by Derek Reid
Just then, I heard a “Pst! Pst!” sound. It was Boxer calling me from the other side of the room. He beckoned me over.
I waved goodbye to the elderly people and tiptoed over to him.
“I followed you, Matty, when the nurses took you, and found a way into the gardens through a small gap in the fence. There is a small door at the side of the building down here.”
I followed Boxer with Tonka down towards the door.
“There’s someone in the garden, Matty.” Boxer held me back.
“Have they gone?” I whispered to him ten minutes later.
“No, there’s two of them but they aren’t looking this way.”
“I have an idea, Boxer: we could hide in that old building over there until they’ve gone.”
“Looks like the entrance is round the back,” he said, pointing.
I followed him until we found an opening. It was a tiny opening. I decided to go first as I was the smallest.
It appeared to be a very deep old coal cellar. It was pitch-black. I soon found an old stone spiral staircase and I began to descend while Boxer was outside waiting. I was terrified. Suddenly I slipped. My hands shot out towards the stone wall. I felt something then screamed out in pain. A thousand hands seemed to have grabbed hold of me. Then I lost my footing and rolled down the stone steps to the bottom, hitting my head several times.
Boxer managed to squeeze through the hole and strike a match.
“Matty, you grabbed hold of an uncovered light switch.”
He came to the bottom of the stone steps and held on to me. I was still shaking from the electric shock.
“Stay put, Matty, while I strike another match and put on the light. Nobody can see us here.”
He knelt down beside me as the shock came out of my body.
“I feel so stupid, Boxer,” I said, brushing myself down. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 20 - Barley Field House
“Let’s stop at Ollie Cromwell’s pond, Boxer,” I said as we left St Peter’s Hill and the workhouse.
“Where’s that, then, Matty?” he replied with a puzzled look.
“We can look at some pond life - it won’t take a minute.”
The pond was clear that day. There was very little algae floating so we could see to the bottom of the pond. Right bang in the middle of the pond was a very large newt basking on a rock. It was big, I can tell you.
“Gawd, what the hell is that thing?” shouted Boxer, frightened to death.
“It’s called a Smooth newt,” I all-knowingly replied.
We watched a water boatman skimming across the pond alongside a water spider. Boxer put his hand gingerly towards the newt and started to stroke it. He was absolutely over the moon.
“How do you know about these things, Matty? How do you know all their names and that?”
“We have a tank at school and I have to look after it. I love watching the newts best. They remind me of prehistoric monsters.”
We left the pond, walked through the meadow, climbed over the wooden stile and turned towards Spring Common. Ahead of us we could see an old grey house.
“What’s that place we’re coming to, Matty?”
“They call it Barley Field House. A whole family died in there of starvation in the eighteen hundreds, so the grown-ups say.”
We stopped and looked at the house from a safe distance for some time. We didn’t want any spooks to come out and chase us.
“It was terrible what I heard grown-ups saying about it, Boxer. You could cry very easily when you hear about the children of the house. All the children who died were under ten.”
I had to look away when I thought of them. Their mother had collapsed in front of the door of one of the rooms. She couldn’t move. One by one the children had died because they couldn’t reach high enough to open the window and climb out. At the church prayers were said for those poor little mites and their mother. Also it makes me cry to think of what happened to their cat. It was found lying next to its feeding bowl, dead also, poor thing. It couldn’t understand why nobody came to feed it.
“Look, Matty!”
I looked in the direction Boxer was pointing.
“Yes, the old track leads up to the old mansion.”
“Yeah, I can see it through the trees. Let’s go and have a look,” said Boxer with excitement.
“Nah! It’s too frightening, that place, Boxer.” I shook my head. “Small children have gone there and never been found again. Where’s Tonka gone, Boxer?” I began to panic.
“I saw him going towards that mansion place.”
“Why didn’t you say, Boxer? Let’s go and fetch him.”
“Pst! Pst! Tonka, come back here!”
He was sniffing around the boarded-up front door of the mansion, I called three times and gave up. Boxer put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and gave the weirdest whistle I have ever heard. Tonka looked up and bolted back to us.
Sitting with his tail going backwards and forwards in front of Boxer, he looked up at him and began making strange doggy noises.
“He’ll be OK now, Matty.”
“How did you do that?”
“I’ll teach you someday. Let’s look inside, Matty. It seems deserted.”
Scared I was, I can say. There were gargoyles along the edge of the roof. Their eyes seem to follow us wherever we went.
“There was talk, Boxer, that a serpent got those children who were never found again and ate them slowly. Serpents do that, you know - I’ve heard the kids at the big school say about them.”
“What’s that noise coming from the next meadow?” said Boxer, straining to listen.
“I forgot to tell you, that’s the fair come to town. We can go there soon if you want.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “but let’s go inside the mansion first. Look - there’s a door slightly open down that side.” He pointed to a teeny-weenie green door.
The green door was old and tatty. Squeezing through one of the panels was dodgy because of the rusty nails sticking out all over the place.
