The Secret Lake

by Karen Inglis

  Tom, disinterested in his food, was frowning.

  ‘Back already,’ murmured their father from behind his newspaper.

  ‘Already? It’s five o’clock, dear!’ Their mother had paused from her piano playing as the children appeared.

  ‘We met two sisters. They invited us in!’ said Stella, quickening her step across the room.

  Their mother smiled. ‘You see, dear! I told you it was only a matter of time!’ She resumed her playing as Stella raced up the stairs chuckling.

  As Tom entered his room he stopped and stared all around. He tried to picture the enormous dining table, the red velvet chairs, the chandelier, and the enormous paintings. He then studied the wall separating his room from Stella’s. Finally he turned to the fireplace.

  ‘Stella! The initials!’

  They dived towards the fireplace and stuck their heads underneath. Tom’s heart sank. Of course – the chimney was bricked up. He should have remembered. With his head hung low he stepped back onto his Earth Treasure Box, scattering its contents across the carpet.

  ‘Cheer up, Tom!’ said Stella brightly. ‘We’ll be able to go again sometime!’ She opened Tom’s French door window and stepped onto his tiny balcony. And now as she breathed in the sweet scent of orange blossom and looked out towards the trees she began to smile. ‘Things here are definitely improving!’ she would tell Hannah on Facebook that evening. She frowned thoughtfully. But how on earth would she code a message to say she’d travelled back in time across an underground lake?

  Tom, in a world of his own, lay down on his bed. Something was bothering him. It wasn’t the chimney, though he’d have liked to unblock it, there was something else. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  14

  The Forgotten Clue

  Each day for the next week the children rose early to look for the moles, but they didn’t appear. Stella passed the time composing coded Facebook messages on Hannah’s wall and lazing with her music and piles of books in the patches of dappled sunlight on the lawn. Finally she felt at peace in her new surroundings. She also felt sure that she would meet Emma again soon.

  Tom, by contrast, grew quickly impatient. If he couldn’t see his ‘T’ inside his chimney, then he wanted to bring back some other secret clue – some proof that their adventure had really happened. His mood wasn’t improved when he started having nightmares about being back in the house with Stella, Emma and Jack. Each time without fail Crawley caught them from behind and locked them in a dark broom cupboard. And it was always at the point when the door swung back to reveal him stroking a long black whip that Tom woke drenched in sweat and shivering.

  Charlie Green was usually hovering about in the dream somewhere too, watching everything from a strange distance.

  About ten days after their return from the time tunnel Tom awoke from just such a dream and lay looking around his room and listening to the birds singing outside. Finally he got out of bed and crossed to his window. He gazed across the sun-drenched lawn and began to wonder. Had he and Stella somehow imagined the whole adventure between them? Had their move from Hong Kong affected them in some strange way? Deep in thought he dressed himself. He crossed once more to the chimney. Once more he looked up inside at the solid bricks. Slowly he stood up and sighed. But then, as he turned and found himself staring at the three large stones that he had dug up at the beginning of the summer, and that now sat lined up at the foot of his bed, a sudden thought struck him – a thought as unexpected as lightening from a clear blue sky.

  ‘Stella!’ he shouted bursting into her room.

  ‘What?’ she said with a scowl. Hannah had left a message saying she thought joining a history club and taking up potholing were the most boring things she could imagine and, by the way, could Stella please write normally!

  ‘Follow me!’ said Tom holding up his trowel. ‘I think I’ve found my proof from the past!’

  ‘Proof?’ But Tom had already shot out of the door. With a shake of her head Stella closed her Facebook page, then thundered down the stairs after him.

  ‘Tom what are you talking about?’ But her brother, who was tearing full pelt across the lawn, was too breathless to answer.

  ‘It’s somewhere around here!’ he shouted, digging at a flowerbed in full view of the houses.

  ‘Tom! You know you’ll be grounded if Charlie Green catches you digging again!’

  ‘I don’t care! I don’t care!’ shouted Tom, now on hands and knees, flicking up earth in all directions, like a desperate animal. And then, quite suddenly, it appeared, almost exactly where he had thought it would. With the broadest of smiles Tom leaned down and with his thumb and forefinger pulled a small battered cloth purse from the soil – the purse he had dug up at the start of the summer and then discarded.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Stella.

