The Clockwork Crow

by Catherine Fisher

  Mrs Villiers stepped forward and grabbed her arm. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Seren jerked away fiercely. ‘I’m talking about Tomos. I know you’ve had him hidden in that attic. And if you don’t let me go, right now, I’m going straight to the police and I’m going to tell them.’

  Mrs Villiers’ face was as white as the wall. But she was not the one who answered. That was Denzil, standing breathless in the doorway as if all the shouting had brought him hurrying up.

  ‘So now don’t you think it’s time to tell her?’ he said. ‘About everything?’

  Footprints in the fallen snow.

  Can you tell me where they go?

  They had come down to the kitchen where the cat lay curled on the hearth, watching them in surprise.

  Seren sat upright on the stool in the middle of the floor. She was still simmering with anger. If they sent her back to the orphanage what did she care! It would be better than this cold dark empty place.

  Mrs Villiers swished past her and stoked the fire furiously. But it was Denzil who took charge. He stood in front of Seren, folded his arms, looked straight at her and said, ‘So what’s this crazy idea you’ve got into your head about Tomos?’

  ‘It’s not crazy. I saw you taking food up to him.’

  Denzil stared. ‘Up where?’

  ‘The nursery. His room.’

  ‘Have you been in there?’

  Seren looked up boldly. ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘That is the absolute limit.’ Mrs Villiers clasped her hands so tight the fingers went white. ‘You broke in…’

  ‘I didn’t break in, I found the key. I didn’t steal anything and I don’t think I even need to say sorry. Because I was just looking for Tomos. I thought I saw him in the window…’

  ‘But you found the room dusty and empty,’ Denzil said.

  She looked down, annoyed. ‘Yes.’

  The small man paced the floor. His voice was quiet and full of pain. ‘You’ve got everything wrong, girl. Mrs Villiers was taking the food up to a workman who was here repairing a leak in the roof. It must have been him you saw. We’ve had a few drips coming through the ceiling. There was one right outside your bedroom door, didn’t you notice? As for Master Tomos, he has not been in this house for a year. Yes, his clothes are here, his toys wait for him. But he’s not here to play with them. He’s not here to eat his bread and milk and entertain us all with his wild and funny tales. Master Tomos … is lost to us.’

  He looked so devastated Seren felt shocked. And then quite suddenly she understood it all: their black clothes, the shuttered rooms, the absent parents, the sad, silent house.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, putting her hands over her mouth. ‘Oh, Denzil, I’m so sorry! He’s dead, isn’t he? I’m so, so sorry…’

  ‘Be quiet, Seren.’ Denzil’s voice was harsh but kindly. He looked over at Mrs Villiers. ‘You need to explain to her.’

  The housekeeper turned. Her face was white. ‘My orders were…’

  ‘She needs to know. She’ll be living here, and people talk, so she’ll find out soon enough. Tell her now.’ He gathered up his coat and headed for the door. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

  He went out and the cat ran after him, leaving Mrs Villiers in obvious dismay by the kitchen fire.

  Slowly, she came and sat down, her back ramrod straight.

  ‘How did it happen?’ Seren didn’t want to ask but her imagination was racing and for some reason she had to keep talking. ‘Was it the typhoid? In St Mary’s a girl caught that and we all had to…’

  ‘It wasn’t typhoid.’

  ‘Did he drown? In the lake? It looks deep.’

  ‘Seren!’ Mrs Villiers held up a hand. ‘That’s enough.’ She put both her hands in her lap and interlaced her fingers tightly. She looked most uncomfortable, as if she cursed Denzil for leaving this task to her. ‘Tomos is not dead. At least … we hope and pray that Tomos is not dead.’

  Seren stared. ‘You hope? You mean you don’t know?’

  ‘No, we don’t know. Because Tomos is missing.’

  ‘Missing?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Her eyes were closed, and she looked older now. ‘Denzil is right; it will be easier to tell you. As you are clearly the sort who likes to pry into everything.’

  That was unfair. But Seren kept quiet. She wanted the story, and she was intensely interested.

  ‘The facts are these. Tomos went out of the house for a walk after breakfast one morning, and he never came back.’

  Seren’s eyes were wide. ‘When?’

  ‘Last year. In fact, on Christmas Eve.’ Mrs Villiers sat still, staring blankly across the room. ‘I will never forget that day. It had been snowing, and he had been clamouring to go and build a snowman, but Denzil was too busy decorating the hall to go with him. Captain Jones was working in the study upstairs. Lady Mair was in her sitting room, writing letters. Everyone was busy with the preparations for Christmas. I myself told him that he must stop bothering us and play on his own.’ She tensed her hands until the knuckles were white. ‘I wish … how I wish I had not said that.’

  For a moment there was a flicker of something heartbroken in her eyes.

  ‘So he put on his coat – he must have, because it was gone from the wardrobe – and let himself out of the house. There were other servants here then, and the Captain’s dogs, it was a busy, happy place, but no one saw him go. If only…’ She shook her head. ‘If only someone had gone with him! But who would have guessed what would happen?’

  ‘What did happen?’ Seren asked, breathless.