“When we leave, Boxer, I’m going through the front door and I don’t care who says what. This way’s too painful.”
“Yeah,” said Boxer, “I agree with that.”
There was a drop to the ground as we got through little door - about two feet on to a stone-cold tiled floor. As Boxer is bigger than me, I had to pull him through the panel in the door. The windows and inner doors were all boarded up, but there was a hole in one of the tatty wooden window shutters just letting a chink of light beam through. Luckily I still had Joey Burton’s pocketknife in my pocket. I had borrowed it from him the week before.
Joey lived in the street where the little sweet factory was. He and his mother had moved there from the Squatters. The Squatters were wooden buildings which rattled when the wind blew; and sometimes, if the wind blew hard, a roof blew away. Joey and his mum were very, very thin people - perhaps because they had very little food to eat. Before they moved, there would never be any food in the little food box in the kitchen. For some reason, I heard the grown-ups say, they never had enough ration coupons for food. We all liked Joey and his mum.
Anyway, I managed to make the hole a bit bigger in the shutter just by rotating the knife round and round the hole. The enlarged beam of light flooded over a very small, carved oak table in the centre of the huge room. Boxer and I, on either side of the table, were speechless as we both looked at the beautiful book that lay on top. Together we gently lifted the blue velvet cover.
“Beautiful!” said Boxer.
On the first page of the book was a picture of a young sailor.
“Look at that!” said Boxer.
He gently blew away the dust, and he was about to say something else when I grabbed
his coat. Tonka lay on the floor and began giving a slow growl; but the growl turned into something else, which put total fear up me, I can tell you. It was an evil sound, like someone or something had grabbed his throat and was slowly choking him. The small beam of light from the shutters revealed something slithering down the staircase.
“It’s the bleedin’ serpent, Matty!” said Boxer as he shook in his shoes, quivering in fear.
Its body was huge and scaly. Soon the thing was above us, swaying its head from side to side then forwards and backwards.
“What’s happened to Tonka’s face, Matty? It’s all twisted and gruesome,” said Boxer in a panic. “He’s moving towards me. Can you stop him?”
A gust of wind flicked over the pages of the blue velvet book one by one at tremendous speed, and came to a sudden stop. We were gobsmacked. I can say, with all truth, the strangest thing was that suddenly neither Boxer or I were frightened and little Tonka was back to his old self. His tail was wagging and he was jumping around with joy. The serpent suddenly recoiled into the page where the book had been left open by the gust of wind. It was gone.
We both looked into that same page, but there was no sign of the serpent and we had no fear now.
The staircase, which neither of us had seen until a moment before, was highly polished and carved in a way that took our breath away. A movement on the stairs startled us, and Tonka’s ears pricked upwards.
Standing on the staircase we could both see a vision of a small girl, about our age. Next to her stood a little sailor boy, holding her hand. The little girl had long ringlets in her golden hair. The light from the hole in the shutter reflected off the table and helter-skeltered down her ringlets, making them sparkle. Boxer and I just couldn’t speak. Our mouths were open, but we couldn’t say a word. The sailor boy then gave the little girl a kiss on her left cheek and waved goodbye as she came down the stairs towards us. He turned around, then disappeared. Our feet were glued to the floor as she came towards us.
“Hello. Thank you for rescuing me,” she said in a soft, gentle voice. “I have been lost for a long time. I’m glad you didn’t kill the serpent - he’s a friend of mine, and he has protected me.”
She took hold of Boxer’s hand, then mine, and led us hand in hand towards the front door. Both of the huge doors opened on their own, and we all three walked into the sunshine, the doors closing behind us. The day was still beautiful - not a cloud in the sky.
“What’s your name?” said Boxer, already besotted.
“My name is Charlotte.” She held her tattered white dress and sat down on the grass. “What are your names?”
“This is Boxer, I’m Matty and this is Tonka.”
She had the bluest eyes I ever saw - the roundest too. Her thin white dress and shoes, although tatty, were in some way nice.
“I must go and look for my family,” she said, getting up from the grass.
“We’ll come with you,” said Boxer, standing up and holding out his hand.
“No, thank you. You’re very kind, but I must go alone.”
“Who are your family, Charlotte?” I just had to know. I had a gut feeling that her family might be from the Barley Field House.
“My family live in the Barley Field House,” she replied, the house just down there.” She pointed to the grey house.
“But they died a terrible death, Charlotte,” I said, putting my hand out to comfort her.
“Oh no, we just fell asleep,” she said, giving me a smile.
Charlotte was facing us when we saw her last smile - a smile neither Boxer nor me will forget. She gently waved goodbye, going slowly towards the grey house.
“She’s disappeared,” said Boxer. “Little Charlotte’s gone.”
I could see Boxer was very upset. His anguished face showed that he had come to like her very much in a very short time. “Surely she didn’t perish with the others, Matty - surely not!”
“Did we dream the entire thing, Boxer, or was it real?” I was confused.
“Yes, Charlotte was here. Look,” he pointed to where the little green door had been. “It’s gone.”
