by Pauline Fisk
'We can't get through,' she said.
Jim went up close. 'Yes we can. There's a hole down there. Between the stones. It's not very big, but then neither are we. There's been a fall of stones, that's all. Once we've got through, it'll be all clear again on the other side.'
Bonnie pointed her torch and found the hole and wished she hadn't. 'I can't,' she said.
Jim looked straight up at her in the torch light. 'We've got to,’ he replied.
Bonnie's stomach lurched. She wanted to be sick, because he was right. She wanted to cry but instead, without a word, she got down on hands and knees and peered into the hole.
'I'll go first if you'd like me to,' Jim said.
'Oh no,' she replied. Her voice shook. 'If you went first, I might get left behind. I mightn't be brave enough to follow you and then I'd be stuck here on my own, in the dark.'
She took a deep breath, pushed her head into the hole and started wriggling. She shifted, inch by inch and from side to side, till she was in up to her waist. Jim touched her on the ankle. 'You're doing great,' she heard him say. His voice was flat and close, but he might have been a million miles away. She was in a dark world of her own. She felt the stones around her shift and she thought, 'They're all loose. They're not fixed at all. I could move one of them and some great boulder would come down and crush my head or, even worse — because at least I'd be dead then and wouldn't know any more — it could come down and trap me and I'd die here slowly.'
'I'm coming out,' she called.
'What?' Jim cried.
'I'm coming back.'
She began to wriggle but nothing moved.
'Help me!'
Jim didn't hear. The boulders shifted.
'HELP ME!!' Bonnie screamed. And then she felt Jim’s hands on her ankles. She felt him tugging at her. She felt the whole hill, the whole, great hill upon her back. She couldn't breathe. She wriggled furiously. He tugged again. And then she was out!
Bonnie lay on the ground for a long, long time, in the mud, in the slime, in the clinging cold. She couldn't speak, and a million hopes, dreams, aspirations for the whole rest of her life on Highholly Hill faded away in the darkness of that hole. She knew she'd never find Wild Edric, knew she'd have to help Jim light that firepit. Knew she'd have to make the journey back up into and beyond the sky.
'I can't go on,' she said.
28
'It's all right. You did your best. You were very brave, but I think we'd better find our way out of here,' Jim said.
Bonnie got to her feet. She was stiff with clammy mud. It seemed to have got in everywhere, through the zip of her waterproofs, into her trousers, through her gloves, in her hair. In the thin light of the torch she stood looking utterly wretched. Jim reached out a hand and touched her lightly.
'You did your best,' he said again, and they smiled sadly at each other. 'Let's get out of here. That torch of yours is getting a bit faint.'
Bonnie handed it to him. 'You lead the way this time,' she said dejectedly.
They struggled together, back the way they'd come. Up and down the switchback passageway. Through the stream. Past the waterfall again. It didn't look like a bridal veil now that hope had gone. It looked like an ordinary waterfall. The air was still full of sparkling droplets, but the living, fluttering albino moth might never have been.
'Just like Edric and Godda,' Bonnie thought, and she remembered something Mum had said once. It seemed so long ago. 'Lots of people look for Edric and Godda and never find them.’
Suddenly the torch went out. They stood in the dripping, splashing darkness. 'I've got batteries,' she heard her voice say, woodenly. 'It'll be all right.'
She unzipped her waterproof, found the other batteries and she and Jim fumbled to put them in. Jim flicked the switch on, and nothing happened.
'But they're new batteries.'
'They're wet.'
'You mean…'
'We'll have to feel our way home.'
Bonnie remembered the way up ahead - the great void in which it would be so easy to get lost, the little, narrow tunnel with its low roof which would force them to slither flat on their faces through the mud. The thought of doing such a thing in utter blackness made her shiver all over. She thought of eels and frogs and slimy things that might be up there. She thought of Grandmother Marvell loose somewhere out on the hill. What if she'd followed them in here? What if she waited somewhere up ahead in the darkness?
'Stay close,' Jim said. 'We can't get lost. There's only one way out. We just keep following the passage.'
