The Door In the Tree

by William Corlett

  Alice looked at him with sudden disgust. She saw an old man in a long black cloak, with thin wisps of red hair round his nearly bald head. He didn’t seem magical any more, just ordinary.

  ‘More important? There isn’t anything more important,’ she cried. ‘If you can’t see that then . . . you’re almost as bad as they are. We thought you’d help us.’ She felt a lump swelling in her throat and swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry. ‘I thought you wanted us to understand about nature and things. Well, the badgers are nature, aren’t they?’

  ‘You’re wasting my time,’ Stephen Tyler rapped, raising his silver cane, threateningly.

  ‘I’m going to help the badgers,’ Alice said defiantly.

  ‘You will put me in a fury.’

  ‘Good!’ she shouted. ‘I don’t care . . .’

  ‘Alice,’ Mary whispered, warningly.

  ‘No, Mare. You can’t stop me. I don’t care what he does. I don’t care if I never see him again. I don’t care if I never come up here again. I don’t care about anything – the magic or anything. If he can’t see that the life of the badgers is as important as his silly alchy-thing, then I don’t want to know about him. I shall go to see Meg Lewis in future.’ She turned and faced the Magician once more, her face flushed with anger, her whole body shaking. ‘I was the one who really believed in you. I was the one who never stopped thinking about you and couldn’t wait to get back here. I can’t believe that you won’t help us . . .’ and, as she turned to run out of the room and down the steps, the tears that she had been holding at bay started to run out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

  After she’d gone, Mary and William glanced at one another. They each hoped the other would speak and were too afraid to do so themselves. The Magician strode past them and went out on to the landing.

  ‘You will be on your own,’ he shouted. ‘I will not be there to help you. There will be . . . NO MAGIC.’ He said the words with such force that they echoed down the long stone stairwell.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Alice’s voice came back to him from the dark, full of tears and pain.

  Stephen Tyler returned. He was so angry that his eyes blazed like coals.

  ‘She will be made to care. And you two . . . What have you to say to me? Will you also defy me? Will you also behave in this hysterical, sentimental way? Will you also turn your backs on the great work – for the sake of a few animals? Well, one of you speak.’

  ‘Come on, Will,’ Mary said, holding out her hand nervously to her brother. ‘We have to go now,’ she continued, edging past the Magician.

  ‘Go? Where?’ he thundered.

  ‘With Alice,’ William replied, in an unsteady voice.

  ‘Stay here,’ the Magician commanded. ‘I have work for you to do.’

  ‘I’m sorry, we have to go,’ William repeated, nervously.

  ‘I will really lose my temper,’ the Magician raged.

  Mary had reached the door. Now was the moment to make her escape. William was just behind her. Together they could run from the room. But something stopped her. There was something she had to say.

  ‘I think Alice is right,’ she said, turning. Then she hurried to continue before he could interrupt her. ‘We don’t understand what you want or anything. But, at least we understand the badgers. They’re going to be killed for sport – like elephants and tigers and . . . all the other creatures; the whales and the dolphins, the wild flowers, the water we drink, the air we breathe. We’re killing our world. Soon there won’t be any animals left, if someone doesn’t do something. Maybe it isn’t like that in your time. Maybe you can’t understand. Well, I’m very sorry, I’m with Alice. She’s right. There’s far more important work to do than your . . . alchemy-thing. It’s right here, in this valley now. And I’m not sorry she said what she did. We thought you were our . . . friend. We thought . . . oh, come on, Will . . .’ and she dashed out of the room.

  William turned and looked at Stephen Tyler. They stared at each other across the empty, dusty, unmagical attic.

  ‘You as well?’ the Magician asked, quietly.

  William shrugged, uncertainly.

  ‘I think you should have listened to Al,’ he said. ‘It is awful what’s being done to the badgers.’

  ‘Get out of my sight,’ the Magician bellowed and, as William disappeared on to the dark landing, he shouted after him, ‘I warn you, there will be no magic. You are all on your own now.’

  The sound of William’s footsteps echoed down the stairs. Stephen Tyler took a pace towards the door, then he stopped.