  ‘Look!’ he said proudly. ‘It’s hers. It’s Mrs Gladstone’s coin purse. The one they said was stolen. I thought it was a doll’s purse when I dug it up last time.’ He laid the purse flat in the palm of his hand. ‘See – there!’

  Stella screwed her eyes up and looked closely at the worn away cloth. Barely visible were two initials. The first she couldn’t make out, but the second, if you looked carefully, resembled a very elaborate letter ‘G’.

  ‘G’ for Gladstone,’ whispered Tom. ‘Crawley must have thrown it away in the garden and taken the money!’

  ‘You been diggin’ up them mole hills again?’

  The air filled with an eerie silence. Tom and Stella momentarily froze before turning to meet the dark stare of Charlie Green. Immediately his eyes fell on the purse still lying in the palm of Tom’s hand. For a split second Stella thought his gaze flickered. But then he shifted his stare back to Tom.

  ‘Now, this really is your last warning, young Tom. Any more diggin’ in this garden, I’ll have yer grounded.’ And with an expressionless gaze he stomped off.

  ‘Why’s that man always got it in for me?’ said Tom crossly.

  Stella stood curling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger and staring after Charlie. Then she gasped.

  ‘Tom! Do you think Charlie Green knows about the time tunnel too?’

  Tom’s eyes jumped wide.

  ‘Maybe he takes Harry when he goes down it,’ Stella went on. ‘No wonder poor Mrs Moon’s dotty!’

  Tom stared into the distance thinking through his encounters with Charlie. Pieces of a complicated jigsaw seemed suddenly to be dropping into place.

  ‘You know, there’s one way we could find out more,’ said Stella brightly.

  ‘How’s that?’ murmured Tom, trying to gather his thoughts.

  ‘Mrs Moon, of course! Charlie’s always having cups of tea with her. I think we should pay her a visit!’

  15

  Afternoon Tea

  The following afternoon, Tom and Stella knocked on Mrs Moon’s patio garden door.

  ‘Good morning, Tom and Stella! How nice to see you, dears!’ With the help of her walking stick Mrs Moon stepped out into her patio garden. It was strange how alert she could seem on some days compared with others. Their mother had told them she had an illness that made her forget things and people some of the time but not others. They were glad to have caught her on a good day.

  ‘We called to see if Harry’s back yet,’ said Stella politely. Tom nodded enthusiastically. Harry had gone missing earlier that day.

  ‘He’s a one, isn’t he!’ exclaimed Mrs Moon. ‘Went off this morning. But he’ll be back by tonight, mark my words!’ She winked playfully. ‘He knows it’s lamb you see!’ Stella and Tom smiled. Mrs Moon chuckled. ‘You know, the Williamsons next door are convinced he’s got two homes! They’re probably right!’

  ‘Is Charlie working today?’ Tom said suddenly.

  Mrs Moon’s gaze fell to the ground as she slowly picked her way across her patio towards a wrought iron chair in the shade of a small fig tree.

  ‘Do sit down, dears,’ she said, signalling with her stick t
owards a wooden bench. ‘My legs aren’t as strong as they used to be. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, Charlie. No dears. He’s not here on Fridays. Have you lost something in the garden, dears?’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Tom, reddening.

  ‘Where does Charlie live, Mrs Moon?’ asked Stella carefully.

  ‘Up towards Kilburn, dear. About two miles from here.’ She seemed to hesitate. ‘He’s a bit sharp with you little ones sometimes, I know. But he means well enough. He lives for the garden.’ She took in a deep breath and looked out towards the trees.

  ‘Where does Charlie think Harry goes?’ asked Stella, popping a blackcurrant polo into her mouth and following Mrs Moon’s gaze.

  Mrs Moon smiled stiffly and shook her head. And now Stella regretted her remark for the old lady’s eyes were suddenly glistening.

  ‘Would you like some biscuits dears?’ Tom, ever hungry, nodded eagerly.

  With the help of her stick Mrs Moon raised herself from her seat again.

  ‘Can I help?’ asked Stella, jumping up.

