Lucy stifled a gasp. It was her mother’s nightdress drawer. How awful! This strange man was peeking into her mother’s private things! Worse than that, the man reached in and very deliberately picked up a pink flannel nightdress. But the man did not stop at the nightdress—he looked beneath it. So he was searching for something.
The man removed an old green leather-bound book—only it wasn’t really a book, because it didn’t seem to have many pages, if any at all. It had a leather binding, with loose leather straps hanging from its spine. Perhaps it was not what the man had hoped would be there, and perhaps the real thing was well-hidden and protected by their parents, and this was merely to put the man off the trail.
But the man did not seem disappointed. He simply wiped the empty green binding with his sleeve, then leaned over. To Jasper and Lucy’s astonishment and disgust, the intruder leaned over and kissed it. He gazed upon it as if it were something to revere and adore. He looked at it in awe, lowering his head as if in prayer. Then, treating it as if it were the Crown Jewels, he gently replaced the book, wiping off some speck of dust that may or may not have rudely settled upon it. Then, with careful neatness, he returned the pink flannel nightdress to its place, covering the green leather thing, and closed the drawer with care.
To the horror of the children, it was at that moment when he whipped his head around and looked directly at the door.
Jasper and Lucy pulled the mirror back, ran as fast as they could to their bedrooms, and jumped into their beds. Down the hall, they could hear that door creak open, though it was quite remarkable that they could hear anything over the loud pounding of their hearts. They both held their breath until the pitter-patter of the man’s feet disappeared down the stairs.
For the rest of that night, neither Lucy nor Jasper could sleep. Alone in their own beds, they watched the sun come up in the morning.
On the way down to breakfast, Jasper and Lucy passed their parents’ room. The door was wide open, the bed was rumpled, and their mother’s brush and father’s slippers were out of place. The water glass, half full, sat, as it had the night before, on their mother’s bedside table next to the dust-free jug. For all intents and purposes, it looked as if their parents had been there, slept there, and left in a hurry that morning. And if Jasper and Lucy hadn’t seen otherwise, they would have believed it.
“Come on,” Jasper said to Lucy, the heat rising in his face.
“I’m coming,” said Lucy, who stood in the doorway for a moment.
“What?” Jasper asked, turning to his sister.
“I... I need to go potty,” she said quickly. “I’ll meet you down there.”
“Lucy? What are you thinking? What are you up to?”
“I just don’t want to leave the green thing in Mummy’s drawer,” Lucy said. “I want to take it.”
“Well...” Jasper thought about it. “I suppose. I’ll keep a lookout while you get it.”
Lucy hugged her brother and stole into the room to get the green leather book. Then, together, they ran back to Lucy’s room and placed it on her bed. Upon quick inspection, it was nothing but two covers and a spine. There were signs that it had once held pages—more than just the one—but those were reduced to flakes and torn edges. Now it had only one blank page, made of linen. From the green leather cover fluttered petals, crumpled and faded, of long-dead flowers.
Hiding the book under Lucy’s bed, they hurried from the room, stopped to take a few calming breaths, and continue on their way down for breakfast.
“Sorry, darlings, but your parents have gone to the laboratory ... early this morning,” said Rosie, calmer and more comfortable than she had been in the last couple of days. She spread raspberry jam on the crumpets and served chilled honeyed milk and bowls full of blueberry compote and cream. A bouquet of Sweet William stood in the middle of the table.
“Do you think they’ll be home to tuck us in?” asked Jasper, trying to keep the anger from his voice.
“I, well, I—”
“They didn’t come home last night, did they?” said Lucy, plucking a stem of Sweet William.
“You can look in their room, I haven’t had a chance to—”
“He did it,” said Lucy. “The man in black.”
Rosie gasped and ran into the kitchen in a flurry. Jasper and Lucy, leaving their breakfasts untouched, got up from the table and went straight to the nursery.