He inched his way forward through the splashing stream. Bonnie did indeed cling close, but even though she felt Jim, she couldn't see him. The water beneath her feet turned to squelching mud. 'We must be in that big cave now,' Jim said, and then, 'I think I've found our tunnel. You'll have to bend down.'
Bonnie felt Jim’s body bend down. She felt his heels ahead of her as she bent down too. She smelt the dank, soft mud beneath her hands and knees.
'Jim! I can't bear this! How do we know we’ve got the right tunnel? Don't go so fast. Wait for me…’
Bonnie was crawling through a nightmare, a black, close, awful dream. 'It's black like Grandbag's coat,' she thought. 'That's what it's like. And we'll never get out of it. We'll crawl round here for ever till we die.'
She pushed herself forward all the same and suddenly, completely unexpectedly, began to realize that she could see something. What was it? Bonnie blinked, stared and recognised Jim's heel right in front of her face. It moved away. She followed it. Then she found that she could see dim, gleaming walls as well.
'You've found another torch,' Jim said, relief ringing in his voice.
'No, I haven't,' Bonnie replied.
With difficulty, Jim turned his head. Bonnie could see his streaked, dirty face. She could see his muddy hair. 'What's that underneath your waterproof?' he said.
'What’s what?' Bonnie said.
'Something's glowing underneath your waterproof,' Jim said.
Bonnie looked down. Jim was right. She rolled onto her side, unzipped the waterproof and Godda's necklace fell out. It didn't sting her. It didn't hurt. It just glowed in the darkness like a chandelier, and the whole tunnel burned softly.
'We can see again, we can see!' Jim cried.
Bonnie gazed at the jewels, finding herself reminded of the angels' hands that had once softened her fall.
'Edric and Godda!' she whispered in amazement. She looked around her. She saw colours in the rocks that the torch beam hadn’t shown. Reds, yellows and pinks encrusted on the walls amongst flowing lines of grey.
'Look, Bonnie, look,' said Jim, pointing at silver rivulets that had cut paths in the coloured rocks.
Bonnie looked and looked and looked. It was as Arabella had said. There was another world beneath the hill. They did only know the half of it. She struggled, but couldn't find the right words. 'I'm still cold,' she said instead. 'I'd still give anything to see the sky.'
Jim laughed at her. She wondered if these deep passageways had ever heard laughter before. 'Yes, of course,' he said. ‘I’m cold too. Come on.'
He started crawling again. After a few minutes, the tunnel roof shot up and they were able to walk side by side. The cave roof above them was streaked with yet more colours. Everything seemed so different now that the darkness had been banished.
'This isn't the way we came,' said Bonnie.
'Yes, it is.'
'But we had to crawl on our hands and knees.'
'There’s no other way we could have come.'
Bonnie told herself Jim had to be right. She kept on walking and heard more water ahead of her. The passage bent sharply. She followed it round and a shower of fine spray burst out of the rock in front of her - a rainbow of fine colours caught in the soft light of the necklace. She stopped and looked at it, puzzled.
'We never passed that.’
'No,' Jim agreed.
'We're lost.'
‘I'm sorry, Bonnie. You’
re right.'
Bonnie felt her sickness return. The spectacle of the rainbow spray failed to comfort her. What if they were lost forever under the hill?
'There's something here,’ Jim suddenly said. 'Look...'
Bonnie followed his gaze. Halfway up the rocky wall, clear in the necklace-light she saw a hole. Beyond it she could hear the gurgling of an underground spring. Jim began to climb.
'Jim, you don’t know if it’s safe!'
Jim ignored her. He hauled himself up through the hole and out of sight. Bonnie heard him shout - and then she heard a splash, and then everything went silent.
'Jim, Jim!' Bonnie scrambled up towards the hole herself. Before she could reach it, however, Jim's head appeared, his teeth chattering with the cold, a big grin all over his face. 'We've found a well!'
'We’ve what?'
'I'm in a well,' Jim said. 'A proper well, made of bricks, and it's got rungs up the side. I can't see the top, and it looks climbable. Come on...'
