The Steps up the Chimney

by William Corlett

  Phoebe had also knitted Jack a jumper. His was dark green and dark blue and had a spiky sun in burnt orange-red on the front.

  ‘And finally,’ Jack said, picking up the last parcel and reading the label, ‘this one is for Miss Taylor, with endless love from me!’

  ‘Liz Taylor?’ Mary said, surprised. ‘The film star?’

  ‘No, chump,’ Jack said, with a laugh. ‘Miss Taylor the most beautiful mother-to-be in all the world.’

  ‘Jack!’ Phoebe protested, taking the parcel and blushing. She tore off the paper carefully. Phoebe was obviously one of those people who used wrapping paper again. Inside was a long flat black box. This she opened and then the children heard her gasp.

  ‘Oh, Jack,’ she exclaimed, ‘wherever did you find it?’

  The children crowded round to see what it was she had been given.

  Lying on the dark velvet interior of the box was a pendant on a thin gold chain. The pendant design was a silver moon and a golden sun held in an oval frame of a dark, red metal.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t you recognize it?’ he asked her.

  Phoebe looked at it closely and frowned.

  ‘Is it the one you found? But that was black and rusty.’

  ‘The very same. I’m not sure if I can really claim it’s a present from me. It’s from the house more like. I found it in the hearth here,’ he continued, turning to look at the children, ‘soon after we moved in. It was just lying on the hearthstone. But the funny thing was, I’d brushed the hearth down not half an hour before and it hadn’t been there then. Goodness knows where it came from. It was all black and horrible – you could scarcely make out the design even. I didn’t give it much thought. I just took it upstairs to our room and put it in a drawer for safe keeping. Then, one day about a month ago, I came across it again and I thought I’d just see what it looked like cleaned up . . .’

  ‘It’s beautiful, Uncle Jack,’ Mary told him, still looking at the pendant.

  ‘I’m pretty sure it’s pure silver and pure gold,’ Jack said, looking over Mary’s shoulder, ‘though I’ve no idea what the red metal is. Aren’t you going to put it on?’ he asked, turning to Phoebe. ‘I had the chain made in the town.’

  Phoebe lifted her long hair and slipped the chain round her neck. Then with both hands behind her head she fiddled with the catch.

  ‘Let me, Phoebe?’ Mary said.

  ‘Thanks. Would you?’ Phoebe asked her, sounding almost shy.

  Mary fitted the little ring into the catch and settled the chain on Phoebe’s neck, then they all stood back to admire the pendant. The chain Jack had bought was quite short, so that the pendant rested on the smooth skin above the scoop of the neckline of her dark blue dress. She pressed her hand against it, her cheeks colouring again.

  ‘I shall treasure it for ever,’ she said quietly and Jack leaned over and kissed her tenderly.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ he whispered to her and then he turned and smiled at the children. ‘Happy Christmas, everyone.’

  Later the children went out for a walk. The sky was so dark and overcast that it was as though night was approaching, although it was only the middle of the morning.

  ‘Where d’you think the pendant came from?’ Mary asked as they crunched through the snow, keeping to the confines of the drive where it was less deep and where the ground was at least level.

  ‘Could it have fallen down from the secret room?’ Alice wondered. ‘It’s the sort of pattern the magician would have made, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ William agreed. ‘But it couldn’t have fallen from the room; not down all those stairs and, if it had, it wouldn’t have landed plonk in the middle of the hearth.’

  ‘Maybe there’s treasure up the actual chimney,’ Mary suggested.

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to have to climb up there as well,’ Alice wailed.

  ‘Maybe the Magician gave it,’ William said.

  ‘But – why would he?’ Mary asked.

  William shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything. There are too many strange things happening.’ He sounded quite depressed about it. William was one of those people who like to be in control; who don’t like having to admit the unknown or the unexplainable. He trudged along, dragging his feet in the snow, his hands plunged into his pockets, his forehead creased with a frown.

  ‘What do vegetables have for Christmas dinner?’ Alice asked, oblivious to her brother’s mood.

