The Chestertons and the Golden Key

by Nancy Carpentier Brown

  So Will took off one skate, and they worked at the screws with the skate key to try to make it small enough to fit Cece’s shoe. But the key was so rusty and worn that it wouldn’t quite work. Cece was inclined to give up, but Will finally managed to get the skate just the right size for Cece’s foot.

  “Ripping!” she said, standing on one wobbly leg. “But it will take us hours and hours to get the other skate fixed.”

  “It’s not a very good skate key,” Will agreed. “Ted couldn’t get his skates tight enough either. Well, what about if we try this? If we each take one skate, then we could push with the other foot, and glide along. What do you say?”

  Cece nodded. She was so anxious to try the skates. “But what shall I do with this thing?” she asked, holding up the rusty skate key.

  “I’ll get a new one from the store,” Will shrugged. “I suppose you can just throw it away.”

  “Or we could use it for our puppet play!” Cece had an inspiration. “It’s just the right size for a puppet to hold. Hang on, let me tell you about it…” And she told him all about Auntlet and the Golden Key and the plans for a puppet play.

  She was half-afraid he would tease her, but all he said was, “My dad’s got some gold paint from painting a sign. I bet he’d let me use some to paint your key. It would cover up the rust and I think it would look handsome enough then for a play.”

  Cece thought that was awfully nice of Will, and said so. Thus the key was returned to Will’s pocket, and the two started out on their one-skate adventure.

  “This is going to be fun!” she said, as they each tried to stand up. They were unsteady on their feet till they held hands, one foot rolling about back and forth.

  Just as they got their balance quite perfect, Unclet threw open the door and looked around in a panic. When he saw the skating pair, he laughed.

  “Now that’s a truly clever way to share skates!” he said. “But—oh dear! Whatever happened to my messenger boy? I must get this article to the newspaper!”

  Now Cece understood the young man in the cap. “He couldn’t wait any longer,” she said.

  Unclet looked terrified as he fumbled for his watch and gasped at the hour. “Oh dear! However am I going to get this posted in time?”

  “We could do it, sir!” said Will. “Where does it need to go?”

  Unclet beamed. “Since you are ready like the god Mercury with wings on your heels, would you be so kind as to take this letter to the train station for me? Give it to the porter, won’t you please, and have him put it on the next train to London.” Unclet held out the envelope to Will, who took it and put it inside his shirt for safety.

  “We must go as fast as we can, Cece,” said Will, turning around to face the street leading to town.

  “I’m going to fly like the wind!” she said, as she gave herself a push, and the two started racing towards the station. Unclet gave a hearty cheer, rocking back and forth on his heels as they set off.

  On they sped, each moving as fast as they could. Just as they were about to pass the Three Cups Hotel, they heard the train whistle in the distance.

  “It’s coming!” cried Cece, pushing herself faster and almost falling.

  Will caught her arm, and steadied her, and said, “Let’s link arms! We can go faster that way!”

  And so they raced together arm in arm, pushing and rolling back and forth, going right down the middle of the road, while everyone stopped and stared at them.

  The whistle blew again, and they knew the train was just about to come into the station. “Oh, we’re going to be too late!” cried Cece.

  “It’ll wait in the station a few minutes before it leaves again,” said Will. “We could still get there in time!”

  Their hearts pounding, their breath coming in puffs, they skated with all their might, until at last, coming around the corner, they were at the station. They skated right up to the station master, Mr. Green, who knew them well.

  “Whoa, there!” Mr. Green held up his hands before they could roll over him. “What’s the hurry?”

  The two children stopped themselves, and were both bent over gasping for a moment before they could speak. Then Cece explained the request of Mr. Chesterton, and Will produced the envelope, and the station master told them they had made it just in time.

  He took the envelope and disappeared onto the train. A minute later, the train was puffing out of the station.

  “Whew!” said Will, still breathing hard, as he steered Cece over to a bench where they could sit down for a few minutes to rest before returning. “You can really go fast!” he said, with admiration. “I wasn’t sure I could keep up with you.”