His head disappeared. Bonnie squeezed through the hole after him. The necklace illuminated a dark pool beneath her, and small red bricks and Jim's disappearing body up above. She followed his lead, reaching for the rungs then climbing steadily until they surely should have reached the top.
Suddenly Jim stopped.
'What is it?' Bonnie called.
'I can't go on.'
'Why not?'
'There's a cover here which I can't move.'
It was too cruel. The outside world, the hills, the open sky could be just feet away. 'We’ve got to get out!' Bonnie cried. 'Shout! Someone might hear us.'
Jim didn't shout. Instead he bowed his head and set his shoulders against what, for all he knew, could have been the whole weight of the hill. He heaved. The cover moved. Bonnie saw a starlit shaving of sky before it was all too much for him and he let the cover down again.
'Jim, Jim, you're nearly there! Don’t give up. Come on... '
Jim shoved again, Bonnie pushing from behind him. The cover trembled, then flew skyward in one great burst which took him by surprise and sent him shooting after it. It clattered onto the ground and Jim tumbled out on top of it. Bright light flooded down upon Bonnie. A circle that seemed as wide as the world itself shone above her. It was the circle of the sky.
29
Jim got to his feet. He was in the orchard. The fog had gone and so — just — had the night. A new, clear morning struggled for life between the branches of the trees and the cold was fearsome. He turned back towards the well to offer his hand. But without his help, Bonnie had already scrambled out.
In the early morning light, the world was sweet despite the cold. Bonnie looked with new understanding at the crisp grass beneath her feet. How many times had she run up and down the orchard and never known about the tunnels underneath, the streams, the waterfalls, the rainbow sprays and white moths? She peered between the trees at the valley. What did she know of that world too? What other valleys, other farmhouses, cities, teeming streets, busy millions lived out there beyond Highholly Hill? And up in the sky, beyond the planets and the stars, beyond even the world she'd come from, what lay up there?
'You’re turning blue,' Jim said. 'I think you'd better get back indoors and change your clothes. You oughtn't just to stand there.'
Bonnie broke off dreaming and looked at him. He was blue too. His teeth chattered and he squelched every time he moved. She managed a shaky smile. 'The price of being human, hey Jim?'
He didn't smile back. His eyes fell on the holly grove up the meadow. Bonnie looked too. She knew what went through his mind. 'You don't have to go with me,’ she said. 'I've been thinking. You could stay, you know. It wasn't your coming that brought the cruelty of Grandbag to this place. It was mine. You should stay, you know. Think how poor Mrs Onions will feel if you go. And when Arabella returns from wherever she’s gone and finds I'm no longer here, she's going to be very lonely. I'd feel so much better if she still had a friend.'
Jim looked hard at her. 'I mean it,' Bonnie said. 'All you have to do is help to launch me. I'd be all right then, wouldn't I?'
'It's the sun and smoke that flies you, not me,' Jim agreed. 'You couldn't get off the ground without me. But once you're up... '
Once she was up. The thought of soaring up through the sky again made something within Bonnie - despite all her distress - tingle with excitement. She stared at the holly grove. If she had to go, she wanted to go now while she felt able to do it. After all, it had to be done before Mum realized what had happened to Arabella.
'Let's make a start. Let’s go and light the firepit. Let’s get the balloon out of the barn before anybody gets up.'
'We can't do it now,' Jim said. 'It's a night job filling a balloon like that. It'll take hours. We'll do it tonight if the weather conditions are right. What we want is another clear, bright dawn to launch it. And thank you, Bonnie. About me staying, I mean.'
'It would make it easier for me if you did.'
'You're sure?'
'I'm absolutely certain.'
Jim nodded. It would have been unthinkable once, but here he was with a choice. He was a real boy, and he made his choice freely and now here was Bonnie hugging him for it, both of them squelching together, clammy with mud.
‘Go indoors and change,' Jim said again. 'You look dreadful. If you stay like that you'll end up catching a chill, then you won't be well enough to go at all.'
Together they hauled the cover back over the well and piled on the few stones that Jim had knocked over when he fell. Then Jim said he'd see her later. Bonnie watched him squelch up through the orchard before turning, herself, back to the house.
