Tick Tock, It’s Not Your Clock
Dawn came creeping up the sky. A mockingbird launched into one of the songs from its repertoire. Maggie sat and stretched. She poked Daniel’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
“Hmmmph,” said Daniel.
Oliver opened one eye and closed it again.
“Let’s go see the clock,” said Maggie. Her mind had been so fixed on the golden clock that she had dreamed about it.
Daniel sat up rubbing his eyes. “I got to go to work,” he said. “Speak’s paying us today.”
“There’s time,” said Maggie.
Daniel got to his feet. “All right,” he said. “But remember, I’m the one in charge.”
“In charge of what?”
“In charge of us,” he said.
The city lay slumbering as Maggie, Daniel, and Oliver made their way through damp streets gleaming pink and gold in the morning light. Their breath sent clouds into the clear, cold air.
“I sure hope my dad’s all fixed. He won’t stay in a hospital, I know that,” said Daniel. “He’s at his pub, I’ll bet.”
“Maybe he went to work.”
Daniel shook his head. “Nah. The lady gave him the sack.”
“What for?”
Daniel shrugged. “Stole something, most likely. That’s how he is.”
“It’s not how you have to be,” said Maggie.
“I s’pose not,” said Daniel. “It’s just what I learnt, is all.”
They made their way through the kingdom of stately homes and went up through the trees again.
“Quiet, Lucky,” said Daniel, even though Oliver had been exactly that.
The sun rose, turning the white mansion the color of a ripe peach. As they stood watching, something in a downstairs window began to glow and sparkle, and Maggie could see as plain as the morning that it was the clock. “Oh!” she said.
“Didn’t I tell ya?” said Daniel. “Isn’t it the most beeyootiful thing you ever seen?”
“Oh, yes!” said Maggie.
“There’s diamonds, just like I said, and emeralds on the feet,” he said.
“Where?” said Maggie. “I can’t see any feet. And where are the angels and the big ruby?”
Daniel took her hand. “Come on,” he said. Crouching, he made his way across the lawn with Maggie creeping along behind him.
Oliver, not knowing what the fuss was all about, waited where he was. He watched the boy and girl stare at the shiny thing in the window. He watched the boy tugging at a window. He saw the window slide up just a little ways. He saw the boy point to the window and the girl shake her head.
Now the girl was pulling on the boy’s arm. Oliver yipped for the girl to come. When the girl looked back, the boy grabbed her pouch and took the shiny golden thing out of it. Then the golden thing went sailing over their heads and straight through the open window.
Caught!
“My locket!” cried Maggie. “Why did you do that?”
“It slipped out of my hand!” said Daniel with a wicked little smile.
Tears flooded Maggie’s eyes. “It didn’t slip! You threw it! I saw you!”
“Hush!” he said. “The lady will hear you.”
“Get my locket,” said Maggie. She stamped her foot. “Get my locket now.”
“Can’t,” said Daniel, shrugging. “I can’t fit through the window.”
Maggie glowered. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
Daniel grinned. “You gotta admit, it’s a good one!”
“You are a mean, nasty scoundrel,” she said. “That’s what I know.”
“You’d better get your locket before the lady wakes up,” he said.
Maggie tried to think of another way to get her locket back. She could knock on the door and ask for it, but how to explain how it got there in the first place? She looked up at the window. In a flash, she could be in and out with her locket.
“Give me a boost,” she said at last.
“Now you’re gettin’ smart,” said Daniel. He made a step with his hands. “Pass me down the clock first. But be real careful with it.”
“I’m not getting the clock,” said Maggie in a hoarse whisper. “I’m getting my locket.”
“You have to do what I say,” said Daniel. “I’m the boss!”
Oliver whined and leapt against the house.
“Quiet, Lucky!” said Daniel.
Maggie shinnied over the sill and into the house. Her eyes darted around the room, with its fancy drapes and satin furnishings. In her haste to get inside, she had barely glanced at the golden clock. Her locket was the real treasure.