  He smiled and nodded and, walking to the back window, he called quietly:

  ‘Jasper, my bird. Come to me, Jasper.’

  The creaking of wings heralded the arrival of a huge owl. It lighted on the sill of the window, blinking its great eyes and settling its wing feathers.

  ‘Bring me Cinnabar, the fox and Sirius, the dog – there is work to be done. Meet me at the tree house. Warn Falco, the kestrel. Summon Merula, the blackbird. Tell the swallows and the swifts . . . I was right, my bird. Now it can begin . . .’

  20

  Four Fields

  THEY WENT TO Four Fields on Saturday. Jack said that he was taking the weekend off as all sensible people did and that maybe they’d like to go out in the Land-Rover and have a picnic.

  ‘Maybe we could go into Wales,’ he suggested. ‘The hills will be looking wonderful at the moment.’

  But Alice persuaded him that it was silly going somewhere else when they hadn’t even started to discover the country right on their own doorstep. And so they all set off soon after breakfast, with Phoebe carrying Stephanie in a sling and Jack and William taking it in turns to carry the picnic in a haversack. Spot, who had gone out early that morning, was nowhere to be found and so, much to Alice’s disappointment, they had to set off without him.

  ‘He’s never in the house now,’ she moaned. ‘I think he’s gone off me.’

  ‘We might meet him on the way,’ Phoebe said, to cheer her up.

  ‘And, if not,’ Jack told her, ‘he’ll pick up our scent. He’s very clever at finding things.’

  William was given the job of navigating. He led them up the steep side of the valley, following a narrow path that was marked on the map and which brought them out on to the heights above Golden House not far from the yew tree.

  They then cut across open country, before entering the beech woods once more. The lake they had seen on their previous visit, glinted through the trees to their left. Birds sang and a warm breeze stirred through the branches. They walked at an easy pace through the sun-dappled woods until they reached a broad path that cut like a swathe through the forest.

  ‘It’s marked as a bridlepath,’ William announced.

  ‘How much further are we going?’ Phoebe asked, hitching Stephanie higher on her chest. ‘You’re a little ton weight, that’s what you are!’ she said, giving the child a kiss.

  ‘Shall I carry her?’ Mary asked.

  ‘No,’ Phoebe protested. ‘You don’t want to be bothered . . .’

  ‘I’d like to,’ Mary told her.

  ‘I think she’d be a bit heavy for you,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘If we just go up this track,’ William announced, studying the map, ‘we’ll come to those fields.’ He pointed them out to Jack as he spoke. ‘I think that’s where Meg Lewis lives.’

  Jack was surprised that they had a friend in the forest and so, as they continued up the bridlepath, the children told him and Phoebe all they knew about Meg. But, when they came to the events of the night encounter with the lampers, William tried to avoid too many details. However, Alice, in her eagerness, got carried away and it became quite clear to anyone listening what had really taken place.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Jack exclaimed, turning to look at the three children. ‘Are you telling me that you were chasing about in the forest in the middle of the night?’

  ‘Well, not exactly . . .’ William mumbled.

  ‘Then wha
t has been going on?’ Jack asked, his voice growing more angry.

  ‘It was . . . Well, we saw these lights, and heard dogs barking and . . .’

  ‘And you went out? In the middle of the night? Into the forest? Alone?’

  ‘No, we were all together, honestly we were, Uncle Jack,’ Mary explained.

  ‘I cannot believe what I’m hearing,’ Jack thundered. ‘Are you all mad? Or are you just fools? Haven’t you got a brain between you? These men could be violent. They could have attacked you. They could have abducted you. They could have molested you . . . You can’t be so thick that you don’t know the dangers.’

  The children hung their heads.

  ‘Well? What have you got to say for yourselves.’

  ‘Meg goes out on her own,’ Alice said quietly.

  ‘I don’t care what your friend Meg does. That isn’t the point. I want no more of this nonsense. Is that understood?’

  ‘But, Uncle Jack,’ Alice insisted. ‘We can’t just let the men kill the badgers. We have to do something.’

  Phoebe put a hand on her shoulder, comforting her.

  ‘I have heard about these baiters,’ she said. ‘I can’t believe that they come here.’

