The children felt uncomfortable and could think of nothing to say. Then Meg shook her head, changing the subject.
‘So now . . . a young man and his wife have arrived at Golden House with their baby daughter and their nephew and nieces . . . and the house is coming alive again; recalled to life . . . and, for the first time ever, I’ve come inside . . .’ she shivered, as though she was cold, and reached closer to the open grate.
When Phoebe came in, having changed her clothes, she found the children and Meg sitting in silence.
‘Jack’s just coming,’ she said, crossing to the larder for milk, and a moment later he came in to the room, carrying Stephanie.
‘Sorry,’ he said, laying the baby down in her cot. ‘She needed changing. I’m a dab hand with the nappies!’
Phoebe made hot chocolate for them all. Meg was anxious to be off, but they persuaded her to stay.
‘We want to know about the badger baiters,’ Phoebe said, cutting thick wedges of cherry cake.
So Meg told Jack and Phoebe all that she knew about the baiters, up until the present catastrophe.
‘Those badgers that’ll have survived will go to ground, I shouldn’t wonder,’ Meg said. ‘I’ll find out the real damage tonight.’
‘You won’t go there again tonight?’ Phoebe asked her.
‘To the sett?’ Meg asked, surprised. ‘But of course I will. It’s my home. Besides, I must, dear,’ she continued. ‘I failed them. I have to make it up to them. Those that are left, that is.’
‘Where will they have taken the others?’ Jack asked her. ‘Any idea?’
Meg shrugged.
‘That’s the problem, dear. It could be anywhere,’ she replied. ‘These people will travel right across the country for a meeting. You get them coming out of Wales and the Midlands; Somerset; the North Country. They’re clever, you see. What they’re doing is illegal, so they keep moving on, that way the police never have time to catch them. I heard from a friend. There’s been a lot of digging recently in his area. He lives over near Oxford, on the Cotswolds. He came to see me earlier in the week, told me all about it. I took him to see my sett.’ She shook her head. ‘When there’s digging, it usually means they’re collecting badgers for a meeting.’
‘It’s obscene!’ Phoebe protested. ‘What sort of people do this? Who are they?’
‘Well, one of them, apparently, is rebuilding Golden House for you,’ Meg replied, not disguising her disgust.
‘What?’ Jack cried.
So the children were called upon to tell what they had discovered.
‘Fang?’ Jack exclaimed, when they came to that part of the story. ‘I’m sure Kev’s dog isn’t called Fang!’
‘What is it called then?’ Alice demanded.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard him call it anything,’ Jack said, nonplussed. ‘I admit it’s a bit of a thug – and I’m glad he keeps it tied up – but I’m sure Kev isn’t a baiter. He’s just . . . well, he’s a bit rough, but I get on very well with him.’
‘You get on well with everyone,’ Phoebe exclaimed.
‘These people don’t advertise themselves, Mr Green,’ Meg said. ‘They’ll probably seem perfectly ordinary to their neighbours.’
‘Anyway,’ William cut in, ‘who else could have written that Fang message down in the cellar?’
‘And the one up in the secret room,’ Alice said, the words coming out before she could stop herself.
‘Secret room?’ Phoebe said, looking at her.
Alice hung her head and blushed.
‘What secret room?’ Jack demanded. ‘What’s all this about? William? You may as well tell us.’
‘There’s a room at the top of the house, under the roof, next to mine,’ he mumbled.
‘Oh,’ Jack laughed. ‘We know about that! The sealed-up attic above the Georgian wing? Obviously the chap who owned Golden House when the alterations were done decided he had enough attics and didn’t need another one. But, you’re right, Kev did discover the room – when he was tiling the roof. We’re thinking of opening it out with a door through from your bedroom, William. There’s no other way into it.’ The children glanced at each other. ‘Is there?’ Jack added, seeing their looks.
‘You leave that room alone,’ Meg cut in.
‘What do you know about it?’ Jack asked.
‘I know it was a room my grandad feared. “The top and the bottom of the house” – that’s what he said. “That’s where the trouble comes from. The top and the bottom”. And yet. . . . All the time he was an outcast from this place, he worked and worked at the little drawings. I think he regretted what had happened so much that it turned his mind. Poor man! Poor all of us.’
