Strideforth yelled, ‘No!’
Henry shrieked. Anya squeaked and hissed and spat.
Mr Flint held Hortense over the edge of the waterfall. She was shaking and her face was pale. ‘I’ll count to three,’ he said, smiling. ‘And down she goes. One —’
Stella forced herself to appear again, as quickly as she could. She felt dizzy and sick. The wood seemed to be tilting from side to side. She took a faltering step forward. ‘Here I am.’
Mr Flint flung Hortense aside. He strode across and grabbed Stella by the wrist, twisting her arm behind her back. She gasped in pain.
Strideforth and Jem scrambled towards Hortense and helped her to her feet.
Mr Flint smiled grimly. ‘Tie ’em up again, lads. Good and tight, this time.’
‘You said you’d let them go,’ said Stella.
‘You be quiet, or I’ll knock ’em on the head and toss ’em down that hole. After we’re gone, someone will happen along this way and find ’em, like enough.’ Mr Flint gave Stella’s arm a vicious wrench. She cried out as pain shot through her wrist.
‘Stella!’ said Strideforth.
Suddenly, the monster howled. Loud and close.
‘It’s comin’ up,’ called one of the young men, peering down into the hole. He backed away quickly.
The ferns at the edge of the waterfall moved. Then the monster’s head appeared. It hesitated, its tiny eyes glinting in the lantern light, then it slithered up out of the hole and into the clearing. It was enormous. Almost as long as a train carriage, and as wide as a wine barrel. Moonlight shone on its leathery black skin.
Mr Flint gasped. ‘Look at the size of it. Stuffed and mounted, it’ll be worth a bleedin’ fortune. Forget them nippers, lads. Grab that rope and snabble it.’
The monster’s black tongue flicked in and out, as if it were tasting the air. It opened its mouth, revealing rows of glittering, silvery teeth, and howled.
The young men reluctantly made their way towards it, uncoiling the rope as they went. One made a nervous, half-hearted grab at it. The monster twisted around, snapping. The young man jumped back.
‘Sapskulls. Get that rope around it!’ yelled Mr Flint. He backed away, dragging Stella with him. Stella struggled, but he was twisting her arm so hard, she thought she might faint.
The young men approached the monster again.
It lashed its tail from side to side.
Out of the corner of her eye, Stella saw Strideforth limping around the edge of the clearing. He dashed out of the trees and flung himself onto Mr Flint from behind. He clung on, his arms locked around the dentist’s neck. Mr Flint yelled and reeled around.
Jem and Hortense tried to pull Stella away. Mr Flint lost his balance and fell. He hit the ground with a heavy thump. Stella rolled away from him and scrambled to her feet.
The monster turned in a flash and slithered towards them.
Hortense screamed.
‘Run!’ shouted Jem.
Stella grabbed his arm before he could move. ‘No! No!’ she gasped. ‘No! Don’t run. Stay still.’
She gripped Jem’s arm and held her breath. She could feel him trembling and hear her own heart beating in her ears. Every particle in her body wanted to flee. Strideforth was pale, holding Hortense’s hand tight. Her eyes were wide with fear.
The monster’s black tongue flickered in and out. The young men shrank back uneasily.
‘Stay still,’ whispered Stella.
The monster passed between them all, close enough to touch. Stella could smell its breath, sharp and salty, and see tiny beads of water glistening on its back.
Mr Flint was gasping and gibbering with panic. He stumbled away from the monster and turned to run.
Like lightning, the monster lunged and struck. Its teeth sank into Mr Flint’s leg.
He fell down. Screaming, he pulled himself along the ground, lurched upright and staggered into the middle of the clearing. Gasping for breath, he took a stiff step backwards, and then another one. He teetered on the edge of the waterfall, clutching at the air.
There was a sharp cracking sound.
They watched, horrified, as he turned to stone. His whole body stiffened. His skin became a dull grey. For a second, he hung there, back arched, stone eyes staring blindly up at the night sky, stone hands reaching into the cold air. Then he toppled backwards and fell, disappearing from sight, crashing onto the rocks below.
