The Icicle Illuminarium

by N. J. Gemmell

  And I am released. Can’t talk, I’m so filled up.

  Bert holds Hebe by the shoulders. ‘Your mum said we were close – the other night – when she was talking about our mum. What did she mean by that? Was our mother here once?’

  ‘She must have been. Perhaps. I’ve no idea, I’m sorry. We need to get back now. We’re running out of time. I’ll get in so much trouble …’

  ‘She knows, she’s lying!’ Pin cries.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I say soft. Hebe smiles her thanks.

  ‘The satchel could have been here for weeks. Years. When did you find it?’ Scruff asks.

  ‘I’d seen it ages ago and just left it here. I can’t remember when exactly. Then when Mother mentioned Flora Caddy the other night I thought, hang on, where do I know that name from? Then it dawned. The old bag in the desk. With the book in it.’

  I clutch it to my chest, can’t let it go. Is it a sign? From Mum. A signal that we’re on the right track? She knows I’m a bookworm and wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to explore an old school room. She knows I’d eventually be looking in the teacher’s desk because I’m such a bossy boots, teachery-kind-of-person myself. Did she guess we might one day find our way to this place?

  I pass the book to Bert and hold the abandoned lipstick to my nose – not a trace of scent left; it stopped being used long ago. Mum hated appearing anywhere without it. She was taken by force, must have been.

  ‘She didn’t leave here voluntarily, troops,’ Bert says, echoing my thoughts. ‘Hebe, are there any other clues about Mum?’

  ‘No, just the bag. Take it, Kick. Come on. We haven’t got much time.’

  Mum would never deliberately abandon her belongings. Or she’d come back to them once she knew they were gone. Goosebumps. Unless she couldn’t come back, unless she’s still trapped. Out there somewhere. Waiting for Dad.

  For us.

  ‘We could make a run for it,’ Scruff says, looking around. ‘Right now. Get to the bottom of this, away from here. Back at the Reptilarium.’

  ‘But Basti –’ Pin leaps in.

  ‘If you escape on my watch I’ll be in so much trouble.’ Hebe pleads, ‘Please, for my sake, just go back to your room. For now. Don’t do this to me.’ I stare at her. ‘I thought you were my friends,’ she says quiet.

  Standoff.

  Her face tells us she’s expecting us to let her down, just like all the others do. Scruff’s right, we could easily make a run for it; find a way to a train station, to London. The hunch in Hebe’s shoulders has already absorbed the betrayal. The devastation, all over again. She doesn’t deserve it. Not after the gift of this satchel. She took a huge risk in getting us here and in handing it across. ‘Mum will kill me,’ she whispers despairingly.

  Oh, we don’t doubt it.

  I smile. ‘Come on, Hebe Hedgehog. Let’s get back. We won’t let you down.’

  ‘Thank you, Kick, thank you.’ She’s almost crying with relief.

  ‘No, thank you,’ I say, placing the book back in the satchel and clutching the precious find to my chest. We’re never giving this up now.

  The car on the way home is heavy with silence, thick and rich. Trying to work it out. All four of us. So, Mum was here. Then not. And she left behind something she’d always take with her. And now – what a coincidence – we found it. Setting us more firmly on the path to finding her. Yet it could have been left years ago. And there’s nothing else, no other clue. Except whatever Lady Adora knows. The key is tied up somehow in her Icicle Illuminarium and its past army existence and Mum must have been immersed in it, once, yes. Everything is connected – but how? Bone said he learnt his master spying from people who were stationed here once, his Escape and Evasion Unit. Did they use the village as practice?

  I stare at the mysterious great estate ahead of us, on the horizon, and wonder about all the secrets it still holds: we need some illuminating here ourselves.

  I hold my head. It doesn’t make sense, any of it. We all peer back at rusted tanks and buildings boarded up, at the eerie emptiness of the abandoned village. Then as the enormous house comes closer we Caddys, one by one, slip below the seats.

  For Hebe’s sake, as much as anything else.

  ‘Do you feel it?’ Bert says, crammed next to me and squeezing my hand.

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper, ‘yes.’

  She smiles. ‘Me too.’

  Mum, close.

  Back in the tennis room. Pacing. Thumping the walls.