Phoebe crossed to the old woman and put an arm round her shoulder.
‘Don’t be sad,’ she said. As she leaned forward, the pendant that she was wearing caught the light of the fire. Meg, seeing it for the first time, pulled away from her.
‘Where did you get that necklace, dear?’ she asked.
Phoebe, surprised, put her hand up to her throat, feeling the little talisman on its gold chain.
‘Jack found it here. He cleaned it and gave it to me last Christmas.’ The golden sun and the silver moon glinted in their frame of dull red metal. ‘I love it, I wear it all the time.’
‘It’s very nice,’ Meg said, sullenly. ‘And yet . . .’
‘What?’
‘It reminds me . . .’ Meg shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Too many memories. That’s why I like it out there – in the woods, in the real world. That’s why I love my badgers. They have no time for imagining, for remembering. They show me another way of living. An easier way? Perhaps. A more honest way? Certainly. And then the men come . . . and destroy all that . . . For sport?’ She shook her head, fighting back tears.
‘And we think Kev is one of these men?’ Jack said thoughtfully. ‘Then, what’s to stop me going to see him, now? If as you say, Meg, they’ve captured some badgers for this horrible sport of theirs, well, ‘they must have hidden them somewhere. If I could catch him with one . . .’
‘They don’t keep them long,’ Meg interrupted him. ‘They’ll be having the meet . . . tonight, I should think. Saturday night. That’s when they usually do it. But where? That’s the question. Where are they going to hold the cursed thing . . .?’
At that moment, the back door burst open, admitting a gust of cold damp evening air. The group round the range turned, shocked by this sudden disturbance. Standing in the opening was the bedraggled and almost unrecognizable figure of a dog. His fur was soaked and mud-caked; there were dark matted patches of blood round his throat and on his shoulders; his eyes were wild and he was growling fiercely.
‘Spot?’ Alice whispered, taking a step towards him. ‘Spot . . .? Oh Spot, what’s happened to you?’ and she ran towards him, her arms held wide.
The dog limped a few steps into the room, looking up at Alice with pleading eyes, then shaking with fatigue and still bleeding from several open wounds, he collapsed on the floor in front of her with a pitiful sigh.
‘Spot, oh Spot!’ Alice cried, kneeling beside him. ‘Darling Spot . . . oh please,’ she sobbed, ‘can somebody help him?’
Meg rose and hurried forward. Phoebe crossed and knelt beside Alice, putting her arms round her, hugging her.
‘What shall we do?’ Jack asked Meg, allowing her at once to take command.
‘Dog fight, by the look of it,’ Meg said, inspecting the body. ‘That’s not like my Gypsy, not like our Spot.’ As she spoke she gently stroked the dog’s head. ‘I’ll need some warm water and a little salt, to clean the wounds,’ she said, brusquely. ‘And you, Alice, you must sit with him while I cut away the fur to see what damage is done.’
Alice nodded and put her hand on the dog’s head. Spot moved slightly and licked her.
‘There,’ Meg said. ‘He’s brave now.’
23
Jasper and Cinnabar
MEG PATCHED THE dog up as best s
he could. There were several long deep scratches on his shoulders and across his back – ‘Caused by claws, I should think,’ she muttered, as she gently sponged them with salt water – and a much worse area on the neck, where fur and flesh had been torn away, leaving an open, oozing wound. ‘You should take him to the vet in the morning, if this bite looks at all septic,’ she added. Then she cradled Spot’s head in her hands and looked lovingly into his eyes. ‘It was a nasty fight, old Gypsy. I wonder what it was all about?’
Jack, meanwhile, was anxious to leave.
‘I want to reach Kev’s house before he sets off. If you’re right and the meeting is set for tonight, then we may already be too late. He could have gone by now and we’d have no idea where. Wherever this horrible thing is to take place, it might be miles away from here.’
‘It might, yes,’ Meg said, as she scrambled into her mac. ‘And yet again, it might be right here on our doorstep. I wish the dog could talk. I bet he could tell us a thing or two.’
Alice drew closer to Spot, putting her hand on the top of his head, seeking comfort from him and wanting to give it to him at the same time. She felt a sudden, terrible, guilt. If only she hadn’t fallen out with the Magician, she thought, she would be able to speak to Spot and he would be able to tell her precisely what had taken place. ‘Oh!’ she cried in her head, ‘How stupid I was,’ and the dog sighed – a long, trembling, weary sound – and stretched himself painfully.