  ‘Vegetarians,’ Mary corrected her wearily, as though she’d had to do so innumerable times before.

  ‘Oh, what does it matter if I don’t use the right word? You know what I mean. I know what I mean. What does it matter?’ Alice protested crossly.

  They walked on in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

  Eventually William looked at his watch.

  ‘Midday,’ he announced. ‘We’d better turn back. Phoebe said lunch would be at one.’

  ‘I’m starving,’ Alice wailed.

  ‘You’re always starving, Alice,’ Mary muttered.

  ‘’Cause I’m growing. I need fuel for my growth. Turkey with little sausages and roast potatoes and stuffing and bacon and more sausages and gravy . . .’

  ‘Carrots and parsnips and cabbage and sprouts,’ William chanted. ‘Turnips and swedes and . . .’

  ‘Artichokes!’ Mary cut in, triumphantly. ‘Jerusalem artichokes!’

  ‘What are they?’ Alice squealed, prepared for the worst.

  ‘You remember, Alice,’ William said, sounding sinister.

  ‘The nobbly grey things that Mother used sometimes to make into a soup,’ Mary told her, grinning maliciously.

  ‘Nobbly grey things?’ Alice asked, appalled.

  ‘The soup that made us poop!’ William announced, beginning to laugh.

  ‘Oh, William,’ Alice cried, remembering. ‘You mean those horrible potato things that made us pop all night?’

  ‘All night?’ Mary said, hooting with laughter.

  ‘You farted for a week at least, Ally!’ William said, shaking with laughter.

  ‘You’ll have to put money in the swear box for that,’ Alice shouted.

  ‘We haven’t got one,’ Mary cried.

  ‘I didn’t swear,’ William told her.

  ‘You did, William Constant. You said farted.’

  ‘Oooh! Rude, Alice, rude!’ Mary said, pointing at her sister. ‘You said farted!’

  ‘So did you, then,’ Alice replied, beginning to laugh as well.

  ‘We all said it,’ William announced. ‘So, let’s all say it again.’

  In unison they shouted the word so that it echoed back and forth across the steep, snow-filled valley.

  ‘Farted. Farted . . . farted . . . farted.’

  They arrived at the front door shaking with laughter.

  Jack was standing in the porch, a worried look on his face.

  ‘Oh, there you are,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking for you. Come in, quick.’

  ‘What’s the matter, Uncle Jack?’ William said, as they kicked off their wellington boots.

  ‘It’s Phoebe,’ Jack answered, grimly.

  ‘Is she ill again?’ Mary asked, unwinding her scarf.

  ‘I think . . .’ Jack hesitated for a moment and then continued, ‘I think she’s started.’

  ‘Started?’ Alice asked, confused as usual.

  ‘The baby,’ Jack told her. ‘The baby is on its way.’

  19

  A Journey Through the Blizzard

  PHOEBE WAS LEANING against the sink in the kitchen. Jack crossed quickly to her, putting an arm round her, supporting her.

  ‘How is it now?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘The same,’ she replied, brushing his cheek gently with the back of her hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be all right. Women’ve been having babies since Adam and Eve.’

  The children stood by the kitchen door, feeling awkward. It was as though they were eavesdroppi
ng on a private conversation. But Phoebe looked over her shoulder and smiled at them, making them feel included in the scene.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘this is really ruining Christmas!’

  ‘You can’t help it,’ William told her, feeling suddenly protective towards her. ‘It isn’t your fault and, besides, the birth of the baby is much more important. We can have Christmas any day.’

  Mary looked at her brother with pride. What nice things he said sometimes. But Alice still believed Phoebe to be a witch and so she wasn’t so generous. In her heart of hearts she thought it a bit typical, Phoebe making yet another fuss, when they should all be sitting down to vegeburgers or whatever other horrible stuff she’d prepared for them. But she didn’t say anything, because Phoebe did look sorry and besides Uncle Jack was so obviously worried.