They said very little that morning, but they did a lot of thinking. They decided to remain cloistered in their rooms and in the nursery for the rest of the day. They looked at the green thing but could not understand its significance. Jasper built two towers with blocks and Lucy connected them with a bridge of pencils. Then Jasper worked on his propeller designs and reconnected the bell in case someone returned to their parents’ room.
Lucy took out the green leather binding again. She looked at the faded petals as they turned to dust between her nibbled fingers.
Around midday, hunger overcame the children’s resolve. When they snuck down to steal bread and fruit from the kitchen, they found the dining room as they had left it that morning. Finding it hard to resist Rosie’s breakfast, they quickly nibbled the cream-covered compote grabbed a glass of milk and handfuls of cold crumpets, and dashed back up to the nursery.
They refused to let Rosie into their rooms when she knocked, and did not respond when she asked them down for tea. At bedtime, they pretended not to hear Rosie sing to them from outside the door. They could hear her clucking and sniffling, and both Modest children felt sad for her. But both were adamant about finding out what had happened to their parents, and if hurting Rosie’s feelings was involved, it simply had to be done.
In the morning, the house was very quiet. Still determined and still upset, Lucy and Jasper were not hungry, so they did not go down for breakfast and, instead, spent the morning making plans for what they would say to Rosie and how they would get their answers. But again, around noon, they were famished, so Lucy and Jasper dressed and came down for lunch.
To their surprise, the table was not made, and Rosie was nowhere to be found. The children went into the kitchen and found, left on the table, what was clearly their uneaten breakfast.
As they were about to eat the cold eggs and sausages and pour the lukewarm juice, they heard, once again, the sound of a motorcar pulling up in front of the house. They ran out to see who it was. Rosie stood in the doorway, blowing her nose.
A short heavyset man with a thick black overcoat and a tall black pointed hat with a wide brim, which flapped down in the front and back, climbed out of the car. Another man, not thin but not fat, of medium height, with a short jacket, a wide hat, and thick woolen gloves, all black, was with him. Both wore dark glasses, and their hats were so low on their faces one could not see them well at all.
The men took Rosie gently by the elbows and escorted her back into the house.
“Bring us the children,” the short man said in the same odd accent as the first strange men in black—the ones who had come to their house in London on that awful day that seemed so long ago.
Unable to run, the children just stood their ground when the men entered the room.
“Oh,” said the medium man upon seeing the steely faces of Jasper and Lucy. “They are already here.”
The two men sat down at the table. Though the fire was lit and the room was quite warm, neither man removed anything from their persons that would have given the children a better look at them. Still, Jasper and Lucy were sure that neither man was the one bouncing on the bed the night before.
“Where are our parents?” said Lucy.
“Your parents are at their laboratory.”
“I want to know where their laboratory is!” said Jasper, sounding more fearsome than he felt.
“We cannot tell you,” said the short man.
“What have you done to them?” cried Lucy from behind Jasper. “You’ve taken Mummy and Daddy and you won’t give them back! Oh, what have you done? Have you
hurt them?”
“Of course not,” said the medium man, who seemed honestly surprised.
“Your parents are very important to us,” said the short man.
“We must have them,” said the medium man.
Lucy gasped in horror. “Have them? Are you going to eat them?”
“What?!” Both men stared.
“Lucy!” said Jasper.
“What is such a question?” the short man grumbled. “What is such nonsense? No more questions. We are here to tell you that you will be going to school.”
“Tomorrow,” said the medium man.
“A car will come for you. Pack what you will need,” said the short man.
“You will be boarding at the school,” said the medium man. “You may come home for weekends and holidays, as long as schedules, well, schedules permitting.”
“Schedules...” Jasper struggled to overcome his shock. “Holidays... how long are we expected to be here?”
“Long, perhaps,” said the medium man.
“It is forever or not,” said the short man.
“What?” Jasper was utterly confused.
“Or not. Long, short, or not,” said the medium man.
Both men stood and walked to the front door. The short man turned back. “Ah, this is for you,” he said, handing an envelope to Jasper.
