards. ‘So far this has the only fireplace not boarded up. It’s the only room not completely bare. This room means something.’

  I scooted over to the wardrobe, imagining it full of beautiful dresses and gowns. I tugged on the doors. ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘Try again,’ said Mum. ‘They might be just stiff.’

  Bit by bit, we worked them open. Four bundles wrapped in dusty sheets lay in the bottom.

  Chapter 29—Isaiah

  Again I ran. Was I foolish to show her Mother’s butterflies? Becs had kept my secret but still had so many questions. Questions—they had only ever brought trouble. Without questions, maybe Papa would not have grown so angry. He might not have taken my family away. My eyes blurred as I ran and I rubbed my hand across them.

  Where had they gone? Were they all right? Mother told me they were going far away. I’d tried to block them out. I’d tried to keep myself busy as Oscar had shown me, but the more I watched Becs and her family, the more I missed my own. I slowed to a jog then eventually to a walk, wishing I hadn’t questioned my father.

  ‘What is the city like?’ I asked Papa one day when I was small. I would never leave the bush, but I knew he had lived there and I had been learning about cities in school.

  ‘There is no calm there, Isaiah,’ he said. ‘No chance of peace. We came here for a better life. Living a good life will wash away the sins of our fathers from our souls. Things are now as they are meant to be.’ When I looked to Mother, she smiled and nodded in her usual way.

  But as I grew older and saw how other children lived, I didn’t accept that answer any more. The other parents had jobs and electricity and vehicles. My parents stayed in the bush, used lanterns at night and walked everywhere. Why were we so different?

  When I asked again, Mother told me Papa preferred a simple life. ‘He chose to work our gardens, hunt our meat and look after the bush we live in. He wants to keep us from the darker side of life. Are you not happy here?’

  ‘Yes, Mother, but…?’

  She put her finger to my lips. ‘Son. Do as your papa asks of you. You are the oldest and give me the most joy. Study hard, learn everything you can, here in the bush and all about the world out there. That is the key to your future. One day when you are old enough, you can see for yourself.’

  I squeezed my eyes shut. If only I had listened. I broke into a run until I reached Papa’s house. Becs’ family had tidied it up. It looked better than when my family lived there. My brothers and sisters always dropped things where they had finished playing with them, no matter how many times Mother scolded them. I smiled to myself. Not that Mother was ever really cross. Even when I had asked her the same question Becs had asked me. ‘Why don’t we live in the big house?’

  Luckily Papa didn’t hear me. But later, when my brothers and sisters began asking, he had overheard. Shaking my head against the memory, I made for Oscar’s.

  Memories of my family filled my head as the day passed. I spent the rest of the afternoon helping cut back the spring growth around Oscar’s house, but no matter how hard I worked, faces swam into my thoughts.

  Oscar brought me a jug of water and a cup. ‘What are you stewing over?’ he said. ‘You haven’t said a word for hours.’

  I shook my head and poured myself a drink.

  ‘Come on, out with it, boy.’

  I could hardly bear to say it, even after thinking it for so long. Papa hated liars, but…I felt disloyal as I asked, ‘Did Papa lie?’

  ‘About what?’

  I stared at my feet. ‘Many things. He taught us things that I do not think are true.’

  ‘Ha!’ snorted Oscar. ‘His beliefs were strong, and he taught you all what he believed. It wasn’t my place to correct him. You’re old enough now to make your own decisions.’

  ‘He told us…’ I hesitated, remembering Becs and her family laughing outside the big house. Oscar stood waiting. ‘He told us the big house was evil and to stay away from it. He told us it would make us do thing
s against our will.’

  Oscar snorted again. ‘Like drinking and gambling, I suppose?’

  I nodded, staring back at the ground. ‘Papa said it turned people against God’s ways.’

  ‘Let me put you straight, Isaiah. Herrick House is just wood and brick and plaster. Nothing more, nothing less. There’s no evil there except wood rot and mould. It’s just a monstrosity that should never have been built. It should be pulled down—not restored like that fool is attempting to do.’

  ‘She said it’s amazing.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Oscar with a frown. ‘You been talking to the townies?’

  ‘Only the girl. Becs.’

  Oscar shook his head. ‘You and your curiosity. They’ll be trouble.’

