The Sisters of Straygarden Place

by Hayley Chewins

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The house dressed Mayhap Ballastian in blue on the day her sister disappeared.

  Blue for sorrow.

  Blue for a bruise.

  Blue for cold.

  Mayhap stood in the vaulted entrance hall of Straygarden Place, peering through tiny frond-shaped windows at the silver grass that swamped them.

  The grass grew taller than the house itself, surrounding it on all sides. It stuffed the keyholes and scraped against the roof. It shook the walls and made paintings shiver. It took on the color of the sky as it changed, and right now was tinted with the mysterious sort of purple that arrived every day as the afternoon faded, making the house feel more like a sunken ship than a sprawling mansion.

  Mayhap tapped the heel of her shoe on the white marble floor anxiously. She straightened the cuffs of her indigo coat and adjusted her kidskin gloves.

  Her droomhund sat at her ankle, whining, blinking his black, black eyes.

  “Shhh, Seekatrix,” she whispered, gathering him into her arms. She stroked his head. His fur was wispy as whispers and inky as a nighttime sky without stars.

  “I know you’re upset,” she told him. “But we don’t have a choice.”

  Mayhap and her sisters hadn’t unlocked the front door since their parents had left them.

  Pavonine had been only three when Cygnet and Bellwether Ballastian had gone. Mayhap had been five and could still remember her father saying goodbye — his cold hands in hers, his eyes puffy, always glancing away. Her mother had stood beside him, an elegant blur in a wide-brimmed hat. Mayhap could not remember a kiss from her, a single touch.

  Hours after their departure, Winnow had discovered a letter in the lap of a porcelain doll and had read its precise instructions aloud in her best eldest-sister voice:

  Do not leave the house.

  Do not go into the grass.

  Wait for us.

  Sleep darkly.

  Mayhap had asked the house to frame the letter — a single hand-scrawled page — and to hang it up above their bed as a reminder.

  The rules were simple and easy to follow. Mayhap didn’t like the thought of disobeying.

  But now she had to.

  Because she had to save Winnow.

  Winnow had been missing all day. Mayhap had searched for her everywhere. And then she had seen her older sister in the silver grass. Her coat’s burgundy shoulders and her dark, windswept hair. Her droomhund, Evenflee, close at her heels.

  Winnow was out there.

  The grass parted like curtains, allowing Mayhap to see patches of sky through the mosaic of glittering windows. Floating trees drifted through the air — a whole orchard of them — their roots as white as marzipan and as frizzy as brushed ringlets, their boughs black against the bright vermilion of their petals. Her mother had christened them wanderroot, and there were more in the conservatory, which Cygnet had pulled into the house with rope, blistering her hands.

  Mayhap took a breath, tucked Seekatrix under one arm, and turned the key in the lock.

  The heavy door opened easily, as though its hinge had been greased with butter. The silver strands, clinging together again, appeared as solid as a serving plate. And then a long, looping blade of grass — thick as piano wire and shiny as a sugar spoon — slithered around Mayhap’s arm.

  Seekatrix growled.

  Mayhap shuddered. All she wanted to do was shut the door. But the door had been opened. The grass had found its way in. Dread soaked her, as though she’d climbed into a bath of icy water with all her clothes on.

  “Please,” she said. “I only want to find my sister —”

  “You are so kind to ask us to stay,” hissed the grass, drawing itself into the room.

  Seekatrix yapped.

  “You c-can’t,” Mayhap stuttered. She pushed against the grass’s tendrils.

  “You’ve opened the door, Mayhap Ballastian. An open door is an invitation. And it is not polite to retract an invitation.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be impolite —”

  “If we cannot be permitted to come in,” said the grass, as though it were speaking with a hundred and three tongues at once, “are you going to come outside?”

  Before Mayhap had a chance to answer, the grass yanked her out of the house with one swift swipe. It pummeled her, dragging her through flashing and flickering light, stinging at her cheeks, Seekatrix still in her grasp.