  Mum’s out there somewhere. While we’re here. Waiting for a car, a Basti, a Bucket, something, anything, to haul us out. Waiting because we couldn’t let Hebe down, because we promised her. Hebe Hebe Hebe – whose side is she on? We’re here because of her. The wall is punched again. Is someone playing tricks on us? We take it in turns to scour the horizon with a pair of referee’s binoculars. A day of sharp, happy blue is fast disappearing and we need to be out in it, getting things done, as the clock ticks endlessly on. Mum’s waiting …

  A car.

  We crowd at the window, peering out. Willing our world to change, come on!

  Darius’s van, screeching to a stop in front of the house. He bounds out and dashes up the steps.

  But nothing else. One by one we slink dejectedly away from the window, except for little Pin, who refuses to give up hope, the binoculars strung around his neck. ‘Bucky has the sleeping cap, Kicky. Bucky won’t let us down!’

  ‘I know, little man, I know.’

  About twenty minutes later, his sudden cry: ‘Company T, look!’ The rest of us rush back to the window, hearts pounding. Grab the binoculars. Because there behind Darius … completely unnoticed …

  A lone figure walking up the driveway.

  Wearing a jaunty green flying cap. A yellow jacket like a sunflower burst open to the light. Red trousers. A blue scarf. Round silver glasses and velvet slippers with initials embroidered on them in thread as golden as egg yolk. And a slow walk that says he’s rather stunned to be in such a Basti-licious place.

  YEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!

  We all cheer. Because we have before us, ladies and gentlemen, one Sebastian Caddy – in all his glory! Like he’s landed from another world entirely and wearing his ceremonial best to celebrate. With sleeves scrunched up. For whatever may be ahead. We just know that his weapon of choice is a baby chameleon called Frederique in his left breast pocket because that is where she always lives (‘Close to my heart.’). And his walk now looks charged with purpose, as if he’s reminded himself of the real reason for being here: to sort his nieces and nephews out, to set the world right.

  And Bucket, the Most Amazing Dog in the World, actually found her way to Basti, from Darius, with her secret note intact. How, goodness knows, but what a champ. I knew she wouldn’t let us down. She never has.

  But hang on, no – think, girl, think – we have to get to Basti immediately.

  Warn him. Fast. Because he’s walking boldly up the driveway with not a care in the world and will soon be in view of the house. Which will be dire. Because he has no idea of the danger he’s in. Neither would we, when his rescue mission is discovered by the lady of the house. I suddenly realise our folly in writing the note to him; didn’t think it through properly, should have made it clearer. Yes, we needed rescuing, but not by him directly, here, at the Illuminarium. Because now Lady Adora and Darius have got us all where they want us: our frail, vulnerable uncle is walking straight into a trap. My fault. I got him here. I feel sick.

  ‘Bucket’s with him,’ Bert reports through the binoculars. ‘Just coming into view. Probably been distracted by the rabbits.’

  Great. Two of them to rescue now.

  Scruff now: ‘Stand by. No sign of Charlie Boo.’ Basti hasn’t alerted him, most likely, thinks he can do this all by himself. Well, he can’t. He needs us. I grab the binoculars. Basti’s dressed ready for a rescue, on his terms, and it’s an odd, madly wrong sight. He was once the golden boy of Campden Hill Square, of course, the tree climber
extraordinaire who volunteered for the war at fifteen – but has been broken ever since. It’d take a lot to get him over the Reptilarium’s threshold now. This expedition is big in his books, but he doesn’t know exactly how big it’s going to get. And he must have hidden his car – our only means of escape – somewhere near the entrance. Which means that freedom is an awfully long way away. For all of us.

  Bert worries that’s being a bit reckless, just walking in like that. Oh yes, girl, you’re reading my thoughts. Our darling uncle is wonderfully precious and eccentric and adorable – and vulnerable. He won’t have thought to change his will yet. Darius will know this. It’s their big chance. To have him disappear, in a place at the end of the world, far removed from anyone else.

  ‘Company T, about turn. We have to head him off before Lady Adora and Darius see him.’ I look at my watch. ‘We’ve got, I reckon, about twenty– twenty-five minutes before he comes into view.’

  We all turn to Bone, asleep on his beam, snoring loudly; it’s impossibly hard to wake him without alerting the house – or more likely, he’s determined not to be woken up. Without a second’s thought Bert swings up and straddles his chest. Tickles him awake while clinging on with her legs. ‘Lazybones! Up! We need to get out of here. Right now,’ she bosses.