‘Can I come with you, Uncle Jack?’ William asked.
‘No, better not. It might get a bit rough.’
‘Oh, Jack – you will be careful,’ Phoebe pleaded. ‘You’re not a fighter . . .’
‘What should I do, then? Turn my back and let the badgers be killed.’
Phoebe shook her head and was silent.
‘You go to Bob Parker first, at the Police Station,’ Meg advised. ‘There’s nothing like a police uniform to calm the situation.’
‘I must come, Uncle Jack,’ William pleaded. ‘I know more about it than you. I can explain ever such a lot. Please.’
‘Come on then,’ Jack said, after a moment’s delibertion. ‘You’ll be all right, won’t you?’ he added, speaking to Phoebe.
‘Yes, of course. Go quickly,’ she urged him.
‘If you drop me off at my lane end,’ Meg said, as they crossed the kitchen to the door, ‘I’ll get back to the beasts. Once I’ve milked – and fed the dogs and cats – I’ll go to the sett.’
‘I don’t like to think of you going back there,’ Phoebe said, as they went out into the yard.
‘They won’t come back,’ Meg assured her. ‘They’ve done their worst. But I must know how many have been taken and how the little ones are faring.’
‘Can I go with Meg?’ Mary asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Jack, what d’you think?’
‘She’ll be safe with me,’ Meg said. ‘And it would be a help . . .’
‘Yes, all right. But – come on,’ Jack urged. He looked up at the darkening sky. ‘I don’t know how we’ll begin to find them once the dark sets in.’
Alice, meanwhile, stayed in the kitchen, sitting on the floor beside Spot’s basket where he lay, licking his paws and panting as though he’d been running a race.
‘Oh, Spot,’ she whispered again, miserably. ‘It’s all my fault. If only I hadn’t lost my temper. We need some magic now . . . and there isn’t any.’
They heard the Land-Rover start up and drive out of the yard and, a moment later, Phoebe came back into the room.
‘Where’s Mary?’ Alice asked.
‘She’s gone with Meg,’ Phoebe replied. She crossed to the cot beside the fire and looked down at Stephanie. ‘She’s sleeping soundly,’ she said, ‘as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Oh, Alice – isn’t it all horrible?’ and, to Alice’s amazement and embarrassment, she put her hand to her lips, turned her back, and started to cry.
‘I feel it’s all our fault,’ she said. ‘It’s one of our builders who’s doing this. He probably didn’t know Golden Valley existed until we invited him here. I knew he was no good. I knew it . . .’ she shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.
‘I think it’s my fault,’ Alice said, in a small voice.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ Phoebe said, blowing her nose. ‘Look at us both!’ and she smiled. ‘Real miseries.’ She crossed to the window and looked out into the yard. The evening was heavy and overcast. Darkness was already blotting out the view.
‘It’s just occurred to me,’ she said, still with her back to Alice. ‘How could you know about the attic above the Georgian wing? There isn’t a way up to it. Kev only discovered it when he was doing the roof. How did you know about it, Alice?’
Alice shrugged.
‘Don’t know,’ she mumbled.
‘Is it a secret?’ Phoebe asked, turning to look at her.
Alice shrugged again. Phoebe frowned and walked back towards the range, holding her hands out to warm them.
‘Have you been up there?’ she asked. Still Alice remained silent. ‘Won’t you tell me?’
Alice shook her head.
‘Oh, Alice!’ Phoebe sighed. ‘I only want to be your friend, you know. Why won’t you let me be? It can’t just be because I’m a vegetarian! D’you mean to say – if I stuffed you full of sausages all the time you’d like me? I think that’s silly. Shall I make you something to eat now? Oh, say something, Alice!’ she shouted the last words, then she shook her head again: ‘There I go, you see, losing my temper! Sorry,’ she said and, picking Stephanie up out of the cot, she crossed to the door into the hall. ‘I’m going up to bath Steph. D’you want to come?’ she said.