  And then it set her down abruptly.

  Mayhap’s ankles rattled with the hard landing, her bones clicking like the stiff cogs of clocks. She fought to catch her breath. Coughing, she said, “I’m only looking for my sister. Winnow. I mean — have you seen her, by any chance?” Seekatrix was wriggling. She let him go, and he trotted around her dizzily.

  A laugh hiccuped through the grass, and it parted its strands, then slid about her elbows and shins like snakes in paintings of gardens. “And Pavonine?” it asked. “Have you lost her, too?”

  “No,” said Mayhap crossly, struggling against it, “of course I haven’t.”

  “Not yet,” sneered the grass. It laughed again, and Mayhap could see up into the mauve sky, the clouds laced with the dark-orange blossoms of meandering trees. A white bat, small as a mouse, flung itself through the air, diving into dusk as though into a still pond.

  “Pavonine’s in the library,” said Mayhap. “With Tutto. He’s telling her stories. She doesn’t know Winnow’s gone. I saw her — I saw Winnow — through the window. She was walking. With her droomhund. I’d searched all the rooms, and I went back to our bedroom just in case. And I saw — you swallowed her.”

  “Ah, our little liar,” said the grass, tittering affectionately. It slackened its hold on Mayhap’s arms and legs to brush against her cheeks.

  One more laugh, she thought, and then I’ll be free. “Why did you call me that?” she asked. “Why did you call me your little liar?”

  The grass snickered, loosening around her arms and legs even more, like hair falling from a plait. “Because,” it said. “Because you are ours, aren’t you?”

  There, thought Mayhap — there was a gap. She slipped one foot out of the silver, then the other, whipping her arms from the grass’s tangle. She turned and she ran, stumbling, whistling for Seekatrix to follow.

  The grass bristled, but it didn’t reach for her, and Mayhap did not pause to ask why.

  She ran up the wide front steps and dived into the entrance hall, Seekatrix at her heels. She threw her body against the door, turning the key in the lock as quickly as her
shaking fingers would allow.

  “We’ll wait,” said the grass. “We’ll wait for you, Mayhap Ballastian. We have been patient for a long time, and we will be patient still.”

  Mayhap slid to the floor. Seekatrix crept into her arms like a jittery shadow, and she let him lick away her tears. “Winnow,” she sobbed into his fur. “What have you done?”

  “She’s not answering,” mewled Pavonine as she banged on the door of the upstairs sitting room. Mayhap and Seekatrix stood beside her as she got down on her knees to peer through the seed-shaped keyhole. “She’s locked it from the inside.”

  Pavonine’s droomhund, Peffiandra, scratched and sniffed at the door while Seekatrix sat and twitched his ears. He knew Winnow wasn’t really there.

  Earlier, Mayhap had tied a black silk stocking to the doorknob on the inside of the room, letting it hang over the keyhole so Pavonine wouldn’t be able to spy through it. She had locked the door and slipped the key into her pocket.

  Little liar.

  “I told you, Pav,” Mayhap said, patting the ruched shoulder of her sister’s pinafore, “Winnow is having a bad day.” She felt the untrue words reverberate through her.

  “But it’s dinnertime,” said Pavonine, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirt. She cupped her hands around her mouth and called through the mahogany door: “Winnow, it’s dinnertime!” Peffiandra joined in with a howl.

  Mayhap put her arm around Pavonine and led her away. “Let’s go ask the house for dinner. I’m sure Winnow will be down soon.”

  When Pavonine finally relented, the sisters walked down the hallway together, the carpets beneath their feet as plush as tigers’ pelts, their droomhunds prancing behind them. The house had lit its electric lamps, and they glowed along the walls like giant luminescent flowers, droning strange harmonies.

  “She’s been acting so oddly lately,” sighed Pavonine. “She’s always staring out the windows.”

