Seren opened her eyes wide. ‘What letter?’
He was as thin and scared as before. ‘The one you wrote. That’s why I came. For the Crow.’
She took a deep breath and said quickly. ‘I’m sorry, there must be some mistake. I haven’t got the Crow.’
Mrs Villiers mouth made a perfect O of dismay. ‘Why, you wicked little girl! Of course you have. I saw it myself in your room.’
Seren felt uncomfortable. But she had to face them and keep up the lie if she wanted to find Tomos, though the thin man’s face was making her feel very sorry for him.
‘I mean I haven’t got it anymore. I put the key in and wound it up and it flew away. It flew out of the window.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Mrs Villiers marched to the door. ‘I know exactly where it is and I’ll fetch it now, Mr er…’
She went out.
Seren went after her, and waited anxiously at the foot of the stairs. She could hear the thin man pacing the room. When Mrs Villiers started coming down, she hurried back in.
Immediately the man stepped forward. He took his hat off and Seren saw his white face with its anxious blue eyes. ‘You wound it up?’ He stared at her. ‘What happened then?’
‘I told you. It flew. Out of the window. It made me jump so much!’
He was silent. Then he whispered. ‘Did it do anything else? I mean did it … speak?’
Seren kept her gaze innocent. ‘Speak? How could it speak?’
He looked at her and she looked back and for a moment she knew he knew, but he didn’t have time to answer because Mrs Villiers swept back in, looking hot and annoyed.
‘Seren! I’ve searched your room and your bed and your wardrobe and the toy is not there. This is ridiculous! You can’t keep something that belongs to someone else, that’s theft. Where is the thing?’
‘I don’t know,’ Seren said with perfect truth. She wondered where the Crow was hiding.
‘You must!’
‘I don’t.’
Mrs Villiers looked furious. ‘Tell me now!’
‘I can’t.’ Her voice was small but determined.
‘That’s it! I’ve had enough of your behaviour here. I will have you sent back tomorrow.’
‘But…’
‘Don’t speak to me!’ The housekeeper turned on the thin man. ‘I can only apologise, Mr er … for this girl’s behaviour. Leave it with me, please. I will get to the bottom of this. If you call back at this time tomorrow I assure you I will have your … parcel waiting for you.’
The thin man looked as if he was barely listening. His blue eyes were fixed on Seren. Then sadly, he said, ‘I think I understand what has happened here. Please don’t punish the girl. It’s not really her fault. I know who is to blame… He hates being taken apart so much and he’s so…’
‘Punish!’ Mrs Villiers smiled icily. ‘Leave that to me. Tomorrow, then. Goodbye.’
She ushered the man out. Seren had one glimpse of his face, anxious and bewildered, and then he was gone, and the murmur of voices died away along the corridor.
She waited. She was really scared now.
When Mrs Villiers came back they faced each other in silence across the dark and cheerless room. ‘I have no idea what sort of person you are,’ the tall woman said quietly, ‘but I will not have a thief in the house. For the last time, where is this toy?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I see.’ Her hands were knotted together in anger; she drew herself up. ‘Well then, you will go to your room at once without supper and you will pack your bag. Tomorrow Denzil will drive you to the station.’
‘Tomorrow?’
Mrs Villiers nodded, grimly. ‘You will have a one-way ticket back to the orphanage and I will write to Lady Mair and explain that her generosity has been wasted on a thief and a liar. And that is only what you deserve, you wicked, wicked little girl!’
A great sob rose up in Seren’s throat. Suddenly she just wanted to blurt everything out, that she was doing this for Tomos, that it wasn’t fair, any of it. But she managed to keep silent.
Mrs Villiers rang the bell and Denzil appeared so quickly that he had obviously been listening outside.
‘Take her upstairs. No supper.’
Seren followed him out. Looking back, she saw Mrs Villiers had turned her back, and was staring into the dull red coals of the hearth, her arms folded.
Denzil said nothing. The house was a great darkness. They went along its corridors and everywhere the moon was slanting in, in lozenges and rectangles of silver.
Finally he turned and looked at her. ‘You all right, girl?’
‘Fine.’
‘Wish I knew what you were up to.’
‘Nothing,’ she whispered.
‘Wish I believed that.’ At her door he stopped. ‘Keep your window closed and your door shut. There’s a bitter coldness in the house tonight. An icy silence. I can feel it.’
‘You mean The Family, don’t you?’
His face was dim in the candle shadows. He said, ‘Don’t talk of Them. They have the boy, we all know that. All the spells in the world won’t bring him back to us. We should have explained it to you, but we don’t speak Their name now.’ For a moment he seemed to forget she was there; his voice went dark and hoarse. ‘Dear Tomos. In what dark place is he? How I miss that boy. What Christmases we had when he was here.’
Seren nodded. She said, ‘Good night, Denzil.’
‘Nos da, Seren bach. I will miss you too. I was getting used to having you here.’
She liked that. Her name, Star. But she was not going anywhere.