'If Dad finds out I've been on the hill again, he’ll be wanting to have words with me,' she chattered through her teeth. 'Let's hope no one's awake yet. Let's hope I can get back in without anybody seeing me.'
In the scullery Bonnie peeled out of her waterproofs, hid them behind the log pile and surveyed the cold, damp mess which the rest of her clothes had become. Listening at the kitchen door, she heard no sound of life, so she opened it cautiously and tiptoed in. The kitchen was empty. The clock ticked half-past seven. She felt as if she'd been gone not hours but days. She removed her soggy socks and dried her feet and crept past the cats, up the stairs.
Mum was dressing Florence. The door was ajar and Bonnie could hear Florence's baby talk as she tiptoed past. She shut herself in the bathroom. How was she going to explain Arabella’s disappearance? Her brain was frozen. Her whole being was one lump of pain. She filled up the big white bath, climbed into it and melted the pain away. When she could think again, felt human again, she dried herself, wrapped a towel around her and returned to the bedroom to contemplate the problem properly.
'Oh, there you are,' said Arabella. 'I was beginning to think you'd gone somewhere. I was getting worried.'
Bonnie's stopped, shocked, and felt her new-found warmth drain away. Arabella sat on her bed brushing her hair. The bed was made. She was dressed.
'But you... I mean… ' Bonnie pointed weakly at the wardrobe. 'I... I thought…’
Arabella stopped brushing. For a flicker of a moment, empty dull eyes like the Jake-thing's eyes searched Bonnie's face. Then she started brushing again and a flurry of uncharacteristic chatter poured out of her.
'I'll just finish my hair. There. It's done. I'll go and see if Mum and Dad are up. I'm hungry. I'll open out the stove and start the breakfast. Have you noticed the fog's gone? Mum says we won't do any more lessons till after Christmas now. Did I tell you?’
'You're not Arabella!' Bonnie said.
The chatter went on.
'You're not Arabella.'
'Have you thought about Christmas presents? You know, it's really time. I thought I’d make sweets for everyone. Wrap them in silver foil and make pretty boxes. We could do it today if we haven't got any lessons. If you want to help, that is…'
Bonnie sank down on her own bed. The words went on and on. Her eyes looked out of the window to t
he path where Jim had gone. How long she sat like that, she didn't know. Nor did she know what she thought in all that time. Suddenly the Arabella-thing got up and touched her with a stone-cold finger. Bonnie nearly jumped out of her skin.
'Are you coming down for breakfast then?'
'Oh. Yes.'
Bonnie flung on clean clothes and they both made their way downstairs past the portraits of the ancestors. Did they know, Bonnie wondered, the abomination that walked past them? Did they care?
Dad was eating breakfast. Florence was playing with the cats. Mum looked up as the girls came in and the Arabella-thing began chattering again.
'I'm almost glad that this time tomorrow I'll be gone,' Bonnie thought. 'This is going to be a long hard day.’
Mum asked Bonnie to pick up Florence, put her in her chair and give her breakfast. Bonnie thought, 'This is the last time she'll ever ask me to do that… '
And so it continued all day, and it was a long hard day. Bonnie ate her last lunch, watched her last afternoon shadows on the wall, lit a fire in the inglenook for the last time, saw her last sunset. And, through it all, the Arabella-thing chattered incessantly as if the emptiness inside her would be revealed if she dared to stop.
After tea, Mum departed to do what she described as 'Christmas things' in her sewing- room. Dad drew himself and his account book close to the fire and said he still had some catching up to do. The Arabella-thing announced her intention of going to bed. She looked exhausted. Plainly she couldn't keep up the chatter any more.
After she'd gone Bonnie strode about restlessly, eventually announcing that she was going up to bed too. She couldn't bear the last chiming of the clock, the last embers on the last fire, the last sight of Dad's head bowed over his books…
'All right,' said Dad. 'Good idea. After last night’s nonsense you could do with an early night.’
'How little he knows of last night's nonsense,' Bonnie thought and, if she hadn't been so sad, she'd have smiled. She lingered in the doorway. Despite herself, she drank in the end of her very last day.