  Pavonine was right. Winnow had been behaving uncharacteristically — for weeks now. She seemed restless as a swishing skirt. But Mayhap didn’t know what to do about it. Every time she tried to ask Winnow what was wrong, her sister ignored her or changed the subject.

  “She’s probably missing Mamma and Pappa,” said Mayhap. And she realized, with some shock, that she hadn’t even been that surprised to see a glimpse of Winnow in the silver grass — as if she’d known for ages that it was exactly what her sister wanted.

  “I miss Mamma and Pappa, too,” said Pavonine, interrupting Mayhap’s thoughts. “But I don’t lock myself in rooms because of it.”

  “Well, you’re not fourteen,” said Mayhap.

  “I won’t do that when I’m fourteen,” said Pavonine, crossing her arms and frowning stubbornly. “I swear it.”

  Mayhap smiled at her sister. “How about we play our guessing game, Pav?” she said. Pavonine kept her frown but nodded sheepishly. Mayhap said, “Think of an animal, think of a —”

  “Got one,” Pavonine replied.

  “Does it have scales?” asked Mayhap.

  Pavonine shook her head.

  “Fur?”

  Pavonine nodded.

  “It’s not a droomhund, is it?” teased Mayhap. “That would be far too easy.”

  “It’s a bat,” someone said behind them.

  Mayhap stopped short, nearly tripping over her own buckled shoes. Seekatrix jumped up and down at her side.

  “Winnow!” cried Pavonine, flinging herself into her big sister’s arms. Peffiandra ran over to lick Evenflee’s face.

  Winnow hugged Pavonine tightly, stroking the top of her head, but only looked at Mayhap. She didn’t come any closer. She was wearing an ankle-length violet dress with a narrow skirt, embroidery running in a column down its center — a dress for a lady instead of a girl. Her hair was elegantly styled, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt on her anywhere. Her shoes were clean, too. Citrine earrings dangled at her neck.

  She must’ve asked the house to change her clothes and do her hair, thought Mayhap.

  The girls could change their clothes or coiffure in a matter of moments — they only had to ask the house to see to it. But the house couldn’t change Winnow’s flushed cheeks, her quickened breath. She had been running. Evenflee sat panting by her side, swishing his fluffy tail. He had been running, too.

  “Winnow,” breathed Mayhap. “You’re all right.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” said Winnow. Her smile went to Pavonine.

  Mayhap cleared her throat. “We were worried,” she said. “Because you were in the sitting room all day — with the door locked.”

  Winnow only stared at Mayhap, saying nothing.

  Pavonine bent down to pick Peffiandra up. She hugged the animal to her chest. Peffiandra had always been the most placid of the dogs. Her eyes relaxed sleepily. “Are you coming to dinner, Winn?” asked Pavonine, holding her cheek against Peffiandra’s face.

  Winnow began to answer, then paused. She looked at Mayhap with precision — with recognition — as though she had only just realized that Mayhap resembled a character from her favorite book. “Of course,” she replied finally. “Of course I’m coming to dinner.”

  Her voice sounded as though it were echoing from another room. It sounded as dark as the coffee she’d started to drink in the mornings — the coffee Mayhap couldn’t stand the smell of. It was a smell that made her feel as though she were being buried — as though her mouth were being stuffed with the damp, pungent grounds.

  Mayhap coughed.

  “Let’s go,” said Pavonine. “I’m famished.”

  “Yes,” said Mayhap. “Let’s.”

  Mayhap held out a hand, and Winnow came closer. She looked at Mayhap’s palm as though it were an unreadable map. It took her three long seconds to entwine her fingers with Mayhap’s, and when she did, her skin was icy cold.

  Porcelain plates sat on the long dining table like lily pads, and candles glinted their light down its middle, but the air was rigid with silence.