In the room she searched hastily but there was no sign of the Crow until a tap-tap on the glass made her look up in alarm.
The Crow’s jewel eye was pressed against the frosty glass. She ran and opened the pane.
The Crow tumbled in, half frozen. ‘I cannot feel my feet!’
She peeped beyond it, but the thin man, if he was still there, was lost in the shadows of the trees, where they lay long and blue under the moon. The lawns shone ghostly white under the stars.
The night seemed to hold its breath, cold and intent.
Seren went back and climbed onto the bed. The Crow sat in a shivering heap in front of the fire, small drips of water melting from it and making a wet stain on the rug.
‘They’re sending me back.’
‘Expeccccted,’ the Crow’s beak chattered.
‘How can I stop them? How can I make them keep me here?’
The Crow looked at her over one shoulder. Then it hopped over to the table where Tomos’s diary lay and flicked the pages with one wing-tip. ‘I was reading this. The boy’s handwriting is a disgrace and he should have the cane for untidiness but this bit is interesting. Listen.’
In its croaky voice it began to read.
Today I met a strange person in the lane. She was bent over like an old woman, and she had a basket on her arm. ‘Buy from me, young master,’ she said.
I told her I didn’t have any money, which was true.
‘Then take a present from me,’ she said. She held out a snow globe. How could she know I collect them! It was a really beautiful one. The glass is green and thick, and there is an icy palace inside.
I couldn’t resist. I took it, though I shouldn’t have.
Seren stared at the globe, then picked it up. ‘This one!’
‘Clearly.’ The Crow touched its beak, as if pushing up a pair of spectacles. Then it read on.
‘Come and be a prince there,’ she said.
That made me scared. I just said ‘Diolch’ and ran. When I turned back she was going into the wood. But I think, under her hood I saw long white hair.
And a silver dress.’
It looked up. They both stared at the snow globe.
‘Interesting.’ The Crow closed the book and tipped its head. ‘A magic object, perhaps. Something to tempt him.’
‘The other day,’ Seren said slowly, ‘when I shook it just a little b
it…’
‘It snowed. And to stop them sending you back, you need…’
‘Snow! Lots of snow!’
She reached out her hand, took the snow globe from the bedside table and, very carefully, her eyes on the dark of the window, she shook it, hard.
In the small world under the glass, flakes swirled around the palace of ice.
And at once, outside the dark panes, the snow began to fall, harder and harder, not in a soft drift but with the sleety rattle of a storm, and the wind roared against the roof. In seconds, there were already patches of white that slid and built up on the lead bars. Seren dragged the blanket around her and padded to the window and looked out.
All the night was a great blizzard. The stars were gone and the woods were lost in whiteness.
She climbed into bed and lay watching the snow fall and fall.
‘Now no one can take me anywhere,’ she said.
The clock is grey with dust
In the land where time is lost.
For a night and a day the snow fell. The house grew colder. Ice formed on the windows, and small birds came to the sills and pecked at the crumbs Denzil threw out for them. Snow banked up high against the doors, the branches of the trees became laden with it, and only tiny berries of holly were bright in a white world.
Wrapped in a shawl, Seren sat watching from the window of her room. There was no way they could send her back. No one could even get outside until late in the day when the blizzard finally stopped, and she heard the scrape of a shovel and knew Gwyn or Denzil were out there somewhere, clearing a path.
The Crow spent the time huddled up by the small fire Mrs Villiers had allowed her to light. It was a picture of misery. ‘I have never been so cold,’ it shivered.
‘At least the thin man can’t get at you,’ Seren said with satisfaction.
The snow globe stood on her table, green and glinting.
She dared not shake it again.
Finally, as darkness fell, and the light from the lamp in the window sent a faint glimmer across the blue shadows of the snow, Denzil brought her up a tray of supper.
‘We’ve cleared a path,’ he said.
She knew what that meant. Tomorrow the carriage horses would be saddled and she would be driven to the station. But she just smiled at him.
He went away, shaking his head. She tried not to worry. Because at midnight tonight the bell would ring. It had to! As it had for Tomos.
It was hard to settle. She wandered aimlessly round the room, until the Crow muttered, ‘Oh, you’re making my head ache. Sit still!’
Instead she put on her oldest dress, stuffed some of the bread and cheese from the supper tray in her pocket, and wrapped her shawl around her.
When the clock struck ten she took some paper and a pencil from the bedside table and wrote,
Dear Mrs Villiers
I have gone to find Tomos. Please don’t worry. I will be back as soon as I can.
Yours sinserely
Seren
She put it in an envelope, wrote Mrs Villiers on it and propped it on her pillow. She climbed up onto the bed and lay back.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘we wait. You keep watch.’
The Crow snorted.
The bell woke her.
Instantly she jumped up.
It rang with such a sharp, silvery urgency she thought everyone in the house must have heard it.
But if they had, no one stirred.
The room was bitterly cold and the world outside a whirling spiral of snowfall. The Crow was asleep, and snoring. She slid out and shook it and as soon as it opened its beak she grabbed it shut.
