The Moonlight Statue

by Holly Webb

  “I know,” she said. She had a birthday card Dad had written, in a special box under her bed. A birthday card wasn’t that weird but there were other things, too. She’d taken his toothpaste out of the bathroom – the pink kind that Mum didn’t like. And a tiny little plastic sausage dog that he’d given her when she’d been begging for a dog of her own. She hadn’t ever liked it much – she wanted a real dog, not a toy. But after he’d gone…

  Polly opened the leather box and stroked the ribbons of the medals – they were beautiful, the rainbow stripes soft and faded. “He won all these?” she murmured. “Was he very brave then?”

  Her mum took the box back, cradling it gently. “These three everyone got, as far as I can remember – though the Victory medal would have been sent to his parents long after he’d died.” She shook her head. “But this is a special one.” She pointed to a white cross, decorated with a crown and a wreath. “This is the Distinguished Service Order, I’ve seen it in displays at the museum. It’s for gallantry in the presence of the enemy. I don’t know what he did, though we might find out – I’ve got quite a few of his letters.”

  “Are you going to read them?”

  “Well, yes.” Polly’s mum glanced up, surprised. “Of course. Letters are fantastic for finding out about family history.”

  “I suppose.”

  That boy’s letters, though. Weren’t they private? It seemed mean… Polly felt like she ought to go and apologize to William. If she ever saw him again. She shook her head. He’d probably just laugh at her, like last time. It felt different, though, now that she knew he was dead – and how he’d died.

  Now it was clear Rex could be awake in the daytime, too, Polly decided there was no need to wait until the middle of the night to go and see him. The house and gardens closed to visitors at six, unless there was some sort of special event on, so the gardens should be almost empty. As long as they were careful, the volunteers doing the last of the tidying up weren’t going to notice that she was talking to a statue.

  Polly took the oat-and-raisin cookie that Mum had given her for pudding and hurried out to the terrace. It was still bathed in sunshine and the two stone dogs shone golden in the evening light. She walked down the steps almost cautiously, remembering that photo of William with Magnus. She was pretty sure that it had been taken here – perhaps on an evening just like this.

  As she stood on the middle step, thinking of the smiling boy in the picture, Polly saw the faintest twitch in Rex’s stone tail. She glanced round – there was no one in sight. “It’s all right. You can come out.”

  It was the first time she had seen him change in the daylight. The wheaten gold colour of his fur washed over the stone and his ears flickered. Then he yawned, stretching himself up on his front legs, and whisked round. His tail was swishing and his black eyes sparkled. Polly felt her mood lighten a little.

  “Whatever’s the matter?” Rex asked, springing down beside her. “If you were a dog, your tail would be between your legs.”

  “I found that boy,” Polly whispered. “I know who he is – Magnus’s owner.”

  “How?” Rex sat down, gazing at her curiously, and Polly sat beside him.

  “A photograph – look, I brought it with me,” she said, taking the photo out of her pocket. “I can’t have it for very long, though, I have to put it back before Mum notices.” Her mum had cleared everything away into a box before they’d had dinner but then she’d gone to take a long bath and Polly had slipped the photo into another envelope to bring it and show Rex.

  The wolfhound peered down his long nose at the picture. “Magnus, to the life…” he muttered. “And this boy – do I remember him?”

  “He died,” Polly whispered. “In a war. And he was so young, look at him!”

  “A child.” Rex’s ears drooped and his shoulders fell so that he seemed to be hunching over. “And what happened to Magnus then?”

  Polly gasped. “I hadn’t thought about that! Magnus must have waited for him to come home…” She turned to look at the statue on the other side of the steps. Now that she knew William’s story, Magnus’s long muzzle looked mournful, not grand and fierce like Rex’s. “No wonder he doesn’t want to wake up.”

  “But he has.” Rex sniffed again at the statue and then nuzzled damply at Polly’s ear. “I should have listened to you. You’ve seen them, I believe you now.”

  “William doesn’t fit, though,” Polly said thoughtfully. “It’s only the dogs who stay at Penhallow, you said. Why a boy, too? And if he died in the war, why’s his ghost only my age? It doesn’t make sense!”