  Cece blushed. “And that was my first time on skates,” she said. “I bet if I practiced, I could get to the Olympics some day!”

  “I bet you could, too!” said Will.

  Cece glowed inside, feeling very happy now. And she thought to herself that just maybe, she might give up her dream of swimming the Channel to become a champion roller-skater after all.

  Auntlet and Unclet borrowed Pepper to go for a walk along the beach with them in the afternoon, so Clare and her mother took up their sewing. Ever since Father had died, Mother sewed and mended for different customers in town, and Clare tried to help her out with small bits whenever she could. As Clare worked on the facing for a child’s dress, she thought about the Chestertons. She had supposed that a famous writer like Mr. Chesterton would be able to have anything he wanted. At last, she said to her mother, “But why can’t Unclet and Auntlet have any children? It’s just so sad.”

  “This life is a vale of tears at times,” Mother said. “And everyone has troubles.”

  “But you would think,” Clare said, “that God would give them children. They’re such good kind people. Auntlet would be a wonderful mother.”

  Mother sighed. “We can’t always understand why God allows sad things to happen.” She glanced over at the picture of her husband, then quickly said, “But do you know? I think that God has given the Chestertons a gift to make up for their not having children.”

  “What’s that?” Clare asked.

  “True love,” said Mother. “Hearts that can love truly and have a wide open welcoming love for all. They know how precious every person’s life is, and they love and value all children. And that’s a gift.”

  Clare thought about that while she sewed. She made her stitches small and even, so that the facing lay flat, which pleased her enormously.

  Then Cece and Will ran into the house, fresh from their delivery triumph, and reported their success. Unclet arrived next, heard the tale told again, and was delighted with the story. “My editor will be very grateful to you both,” he told his two flying messengers.

  Then Auntlet came in with some shells for Joan, and Mother said it was about time to prepare dinner. So they all went into the kitchen, where they found Joan and Ted shelling peas at the kitchen table. Joan was telling Ted about the play.

  “Will and I have an idea for the Golden Key, but I really think there should be a dragon,” Cece said, “and music.”

  “I can play my violin,” said Will.

  “S’ppose there’s not much I can do,” said Ted glumly, staring at his leg.

  “But you can work a puppet, sitting,” said Joan quickly. “And so can I.” Now she very much wanted Ted to be a part of the play.

  “And as for the dragon, I can make one if there’s some spare cloth I can use,” said Unclet.

  “I’ve got some green wool from the coat Mother just cut out that would make a perfect dragon!” Clare said.

  Soon the notebook was out, and everyone was taking bits to do. Unclet was a wonderful play organizer. He suggested that the Prince could have a broken leg, so as to match with Ted, who (it was agreed) would perform the prince puppet. There would be a King, a Princess, and some wicked townsfolk, a wishing-well, a dragon, and a tall sailing ship; and the play began to take shape.

  Auntlet said they should sing “All’s
Well that Ends Well” at the end, and Unclet said he would write an extra verse to make it fit the play.

  “But I don’t know how to play that song on the violin,” said Will, worried.

  “That’s fine!” said Joan, suddenly inspired.

  She turned to her mother. “We could play it on the piano! Please, Mother, won’t you play it for us, just as you and Father did? Or you could teach me,” she added hopefully.

  Everyone seemed to stop talking to look at Mother. “If I could help…” Auntlet started to say, putting a hand on Mother’s arm.

  Mother set down the potato she had been peeling and looked around, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. “My dear children, I’m so sorry--but I can’t! Oh, please understand, we can never play on the piano again, never!”

  Suddenly tears were splashing down her dress, and she was running from the kitchen and up the stairs. Everyone was silent, and Joan felt her spirit crumple. Oh, what have I done to Mother? she thought, and if she hadn’t had a hurt leg, she would have run from the room herself.

  Suddenly Auntlet was holding Joan’s shoulders gently and bent down to kiss her head in a way that meant, “Everything will be all right.”