The monster roared. It turned its head towards the hole, tongue flickering in and out. Then it slithered back to the waterfall, slid over the edge and plunged down into the darkness.
After a moment, from deep underground, it howled again.
Stella took a breath, and then another one. She tiptoed nervously towards the hole and looked down. The monster was gone. At the bottom of the waterfall lay the stone statue that had been Mr Flint. A collection of shattered rocks and crumpled clothes. The sequinned coat was wet in the spray from the waterfall. A broken stone hand with curled fingers was still clutching at the air.
Mr Flint’s young men leaned over and stared blankly down.
The first one wiped his mouth and said, ‘Will you look at that?’
‘I’m right clemmed, I am,’ commented the second young man.
‘I could drink a pint of stingo,’ remarked the third one. He ran his tongue over his gums. He looked around, bewildered. ‘What are all them nippers doing here?’ Without waiting for an answer, he turned and drifted away towards the cart track. The other two hesitated for a moment, confused. One of them opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again. They wandered off in the same direction, disappearing amongst the trees.
Jem came over and looked down the hole. ‘Coo,’ he said.
Hortense opened the cage and took Henry and Anya into her arms, stroking them and whispering to them.
‘Are you all right?’ Strideforth asked Stella.
She nodded and rubbed her bruised wrist. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes.’ He grinned.
Hortense turned to Stella. She opened her mouth and croaked, in a hoarse, unfamiliar voice, ‘Thank you.’
Stella took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you too,’ she said.
Strideforth laughed. He gave Hortense a hug that lifted her off the ground. ‘Now we can go home,’ he said.
Twenty-Six
They walked together through the trees towards the cart track.
Stella was shivering with cold. She felt battered, and her wrist was aching and bruised. She thought about Mr Flint. It had been horrifying to see him bitten by the monster. And then turn into stone and fall down the waterfall, crashing into pieces. He had been very bad, that was certain. And he had come to a dreadful end.
A small creature scuttled into the ferns. Hortense darted after it. She came back, cradling the two-headed chicken in her arms. She stroked it and made crooning sounds. Both of the chicken’s heads clucked to her. Anya chittered at it, and Henry snapped his beak.
As they approached the cart track, they heard the sounds of horses’ hooves and harnesses jingling.
The dentist’s wagon rolled towards them. The three young men were sitting up on the box. One of them held the reins, and the other two were passing a bottle back and forth. Strideforth stumbled out onto the track, shouting and waving his arms, but they ignored him, and the wagon lurched past and disappeared into the night.
‘Well, we can walk,’ Strideforth said with a shrug.
They followed the cart track as it wound through the dark wood. Misty moonlight shone through the branches of the trees, making the twigs and moss and all the little curling ferns gleam like silver. The stars sparkled overhead. Somewhere in the darkness, an owl hooted.
Strideforth grinned awkwardly at Stella. He said, ‘So, you know it is impossible for you to disappear like you did. That is certain.’
Stella smiled back at him. ‘I know.’
‘How do you do it?’
‘I don’t know. It used to just happen sometimes, whe
n I was trying to hide. Now I can make it happen. Mr Flint said my sister was the same. When we were little, we used to fade away and vanish, he said.’
‘How did he know about you?’
‘He could hear people’s secrets in their teeth. He heard about me in Mrs Burdock’s tooth.’
‘That is also impossible,’ commented Strideforth.
‘Yes,’ agreed Stella. ‘But that was the secret she was keeping. And he saw me disappear, in the village. He wanted to put me on show in his tent, I think. Or maybe sell me to someone.’
‘It’s a very strange thing to be able to do,’ said Strideforth. ‘To disappear like that.’
Stella nodded. ‘Yes. My mother came to stay at Wormwood Mire when we were babies so nobody would find out what we were like. My Aunts sent her away, I think. They wouldn’t have liked strange disappearing babies at all. They disapprove of everything. They wanted to keep us secret. I think my mother found the way out, through the caves. She got that message. I think she tried to escape and meet someone.’
‘What happened to her?’ asked Strideforth.