  ‘They do, though,’ William said. ‘Meg will tell you.’

  ‘We must stop them, Jack,’ Phoebe said.

  ‘Yes,’ Jack agreed, sounding less angry. ‘But all the same, I will not have the children putting themselves into danger . . .’

  ‘I don’t suppose they will again,’ Phoebe said. ‘Don’t be angry any more with them. Not today. Look! This is such a magical place. Let’s just enjoy it. Please, Jack.’

  As they were talking, they passed under great arches of beech, the boughs covered with bright green leaves and festooned with wild honeysuckle. The air was sweet with its scent.

  Then William, who was a little way ahead, called out: ‘Come and see!’ and, when they reached him, they found the way barred by an old wooden gate. Beyond it, the country opened out into a meadow. The grass was sprinkled with buttercups and clover. Tall daisies nodded in the breeze and tiny jewel-coloured pansies pushed up through the green turf. The field was not large and was bounded by a hedge. On the other side, through a gate, two cows and a few sheep could be seen munching contentedly.

  ‘This is it,’ Alice exclaimed excitedly and she climbed the gate and jumped down into the meadow.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ Jack said. ‘It’s probably private property.’

  But Alice was already racing across the field.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she called. ‘It must be Four Fields. And, if it is, we’ve been invited.’

  ‘Alice!’ Jack yelled again. ‘Come back!’

  But she had already reached the far gate and, swinging it open, she disappeared from view.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be all right, Jack,’ Phoebe said, trying the gate herself. But it was padlocked with an old chain. ‘We’ll have to climb over,’ she said. ‘You go first, and I’ll pass Steph over to you.’

  By the time they had all reached the other gate, Alice was returning across the second field, surrounded by three black and white dogs, who barked and jumped and seemed to have become her instant friends.

  ‘Look,’ she called, when she saw them. ‘They’re all like Spot! But he isn’t here. Neither is Meg. I knocked on the door . . . Oh, do come and look,’ she continued, excitedly, and she turned and raced off again.

  In one corner of this second meadow a small, derelict-looking cottage was just visible. It was so shrouded in honeysuckle and ivy and the ground in front of it was so overgrown with flowers and vegetables that, apart from a door and a small window, it was difficult at first to identify it as a building at all.

  A white cat lay, stretched out, in the sun on the doorstep. It opened a sleepy eye as Alice approached and yawned indolently. She stepped over it and banged on the door with her fist. As she did so, it swung open and three more cats in a variety of colours scampered out and disappeared into the undergrowth.

  ‘Hello?’ Alice called, peering into the dark hall. ‘Hello? Is anyone there? Hello? Meg?’

  But no answering call came from within and it was obvious that the house was empty.

  ‘She isn’t here,’ Alice said, unable to hide her disappointment, when the others arrived. ‘All this way, and she isn’t here.’ And she kicked the ground in a disgruntled way.

  ‘Never mind,’ Phoebe told her. ‘Perhaps if we have our picnic, she’ll have returned by the time we’re finished.’

  They found a place at the corner of the field under the trees and spread out the contents of the haversack. Phoebe had packed tomatoes and spring onions and slices of cheese and onion tart wrapped up in greaseproof paper. There were hard-boiled eggs and a bag of crisp lettuce; apples and pears and a big bottle of her own, home-made lemonade.

  ‘You’ll have to wipe the top,’ she said. ‘I haven’t brought mugs or anything.’

  The cows came over to see what was going on and two lambs were so fearless that one of them allowed Alice to feed it bits of lettuce, until its mother called to it and it scampered back to her.

  ‘This is bliss,’ Jack said, stretching out.

  ‘I’ve never known such fearless animals,’ Phoebe remarked. She had unbuttoned the top of her dress and was feeding Stephanie.

  Alice was getting used to the sight by now. ‘I don’t exactly like to watch, if you know what I mean,’ she had told William and Mary, after one feeding session, when they’d reached the privacy of their rooms, ‘but . . . well, it is a handy way of feeding a baby, isn’t it? It saves you having to carry about extra things all the time . . . bottles and . . . you know what I mean. And it’d be an awful waste of all that milk. It’s just . . .’ and she’d shuddered. ‘I hope it never happens to me. I think boobs are grotesque. If I start to grow them, I shall roll on the ground until I squash them flat,’ and she’d giggled so much at the thought that she’d given herself hiccups.