  “I have no idea,” Rex muttered. “It’s most unusual. Quite irregular.”

  Polly tried so hard not to laugh at his cross, wrinkled nose that she ended up snorting out loud. “Quite irregular? You can talk! You’re a ghost who’s hundreds of years old and haunting a statue!”

  “I don’t see your point.” Rex stuck his nose in the air and turned his shoulder to Polly.

  “I mean, you don’t exactly have a rulebook, do you?” She scooted down a step and leaned round to look him in the eye again. “Do you? I don’t know, maybe there is one. Dos and Don’ts for Ghost Dogs. Is there?”

  “No…” Rex growled, swinging his muzzle the other way so she still couldn’t look at him properly. “But there are several etiquette books in the library. You could take lessons from them.”

  “Sorry,” Polly said. She sat down on the step, carefully not looking at Rex. She hadn’t meant to offend him.

  “Oh, very well.” He laid his nose on her shoulder. “When one has a statue and a coat of arms and a legend, one does sometimes become a little proud. Conceited, even.” He scraped his claws along the stone irritably. “Why haven’t I seen this boy?”

  “My mother’s reading his letters,” Polly said. “Do you think that woke him up? Because someone was paying attention?”

  Rex sighed. “I don’t know for certain but I expect he has been here all along. Since he died and his parents left. I just haven’t noticed. I’ve been neglecting my duty, I think. But now I have a child to guard again.” He nuzzled her ear. “You are a very nice girl, really. I shouldn’t have said that about the etiquette book.”

  “I don’t mind.” Polly closed her eyes, smiling at the faint orangey glow of sun on her eyelids and the warmth of a heavy dog’s nose on her shoulder.

  “What are you doing out here? Are you asleep, Polly?”

  Polly jumped and felt the warm bulk of Rex slip away.

  “Hi…” She swallowed, trying to smile at Stephen. She didn’t know where Rex had gone but he wasn’t back in his statue. The stone plinth was horribly, gapingly empty. “I must have dozed off for a minute.”

  “Still getting used to the flat?” Stephen suggested sympathetically. “Moving’s weird, isn’t it? I hope you settle in soon, Polly. It’s great having you and your mum here. She’s so full of ideas, it’s breathing new life into the place.”

  Polly smiled nervously at him. She couldn’t think of anything sensible to say – she was waiting for him to notice the big statue-shaped hole. She pressed her lips together hard – she was so panicked it was making her want to laugh.

  “I ought to get back upstairs,” she murmured. “Mum’ll be wondering where I am.”

  “Yes, sure.” Stephen was eyeing the empty plinth now. Any minute he was going to start yelling, Polly reckoned. But he didn’t. He just stared at it, frowning a little. As though there was something wrong but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

  Polly wanted to scream, Yes! I know! The statue’s gone! just to break the suspense.

  But at last Stephen shook his head and smiled back. “Night then. Sleep well.” And he wandered off back round the other side of the house towards the stables.

  “Well, that was fortunate.” Rex wriggled between the carved stone balusters, shaking lily pollen out of his shaggy eyebrows.

  “You were in the flower bed? Why didn’t you get back up there?” Polly hi
ssed.

  “No time. I wonder why he didn’t notice that I wasn’t there?”

  “I thought maybe you put a spell on him! You didn’t then?”

  Rex snorted dismissively. “I’m not a witch, Polly, I’m a dog.”

  “The house did some sort of magic then,” Polly said, puzzled. “He could tell something wasn’t right, though. He was staring like anything. You’d better not go missing too often.”

  “Perhaps just occasionally,” Rex agreed. “Once a day and twice on Sundays and public holidays.”

  “You’re very silly for someone who’s supposed to be a legend and a coat of arms,” Polly told him, yawning.

  “Can’t be legendary all the time… Go home to bed.” He leaped up on to the plinth. “Tomorrow you need to be wide awake. If Magnus’s statue disappears again, we’ll know, won’t we? That they’re around – then we’ll go ghost hunting.”