Stella said, ‘I don’t know.’ She thought about the monster. Had it bitten her mother, just as it had bitten Mr Flint? It was a horrible idea.
They walked on in silence for several minutes.
As if he had been thinking the same thing, Strideforth said, ‘We’ll have to let the furnace go cold. And then the monster will go back to sleep, do you think?’
Stella nodded. ‘I hope so.’
The track turned and began to slope downwards. Huge gnarled trees crowded together. Tendrils of mist curled and drifted in the faint glimmers of moonlight that filtered down through the tangled branches overhead.
They passed piles of enormous mossy stones. ‘The giants’ castle,’ whispered Jem. ‘From the old days.’
‘There’s no such thing as giants,’ said Strideforth, but he sounded uncertain as he looked nervously around at the looming, shadowy stones.
They came to a crossroads. In the middle of the track was an ancient stone marker.
Stella stopped. She remembered the little note in the musical box: Crossroads. Midnight. I will wait.
Strideforth hesitated. ‘We have to keep going.’
And then, drifting through the night, they heard a distant, whispering voice.
Someone was singing.
Jem gasped, his face white. ‘The ghost,’ he said softly. ‘It’s the singing girl.’ He stumbled backwards, falling over his own feet. ‘Come on.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Strideforth. He and Hortense turned and hurried after Jem.
Stella hardly noticed them leave. She stood and listened. The voice sang on, a whispering, melancholy tune. Like raindrops falling on wet leaves. Stella’s breath caught in her throat. She walked away from the track, in between the ancient trees. Her footsteps were silent on a carpet of moss and dead leaves. She passed beside stone walls, tangled with ivy, ducking through a shadowy opening that might have once been a doorway.
In a glade, a pale shape was singing, drifting from side to side like a wisp of smoke.
Stella stepped out from the shadows. The faint shape hesitated, and then darted away. Stella took a shaky breath, unbuttoned her coat and felt in the pocket of her dress for the musical box. She took out the key, wound it around and opened the lid.
The tinkling tune floated through the dark trees.
There was a flicker at the edge of the glade. The pale shape drifted closer and began to sing along with the musical box. Its voice was no louder than a sigh. It sang on and on until the tinkling music slowed and stopped.
In the silence, Stella held out her hand.
The shape hovered for a moment. Then, like steam condensing on a cold window, it slowly formed itself into a thin girl with wide, startled eyes. Her mouse-coloured hair straggled down over her shoulders. She wore a shapeless cotton dress. Her feet were bare.
Looking at her face was like looking into a mirror.
‘Letty?’ whispered Stella.
‘I’m Luna,’ the girl said. She shot a glance over her shoulder. Tentatively, she put out her hand and touched Stella’s. Her fingers were very cold.
‘Luna.’ Stella felt a lump in her throat. ‘I’m Stella,’ she said. ‘I’m your sister.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m your sister,’ she repeated.
‘Stella.’ Luna nodded. ‘I seen you. In the sweetshop. And then on the green. I followed you to the big house. She wanted me to put a thorn on you. But I wouldn’t. So she did it herself.’
‘Who?’
‘Gram. Mrs Spindleweed.’
‘But why?’
‘She wants you to go away. She’s right fierce for secrets, she is. Stay secret, stay safe, she says.’ Luna touched the musical box with her finger. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a musical box. You were singing the same tune.’
Luna said, ‘I always sing it to the grey lady. I sneak out at night. Gram don’t know.’
‘Who is the grey lady?’
‘She’s a secret.’ Luna hesitated, then tugged Stella’s hand. ‘I found her, long time ago. She’s special. I knew it when I found her. I’ll show you. Come an’ see.’
She led her across the glade. A huge tree arched overhead. Luna ducked under a low branch and crept between the ruined stone walls, pulling Stella behind her.
They passed through shadow and came out again into moonlight. In a sheltered corner stood the mossy stone statue of a woman. Ivy tangled around her, like a gown of leaves. Her arms stretched out, as if in protection. Snowdrops and groundsel, winter flowers, were arranged in patterns around her feet. She wore a necklace of rosehips and acorns and twisted silvery sweet wrappers, and on her head was a crown of mistletoe.