  “I’d better go and see what I can do,” Auntlet said. “Gilbert, dear…”

  And all at once, Unclet was telling everyone amazing tales of the Egyptians, and how they worshiped cats. Not just because they were cats, he said, but also because they represented one of their gods. He told the children about how archeologists had found dogs, baboons, ibises, hawks, and even beetles mummified in ancient tombs.

  And it was so fascinating that even Joan forgot all about wanting to cry, and the Hampton boys asked questions and Unclet told more stories about tombs and scholars who studied hieroglyphics until finally Mother came back downstairs with Auntlet, and everyone was glad to see that she seemed to be better.

  “Oh, children,” Mother said with a sniffle. “I am so sorry for running off like that. Now that I feel a bit stronger, I have to tell you that even if I wanted to play the piano, I couldn’t. For you see, I’ve lost the key and I’m afraid there’s no way we can open it. And I’m so sorry.” And her eyes became wet once more.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” said Auntlet quietly. “We all get upset at one time or another, don’t we, dear?”

  “What, you?” said Unclet, “I don’t recall you ever getting upset, my dearest! I, on the other hand…” Auntlet smiled at him.

  “It’s just—” said Mother, as Auntlet handed her a handkerchief. “It’s just that Charlie,” she said, “your father,” she nodded to her children; “loved the piano. We played together since we were engaged, so many happy times. And when he died, well, I just couldn’t bear it. So I locked the piano, and now I’ve lost the key.” She wrapped Joan in her arms. “I’m so sorry: I didn’t know you wanted to learn the piano, my sweetheart. But I’m afraid it’s impossible. The key is gone.”

  “Nothing is impossible with God,” said Auntlet firmly. “Wasn’t that what the Angel Gabriel said to the Virgin Mary? Come, we’ll look around for it.”

  “You didn’t hurl it in the sea, did you?” Cece asked her mother, worried.

  Mother actually laughed, and wiped her eyes. “No, nothing so dramatic,” she said. “I probably just dropped it into a drawer. Or it might have fallen out of my apron pocket when I was cleaning house.”

  “We shall organize a proper search,” said Unclet. “Clare? You and I should think like detectives and see if we can find the piano’s key.”

  “Who, what, where,” recited Clare. “Well, Mother is the ‘who,’ because she last had the key.”

  “ ‘What’—well, that’s the key,” said Unclet. “What does this piano key look like, my dear?” he asked Mother.

  “It was bright shiny silver, about this big,” said Mother, and held up her hand to show the size. “It fits into the little hole on the piano lid.”

  “Now,” said Unclet to the Hampton boys and the Nicholl girls, “each of you can be a detective. We’ve all got to look for clues. This piano key is small, so we’ve got to search every nook and cranny. But if we each take a section of the house, we just might find it.”

  The search began. Clare fetched her notebook, thinking, perhaps if I pretend to be Sister Smith, I’ll find ideas for writing my story.

  Will began looking along the baseboards going around the walls of the room, and under each chair and piece of furniture as well.

  Ted said he wasn’t going to be much help, and Joan was in the same fix. They could make suggestions, but really couldn’t look themselves, so Clare gave them some paper and told them to mark off each section of the house as it was searched.

  Cece ran to get their big magnifying glass so she could be like Sherlock Holmes. “Pepper, you could be our bloodhound,” she said.

  But Pepper had ideas of his own as to what should be done. First he followed each person, barking and tugging at their clothes, then got underfoot and nearly tripped Auntlet. Next, he jumped onto the couch and snatched up Unclet’s soft felt hat to carry it off. Fortunately Ted spotted him and gave the alarm.

  “Thief!” cried Unclet, and then “Follow that dog! He’s got my hat!” They chased Pepper into the kitchen, but he darted up the back stairs.

  They charged upstairs after him, but Pepper was not in any of the bedrooms. They hurried back down and hunted everywhere, but the dog was nowhere to be found.

  “This was a search for a piano key, and now it’s a search for a key and a hat and a dog!” panted Clare to Unclet as he came puffing down the steps.

  “A fine red herring,” he agreed. “Where has he got to?”