  Then Phoebe put both her hands on the back of her waist and straightened her back, crying out as though in pain.

  Jack held her to him, looking desperate. Then, when the spasm had passed, he guided her towards a chair by the kitchen range.

  ‘You sit there while I get the Land-Rover ready.’

  ‘Are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘The sooner I get you into the town hospital the better. Alice, can you get a blanket from our bedroom please? And Mary, if you go with her, you’ll find a suitcase already packed by the wardrobe. Bring it down and then get a couple of hot-water bottles from the bottom of that dresser and’ – as he spoke he swung the kettle over the flames of the fire – ‘keep an eye on this, will you? It’ll soon boil. But don’t fill the bottles. I’ll do that when I come back. William, you come with me. I may need help starting the Land-Rover.’ Jack strode towards the back door, still speaking as he went. ‘Get your wellingtons from the front porch and meet me round in the yard.’

  Then he was gone and the door closed with a bang, shutting out the cold air.

  Mary and Alice hurried out of the room to do their jobs and William raced after them into the hall, leaving Phoebe sitting awkwardly in the chair, staring into the flames of the fire.

  ‘Will she be all right d’you think, Will?’ Mary called, as she raced up the stairs with Alice just behind her.

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ William snapped, crossly. ‘I’ve never been with anyone when they’re having a baby before.’

  It was another of those out-of-his-control situations that he hated so much. He hurried to the front door and out into the porch, where he pulled on his boots.

  As he ran through the deep snow round to the back yard, he noticed a black and white dog crouching on the ground at a distance, its tail beating slowly backwards and forwards in the air, watching the house. But before he had time really to take this in he was faced by an altogether different surprise.

  Jack was standing beside the Land-Rover where it was parked under the roof of a lean-to barn. He was staring in disbelief at the wheels of the vehicle.

  ‘What’s the matter, Uncle Jack?’ William asked, hurrying towards him and sensing that something bad had happened.

  Jack shook his head, but didn’t look at William.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’

  ‘What?’ William asked, reaching his side. Then he saw for himself and didn’t need his uncle to tell him.

  Every one of the four tyres of the shooting brake was ripped and torn and lying in shreds on the ground. The metal of the wheels dug into the packed earth.

  ‘It’s unusable of course,’ Jack said, more to himself. ‘But how could it have happened?’

  He turned and scanned the flat snowy expanse of the yard, as if hoping for some answering clue to be lying around. And in a way there was one and it was William who found it: a track like two narrow sledge marks that led from the wall of the house to the barn and from the barn back to the house.

  ‘Some animal, d’you suppose?’ William asked.

  Jack bent down and examined the marks.

  ‘Rat,’ he replied.

  The one word sent a shiver through William.

  ‘But what would it want with rubber tyres? Oh, damn. Phoebe told me she could hear a rat, but I didn’t pay any attention to her. Now what am I going to do? I can’t drive her to the hospital.’ He looked up at the dark, threatening clouds. ‘The snow will come soon, then we won’t be able to get in or out of the valley.’

  ‘Isn’t there a telephone box near?’ William asked, desperately trying to think of some way to help.

  ‘Yes, there’s one down on the moor road, just before the turning into this valley.’

  ‘How far would that be?’

  ‘About two miles, I think. But what good will it be – if the snow comes? I need to get Phoebe to a hospital. And the sooner the better, by the look of that sky.’ As he spoke they both looked up at the dark, lowering clouds. They looked as if they were ready to burst under the weight of the threatening snow. ‘If I leave it much longer, then nothing will be able to get in or out of the valley.’

  ‘They could send a helicopter, Uncle Jack. You often see that on television news.’

  ‘You’re right, William. I must go at once,’ Jack said, striding towards the kitchen door.

  ‘I’ll come as well,’ William called, hurrying after him.

  ‘You’d be better off staying here,’ Jack told him.

  ‘No,’ William answered, emphatically. ‘Anything could happen. We don’t know how much the snow has drifted or if the road is passable. At least with two of us there’d be more chance of getting through.’