  ‘Our uncle’s just arrived,’ I add. ‘He’s walking up the drive as we speak. He’s at that distant oak clump.’ Scruff: ‘We can see him through the binoculars and we need to head him off before he’s seen by anyone else.’

  ‘Uncle. Out? What?’ Bone’s taking his time, as he does, stretching slowly, rubbing his eyes.

  ‘You’ve got to help us.’ We’re all crying.

  ‘No, Company T, no, it’s too hard. I might be discovered, I’ve told you that. And you. And you are not going to unravel – just like that – everything I’ve got invested in this place. Which is a vast amount, actually. I love this house more than anything else, in case you haven’t noticed. Except you, K.’ He grins, Bert hrumphs. ‘And you, B. And P. And S. But none of you will be the cause of my expulsion from it.’

  ‘All right, all right. Just tell us how you get out of here then,’ I reason.

  A silence. ‘Oh, right. Farewell. I see. No, you can’t abandon me just like that, in an instant. It’s too brutal.’ He strokes Bert’s hair. ‘It was so much fun while it lasted, wasn’t it? We could have been a great team.’ (I tell you, she glows.) ‘But no, you want to leave me here all on my ownsome. I’ll get scared, K. I need you.’ (Her glow stops.) ‘I’ve grown used to it.’ And in that moment, I’ve got his secret: Bone’s one of those people who craves company, someone, anyone – and he’ll never let us go if he has the chance.

  Scruff tells him that we’ll come back to him, we promise, we just need to swing this current mission into action. Right now.

  I shake his hand and give him my word that we’ll return. But will we? We must. Can’t have the Bone Boy disappearing completely from our lives. He wonders aloud if he can trust us; holds his chin, thinks; shakes his head and after agonising seconds murmurs, nope, he’s not that sure he can.

  What? After all we’ve been through? Pin yells noooooo in indignation, the rest of us groan. I just want to shove Bone at this point. His games are driving us bananas and it feels like the sole purpose is to keep the spotlight firmly on one Lord Bone, C.O. of Company T, and no one else.

  ‘General Bone,’ I snap, ‘this is Scale A – meaning huge. Repeat, huge. Someone we dearly love is about to walk into a deadly trap. Only you can save him. And us.’ He looks bewildered, throws up his hands; the clock’s ticking, he’s not moving fast enough here. I look around. What does Bone love more than anything?

  Dooky.

  I jump up to the crossbeams the football is jammed in, grab it and hold it high.

  ‘Pass!’ Bert yells. On my wavelength. I lob it to her and take out Dad’s hunting knife. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ I say with the sharp point at the ball’s flesh, ready to plunge. Pin and Scruff hold him back. We’re all in this. Basti is too important. Sorry, mate. I whisper to him low, ‘We need you to get us out of here. To tell us the secret of this room.’ I ask him if he’s really our friend. ‘Or not,’ Bert adds. Even she has had enough.

  Bone looks wildly around, ‘No, no, not my Dooky.’ Looks directly at Bert. ‘Even you, B? How could you?’

  Yep, even me, she nods grim. Bone screams with his hands over his ears: so, abandoned by everyone here.

  We’ve got him. It’s the only thing that will work. Don’t want to do this but must. I prick Dooky with the tip of the knife, push its leather in, almost break it through. Bone yelps in pain like his own skin is being attacked. ‘All right, all right!’ He squeals, quite someone else.

  We drop his arms.

  ‘Because I love you,’ he says in defeat, snatching the ball back. ‘And Dooky.’ Thinks, staring at the ball, taking deep breaths. Looks up, smiles sadly. ‘I am the ghost of The Swallows, Company T, but yes, I may have a bit of ghostly help.’ Pauses. ‘And what I am about to show you … means with absolute surety that I will lose you.’ Tears glitter in his eyes. I stare at him, tears too, yet this is so important for us. ‘But if I must, I must.’ He walks to the end of the tennis court. Glances back, rubs his hands, winks. ‘Can Company T keep a secret?’ His voice wobbles.

  ‘Oh yes, yes, Commander Bone. Stand by.’ I snatch up the binoculars, put the loop around my neck alongside Dad’s hunting knife. Pin stuffs Banjo into his shorts, Scruff does the same with his slingshot, Bert puts Mum’s satchel diagonally across her chest. Right. The Escape and Evasion Unit is present and ready for action. Bone grabs an old ivory towel hook by the bathroom door. Twists it. ‘Voila!’ And bows a sad, courtly bow.