  There was a shout from Will, who had dashed to the back garden. Then there was barking, and everyone ran outside. They found Will holding a squirming Pepper and a very dirty hat.

  “He was burying it in the garden behind the house,” said Will. “I caught sight of him just as he was covering it up.”

  “You rascal!” Cece scolded Pepper, who looked wounded. Unclet carefully brushed the dirt off of his crumpled hat. He set it back upon his head and looked sternly at the pup.

  “Let this be a lesson to you, hound,” Unclet said, “even if you were to fly to the end of the beach to hide your ill-gotten gains, still you would see written in the sky the words, ‘Thou shalt not steal.’ ” Pepper seemed very abject, and wagged his tail.

  Removing his hat, Unclet said, “Now that the thief has been caught and admonished, everyone into the kitchen to make their report.”

  But no one had anything to report. The floors, the drawers, the cabinets, the sofa cushions, the hooks in the back hall, the letterbox, and the woodpile had all been checked, but the key had not been found. Joan began to look sad, but Ted said, “Come on, Will, if you start practicing straight away, you could play ‘All’s Well’ on the violin for the performance, couldn’t you?”

  And Will thought he could. So Joan cheered up, and the search party ended with another tea party, which was somewhat consoling.

  After their friends had gone home that evening, Mother helped Joan back up to bed, and everyone turned in for the night.

  But Clare sat up for a long time in her bed, thinking about how fast Unclet could write, and how swiftly the words flowed from his pen once he had started. “Dear God, do help me to write like that,” she thought. And with those thoughts, she finally fell asleep.

  When two days passed, Joan’s ankle felt much better. She, Clare, and Cece spread the word about the play. All their friends and neighbors agreed to come and see it when it was ready.

  The sisters and the Hampton boys had already started making costumes and sets with Auntlet and Unclet. The Chestertons had to leave next Sunday, so the play was going to be performed on Saturday evening.

  The piano key had still not turned up. “I’m going to keep looking for it,” said Mother to Joan, “it’s got to be somewhere in this house. But we can practice our songs without it for now.”

>   So Will brought over his violin. He prepared his bow using a small cake of rosin that looked like brown wax, and tuned up the violin while everyone sat around the table in the kitchen. As he played, they all sang, practicing the songs for the play. Pepper nosed around while they sang.

  Ted, sitting with his crutches, saw the dog’s black nose dart to the tabletop and disappear. “Hi! He just stole your rosin, Will!” he cried, interrupting “Ode to Spring.” Pepper was already out the door.

  Ted struggled to his crutches as Will and Cece rushed after the dog. “That dog of yours really does steal everything,” he said to Joan.

  “Yes…” Joan had an inspiration. “I say, what if Pepper stole the piano key?”

  She and Ted rushed out the door as fast as Ted could hobble, and headed for Pepper’s favorite mound in the back yard. The other children were chasing Pepper around the yard while Auntlet tried to coax him to stop.

  Joan got a shovel from the garden shed and started digging. Seeing her, everyone came over to join her. “Of course! Pepper could have buried it!” “Why didn’t we think of that before?” “It’s been here all along!”

  Everyone was quite excited, as Joan, with Will’s help, dug into the mound. Pepper skidded to a halt, dropped the rosin, and barked furiously as he saw they were digging up his treasures. Cece quickly rescued the rosin and gave it to Will.

  The first thing they found was a bone. There were moans of disappointment. “Not completely unexpected,” Ted pointed out.

  There were more bones, and a yellow hair ribbon. (“That’s mine!” said Joan.) A small metal truck and quite a few sticks. A bag of six jacks with two marbles. (“Hey, that’s mine!” said Will.) A sock, a spoon, and four more bones.

  “Wait!” said Clare. “What’s that?”

  She picked up a short length of metal that had clumps of dirt on both ends! “Let me see!” Cece said, examining it with her magnifying glass. “It looks like metal!” she said. “Scrape off the dirt!”

  There was a long moment while everyone stood and watched Clare as she worked at rubbing off the dirt. But when one lump of dirt came all the way off, it turned out to be a thick nail, not a key.