  ‘No, no, dear.’ The old lady tutted and shook her head, suddenly exasperated at her own frailty. ‘You wait here, dears. I’ll be back presently.’

  The children watched in silence as Mrs Moon slowly walked back across the patio leaning on her stick. She seemed to be muttering something to herself.

  For a good five minutes they sat politely waiting for the old lady to come back. In fact, they were just starting to think they’d been forgotten when she appeared in the doorway.

  ‘My, oh my, visitors! How nice to see you, dears!’ An awkward silence filled the air as Mrs Moon stepped forward and fixed a vacant stare on the children. Stella froze inside. Mrs Moon was looking at them most oddly.

  Suddenly Tom’s tummy let out the most almighty rumble. Stella cleared her throat reprimandingly just as Mrs Moon jerked out of her trance.

  ‘Dear me,’ said the old lady, ‘did I just go in for something? I could have sworn—’

  ‘Biscuits!’ said Tom sternly. He was starving, never mind bursting for a cold drink. Stella nudged him hard in the ribs, which made him yelp.

  ‘Would you like a biscuit, dear? Oh, yes, that would be nice. Have you just moved to the garden? I don’t suppose you’ve seen my dog have you? He’s called Harry. He goes missing you know. For days at a time sometimes.’ Tears were suddenly welling in the old lady’s eyes.

  Stella stood up. ‘No, Mrs Moon, we haven’t seen Harry,’ she said gently. She took Mrs Moon by the arm and helped her sit down. ‘But I’m sure he’ll be back tonight. It’s lamb for dinner you know!’

  ‘My, oh my, is it Friday today?’ said Mrs Moon. Stella nodded. ‘What a clever girl you are! Well, it was nice to meet you, dear. I always like to see new faces in the garden. I think I shall have a lie down soon. I get so tired these days. Off you go and play now and come again tomorrow will you? I’ll be less tired then. Goodbye then, dears!’ The old lady was still nodding and smiling as the children walked away.

  ‘Oh, well, that was a waste of time!’ said Stella as they passed out of the gate.

  ‘She’s so sweet,’ said Tom. ‘How could Charlie Green be so mean taking Harry from her?’

  ‘We don’t know that he does, Tom’ said Stella. ‘It was only an idea.’

  Tom halted in his tracks and gave a deep frown. But as a dog’s yelp echoed across the garden, the threads of his thoughts evaporated.

  ‘Look! Here’s Harry!’ shrieked Stella. Harry was racing across the lawn towards them. As he shot in between them, droplets of cold water sprinkled their shins.

  ‘Harry!’ yelled Tom. But Harry didn’t stop. Mrs Moon had been right about the lamb.

  It took Tom and Stella about two seconds to have the same thought. Immediately they raced towards The Island and scrambled as fast as they could inside the rhododendron bush. But they were to be disappointed. The tunnel was nowhere to be found.

  The following morning Charlie Green telephoned to say Mrs Moon had taken a bad turn and that he’d called a doctor and would their mother be able to sit with her for an hour later on.

  Alarm bells immediately set ringing in Tom’s head. This was a ploy. Charlie must have found out they’d been asking about him and didn’t want them talking to the old lady again. But why?

  ‘Charlie Green’s onto us, Stell,’ he said as soon as their mother had left the room. ‘He’s trying to keep us away so we don’t tell Mrs Moon about Harry and the time tunnel! I think we should go there – right now! He might even have drugged her!’

  Stella picked at her painted blue fingernails, deep in thought. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Tom. She is an old lady, and she is ill. You’ve seen how she gets!’

  Later that day their mother returned from Mrs Moon’s to confirm that the old lady was in bed and resting and would have 24-hour nurse care for the next few days.

  ‘Seems she hasn’t been eating enough! And that’s very important at her ripe old age!’

  ‘How old is she, then?’ said Tom.

  ‘She told me she was 105 on the day we moved in,’ his mother replied with a chuckle. ‘But I think that was on one of her confused days! Mind you, she can’t be far off 100. And that’s nearly as old as these houses!’

  Tom stared through his mother and tried hard to imagine living for one hundred years, but the thought alone exhausted him. No wonder the old lady was in bed!