  Jack looked at his nephew for a moment, and then he nodded.

  They went into the kitchen together and Jack explained to Phoebe what had happened.

  ‘No, Jack,’ she protested. ‘We’ll be able to manage somehow.’

  ‘I’m not taking any further risks,’ Jack replied, almost crossly. ‘We should have been much more prepared for this.’

  ‘It’s my fault,’ Phoebe said, in a forlorn voice. ‘I wanted to have the baby here at Golden House. I should have listened to you.’

  ‘No time for remorse now, love,’ Jack said, giving her a hug. ‘You just concentrate on holding on till help arrives. William, put really warm clothes on. And you girls, keep the fires burning in the hall and here in the kitchen. We’ll be back as soon as we can.’

  The warmest sweater that William had got was the one Phoebe had knitted for him. He wore it with his school scarf and his anorak on top. Thick socks filled out his wellington boots, into which he tucked his trousers, and a pair of gloves completed the outfit.

  He and Jack, similarly protected against the biting wind, set off as soon as they were ready, crunching over the crisp ground. Alice and Mary stood in the porch watching them go.

  ‘There’s my dog,’ Alice said, pointing, and then the girls watched the animal as it bounded across the snow towards William and Jack. There it stopped and they saw William pointing back towards the house.

  ‘I wonder what he’s saying,’ Alice mused. ‘He’s my dog.’

  ‘Go back,’ William was telling the dog. ‘Look after the girls.’

  The dog whined and pawed the ground.

  ‘Do as you’re told,’ William said in a stern voice. Then he added, ‘Please.’

  The dog leaped up in the air, doing a somersault and barking gleefully, then it turned tail and streaked back across the white expanse of lawn towards the front door.

  ‘Friend of yours?’ Jack enquired, watching the animal.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ William replied. Then he raised a hand and waved to his sisters, framed in the porch, and watched as Alice knelt to welcome the dog into her arms. ‘Well, really, he’s more a friend of Alice’s,’ he added.

  ‘Come on then,’ Jack said, looking grimly at the clouds. ‘Let’s get a move on.’ As he spoke the first big blobs of snow floated out of the sky.

  The first part of the journey wasn’t too hard. Although the snow was falling heavily and made visibility difficult, the house la
y in a hollow and was protected from the north. But when they turned out of the gates and struck out over the first hill they could feel the wind building up and when they reached the brow they met it full in their faces.

  Here the snow was being driven at a sharp angle and it stung at their exposed skin like needles. William put up his hands to protect his eyes and peered into the swirling heart of the blizzard. The trees on either side of them bent under the fury of the gale and great piles of drifted snow blocked their way.

  Uncle Jack shouted something, but his words were snatched away from them by the howling storm and William missed them completely.

  Jack beckoned and held out a hand, which William grabbed hold of. Together they fought their way to the side of the track and crouched down behind a wall, which gave them some shelter.

  ‘We’ll never make it,’ Jack gasped.

  ‘We must!’ William told him.

  ‘But even a helicopter couldn’t get through this storm,’ Jack shouted against the roar of the wind.

  ‘It can’t last for ever,’ William insisted. ‘If we get to the telephone box we can at least put up the alarm. They’ll get through when they can. It’s better than doing nothing.’

  Jack looked round them, nodding.

  ‘We’d be better off up in the trees,’ he said. ‘There’s less wind there and less snow on the ground.’

  William surveyed the steep side of the valley doubtfully.

  ‘Is there a path up there?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jack admitted, ‘but it’s our only hope. The snow’s drifting on the track. We’ll never get through that way. Come on.’ He held out a hand and pulled William up on to his feet. ‘You’re the one who said we must at least try.’

  Jack led the way across the narrow, rising field with the wind tearing at them so that they had to lean against it. Then they reached the tree line. The branches were clattering and snapping in the gale but at least there was less snow and, although it was dark and gloomy in the interior of the wood, it was easier to see without the snow driving into their faces. The ground here was very steep, however, and this made them move slowly.