  A soft whirring noise …

  A sliding panel!

  It opens, just enough to squeeze through. ‘Isn’t it spiffing! Mr Squeedly knows this house even better than Her Ladyship,’ Bone explains with chuff. ‘And Mr Squeedly is my … friend. My very dear friend. My father, in a way. Ever since I was little. He tells me many, many secrets of this house.’

  ‘Well, I wish he’d talk to us like he talks to others in this place,’ I grumble.

  ‘He’s very shy. He’s lost people before … those he was close to … he’s just shut down, over the years. But he’s a good egg, believe me. It’s just that none of us know how long you’ll be here. He wouldn’t risk making a connection with people he might grow to like … and then … never see again. That’s how he works.’

  ‘Oh.’ I stare at him. Not quite wanting to follow through with that. And all the more reason to get out of here, fast. ‘Well, Company T, my watch says time to go.’ I peer through the magic door. It opens into a store room.

  ‘Come on.’ Bone ushers us through, then rolls his eyes. ‘Hang on, you’ll never find your way out by yourselves, will you? Commander Bone to the rescue –’ a dramatic sigh ‘– once again.’ Many hands clap him on the back in joy. After all, a Bone rescue is the best rescue of the lot! The room is full of tennis racquets and a jumble of nets and, bizarrely, little suits of children’s armour. Bert squeals at the sight and tells us she needs to come back to them. I jump in with no you don’t.

  ‘You do realise, Company T, that if I lead you to Basti you’ll all be together,’ Bone says. ‘A delicious little bundle of Caddy … impediments. Which is just how Her Ladyship would like you. Just thought I’d pass that on.’

  ‘Wha … at?’ Pin shrinks back.

  ‘For disposal. A job lot. Her grand plan a step closer to realisation.’

  I know this well, but Pin is now wailing, turning to me; I drop down, squeeze his shoulders, can’t have him bailing out on us at this point. ‘Basti’s out there, Pinny. Exposed. We have to save him. And stick together, little man. We’re not coming back to this room. I promise, promise, I’ll protect you. Trust me.’

  Bone kneels down to Pin, right beside me. ‘Hey listen, the C.O. of Company T has had a change of plan. He will now be going all the way h
ere with his troops. Roger? He’ll lead you into battle, don’t you worry. Because I think you need some local knowledge, old chap. I don’t get out into the grounds much because it’s so risky – I might be seen by Lady Adora, or Darius, or Hebe – but when they’re not in the house Mr Squeedly sometimes lets me out. I’ve learnt the lie of the land in little sorties over the years, and P – Captain P – needs a navigator, right? All the way to Basti’s car.’ Bone gets the most ferocious Pinny-squeeze of happiness in return.

  I smile my thanks. ‘Does this possibly mean no more gritchiness at me, Commander Bone? No more fury? A rare truce?’

  ‘Yes.’ A smile that brims me up, and we shake hands on it, me as firm as I can get it.

  ‘Ow!’ Bone exclaims.

  ‘You’ve got to watch those desert girls,’ I wink.

  ‘Don’t I know it,’ he grimaces.

  Scruff jumps in that we have to find Hebe fast, to say goodbye, we can’t just leave her hanging here. I sigh – we’ll find a way to her, somehow, just add it to the list.

  ‘But why?’ Bone protests. ‘She’s so awful. The Squeedlys have been telling me horror stories for years. Who cares about her?’

  ‘We do!’ We all chorus.

  ‘Maybe they told you porkies because they just didn’t want you going anywhere near her,’ Bert snaps. ‘Up here for thinking, mate.’ She taps his brain. ‘If she played with you, then she might have accidentally spilled the beans about her ghostly mate to Lady Adora, especially when she was younger.’

  ‘This place is not called the Icicle Illuminarium for nothing,’ I grin to him. ‘Don’t always believe everything that people tell you, Commander Bone. Trust your heart. And find out for yourself. She’s a good egg.’

  He looks at us oddly, like he’s actually learning something here. ‘Well, there it is, Company T. The Illuminarium … illuminates.’ Then we race down the stairs used by the servants, through service corridors and storerooms, Bone leading the way. Burst through a vast conservatorium full of brown, brittle plants and dirty glass and weak winter light. Bone keeps glancing back – this is a huge risk for him, after all; his world will vanish if he’s caught.