“Time we went, Boxer,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 21 - The Fairground
“We haven’t any money, Boxer, so we can’t go through the front, but we can sneak in the back.”
I gently lifted the fairground tent around the back so we could slide in. The place where we had come in was underneath the stalls of a large tent. As we moved around under the stalls we could see between the legs of the spectators the happenings on the stage. There was a lot of shouting going on: “More! More! More!” We both looked at each other, giggling, holding our mouths closed at the extraordinary spectacle before us. There was a blonde-haired lady standing perfectly still with no clothes on. She was holding up a torch and looking up at it. Then, quick as a flash, the curtains were drawn closed again. We kept on giggling. We couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. We both buried our heads in the grass each not looking at the other for fear of setting off the giggling again.
“I have seen before somebody having a bath, Boxer. It was Rita Barnes. I had said to her at school I would call and take her for a walk down to the swings and slides. When I called at her house there was no reply at the front door, so I went round the side and peered in.”
“What did you see, Matty?”
“Rita was in the tin bath, Boxer. Her mum was giving her a good scrub. I was gobsmacked. I kid you not, I ran all of the way home to tell my mum. She told me off for being there.”
We were both about to crawl to another position when the man sitting on the seat above us dropped his cigarette, which he had just lit. We both moved backwards as the cigarette fell between us. His hand came down and started to fumble around, looking for it, but I had already pinched it. He eventually stopped searching and lit another. Neither of us could miss this golden opportunity. I picked up the cigarette and we both started to puff, passing it back and forth to each other. I suddenly felt sick and so did Boxer. I could see his face was green, and mine must have looked the same. We buried our faces in the grass floor again to stifle the feeling. We left the undressed lady and crawled back under the tent. We were both sick, I can tell you. Craven A, I think the cigarette was. We both ran to the riverbank to be sick.
As we were walking back to the fairground we could hear laughing and cheering. It was muffled, but it could be heard. We crept towards where the sound was coming from. As we approached Troll Bridge, which spans the small brook, three boys of about fifteen stepped out in front of us. They were all smoking and sounded tough as they spoke. I was scared, I kid you not.
“Wish you would let me sort ’em, Matty, instead of stopping me,” said Boxer.
“Sprats! Where do you think you are going?” sneered a boy wearing a double-breasted black suit and black trilby.
“Yeah, where do you think you’re goin’?” asked the other two with him, also wearing black trilbies.
All three were wearing brown-and-white shoes. One of them, the tallest, grabbed hold of me by the back of the neck and started to shake me very hard. My head started to spin and I felt sick again. One of the other two boys pulled back Boxer’s arms behind his back. After a few yelps from Boxer the yob let him go.
“Ha! Ha!” they said, laughing as they went off towards the fairground.
We watched them till they disappeared from sight. Crouching behind a hawthorn bush, we sat motionless till we had recovered from our ordeal. We heard another noise and listened further as we crept along to see where it was coming from. We found a gap in the hedge and lay still for a minute or so. In front of us Rita Barnes was leaning against the playground slide. She was wearing a spotless white sweater and black trousers and her beautiful dark hair was being gently ruffled by the cool breeze. She looked so pretty. There were boys lining up to kiss
her as she giggled. I was shocked, I can tell you. I jumped up quick. I was sick to the stomach, I can say. My heart was smashed to a thousand pieces. To think I invited her to my party! Also, I kept the very last piece of chocolate cake for her and took it to school that very next day!
We returned to the fair and made our way to the boxing tent, which we had seen earlier. Inside there were no stalls to hide us, so we were spotted straight away.
“What have we got here, Fred?” shouted a ginger-haired man as he grabbed hold of my jumper.
A roar of laughter rose up in reply.
“Put them both in the ring,” shouted a short man wearing a trilby hat.
“Yeah - they wanted the ring and now they’ve got it,” shouted another.
“Up you get, my hearties. In the ring you go.”
Roars of laughter shook the boxing tent.
We were chased around the ring until I fell flat on the deck. One boxer yanked me up again, lifted me above his head and span me round and round.
We finally got out. I was sick again.
Chapter 22 - Our Empty House
I returned home to find my house empty. Mrs Kilby, the next-door neighbour, was also out. In the far corner of the small yard, which although shared by Mrs Kilby she seldom used, stood the pigeon loft belonging to my dad, Reggie. I took out a few peanuts from the feeding box at the back of the loft and put some in an old biscuit tin Dad used.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I called out, trying to sound the same as Dad when he used to call out to the pigeons to return into the loft. I shook the tin backwards and forwards to catch their attention and let them know it was feeding time. I scattered the peanuts over the floor of the loft, and sat down to watch the birds pecking at the food.
As I watched the birds eating, a thought came to my mind: ‘I can take the birds with me and send one home every so often. That way Mum will know where I am on my journey to Africa.’ I rattled more seeds on the floor as I began to plan in my mind. ‘I’d better take pencil and paper to write notes to send to Mum. Where is she?’