  ‘At lunchtime we realised he had not come back. His mother was cross, but no one feared anything. Denzil was sent out to find him; there were footprints in the snow, across the gardens and through the iron gate towards the lake, so he followed them. Tomos had run and played; there was a half-built snowman. And then…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Then the footprints went on, down the snowy slope towards the lake. There’s a deep hollow there, a sort of rocky grotto. The footprints climbed down into that place, among the brambles. And there they … ended.’

  ‘Ended?’

  ‘Vanished.’

  ‘But that’s not possible.’ Seren shook her head. ‘I mean, he must have gone somewhere.’

  ‘The footsteps stopped in the middle of a white snowfield. As if he had become invisible, or some flying creature had swept him away. Or as if the earth had opened and swallowed him.’ She smiled, and this time Seren saw there really were tears in her eyes. ‘That is fanciful nonsense of course. It must have snowed again and covered his steps. He could not be found. Denzil came tearing back, poor soul. And soon Lady Mair was sobbing, in such fear.’

  Seren could imagine it, the house stirred up like a wasps’ nest, everyone running everywhere, the servants’ panic, the shouting of orders. It was like something in one of her books.

  ‘For two days we searched. Dogs were used, but there was no scent. The local villagers came out, even in that bitter snow. There were tales of vagrants from the cities who kidnapped children for ransom. One of them had been seen here a few days earlier. Lady Mair lay in agony in her bed; I had to have the doctor give her sedatives or she would never have slept. The police of two counties were called out. But…’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘Nothing. Ever since that day. Nothing.’

  The cat came back and sat looking up. Mrs Villiers put down some scraps for it, and it ate them, its small red tongue working fast. Seren watched. What a story! No wonder the house was as sad as a graveyard. How they must have suffered, Lady Mair and Captain Jones! Had Tomos fallen into some cleft in the ground and died there of cold? Had he really been kidnapped?

  ‘No one sent a ransom note? Asked for money?’

  ‘No one.’ Mrs Villiers’ voice was harsh and stern. She stood tall and her face, though pale, was composed again, as if she had remembered that Seren was a stranger here. ‘Master Tomos has never been heard of again. It has d
evastated his parents. They cannot bear even to be near this house. The servants were sent away and only Denzil and I are left. So now you know the story.’

  ‘Yes but…’

  ‘No more will be said on the matter.’ Mrs Villiers turned away. ‘I hope there will be no more nonsense about people being kept in attics. It would be better if you didn’t go up to the nursery again. And…’ She hesitated. ‘I may have been a little extreme in my anger earlier. But this is a house of sorrow, Seren, and we cannot have any more trouble here. So I warn you, overstep the mark once more and I will have you sent back to the orphanage. Do you understand?’

  Seren nodded.

  She went out and walked upstairs, the cat following her. Her mind was full of the story, and it was fascinating, though there was so much else she wanted to know.

  Boys didn’t just disappear.

  She thought of the golden stairs Tomos had written about in the diary, the sweet, enticing music he had heard. And suddenly she knew who to ask.

  All the next day she hung around the house, keeping out of Mrs Villiers’ way. Then she wandered the gardens and looked in all the outbuildings, but it wasn’t until late in the afternoon that she found Gwyn, out in the stableyard, piling hay with a pitchfork.

  The sky was darkening over the trees on the hill.

  He looked up when he heard her coming.

  ‘I know about Tomos,’ she said, at once.

  Gwyn stopped. He leaned on the fork. ‘Do you? Well, that’s more than we do.’

  ‘I mean I know he’s missing. And that you think he’s been taken by The Family. But who are they?’

  He shrugged. ‘The Tylwyth Teg. The Fair Family. Everyone knows that’s what happens. They take children.’

  She shivered and came in and sat on a hay bale.

  ‘We shouldn’t talk about Them.’ He held up his fingers and they were crossed. ‘Don’t ask me any more. They might hear.’ He glanced round, worried. ‘Especially when it’s getting dark. You never know where they are, listening, watching you.’

  Seren was too curious to be afraid. ‘I don’t understand. Are they human?’

  ‘No. They are magic, secret creatures. They never get old, and they can be beautiful, or they can be ugly and twisted and wild. They live under the ground. Or maybe in the lake. This used to be all their land, thousands of years ago, until people came. I think that’s the reason. The Joneses took their land. So They took the boy. My nain says it’s happened before, over and over, with the children. They take them to a place where they never get old.’

  A sly whisper of wind made him stop. He started on the hay again, hastily. ‘Don’t tell Denzil I told you. He knows, and Mrs V too probably, but she won’t admit it.’

  Seren shook her head. It sounded so strange, but she believed him. ‘So how can we get him back?’

  ‘You can’t. Not without magic and spells and all sorts of clever stuff. You don’t know about any of that, do you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. Then she smiled a small smile. ‘But I know someone who does.’

  Gwyn stared at her.

  But she jumped up and ran back to the house.

  ‘The Fair Family!’ The Crow shook its head so hard dust flew out. ‘No chance! Never in a million years. No way I would ever even consider it. They are the most dangerous and tricky of enemies to make. Good heavens! Witches are bad enough but those creatures! If they’ve got Tomos you can forget it. At least…’

  ‘At least what?’