With that, the men were gone, leaving a cloud of smelly smoke behind them as the motorcar sped down the drive.
The envelope was addressed to Jasper and Lucy. It was in their mother’s own familiar handwriting. Lucy tore the envelope and pulled out the letter.
Chers enfants, Darling Jasper and Lucy, our wonderful children—
We must be brief and cannot say much. However, we understand you have been worried about us. Rosie was very concerned for you. We want you to know that we are fine, except that we do miss you. Our work is forcing us to remain here at the laboratory. It is very important work and we cannot be with you right now. As much as anything, you must stay safe. Do not make trouble for yourselves or for us. Vous comprenez? Do not make yourselves stand out in a crowd or seem to be doing anything odd. Do nothing that appears out of the ordinary. Be invisible, if you can.
Please know that we love you and we will see you soon, aussitôt que possible.
N’ayez pas peur, nos chers. Do not be afraid. You must never forget that a treasure is the bird in the hand, not something else, n’oubliez pas.
Nous vous embarassons très très fort.
Love,
Mummy and Daddy
P.S. Remember Lewes Castle.
Jasper and Lucy read the letter once, twice, and three times.
“It’s Mummy’s handwriting,” said Lucy. “See the curly Ms, and the twist in the Fs? I’m sure it’s Mummy. And only she would know that we would remember Lewes Castle.”
“I don’t remember Lewes Castle,” said Jasper. “I mean, I remember the castle in Lewes, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“When you were eight and I was two, we went on holiday to the south of England, to Lewes.”
Of course, Jasper thought, only Lucy would remember something that happened when she was two.
“You know Lewes, Jasper,” said Lucy, mistaking his incredulity for forgetfulness. “It’s in Sussex. It’s where they have the biggest Guy Fawkes bonfire in the whole world. Remember we went down there for Bonfire Night?”
“I remember that,” Jasper said.
“Well, we went to Sussex for the Lewes Bonfire Night, and stayed at Thomas Tree House Lodge on the High Street,” said Lucy. “The next morning, we went to the castle. It was November, so there weren’t flowers that I could put in my hair or throw at you for you to catch, but there were trees. And the flags were so colorful I pretended they were for me and I was a princess and I asked you to play, too, but you wanted to pretend you were a knight in battle and you found a stick and you said it was a sword and you wanted to reach the flags and you climbed up, up and out on the edge of a turret. I ran after you and I found a stick and I ran up, too. Then, a very big man grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you in.
“We thought he was a villain and was trying to kidnap you. He looked like a big horrid scary bad man, too, with a scar on his nose and a rough fuzzy black beard, and I was crying and I was hitting him on the bum with my stick because I couldn’t reach any higher. He plucked you off the edge and carried you, kicking and screaming, and me hitting his bum the whole way down the curly, twisty flights of stairs. Mummy and Daddy were across the courtyard and didn’t even see us. He asked me where Mummy and Daddy were and I pointed my stick at them. He told Mummy and Daddy what had happened, about climbing on the turret. He thought you might fall. He didn’t even tell on me for hitting him.”
“And? Does ‘Remember Lewes Castle’ mean someone is trying to save us?” asked Jasper.
“I don’t know,” said Lucy. “That’s the funny thing. I don’t know what it means.”
Jasper and Lucy, still unsure of the meaning, but without many options, went to their rooms to pack for school.
THE SCHOOL AT SOLE MANNER FARM
OR
JASPER AND LUCY FIND THEIR PLACES
Jasper and Lucy systematically took their clothing, piece by piece, and placed the lot into travel bags. They didn’t even have the emotional strength to tell Rosie they did not want her help, so she busied herself refolding and brushing off everything they had packed.
Jasper’s silence was simply because he could not find the words for protesting yet another departure. But Lucy had a ghostly quality to her, a kind of dark sadness that hung about her like a shadow. Her silence worried Jasper. She had been so eager for answers.