  But now, particularly here in the country, it didn’t seem quite so rude and so, while not actually wanting to watch, Alice didn’t mind too much. In fact she was intrigued enough to ask, while keeping her eyes fixed on a distant tree in the opposite direction to where Phoebe was sitting; ‘Doesn’t that hurt, Phoebe?’ And Phoebe had laughed and told her that, yes, sometimes it did! ‘She can be very greedy. Like now, for instance!’ she said, with a laugh. But she didn’t seem to mind too much.

  ‘I’d offer to help!’ Jack said in a sleepy voice, ‘but I don’t seem to be any good at all in that department.’

  ‘Uncle Jack! Don’t be rude,’ Alice screamed, hitting him. ‘Men don’t have boobs. I know that much!’

  ‘Shut up, Al,’ Mary said in a dreamy voice. She was lying on her back, looking up at the sky, and she wanted only to hear the birds and the buzzing insects and the quiet munching of the cows. ‘Oh!’ she sighed. ‘I could stay here for ever,’ and she drifted off once more into a half sleep.

  By the middle of the afternoon Meg still hadn’t arrived and, eventually Phoebe suggested that they should start making their way back to Golden House. The air was turning chilly and the sun, that had been strong all day, kept disappearing behind clouds that had grown heavier and darker as time passed.

  ‘Yes, we’d better get a move on,’ Jack said, agreeing with her. ‘It looks as if we’ll be lucky to get home before the rain starts.’

  They gathered up the debris of the picnic and put it back into the haversack.

  ‘It’s much lighter now, Will. Can you take it?’ Jack asked. ‘And I’ll carry my daughter. Come on, sausage!’ he said, picking Stephanie up and giving her a kiss.

  ‘Uncle Jack!’ Alice exclaimed. ‘Please don’t call her that. You’ll make me miserable.’

  ‘I meant a vegetarian sausage, of course!’ Jack said, giving Phoebe a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Mmmh!’ Phoebe said, playfully. ‘You meat eaters. How would you like it if those two beautiful cows minced you up for breakfast?’ />
  Put like that even Alice had to admit to a certain sympathy with Phoebe’s vegetable-thinking. The cows in question were sitting under a distant tree now, their legs tucked up under them, chewing steadily.

  ‘But sausages aren’t animals,’ she said. ‘They’re just . . . things you buy from the butcher.’

  ‘Ah!’ Phoebe said, ‘but the butcher has to get them from somewhere, Alice.’

  And Alice sighed, because she couldn’t think of a good enough answer and, actually, if she was honest, she’d enjoyed her picnic so much that she hadn’t thought of sausages once till then.

  ‘I shall remember this place always,’ Mary said, looking back, as they climbed over the gate.

  ‘So will I, Mary,’ Phoebe agreed. ‘And our picnic here. It was like . . . being in another world. A safe place.’

  As they started down the broad bridlepath, the first splashes of rain dripped from the branches above their heads.

  ‘We’re going to get wet, I’m afraid,’ Jack said, covering Stephanie’s head with his sweater.

  The day grew steadily darker and, by the time they reached their turning through the beech woods, thunder was grumbling in the distance.

  ‘We’ll have to shelter somewhere, Jack,’ Phoebe called.

  ‘I know where,’ Alice whispered to William. ‘Can we take them to the tree house?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. What do you think, Mare?’ William asked.

  Mary sighed.

  ‘We may as well,’ she said. ‘Now that we’ve fallen out with the Magician, there doesn’t seem much point keeping his secrets, does there?’ And all three of them became instantly sad, as they remembered what they had given up.

  ‘But all the same,’ Alice said, brightening. ‘It was quite magic-like just being at Four Fields. I still think Meg is special.’ Then she added, ‘I bet Meg can do spells.’ But she said it without too much conviction.

  ‘Come on, kids,’ Jack called. ‘We must find a big tree to shelter under.’