by Rob Keeley
“What do you mean?” Ellie asked.
“Simple,” Edward said. “The house isn’t safe for me, any more. I can’t just vanish, if I use my powers to escape she’ll know. That’s why you’re going to get me out of here.”
He went to the window and pointed downward.
“I heard your mother. She’s going down to the village. All I have to do is hide inside the portrait. And you can smuggle me out in your motor car.”
“Hang on!” Ellie did her best to keep up. “How am I meant to carry that thing out of here, without being spotted? And into our car? The painting’s probably worth something. They’ll think I’m nicking it!”
“Nicking…?” Edward pondered.
“Stealing it,” Ellie translated. “No, I’m sorry, Edward. No way am I doing something like that.”
Just before Mum was due to leave for the village, Ellie exited the house as quietly as she could. There was no one around.
She was holding her portfolio, which contained some of her own paintings.
She opened the folder slightly.
“Are you all right in there?” she whispered.
“No,” whinged a familiar voice from within. “It’s dark in here! And it smells! Why do you use oils? What was wrong with watercolours?”
“You know,” Ellie told him. “Even for a ghost, you do a lot of moaning.”
She looked around. The portrait wasn’t large, but it was really too big to be held by the portfolio, frame and all. She only hoped Mum wouldn’t look at it too closely.
And what was she going to do with Edward, once they got to the village?
“We’re lucky they haven’t got the security system in yet,” she muttered into the folder.
“Talking to yourself?” Charlie’s voice said. Ellie whirled round. “Knew you were going round the twist. Soon as I saw you covered in ketchup yesterday.”
Ellie groaned inwardly. This was all she needed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Coming down the village with Mum.” Charlie took his phone from his belt. “There’s got to be somewhere to top this up. Gonna try the village store.”
He examined the portfolio.
“What you brought this for?”
“Get off!” Ellie pulled it away. “If you must know. I thought there might be some interesting subjects down there.”
Charlie sniggered.
“You do remember the village?” He made for the front passenger seat of the car. “Come on then, small person. Get in.”
Ellie clambered into the back seat, holding the portfolio carefully.
Mum emerged from the house, shopping bags at the ready. She was looking at a list.
“Need more milk, butter, cheese, bananas, something for supper, courgettes to make ratatouille on Saturday…”
She settled herself in the driving seat.
“This is jolly!” whispered Edward. “There used to be some splendid parties here, just after my time. People came in motor cars… lovely picnic baskets…”
“Ssh!” Ellie told him.
“Did you say something?” Mum asked.
Ellie made a hasty show of coughing.
“No. Something caught my throat.”
“What kind of motor is this?” the voice went on. “And who’s got the starting-handle?”
“If you don’t shut up….” Ellie hissed.
“I didn’t speak!” Charlie yelled. “Mum… she’s being weird again!”
“If you don’t both stop it – now – I’ll leave you here,” Mum said.
She turned the ignition key. Nothing happened.
“That’s weird.” Mum tried again, and again. The engine wasn’t turning over at all.
“Told you!” chirped a voice from inside the portfolio. “You need the handle!”
Ellie thumped it.
“Ow!”
“Did you hear a kind of weird noise, just then?” Charlie asked. “I reckon it’s an electrical fault.”
“This car’s not going anywhere,” Mum said. “Sorry, kids. You’d better get out.”
With looks of annoyance, Ellie and Charlie emerged from the car.
As an afterthought, Mum tried the key once more.
The engine started.
“Oh.” Mum sounded surprised. “Right. Back on board.”
Charlie got back into the car. So did Ellie.
And a moment later, the engine cut out again.
“That’s so strange.” Mum turned the key. “It was all right until you two got in.”
“Weightload.” Charlie switched to another scientific theory. “Something to do with the suspension.”
Ellie frowned.
Then she realised.
“Hang on, Mum.” She stepped out of the car, with the portfolio. “Now try.”
Mum tried again. And the engine burst into life.
Charlie laughed.
“I knew it! Ellie’s cursed! Or her paintings are.”
“I think you’d both better stay here,” Mum said. “Until I get this car looked at. There’s a garage, just the other side of the village.”
Charlie’s face fell. He took a last, agonised look at his phone.
Ellie smiled.
“I should have known!” Edward’s voice whined, as soon as Ellie re-entered the hall.
Ellie took the painting from the portfolio. Edward stepped into view within the frame, beside himself in every sense.
Ellie had worked out the answer too.
“You can’t leave?”
“There’s a barrier on me!” Edward groaned. “I should have realised. It’s how they keep me where I’m meant to be. Until…”
He fell silent.
“Until what?” Ellie asked. “Look, Edward. I really think it’s time you told me what’s going on.”
“Oh, so that’s where it got to.” Marcus appeared from the drawing room.
Ellie’s heart leapt.
In another second, Edward had jumped back into the picture.
“I thought you were going out?” Marcus went on. “No worries. I’ll take it back upstairs.”
He made a grab for the painting.
“No…” Ellie protested.
Marcus looked at the portrait he was holding. “Ugly little brat, isn’t he?”