‘I always come and sing to her,’ said Luna. ‘An’ I bring her flowers. But in the winter, there aren’t many.’
A beam of pale moonlight slanted down through the branches of the tree and shone on the statue. She looked fragile and sad. Her wide eyes were almost too large for her thin face. Stella tried to speak, but no words came out. She touched the statue’s hand.
‘She’s special, ain’t she?’ said Luna.
Stella swallowed and whispered, ‘She’s our mother.’
‘Mother?’ Luna said the word as if she had never heard it before.
‘Yes.’ A tear trickled down Stella’s cheek. She showed Luna the lid of the musical box. ‘This was hers. Look. It says, Patience. That was our mother’s name. She used to sing us this song. When we were little.’
The silver letters gleamed dimly in the moonlight. Luna traced them with her finger, then the tiny silver moon and star. Stella opened the musical box and took out the photograph. She tilted it so that the beam of moonlight shone on it. ‘Can you see? That’s me. That’s you. Or maybe the other way round. I can’t tell us apart. And that’s our mother.’
Luna touched the three faces one by one with the tip of her finger. She looked from the face of the woman in the photograph to the statue. She nodded.
‘And look.’ Stella showed her the tiny piece of paper, although the moonlight was not bright enough to read the faint writing. ‘It says, Crossroads. Midnight. I will wait. She escaped from Wormwood Mire and brought us here through the tunnels and caves. To meet someone at the crossroads.’
‘Who?’ asked Luna.
‘I don’t know. I think it might have been our father.’
‘Our father,’ repeated Luna.
‘I don’t know who he was,’ said Stella. ‘I don’t know anything about him. But perhaps he came and waited for her at the crossroads. But the monster must have followed her and chased her and bitten her. When they found she was gone from the house, they searched everywhere, but they never found her, and they never found you. They only found me.’
‘Gram found me in the wood. She heard me crying. I was all by myself. She din’t see me, though, because I was faded. I din’t know I had a mother. Or a father. Or a sister, neither.’
‘And I t
hought you were dead,’ said Stella.
‘And now we found us ourselves,’ said Luna. She squeezed Stella’s hand.
Stella showed her the little dolls. ‘Look. This one was yours. This one was mine.’
Luna took her doll gently and stared at it in amazement. Her fingers curled around it. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
Stella closed the musical box and pushed it into her pocket. She took a last look at her mother. She reached up and stroked her cold stone cheek. Then she clasped Luna’s hand. Their fingers twined together, gripping tightly.
‘Come with me. Come and meet our cousins,’ she said.
Twenty-Seven
They passed between the ruined stone walls, in and out of moonlight and shadow. As they reached the edge of the glade, an owl hooted nearby. Luna stiffened.
‘It’s her,’ she whispered. Her fingers tightened on Stella’s hand.
‘Who?’
‘Gram.’
A pale shape flew into the glade, landing on the low branch of a tree. A huge owl with round yellow eyes. ‘Hooo hooo,’ it cried.
‘It’s her owl?’ whispered Stella.
‘No, it’s her.’
The owl swooped silently down to the ground. In an easy movement, like a cat waking up and stretching, it shifted and transformed. Where the owl had been, Mrs Spindleweed now stood, glaring.
Stella gasped.
The old woman was wrapped in a black shawl, embroidered with a pattern of feathers and stars. She gazed fiercely at Stella. ‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Who?’
Luna took a step forward. ‘She’s my sister. My sister, Stella.’
Mrs Spindleweed hissed. ‘I told you, Tick. Stay hid. And stay out of the wood.’ She fixed her yellow eyes on Stella. ‘And you, girl. You keep away.’
‘She’s my sister, Gram,’ said Luna. ‘She’s same as me.’
Mrs Spindleweed came closer to Stella and stared into her eyes. The old woman smelled of peppermint and liquorice and something musty that Stella did not recognise. ‘Stop your poking and prying, girl. I’ll make you sorry. It’ll be worse than thorns next time.’
‘You leave her be,’ said Luna.
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