  ‘She didn’t tell,’ I mumbled. I didn’t want to argue with Oscar, but he’d been wrong, just like Papa. ‘You said she would tell and she hasn’t.’

  ‘Harrumph!’ He shook his head and stomped inside, slamming the screen door behind him.

  Chapter 30—Becs

  Be careful,’ Mum said. ‘They might be fragile.’ I rolled my eyes. Of course I’d be careful. The wardrobe was the only piece of furniture in the entire house so far—with secret bundles! We lifted each package out of the bottom of the wardrobe and lay them on the floor. They were all similar sizes and weights and I was dying to unwrap them.

  Mum held up the first one as I unravelled the sheet around it. Dust puffed into the air. I gasped when Mum sneezed, thinking she was going to drop it.

  ‘Keep going.’

  The final wrap of the sheet slid off to show a thick oval frame. It was made of wood and painted gold. The sheets had protected it and none of the paint had peeled like around the rest of the house.

  Inside the frame was a photo of a woman. I blew a thin layer of dust from the glass to see her more clearly. She was dressed in a deep-green gown with her blonde hair pinned up at the back. She wore a gorgeous emerald necklace with matching earrings. ‘Wow! This must be her. The lady of the house.’

  ‘It must be,’ said Mum. ‘Wasn’t she beautiful?’

  ‘Let’s see what’s in the other bundles.’

  One by one, we unwrapped the sheets to find three more matching frames holding a picture of a man, a picture of two teenage boys and one of the whole family.

  ‘This must be Mr Herrick,’ said Mum leaning over the man’s picture, ‘and these will be his children. Wait until Mark sees these.’

  Mum was right. I’ve never seen Mark so over the top. He practically foamed at the mouth.

  ‘What a find! These are fantastic! Whoever was ordered to close up these rooms has hidden these first. This must be the original Herrick family.’

  Work came to a screaming halt that day as the pictures were wrapped in blankets then taken back to the shack for Mark to rave over again. He spent hours dismantling the frames so he could clean the glass over the pictures inside and out. ‘It’s fantastic how these have been preserved,’ he said. ‘See how they coloured the photos back then?’ I peered over to see the tiny brush strokes of paint through Mrs Herrick’s necklace and dress. Pink had been dabbed on her cheeks and lips.

  ‘I know just the place to put these,’ said Mark. ‘Right inside the main foyer. The Herrick family will still greet people into Herrick House.’

  The next morning he had put the frames back together and laid them across our kitchen table. He’d done an amazing job cleaning them up and I had a closer look. I know they were distant relatives of Isaiah but it was sort of spooky. The woman and one of the boys had bright blue eyes. The father and the other boy had exactly the same dark eyes as Isaiah.

  ‘I’m going into town,’ said Mark. ‘I want to find out more about them.’

  ‘Can I come?’ I was sort of interested myself. After all, one of the Herricks was a friend of mine. Sort of. Besides, it was the perfect chance to call my mates again.

  Chapter 31—Becs

  Jeff was serving someone when we arrived and a guy was already using the phone. I flicked through a magazine while I waited. Lifestyle Block Living wasn’t really my thing but it was better than the other choices, Hunting, Living & Fishing or Family Gardens. Boring!

  ‘Hi, Mark,’ said Jeff. ‘Rushed off my feet today. I’ll be right with you.’

  Mark frowned when I smirked. Two customers at once and he’s rushed off his feet. The sooner I got back to civilization, the better. Things were way too slow out in the country.

  By the time Jeff got back to us, I’d flicked through all three magazines. The guy on the phone didn’t look like he was going anywhere soon and I wondered if it’d been a wasted trip into town.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Jeff. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘I was just after some information actually,’ said Mark. I heard him explain about the portraits he’d found and he waffled on about the brush strokes blah, blah, blah.

  I only looked up when I realized Jeff was silent. He finally said, ‘A lot of people round here would love to see those pictures. Everyone knows about the Herrick scandal, but very few have seen a picture of Joshua Herrick, let alone his beautiful wife.’

  Scandal? I dropped the gardening magazine back in its slot and shot over to the counter. Now that’s more like it.

  It wasn’t until Jeff had finished his story and we were halfway back to the shack, I realized I’d forgotten to use the phone. Over lunch, Mark repeated the story for Mum and Nick.