“Lucy.” Jasper touched her hand. Rosie had just left the room to fetch clothes hanging on the clothesline in the garden. Lucy, while refolding her yellow nightdress, had slowed to a stop. She simply stood there, mid-sleeve, looking up at her brother, then quickly down at the floor, neatly placing the sleeve of the nightdress in a fold.
“Lucy,” Jasper repeated.
Lucy slowly raised her head. Her eyes were full of tears. Jasper put his arm around her and she fell onto his chest in great shuddering sobs.
“Oh, Jasper!” she cried, unable to say anything else for nearly a full minute. Taking a deep breath when she finally could, Lucy looked up at her brother searchingly. “It... it’s our fault, isn’t it? It’s all our fault.”
“What do you mean, our fault? Of course it isn’t our fault.”
“It’s our fault they’re sending us away,” she said. “It’s our fault they’re taking us away from Rosie. It’s our fault they’re taking us away from where Mummy and Daddy might come and... and... and...” But she could not continue.
“Oh, Lucy,” Jasper said, taking his sister by the shoulders, “don’t be such a silly thing. It’s never been our fault. Those men were planning to take us to school all along.”
“But they came right after we rang the bell. And we did it and we made them angry and we shouted at Rosie and the men came right away and we made them come because we shouted and made Rosie sad and—”
“Hold on there, Luce,” Jasper said. “No one knows about the bell but us. And we have been shouting at Rosie, but...” Jasper swallowed hard and felt the pang of guilt in his belly. “Well, they’ve obviously been planning to send us to school. I’m sure of it. Rosie may have even mentioned it to us.”
“To you? She never mentioned it to me, Jasper.”
“Well, no. But she never sent for them, I bet. They just... had to set it up. That’s it—they had to find the right school for us to attend.” Jasper didn’t know what he was really saying. He just didn’t want Lucy to blame herself.
“But now we’ve lost Rosie.” Lucy’s eyes were full of tears.
“Nonsense, my precious girl,” said Rosie, standing at the door with an armful of clean laundry. She dropped her bundle onto the bed and pulled the children to her. Rosie was a strong woman and, in her arms, they woul
d have been hugging her whether they had wanted to or not, which they did. “My sweet children, my darlings, my dears, my sweet clann,” she said, “never for a moment can you think I’d deliver you into the hands of harm. Upon the weekends, I shall be here, with treacle tarts and Yorkshire pudding and clotted cream and cakes and roasts and pies and everything this old pair of hands can make to fill your bellies. I’ll be here to sing you to sleep and to sing you to wake. You’ll be back in my arms, right soon...” She kissed them both and they could each feel the tears falling onto the tops of their heads.
“Will you make hot chocolate and honey biscuits?” asked Lucy. She hadn’t had an appetite for days, but suddenly she was famished.
“Well, we don’t have to wait for the weekend,” said Rosie. “Let’s have some hot chocolate right now.” Rosie hurried off to the kitchen to prepare a late hot chocolate for the children.
The morning came and found the children with renewed fears. This time they were not afraid that they would not be returning to Rosie. This time they were afraid of what lay ahead. Neither Modest child could think of a single pleasant school experience, other than the end of term and the subsequent departure. No, the idea that they were going to be sent to a school in which a new set of children were at this very moment preparing to hate them was not an idea they looked forward to.
It was with that weighing on their shoulders that Jasper and Lucy walked solemnly out of the house at One Elm Street, the sound of Rosie’s clucking right behind. As she left, Lucy bent and picked a small flower growing between the paving stones and waved it at Rosie, who, in turn, waved her hankie at the children.
Jasper and Lucy climbed into the waiting carriage. Actually, there were two waiting carriages, one driven by a man wearing dark glasses, a black cape, and a bullfighter’s hat that appeared to have actual horns coming out of either side, the other by a driver who seemed to be so short that he’d have a hard time seeing over the knee guard on the coachman’s seat. That said, his hat was so tall it seemed it would stretch higher than the man himself, if they were placed side by side. Like his fluffy jumper and ballooning trousers, the hat was black. His glasses, or rather goggles, were black, too.
The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black Page 5