  But however often they looked, the statue remained stubbornly solid and most definitely there. “Perhaps I did imagine it?” Polly said the day after, shaking her head crossly and thumping her hand on Magnus’s pedestal. Then she wished she hadn’t. It hurt.

  But on the Sunday morning she finished breakfast and ran out on to the terrace to hug Rex. She threw her arms round his neck and then squeaked. “Rex! Wake up! Magnus is gone!”

  Rex shook himself and the glorious pale gold of his fur washed over the worn stone. He leaped down from the plinth and danced around Polly, frisking and licking her like a puppy.

  “Shh, shh,” Polly murmured, trying to pat him. “You can get away with being like that here, dogs are allowed in the gardens. But I think we need to go in the house – I’m sure I heard Magnus and the boy upstairs before, and dogs aren’t allowed inside.”

  “In my own house?” Rex said, his ears flattening a little. “Oh, very well. I’ll be careful. Come along then.”

  “It’s very busy,” Rex hissed, backing his way into the gap behind a huge Chinese vase. “What are all these people doing here?”

  “They’re looking at the house,” Polly said out of the corner of her mouth, smiling sweetly at an elderly couple wandering past. “Haven’t you ever noticed them before? Penhallow has been open to visitors for years and years.”

  Rex peered out at her, shaking his head slowly. “No… I’ve hardly woken – not since the family left, I don’t think. The Penhallows went away and I slept.” He edged his nose around the vase again and sniffed at a man who was walking past, reading the guidebook. “Why do they come?”

  “Because it’s beautiful! And interesting.” Polly peered up the corridor. “It’s all right, you can come out now. It’s a pity it’s Sunday, it’s the busiest day. Because lots of people aren’t at work they can come on trips,” she added, explaining before Rex asked. “Be quick along this bit, that’s the Red Drawing Room, it’s very popular. Full of Chinese carvings and things.”

  Rex darted a glance into the room as they scurried past, and sniffed curiously. “I remember,” he murmured. “We’ll go back there, Polly. I’ll show you…”

  But Polly wasn’t listening, too busy watching out for visitors. Neither of them saw the strange blue-green porcelain dog on the mantelpiece twitch and peer after them, before settling back into stillness with a creak of china glaze.

  “Didn’t you see all the people yesterday? You must have come through the house to get to our flat?”

  “Straight up the back stairs for most of the way,” Rex said, sniffing cautiously round a corner. “Hardly saw anyone. Nothing like this! How are we going to find William and Magnus if we have to keep hiding? I can track Magnus’s scent, or I think I can, but all these people keep getting in my way.”

  “This is who the house belongs to now,” Polly tried to explain. “I know you think of it as still belonging to your family but it’s good that everyone gets to see all the amazing things here. The visitors love your statue, you know,” she added.

  Rex snorted but Polly could tell that he was pleased. “I think it’s safe to come out now,” she said, looking both ways along the passage.

  Rex was edging his way out from behind the vase when a small boy came racing round the corner. He was going so fast that he didn’t see Rex – he didn’t even seem to notice Polly, but then his mum came chasing after him.

  Polly tried to stand in front of Rex but it was too late. He was peering curiously at the little boy, who was almost at the other end of the passage by now. Rex hadn’t noticed the mum but there was no way she could miss him. Polly swallowed hard, trying to think of excuses for an enormous wolfhound…

  “Sorry,” the mum said as she hurried past. “I hope he didn’t bump into you?”

  “Oh! No, no, he didn’t.” Polly shook her head, smiling with relief.

  “She didn’t see me?” Rex asked, wrinkling his muzzle as the lady disappeared round the corner.

  “No… I think maybe you are invisible. After all that effort I’ve made trying to hide you!” Polly laughed. “Can you smell anything yet?”

  “Mmmm. Up here, I think. Something’s come this way.” Rex padded along the small upper corridor that led to the old nurseries.

  Polly quickly glanced inside the large nursery – it was full of people admiring the dolls’ house and the toy theatre. “They wouldn’t be in there, would they? It’s too busy.”