  It was perched on the rim of the mirror. ‘Never mind. More important things. Did you get the ink?’ It raised a wing and looked at its feathers critically in the glass. ‘She was quite right, that old nag of a housekeeper. I’m more than a bit moth-eaten. I’ve been shockingly neglected.’

  Seren sighed. She dipped the nib in the ink. ‘Keep still.’

  ‘It’s not blue, is it?’

  ‘It’s black.’

  Carefully she inked in one moth-eaten spot on the Crow’s wing. The Crow giggled, ‘Ooh. That tickles.’

  She said quietly, ‘How do I rescue him?’

  The Crow sighed. ‘Well, there is one way. You have to wait for a year and day. Then the bell will ring, and the golden stairs will appear. That’s your only chance.’

  ‘A year and a day. That’s Christmas Day. Three days’ time!’

  ‘Just a little to the left.’ The Crow turned to show another moth-hole. ‘But I’m not going down those stairs. The Fair Family are too dangerous. Besides, They want me.’

  Her hand paused in mid-air. ‘They want you?’

  It puffed up its chest proudly. ‘Why do you think my … er … the man in the station was so scared? He knows They want me. They want to keep me in a cage of ice, and make me do tricks and magic for Them for all eternity, to amuse their king and queen and all Their horrible court. But if that happens I’ll never get unspelled. So if you go down there you’re on your own.’

  Seren scowled. ‘I rescued you. I put you together. And you are so ungrateful!’

  She put the pen down. ‘Why am I doing this? I’m going to take you apart and put you back in the newspaper.’

  The Crow hopped away. ‘No, you’re not!’ It flew up to the ceiling and perched on the very top of the bedrail. ‘Try it and I’ll fly out of the window. You’ll never see me again.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Immediately she ran over, slammed the window shut and locked it. Then she stopped, staring out through the glass. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Out there. At the edge of the lawn, just inside the wood. Someone’s standing there, looking up at the house.’

  The Crow sidled nearer, curious. Then it stopped. ‘Oh no, you don’t! That’s just a trick to lure me down. You don’t fool me.’ It turned its back, annoyed.

  ‘No, there’s really someone. It’s a man.’ Seren tried to rub the frost off the window but it was outside. She put her eye to the cold glass. Then she gasped and stepped back. ‘It’s him!’

  ‘Don’t believe you. No one there.’

  ‘There is! It’s the thin man from the railway station!’

  The Crow turned its head. Curiosity was too strong, so it flew down and perched on her shoulder, digging its wiry talons into her skin.

  ‘Ow!’ she gasped.

  ‘Keep still. Where? Ah, yes.’

  The thin man lurked in the shadow of the trees. He still had his midnight-dark coat on and the hat was pulled even further over his eyes. Seren thought he was probably shivering with cold. He was looking intently up at the windows. Then he ducked out of the trees and began to walk quickly towards the house.

  The Crow gave a kark of alarm and took off. ‘Draw the curtains!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Draw the curtains. Now!’

  It swooped under the ceiling and flew round in agitated circles. Hurriedly Seren tugged the dusty red curtains across until the room was dark and shadowy.

  ‘Now lock the door!’

  ‘I can’t lock it! What’s the matter with you? Do you recognise him?’

  The Crow landed on the bed and fell over, then wriggled under the quilt, only its tail sticking out. Its voice came muffled through the thick blankets. ‘Of course I recognise him, you stupid girl. He’s my … er … my enemy!’

  ‘Your enemy?’

  ‘Well, he took me apart and put me in newspaper, didn’t he?’ The Crow’s jewel eye peeped wickedly out at her. ‘I don’t want to go with him. Don’t let him find me!’

  Seren shook her head. She had no idea if any of this was true. Was the Crow really scared? She frowned and said, ‘All right. But in return you come down into the cellar with me, and we look for Tomos.’

  The quilt shuddered. ‘No chance!’

  Seren turned to the door. ‘Then I’ll go down there and tell him where you are.’

  ‘You won’t,’ the Crow screeched, ‘and if you do I’ll make myself invisible, or I’ll turn myself into an ant or…’ It stopped.

  Far below, the knock
er on the front door rang out. Three heavy thuds echoed through the house.

  Seren smiled sweetly. ‘Well?’

  The Crow lay flat and still under the quilt. ‘OK,’ it whispered. ‘It’s a deal.’

  Here’s a globe of greenest glass

  And a silver dress.

  Seren waited at the top of the stair, listening to the voices below. Mrs Villiers’ high calm voice, and the stranger’s agitated one. She was worried. This would mean telling lies, and Mrs Villiers would know and would send her back to St Mary’s.

  The door opened and Mrs Villiers came out, looking up and seeing her where she sat in the slant of moonlight. ‘Come down here!’ she snapped. ‘At once.’

  Seren ran down.

  The stranger was standing on the hearthrug of the blue drawing room, though there was no fire and all the furniture was ghostly under the white covers. As soon as he saw Seren he hurried forward with relief. ‘Oh, thank heaven! It is you! I got your letter… I can’t tell you how scared I was when I got back…’