But where was it?
She crawled over the carpet, peering beneath sofas with fringe and chairs with feet like a hawk’s claws. She made her way to a second sofa and finally a third. She lifted the fringe, and there it was. Slipping her hand under the sofa, she snatched her locket.
A light came on. Maggie froze. A woman said in a sharp, no-nonsense voice, “Is there someone in here?”
Maggie, breathless with fear, scooted under the sofa. From there she watched a pair of sturdy black shoes cross the carpet. She heard the window close and the latch click. The black shoes went past her again, and the light went out.
With a pounding heart, Maggie slid out from under the sofa, ran to the window, and pulled up the latch. She was about to push the window open when the light came on again.
“Stop where you are!” rang the woman’s voice.
Maggie whipped around. There stood the owner of the black shoes, a tall, bony woman with a knife-sharp nose and eyes as black as pitch.
Beside her, in a dress of the palest blue silk, stood the little duchess.
The Lady in the Locket
The tall, thin woman had Maggie by the arm. “What have you taken?” she said, her black eyes boring into Maggie’s.
“Nothing! Honest!” cried Maggie, trying to break free.
The woman shook Maggie until her teeth rattled. “Tell me the truth, child!”
“Release the girl, Bridget,” said the duchess very quietly.
Bridget’s black eyes snapped. With a last shake, she released Maggie, who fell back, faint with fear and hunger.
The duchess held out her small hand. “Come, child,” she said. “Come and sit. Bring the child a cup of water, Bridget,” she said.
“But, ma’am,” said Bridget.
“Do as I say,” said the duchess firmly, and Bridget stomped out of the room.
“Now, tell me,” said the duchess when they were seated on a yellow silk sofa. “What mischief were you up to?” She clasped her hands and waited for Maggie’s explanation.
“I wasn’t going to steal the clock,” said Maggie, who sat on the edge of the sofa with her back straight as a washboard. “I wouldn’t steal!”
“The clock?” said the duchess. “The clock by the window?” She turned to look at it. “It’s very valuable,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to take it,” said Maggie, with tear-filled eyes and a trembling lip.
“I shouldn’t think so,” said the duchess. “It wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do.”
Bridget came back with a cup of water and set it on a little table next to Maggie. “Ask what she’s got in her hand,” said Bridget.
The duchess looked suddenly very sad. At last she said, “What is your name, child?”
With a lowered chin and downcast eyes, Maggie muttered her name.
“Have you stolen something from me, Maggie?” the duchess said. “You can tell me. No one is going to hurt you.”
“It’s mine,” cried Maggie. She clutched the locket to her chest.
“May I see it?” said the duchess.
Maggie opened her hand. The tiny heart and its chain lay on her dirty palm.
The duchess’s blue eyes grew wide. She lifted the heart by its delicate chain. “Why, this is Ada’s locket!” she gasped. “Wherever did you get it?”
“It was given to me,” said Mag
gie, which was the simple truth and all she knew.
“There’s a dog outside,” said Bridget from across the room. “A stray. He’s barking.”
“That’s Lucky,” said Maggie. “He’s my dog. He won’t hurt anybody.”
“Shall I call someone to take him away?” said Bridget.
“No!” cried Maggie.
“Let him in,” said the duchess.
“But, ma’am!”
“Bridget,” said the duchess, “I asked you to let him in. Now you may go and fetch him yourself.”
Bridget huffed out of the room, skirts flying.
“Maggie,” said the duchess, “you must tell me where this locket came from. It’s very important.”
“I would tell you if I could,” said Maggie. “All I know is what Hannah told me.”
Like a bird with a bright idea, the duchess cocked her head. “Now I remember you!” she said. “You work for Louisa Dinglebush. I thought I remembered those bright blue eyes. What are you doing so far from home?”
“Madame dismissed me,” said Maggie.
The duchess frowned. “Did you steal from her?”