  “No… But they’re close.” Rex sniffed the air. “Along here somewhere.”

  Polly shuddered. She supposed there was no reason to be frightened – William and Magnus were only the same stuff as Rex. They were all ghosts of some kind – but the ghost of a boy, another human, seemed a lot more frightening than a dog. Rex didn’t even feel like a ghost. He wasn’t transparent or wispy or cold. He felt like a real dog. She laid her hand on his neck for comfort and he looked up at her.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “A little,” Polly whispered. She was remembering those soft footsteps and the quiet scritch of claws. Unless there was another ghost, it made sense that William and Magnus had walked past her a few days before. But why hadn’t she been able to see them? She dug her fingers deeper into Rex’s fur.

  “Well, don’t be,” Rex said. “I’m here to protect you – not that you need protecting.” Then the fur along his spine rose a little and his ears tensed. “I feel them! Close by…” He stiffened into a hunting crouch and crept along the passage, leading Polly to the room at the very end. It wasn’t one Polly had been in before – there was nothing on display in there.

  “Open the door,” Rex murmured, sniffing underneath it. The sun was shining into the room beyond, Polly could see it glowing around the door frame. At least it’s not dark, she thought, as she wrapped her fingers round the cold porcelain door handle. Gritting her teeth, she turned the handle, pushing the door open with a grating, ominous creak.

  They stood blinking in the doorway, surprised by the white light streaming through the window after the dimness of the passageway. As Polly’s eyes adjusted to the light, she saw a faint movement over by the black metal fireplace. She could see motes of dust swirling in the sunlight but there was something else, too – a shimmering in the air.

  “Are they there?” she whispered to Rex. His tail was beating slowly from side to side and he was staring – into the air, as far as Polly could see.

  “Yes…” He moved forwards slowly, and Polly followed him, her heart thudding. As she came closer, the air seemed to settle and suddenly she saw them, as if she’d put on glasses or something had just popped into focus.

  The boy was sitting cross-legged, fiddling with a clockwork train in his lap. The track was spread out in front of him, a complicated arrangement with points and some sort of turntable. The dog was slumped down beside him, half-asleep.

  The boy didn’t look up as Rex and Polly came further into the room. He kept his eyes on the train. Could he even see that they were there? Polly wasn’t sure but she suspected that he could… That he was pretending not to see them in the hope that they would leave him
alone. The way that he was fiddling with the train reminded Polly of the way she’d made drawings those last few months at school, fussing and fussing over details, long after the picture was finished. Just so that she could pretend she wasn’t listening to the girls talking about her on the other side of the room.

  The grey dog leaned closer to him and suddenly swiped his tongue over the boy’s cheek. The boy turned away, rubbing his hand across his face to wipe away the lick and Polly realized that he was crying. Magnus had been licking at his tears.

  Something shifted inside her and she was suddenly no longer afraid. She crouched down beside him. “William? What’s the matter?”

  He shrugged, turning away from her almost angrily, and Polly sighed. She hadn’t ever wanted people to talk to her while she was miserable, so why should he?

  “Sorry,” she muttered. If it hadn’t been for Rex standing hopefully beside her, she would have left them alone.

  “I saw you in the gardens,” she said quietly. “Actually, you were rather rude, laughing at me like that. I don’t know why it was so funny, me hugging Rex. You let Magnus lick your face.”

  The boy looked up at last. “Pretty stupid, hugging a stone dog.”

  “He isn’t just a stone dog!”

  William looked over her shoulder at Rex and shrugged. “I’d never seen him wake up. I thought it was only me and Magnus.”

  “You’ve seen me before!” Rex said indignantly. “When you were still –” he paused cautiously – “alive. I even played with you and Magnus on the beach.”

  “He’s right,” Magnus put in, barging against the boy’s shoulder. “He did. I saw him.”

  “I might have thought I saw something. Maybe your shadow on the sand.” William peered at Rex with a frown. “But only out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t think you were real.”

  Rex sat down, looking disgusted. “I’m beginning to think you’re more special than I gave you credit for,” he told Polly. “Not even family and you can see me.”