  ‘Once upon a time…’ Mark smiled at Nick.

  ‘Aw, c’mon, Dad. I’m not a baby.’

  ‘Once upon a time,’ Mark repeated, ‘a man called Joshua Herrick brought his beautiful new wife into the country. He found a big house and made it even bigger and grander for her.’

  Nick giggled. ‘Like you, Dad.’

  When Mark smiled over at Mum, I made gagging noises. Give me a break. ‘And…’ I prompted.

  ‘They had two sons and were very rich.’ Mark frowned. ‘I’m not sure, but I think he made his money through rail.’ He grinned when I scowled at him. ‘Becs wants me to get to the good stuff. The Herricks were very happy, or that’s how it seemed. Until one day Mrs Herrick ran away with another man!’ Mum and Nick gasped.

  Nick looked up at Mum with huge eyes. ‘You’re not going to run away?’

  ‘No, Nick.’ Mum put her arm around her.

  ‘Back in those days it was unheard of,’ Mark continued. ‘Joshua Herrick had adored his wife, and the story goes that he slowly went mad, becoming a recluse. He spent all his money drinking and gambling until all he had left was Herrick House. He was offered a lot of money for it but he refused to sell. His sons had grown up and left, so he closed it up room by room until he died.’

  ‘But not before he hid those portraits of his family,’ said Mum. ‘What a sad story.’ She hugged Nick closer.

  ‘So who were all the Herrick kids that lived here?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Becs and I worked it out on the way back from town,’ said Mark. ‘Going by the dates Jeff gave us, we figured we’ve bought Herrick House from Joshua Herrick’s grandson.’

  Which makes Joshua Herrick Isaiah’s great-grandfather, I thought. I nearly blurted it out, but bit my tongue just in time. I’d promised Isaiah I’d keep his secret.

  Chapter 32—Becs

  Nick went mental when I told her I’d claimed the room with the wardrobe and the bay window. She was even worse when Mark said it was OK because I’d found the pictures. She didn’t speak to me for a couple of days and stopped following me around for a bit too. It was just as well, because at the end of the week I saw Isaiah again. I was walking along the track to the house, scoffing a Mars bar.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, stepping out from behind a tree.

  I choked on my mouthful. ‘Isaiah! I nearly died of fright. Don’t do that.’

  He frowned, looking confused. ‘You are not dying.’

  I waved my hand at him. ‘Forget it. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.’

  ‘Helping Oscar w
ith chores. Chopping wood and clearing scrub.’ He actually looked happy about it. ‘He is teaching me how to thin the trees so they grow straight and strong. I could show you.’

  ‘No thanks.’ I took another bite of my Mars bar. He stared as I chewed. I held it out. ‘Do you want a bite?’ He took it warily and nibbled on the edge. He grinned and finished the rest in two giant mouthfuls.

  ‘Isaiah! That’s the last one.’

  ‘You had more?’

  ‘Anybody would think you’ve never had one.’ By the look on his face I was right.

  He hesitated for a moment before answering. ‘I had a muesli bar once at school. One of the boys swapped it for my pukeko sandwich, but Mother found the wrapper in my pocket and I was punished by Papa.’ He looked away, like the memory really hurt.

  I screwed up my face. ‘A pukeko sandwich? That’s gross.’

  ‘I miss my mother’s cooking,’ he said. ‘Oscar is OK but not as good as Mother.’

  ‘Why were you punished?’ I asked. ‘It was only a muesli bar. Your papa sounds a bit over the top.’

  Again he frowned. I decided I’d better talk his language—basic stuff. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t much more than a whisper. ‘Papa was very strict. He didn’t like us mixing with the other children at school. Papa told us to play with each other.’

  ‘What’s it like to have so many brothers and sisters? I bet it was crowded in the sh—…in that little house?’

  ‘Why do you ask so many questions?’

  I shrugged. ‘It’s not like there’s heaps of people to talk to out here. Wondering about you has made it bearable.’ I would never ever have said that to a boy at home. But it was Isaiah. Somehow he was different.

  ‘It is nice to talk to you too,’ he said quietly. I felt my face flush hot. I looked away, pretending to watch a fantail that flittered about.