“No!” cried Maggie. “I would never!”
“Then why, child?” said the duchess. “Tell me the truth, now.”
“I spoke to you,” said Maggie.
“Oh, dear!” said the duchess. “She dismissed you for that? Then it’s all my fault.”
“No, ma’am,” said Maggie. “It was no one’s fault.”
The duchess gazed down at the locket in her hand. “Tell me about this trinket, Maggie,” she said. “Tell me all you know.”
So Maggie told her what she knew, which wasn’t much. “I think this locket belonged to whoever left me there,” said Maggie. “Because Hannah had put it in my pouch before she sent me out.”
“Into the cold,” said the duchess, shaking her head.
“It wasn’t too awfully cold,” said Maggie. “And I had my warm coat.”
The duchess, with tears in her eyes, opened the tiny locket. “Ada,” she whispered.
“You know that lady?” said Maggie.
“She was my daughter,” said the duchess. “Ada McGinnis.” She raised her eyes to Maggie. “And you, my child, I believe you are my own dear grandchild.”
Maggie was dumbfounded. The duchess’s granddaughter? All her life she had been Maggie McGinnis and never known it? What an impossibly wonderful thing!
Oliver came bounding into the room. He laid his snout in Maggie’s lap and beat his tail for all he was worth. When the boy had taken off, disappearing into the trees, Oliver had waited beneath the window for Maggie to come out. When she didn’t come, he began to be afraid that he would never see her again. But here she was with a lady who smelled like Bertie.
Bridget stood stiffly at the duchess’s side. “The dog smells foul,” she said.
“Then give him a bath,” said the duchess. “A bath and a good meaty bone. His ribs are showing through.”
She smiled fondly at Maggie. “And shall you have a bath and a good meal, too, my dear?”
“Oh, yes! Please!” said Maggie.
Magic
Maggie lay in water up to her chin, soaking in bubbles. She had never in her life had a bubble bath, although it was rumored that Madame took them all the time. The bubbles made her sneeze, but she didn’t mind. The water was deliciously warm.
She was trying not to think about Daniel, but the more she tried, the more he pushed into her mind. She was furious with him. He had played the meanest trick ever.
Still, she wondered where he was and if he’d found a place to sleep and some supper. His life had been far harder than hers. His father was cruel and had taught him all the wrong lessons. Daniel survived as best he could, and not always honestly.
Would she have come to that in the end? If the duchess had not claimed her—the duchess, her grandmother—what would have become of her?
Maggie still could not believe her good fortune. She had pinched herself several times already to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
Had a guardian angel been watching over her? Leading her by this crooked path in its own good time? Why had her angel waited until now? Was she meant to learn something about being a better person? Already she was as good as she knew how to be.
Maggie climbed out of the deep tub, the kind of tub that before this day she had only scrubbed. She wrapped herself in a thick, warm towel. In the mirror over the sink, she looked at her face, which was clean and rosy. She took a comb from the shelf and pulled it through her wet curls.
“Are you Maggie?” she asked the image in the mirror. “Is this real?”
There came a knock on the door, and Maggie went to open it.
“Here are some clothes that belonged to your mother,” said the duchess. “They’re a bit old-fashioned, but I thought you might like them.”
Maggie took the soft clothes and shoes into her arms. “Oh, yes!” she said, which was fast becoming her answer to everything.
“Your dog—”
“Lucky,” said Maggie.
“Yes, Lucky,” said the duchess. “He’s had his bath. And do you know, his handkerchief is one I lost while waving out the window of my coach!”
“Grandmother?”
“Yes, child?”
“Do you think there’s such a thing as magic?”
“Why, of course there is,” said the duchess. “Yesterday I had no little girl to spoil and love, and today I have you. If that isn’t magic, I don’t know what is.”
* * *
Maggie held the dark blue velvet dress before her. She tried to imagine her mother as a girl her age wearing this dress. Was she a happy girl? Did she laugh and play and never know the sharp teeth of hunger or the pain of unhappiness?