He winced.
“You all right?” Ellie asked.
“Cramp.” Marcus rubbed his hand. “Weird. Felt like someone pinching me…”
He headed for the stairs.
Ellie went back to the flat, to think.
It was OK. Marcus would put the portrait back in the nursery. But there were still masses of volunteers upstairs. Edward would just have to hide out a bit longer.
She’d been so close to learning the truth. So Edward was trapped – in the house – or at least on the estate. But what did his governess want with him?
And why now?
“Where’s the portrait?” Ellie came out of the nursery in a hurry. “Where’s Marcus?”
She nearly ran straight into Moira.
“Moira! That portrait – the one the boy was in. I mean, the one of the boy. It’s not in the nursery – where is it?”
“I haven’t –” Moira started.
Ellie entered the Site Office. Volunteers were there, starting to remove the junk. But there was no sign of Edward’s picture.
She had to find Marcus!
Ellie emerged from the house.
She stopped. She could smell something.
Smoke…
She moved rapidly onward. She recognised that smell, from the allotments near their old home.
She rounded a corner of the house.
Two of the men from the village had built a bonfire. They were throwing on all sorts of things… bits of garden waste… wood… newspaper…
And in the centre of the fire, Edward was burning inside his frame.
The oil paint was an easy target for the flames, and the canvas was already disintegrating. Edward’s suit blackened
and smouldered. His face was charring… disappearing…
Ellie buried her face in her hands.
Chapter Ten
“Two mess-ups in one day!” Mum was laughing on her return from the village. “That’s a record, even for Marcus.”
She addressed Charlie, who was at the computer.
“You know that painting he was going on about? The Victorian boy? Two of those local volunteers only went and chucked him on a bonfire!”
She hung up her coat and bag.
“The thing is, these volunteers claim they were following Marcus’s instructions. But we couldn’t even discipline them, find out what really happened, because dear old Marcus…didn’t do the paperwork! He hadn’t actually signed them up yet! So these two just stormed off, taking most of the other volunteers with them. He won’t be able to set foot in that pub again!”
She looked at Ellie, who was sitting near Charlie at the table, slowly leafing through her crumpled poems.
“Well, I thought it was funny.” She opened her shopping bags. “What do you want for tea, then?”
“Not bothered, thanks,” Ellie answered.
She dropped the poems lightly onto the tabletop.
“I’m not really hungry.”
After a mostly silent meal, Ellie disappeared.
Mum found her upstairs, alone in the nursery. She was looking at the train set, which still had the torn magazine pictures on the station… giving the horse a gentle rock… flicking through The Boy’s Book of Railways…
“All right,” Mum said. Ellie jumped. “What’s wrong?”
There was silence.
“I’m not still cross with you, you know,” Mum said. “About yesterday. I was only surprised because it was so unlike you.”
A pause.
“Do you really hate it here?” Mum asked.
Ellie shook her head. She looked out of the window, at the tallest tree Edward had been planning to climb.
“You’ll be starting your new school next week,” Mum went on. “You’re bound to make some new friends.”
She hesitated.
“And I’ve got a surprise for you. Saturday, your Dad’s coming, for lunch.”
Ellie brightened a little.
“Meanwhile,” Mum said. “It’s my day off tomorrow. Marcus is off to Head Office. Why don’t we do something, as a family? You and Charlie have been cooped up in the house for two days now. We could go to the lake. Explore a bit. Did I hear you talking about having a picnic there?”
“Yes.” Ellie managed to force a smile for her Mum. “OK… cool.”
“Coming back downstairs, then?”
Ellie followed slowly.
She took a last, long look around the nursery. This room had scared her, that first night. So had Edward. But now, she was longing to hear the piano playing itself, or see the train moving off on a new journey.
The whole place was like a tomb.
At noon the following day, Ellie set off from the house with Mum and Charlie. Mum was carrying the cool-box containing their provisions. Charlie had been loaded up with rugs and a folding picnic table and was doing his long-suffering act.
Ellie had her sketchbook and camera. There might be some interesting subjects. Though she wasn’t really in the mood to think about sketches or paintings.
They arrived at the main entrance to see Moira approaching across the gravel.
“Hello, everyone!” She noted Charlie’s huge stack of luggage. “Going out?”
“We thought we’d go for a picnic down by the lake.” Mum paused. “Join us, if you like. Marcus is away ‘til tonight. If he asks, I’ll tell him it was work experience for you. Outdoor Education.”
Moira laughed.
“Thanks.”
“I could show you some of my work, too,” Ellie said.
“Come on, then,” Mum said. “There’s plenty of food for four. I just hope you like tinned salmon.”
She led the way.
A few minutes’ walk took them through the rose garden, across the lawns and beyond the trees.
Ellie stared. The lake was vast, surrounded by weeping willows and thick clumps of reeds.
The spot they chose for their picnic gave them a view of the island. Ellie gazed at it across the gently rippling water. In contrast to the lake, the island was small. But the folly was impressive – a sort of temple, with pillars and a domed roof…
“Hey.” Mum’s voice entered Ellie’s thoughts. “Come on, daydreamer. Never mind the poetic muse – I’ve got a picnic to set up, here!”