‘Shh! The bell rang! I’m going down there.’ She took a breath. ‘You’re not scared, are you?’
Carefully, she took her hand away. The Crow wrinkled its beak and spat out imaginary fluff and looked at her in disdain.
‘I’m a prince. I don’t get scared.’
Seren grinned. ‘Come on then.’ She grabbed her coat, struggled into it, and pushed Tomos’s diary into one pocket. After a second’s thought, she pushed the snow globe into the other. Then she slipped out.
The Crow flew after her, a swooping shadow.
They hurried downstairs. All the house was strange. Snow-glimmer lit ceilings and odd corners with a reflected whiteness; the clocks seemed to tick louder and the eyes in the portraits on the walls watched them pass beneath. She felt as if the books and the furniture and the mirrors all were alive and interested. Doors opened easily and no floorboards creaked. It was as if the house wanted her to flit silently through its secrets, as if it wanted her to find Tomos.
She tiptoed past the kitchens. The fire had burned down, the ashes settled. She could still smell the faint remnants of Denzil’s tobacco.
The cat, asleep on a stool, lifted its head and watched her pass, but it didn’t get up.
She came to the top of the cellar stairs and began to creep down them. They were cold and damp, and her breath made great clouds here. It was slippery, too, and scary, but she thought of Tomos pattering down here in his slippers and that gave her some courage, because only she could find him now. And when he came back how Lady Mair would cry out with joy!
At the bottom of the steps she lifted her candle high, and looked round.
She saw a glow. A golden shimmering glow.
It was coming from the adjoining cellar.
‘See that?’ she whispered.
The Crow said, ‘Yes. Very strange.’ It flitted through the arch. Seren followed.
The cellar was small and vaulted and the light was so bright she didn’t need the candle. She placed it on the floor in its holder.
The air quivered, as if the echo of the bell still hung. And there, before her, were the golden stairs.
They seemed misty, almost shimmering, but they were real enough and they ran through the wall and down into the floor. If she stared hard she could still see the bricks and the stone slabs through them, but they were insubstantial now, faded to nothing.
She came to the top step and looked down.
The stairs twisted into a golden haze so she couldn’t see where they went.
‘What do you think?’
The Crow perched on the rail and tipped its dark head. ‘I think you’re scared.’
Seren nodded. She licked dry lips. ‘Yes, I’m scared,’ she said, ‘but I’m not going to let that stop me.’ Then she began to walk down.
It was so strange! The steps weren’t there, and yet they were. The light was golden and it was all round her, but it wasn’t warm. In fact the further down she went the colder her heart and her fingers felt.
‘Are you here?’ she whispered.
‘Right by you. In fact…’
She felt the Crow’s awkward weight land on her shoulder. ‘That’s better,’ she said.
Did the stairs twist left or right? She couldn’t tell. But gradually, as she spiralled down them, the golden glow faded and became more of a flickering light, and the air grew colder and colder until she could see rock walls, glistening wet with seams of coal and quartz.
‘It’s a cave…’
‘Shh!’ The Crow’s warning was right in her ear. ‘Listen!’
Music. It was far, far away but she could hear it. It was so sweet; it made her want to both cry and laugh at the same time. She jammed her hands over her ears. ‘I can’t stop hearing it!’
‘Take this,’ the Crow said hastily.
It plucked one feather from its tail and held it out; she took it.
‘Oh,’ she said, hugely disappointed.
Because now the music was gone.
‘Keep the feather on you and you won’t hear it.’
‘I want to hear it.’
‘Yes, of course you do, stupid. That’s how they get you.’ The Crow sniffed and watched her tuck the feather in her belt. ‘So. Which way now?’
They had reached the bottom of the stairs. The tunnel divided into three in front of them. The right-hand one had golden wal
ls of stone, the centre silver walls of ice, the left-hand one bronze walls of metal.
Seren frowned. ‘How am I supposed to know?’
‘Well, I don’t suppose it matters.’ The Crow peered into the tunnels curiously. ‘Wherever They want you go, they’ll lead you.’
‘Left then.’ In the stories it was always the third one that was right, never the gold or silver. Her heart thudding, Seren stepped into the bronze tunnel.
It ran straight ahead. Her footsteps made a weird metallic clatter, echoing all round. She felt like that girl in the book, Alice, deep under the ground, where everything was strange. Especially when they came to the well.
It lay in her path, a round hole, all blackness. A ladder made of bronze rungs led down it and the tunnel ended beyond in a solid wall.
‘You go down first and see what’s there,’ she whispered.
‘No chance,’ the Crow snapped. It perched on the ladder top and gazed down. ‘Looks deep.’
Seren shrugged. She knotted up her skirt, swung herself over the edge and began to descend the ladder.
She went down and down and down, until there was nothing but darkness, and her hands were sore, and her breath was gone, and her own weight dragged at her.
The Clockwork Crow Page 8