Alice shook her head. ‘I’ll stay with Spot,’ she said in a quiet voice. Then, looking at Phoebe standing at the door, she saw how miserable she looked. ‘Actually, Phoebe,’ she added, ‘I quite like your cooking and I don’t mind not having meat, honestly I don’t. It’s just that we’re not used to it and anyway, I feel so miserable, because . . . it is all my fault, what’s happening to the badgers. I know it is. You see,’ and she couldn’t stop her voice shaking as she spoke, ‘I lose my temper as well – just like you do . . . only this time it’s really serious ’cause I lost it with . . .’ she shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to try to explain to Phoebe about the Magician. She sighed. ‘You see,’ she continued in a whisper, ‘usually I can speak to Spot . . . I know that sounds mad but, honestly, I can. It isn’t exactly magic – it’s just something that happens . . . only I can’t do it now. And, if only I could, he’d be able to tell us exactly where Kev has taken the badgers . . . and we’d be able to save them . . .’ and the tears that she’d been fighting back started to flow and her sobbing prevented her saying any more.
Phoebe crossed quickly and put Stephanie back into the cot, then she went and knelt down on the floor in front of Alice and put her arms round her.
‘Don’t cry,’ she told her gently. ‘Please don’t cry, Alice. It isn’t your fault. In fact your tears are as important for the badgers as anything . . . because they show that you care.’
‘No!’ Alice sobbed. ‘It isn’t enough. We’ve got to help them.’
‘But that’s what Jack is trying to do – and William – and Meg – and Mary – right now. We’re all trying to help.’
As Phoebe held Alice and wiped the tears from her cheeks, Spot rose from his basket and came and sat in front of them both, staring solemnly up into Alice’s face.
‘Look at Spot,’ Phoebe said, ‘he can’t bear to see you unhappy.’
‘Oh, Spot!’ Alice sighed, then, as she looked at him, she suddenly remembered the words the Magician had said to her when she had seen him alone in the secret room: ‘Just be silent . . . Don’t fight it, Alice . . . don’t resist . . . just . . . imagine . . .’ and, as she remembered, so, for a moment, her mind was stilled.
‘That’s better,’ Spot whispered in her head.
Alice gasped and looked quickly at Phoebe, wondering i
f she also had heard the words. But obviously she hadn’t, because she continued to rock Alice gently and then she said:
‘Come and help me bath Steph,’ and she gave her an extra hug.
Alice shook her head, then, surprising even herself, she gave Phoebe a kiss on the cheek.
‘I’m all right now. I’ll stay here with Spot.’
‘You’re sure?’ Phoebe asked and, when Alice nodded, she rose and went to collect Stephanie.
‘And Phoebe . . .’ Alice added. ‘Whatever I do, you won’t be cross, will you? I mean . . .’
‘Alice!’ Phoebe cut in. ‘I never mean to be cross. I hate it just as much as you do when it happens. But, try to understand – this is strange for me as well, you know. I’m not used to having children around. Or this little bundle of energy!’ As she spoke she lifted Stephanie and gave her a kiss. ‘When I’m cross, I’m usually being cross with myself mostly – and I always feel awful afterwards and wish that I hadn’t done or said whatever it was that I did or said! So – next time I’m cross with you . . . if there is a next time . . . please forgive me!’ Then she walked over to the hall door and, as she was going out she looked back. ‘Are we friends?’ she asked.
Alice nodded and smiled, but she was quite relieved when Phoebe finally went out of the room.
‘Oooh!’ she whispered to Spot, ‘she does go on a bit. I mean, I don’t see why we take so much getting used to. Mum finds us perfectly easy . . .’
‘Ssssh!’ Spot hissed. So, Alice, shook her head, as if trying to shake away the thoughts, and then she knelt on the floor, staring at the dog.
Spot slowly rose on to his four paws. He walked over to his water bowl and lapped some water then, tail wagging slowly, he sniffed round the bowl for any remnants of food. Having satisfied himself that he’d not left any crumbs, he sat back on his haunches and scratched behind his ear. As he did so, he, winced. Turning his head, he licked one of the scratches on his flank. Then something, perhaps a noise that Alice couldn’t hear, attracted his attention. He looked towards the window. He stood up, head slightly on one side, listening. He crossed to the back door, sniffing at the crack between the door and the stone flagged floor.
The Door In the Tree Page 17