That could not be. She had lost her mother, after all. Or her mother lost her, a terrible, painful thing. How could that happen? Perhaps tonight, if she asked, her grandmother would tell her what Hannah didn’t know.
Maggie slipped on slithery silk stockings she had never seen the likes of and the velvet dress with its thirty tiny buttons. The black shoes were too big, but she wore them anyway. She peered into the mirror. “Maggie McGinnis,” she said to her new self. “Hello, Maggie McGinnis.” She decided to say her name every day at least a hundred times until it became realer than real.
“Don’t you look lovely!” said the duchess when Maggie opened the door and went out into the hall.
“I think I must!” said Maggie, smiling as she had never smiled before. She took her grandmother’s hand and stepped like magic into another life.
* * *
Oliver could not get over the fresh, clean smell of himself. What a handsome coat he had when it was washed and brushed! The woman called Cook had been rough with him at first. She had yanked him harshly and stolen his handkerchief. But the bath she’d drawn in the washtub was just the way he liked it, warm and full of bubbles.
He liked the way she smelled. Not of bread and applesauce like Bertie. Cook smelled meaty. All the while she scrubbed Oliver, he sniffed her neck, her arm, her ear. After a while, she began to laugh. “Oh, you’re a pesky one, you are,” she said. And Oliver began to love her.
He wondered if he might be allowed to stay. He wondered where the girl was. He wondered if he might be given a second meaty bone. He wondered if this house had any rats living in it. He hoped not.
“Lucky!”
Was that the girl? The one called Maggie? She didn’t look the same. Her face was clean. She smelled like soap. But she scratched Oliver under the chin just like the other Maggie did.
He licked her hand. Except for the soap, she smelled and tasted the same.
“Guess what?” she said. “You’re to have a nice little bed right next to mine. Your very own bed. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Oliver followed Maggie up a flight of curving stairs, down a long hallway, and into a room that was the size of Bertie’s house. He did the thing that always made Bertie so mad.
He leapt up on the bed. Turning three times, he settled in.
“Lucky!” cried Maggie. “You can’t sleep in that bed. It’s my bed. Your bed is—”
But Oliver, who had had enough adventure to last a lifetime, had fallen fast asleep.
March 12, 1905
Dear Hannah,
I hope this letter finds you well. As for me, I am very well. I believe you will be—
“Grandmother?”
“Yes?”
“How do you spell surprised?”
surprised to learn that I am now living at the home of my grandmother, the Duchess of—
“Grandmother?”
“Yes, child?”
“Will you spell what you are the duchess of?”
“L-A-N-D-S-A-W-A-Y. Landsaway. I made it up, you know.”
“You did?”
“Oh, yes,” said her grandmother with a merry little chuckle. “I thought Boston needed a duchess, and so I decided to become one.”
“I think I shall be a duchess, too,” said Maggie. “How do you spell residing?”
Her grandmother spelled the word and Maggie changed living to residing because it made her letter sound far more important.
It is a fine home, and I sleep upon silk sheets. Lucky—
She stopped and laid down her pen. Hannah didn’t know about Lucky. She knew nothing of the dire events that befell Maggie after her dismissal. But Maggie could not tell Hannah everything. Her letter would be far too long, and her hand, already cramped, would probably fall off. She took up the pen and crossed out her last sentence.
Still, it was far better than a visit and the chance of seeing Madame again.
The story of my coming into this world has a sad begin—
“Grandmother?”
“Yes, child?”
“How many n’s has the word beginning?”
“I believe it has three,” said the duchess, “but not all in a row.”
—ning. My mother took up with a footman. My grandfather dismissed the footman and sent my mother away. Then my grandmother sent my grandfather away. Grandmother searched and searched for her daughter. All she came to know was that my mother had died and was buried in an unmarked grave.
Maggie & Oliver or a Bone of One's Own Page 9