  The Ballastian sisters took their seats in high-backed chairs that curved over their heads like cresting waves. The droomhunds hopped onto stools beside them. Evenflee and Peffiandra curled up right away, lying perfectly still except for their blinking eyes, but Seekatrix squirmed and sniffled.

  “Shhh, Seeka,” Mayhap whispered to him.

  As usual, Winnow went first. There were rules to be followed in their family, hierarchies and orders, even if their parents were gone — especially because their parents were gone.

  “I’ll have apple charlotte,” Winnow said, enunciating the words.

  Evenflee sneezed.

  Pavonine giggled.

  Mayhap said, “Pudding for dinner? You don’t feel like your favorite?”

  Winnow usually had a bowl of vichyssoise for dinner. That had been their mother’s preferred dish. Mayhap knew she shouldn’t be upset about what her sister ate, but this was yet another thing that made her feel uneasy, as though the house itself would peel away from her the way the skin is peeled off a Christmas orange.

  Winnow shrugged. “I’m celebrating,” she said.

  “Celebrating what?” asked Pavonine, bouncing up and down in her chair.

  “It’s a secret.”

  “I love secrets,” said Pavonine. “You can tell me.”

  Winnow looked at her plate. “Maybe I will tell you tomorrow.”

  Mayhap wanted this conversation to end. It made her feel weary and helpless, like an old purse with a hole in the bottom. There had been a time when she had been the keeper of Winnow’s secrets, when they had both lain awake in bed after Pavonine’s droomhund had put her to sleep, whispering their hopes and reveries to each other under the cover of embroidered linen. But now Winnow had begun to say, “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone. Leave. Me. Alone.” She said it when Mayhap suggested she play a guessing game with them, or drink tea by the fire with them, or do anything they used to do three weeks and three days ago.

  Mayhap sat up straight, unfoldin
g her napkin and placing it on her lap. “I’ll have my usual dinner, please,” she said defiantly. Her mouth watered at the thought of it: a steaming aubergine pie shaped like the letter D.

  Pavonine looked at Mayhap out the side of her eye, then said, “I’ll have pudding-dinner, too. Chocolate marble cake.” She showed all her teeth when she smiled.

  The droomhunds stayed curled up on their cushions, eyes open, waiting for bedtime. They never ate or drank a single thing. They lived off dreams alone.

  Once all three sisters had asked the house for their dinner, the plates that sat on the table were topped with their requests: apple charlotte for Winnow, a golden pie for Mayhap, and a slice of chocolate marble cake for Pavonine.

  Mayhap watched Winnow, who picked up her dessert spoon and prodded the apple charlotte with it.

  “Why did you lock yourself in the upstairs sitting room?” asked Pavonine through a mouthful of cake. “This is delicious,” she added. “We should have pudding-dinner more often.”

  Winnow paused, her heaped spoon raised. She looked at Mayhap, and then at Pavonine, and then at the space between them. She seemed to be balancing whether to keep with Mayhap’s lie or tell Pavonine where she’d really been. She filled her mouth. “I needed to think,” she said.

  “What did you need to think about?” asked Pavonine.

  “About Mamma and Pappa,” said Winnow. “And about —” She glanced at Mayhap. “About things.”

  “Things? About the thing you’re celebrating?” said Pavonine.

  “I said I would tell you tomorrow, Pav,” said Winnow. She took another quick bite of apple charlotte and stared straight ahead.

  Pavonine adorned the silence that followed with a story about how Peffiandra had found a little wooden jewelry box and chewed the lid off. “I couldn’t stop laughing at her,” she said. “For hours.” She stroked the droomhund. “You’re a clown of a girl, aren’t you?”

  Peffiandra stared up at Pavonine with big black eyes, then went back to licking her front paws.

  By the time Pavonine and Mayhap had finished their dinner, Winnow’s apple charlotte was left mostly uneaten. She pushed her silver-rimmed plate away from her, sighing. “Time to sleep,” she said. “Tomorrow the day will wear new shoes.”