  It was a full week later before Mrs Moon was finally well enough to receive visitors. Needless to say, Tom and Stella were both elated when the she rang to invite them back.

  16

  The Return Visit

  The first day of September had brought with it grey skies and an unseasonably sharp breeze, and the children stood shivering at Mrs Moon’s back door. The patio garden was a far cry from the courtyard of dappled sunlight they had sat in a week earlier.

  As she opened the door Mrs Moon’s face lit up. ‘Tom and Stella! How nice to see you, dears! Come along in, now, it’s really quite blustery out there!’

  Tom and Stella stepped quickly into Mrs Moon’s kitchen. The old lady had renewed vigour, and a quickness of step they had never witnessed in her before. She immediately directed them through the hallway into a sitting room next door which was crammed full of dark furniture, covered here and there in lace cloths. A handsome standard lamp in one corner bathed the room in warm yellow light while a sombre looking man in an enormous portrait hanging above the fireplace eyed the children suspiciously.

  The old lady followed their gaze upwards as she stood leaning on her stick. ‘Oh, don’t worry about him, dears!’ she chuckled. ‘That’s just Edward!’

  Tom and Stella each chose a chair and sat down.

  ‘Who’s Edward?’ said Stella, adjusting the velvet cushion behind her.

  Mrs Moon sat carefully down on an upright chair opposite the fireplace. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘You see, I know I can get out of this one! Ah, yes, Edward Moon, dear. My late husband. Such a lovely man.’ She chuckled again to herself. ‘You know we used to joke about that picture. We always said the young artist must have caught Edward on a bad day!’ She paused for thought, then raised her small wrinkled hand to her mouth. ‘Or was it the other way round? Dear me, I do seem to have forgotten!’

  ‘It’s beautifully painted,’ said Stella, trying to sound like her mother.

  ‘Well, yes, of course, dear. Anyway, enough of Edward. How nice it is to see you at last – and especially after my silly upset last week!’

  ‘What upset?’ said Tom, suspiciously. Stella raised her eyes to the ceiling.

  Mrs Moon smiled. ‘Well, you know, dear, I wasn’t quite myself at all. All that confusion. Anyway, Doctor Brown seems to have fixed me, and Charlie was brilliant as usual.’

  Tom narrowed his eyes.

  ‘I feel so much better,’ Mrs Moon went on. ‘Such marvellous medicine they have these days. Would you like some juice dears? Apple or orange?’

  ‘Orange please!’ said Tom as the old lady slowly rose
from her seat.

  ‘Yes please,’ said Stella. After their last visit she didn’t like to offer to help, so instead she cast her eyes around in wonderment at the beautiful pictures and objects that crammed Mrs Moon’s living room.

  As the old lady disappeared back towards the kitchen Tom raised his eyebrows mischievously. Then, to Stella’s alarm, he jumped up from his seat and started wandering from table to table fingering the array of silver-framed photographs, trinkets and ornaments that filled almost every surface. This was the stuff of his dreams – a real, live treasure trove!

  ‘Leave them alone!’ whispered Stella crossly.

  She could hear Mrs Moon pottering about in the kitchen next door. But Tom, being Tom, ignored her, and when he had completed a circuit of the room he delivered his sister a cheeky grin then disappeared through another doorway.

  Stella jumped up from her seat to give chase just as Mrs Moon reappeared pushing a large trolley. On the top shelf sat a silver teapot, blue floral milk jug, teacup and saucer, and two glasses of orange juice. On the lower shelf sat a large silver platter crammed with an assortment of biscuits.

  ‘Tom!’ Stella called crossly, her eyes glued to the biscuits. Then she remembered herself. ‘I’m sorry about my brother,’ she said, then smiled politely at Mrs Moon. ‘He’s rather nosy I’m afraid.’ Tom appeared at the other doorway looking strangely embarrassed.

  ‘I see you’ve found my bedroom, Tom!’ said Mrs Moon taking up the biscuit plate. ‘Did you find anything interesting, dear?’ She winked playfully at him. Tom smiled awkwardly and sat down. His normally rosy cheeks had drained and as Stella selected a pink iced biscuit she couldn’t help but smirk that her brother for once had been caught out.