Ellie pulled her thoughts back. The rugs and table were already in place and she helped Mum and Moira to set out the sandwiches.
Ellie ate little. Everywhere she looked, it was as though she could see Edward… playing by the water’s edge… maybe enjoying a picnic here with his family, in those far-off days.
Now, all the family was gone.
“Anyway,” Moira said. “When I got back to the college, two of the other students, Brandon and George…”
“Brandon?” Ellie was smiling.
“They’d unscrewed the hinges of all the doors,” Moira went on. “Including the bathroom. I came back, and there was a bathroom door right across the passageway. With my rooms on the other side. I thought I’d have to camp out in the lobby.”
Ellie met Moira’s eye. Then both of them burst out laughing.
Ellie wiped the tears away. “You’re mad!”
They were sitting in the mid-afternoon sun, enjoying the view and the dappled shade of the trees.
Charlie was fast asleep on a rug. Mum was busy packing away the last of the picnic things. She cast a glance in the girls’ direction.
“Perhaps we should be getting back.”
“There’s no hurry, is there?” Ellie asked. She turned back to Moira. “Tell me some more.”
“You said Marcus would be away all day, Judith,” Moira said. She glanced at Charlie. “Perhaps he’s got the right idea. Why don’t you have a little rest, as well?”
Mum paused. Then she leaned back against a tree.
“Suppose you’re right. It is my day off, after all.”
Moira picked up Ellie’s sketchbook.
“You know, these are good. You have talent.”
She stood up and headed for the water’s edge.
“Coming for a walk?”
Ellie rose and followed Moira. They took another look across to the island. The folly seemed so near.
“Hey,” Moira said. “Look.”
She pointed to something that was half-hidden by weeds at the edge of the lake. A dirty white-painted hull and part of an oar were just visible.
“It’s a boat!”
A minute or so later, Ellie and Moira had managed to part the weeds so that the entire boat came into view. It looked old, and much-used, but sturdy.
“I can row,” Moira said.
“I bet we could row across to the island.” Ellie looked round. “We could, couldn’t we, Mum… Mum?”
A tiny snore answered her question from beneath the tree.
Ellie turned back to Moira. They exchanged glances.
Moira made a careful examination of the hull of the boat and the oars.
Then she gave a nod to Ellie.
Moira proved a good oarswoman as well as a careful one. Soon, they were skimming across the water, with a cool breeze blowing in their faces.
Ellie gave Moira an admiring glance.
She felt excited, though nervous too. She knew, deep down, that Mum would never have agreed to this.
“Charlie said your father’s coming tomorrow,” Moira said. “That’ll be nice for you.”
Ellie turned her face further into the breeze.
“You seemed unhappy earlier,” Moira went on. “It isn’t easy, is it? When families break up, go their different ways?”
“No,” Ellie said. She looked back at Moira. “Have you been through that, as well?”
There was a pause. Then Moira nodded.
> “My father left my mother when I was very small. Then, later, my mother became ill. And I was forced to go out to work.”
She stopped rowing for a moment.
“I’d done well, at school. I was expected to go on to great things.”
“You made it to Cambridge –” Ellie started.
Her voice trailed off as she stared across the lake.
Something was covering the waters on the far side – a kind of haze. You didn’t get mist on lakes in the middle of a bright sunny day.
Through the haze, she could just make out an object – white-painted.
It was a boat, just like their own.
Two figures were in the boat. A white-suited young man with long, dark hair and a beard, and a young woman with tied-back hair, a white blouse and a long skirt.
The man was fooling about, pretending he couldn’t row. The woman was laughing.
As quickly as it had come, the vision disappeared, leaving a clear day and a cool expanse of lake, with no other boat to be seen.
“Are you all right, Ellie?” Moira asked.
Ellie blinked.
“Yeah… yeah. I’m fine.”
She gazed across the water.
They reached their destination shortly afterwards. Moira found a stout wooden post at the edge of the island, where they tied up the boat. People living at the Manor had obviously made this journey in the past.
“Let’s explore,” said Ellie. “Get some photos. ‘Long as I don’t let Mum see them.” She paused. “We’d better get back soon.”
She took the digital camera from her pocket and switched it on. If only she’d had it at the ready a few minutes ago!
“Come on then.” She dodged among the pillars of the folly. She headed for a wide slab, mounted on a stone block, which formed the centrepiece. It looked like a kind of table. She hoisted herself up onto it.
She held the camera out to Moira.
“Will you take one of me? It’s all set up.”
Moira took the camera and slowly examined its controls.
“I knew it!” Ellie grinned. “I’ve come out here with a technophobe.” She lowered herself down from the slab. “Tell you what, we’ll use the timer.”
She took the camera back and made a few adjustments. She placed the camera on top of the slab, and went to stand next to Moira.
“Now we can both be in it.” Ellie beamed. Then she glanced sideways. Moira was looking rather solemn. “Come on, smile!”