thousand redskins bit the dust.
C HAPTER 8
T HE D EEP E ND
N icholas ought to have had more sense at his age. What was he thinking of to let everyone get into this state? Didn’t he realise that all the clothes were packed? Their mother had quite enough to do without this. Couldn’t they be trusted to behave properly when they were out by themselves? And surely there were better ways of spending the time than acting like hooligans in the slums.
The television set was in a bare room among the packing cases. Its own cardboard box was waiting open next to it on the floor. The sound had been turned down at the beginning of the row, which was accompanied as a result by a silent counterpoint of gun battle and cavalry charge. And although the picture was badly distorted, even in the worst moments of the telling off everybody’s eyes kept sliding round to the screen.
“And what’s that rubbish?” said Mrs Watson.
“Some – things we found,” said Roland.
“And you brought them back? Good heavens, child,what will you do next? Take them outside at once: you don’t know where they’ve been.”
The children escaped to the bathroom while their mother unpacked the cases to find them a change of clothes.
Cleaning was a lot easier than it had been on the train, but the lime in the plaster set hard when they tried to wash their hair.
“Where’ve you put the Treasures?” said Helen.
“In the shed,” said Roland.
“How are we going to stow them in the furniture van tomorrow?”
“We’re not.”
“But we can’t leave them!”
“Of course not,” said Roland. “But the house is going to be empty for at least a month, so we’ll hide the Treasures here, and when we’ve found somewhere safe for them at the new house we’ll come back and collect them.”
“Where’ll we hide them, though?” said Helen.
“Through the hatch in our room,” said Nicholas.
“Yes,” said David. “No one’ll look there.”
In the wall of the boys’ attic there was a door about a foot square, leading into the space between the ceiling joists and the roof. It was too small for an adult to climb through without having a good reason.
“And when Mum’s cooled down, perhaps we can tell her about it: or at least ask her to let us keep the Treasures in the house,” said Roland. “They’ll be all right if we clean them up a bit.”
“I’ve not much hope of that,” said Nicholas. “You can’t blame Mum for going off at the deep end tonight, and she won’t forget it in a hurry. And what are you going to tell her? And who’s going to try? If we say, ‘Mum, we went into an old church and came out in a different place on the other side and these are really four valuable Treasures,’ what’ll happen? You know how hot she is on the truth.”
“But it is the truth,” said Roland.
“And would you believe it if it hadn’t happened to you?”
“Yes – if it was somebody I trusted,” said Roland.
“Well, perhaps you would,” said Nicholas. “But normal people wouldn’t.”
“Could we say they’re for something one of us is doing at school?” said Helen.
“But it wouldn’t be the truth.”
“Oh, Nick!”
“Have you ever tried lying to Mum?” said Nicholas.
“Then what can we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Nicholas. “We’ve got to manage it by ourselves. No one can help us.”
Among the confusion of the next morning it was easy for the children to hide the Treasures behind the bedroom wall. Roland squeezed through the hatch and laid them out of sight between two joists.
At last the tailboard of the furniture van was fastened, and the children went on ahead in the car with their parents.
The new house was only about six miles away. Mrs Watson spoke of it as a country cottage, which it may have been a hundred years earlier, but now it stood in a suburban road, and its front door, with the porch, opened on to the footpath.
It was a brick cottage with four rooms and a lean-to kitchen, but
C HAPTER 8
T HE D EEP E ND
N icholas ought to have had more sense at his age. What was he thinking of to let everyone get into this state? Didn’t he realise that all the clothes were packed? Their mother had quite enough to do without this. Couldn’t they be trusted to behave properly when they were out by themselves? And surely there were better ways of spending the time than acting like hooligans in the slums.
The television set was in a bare room among the packing cases. Its own cardboard box was waiting open next to it on the floor. The sound had been turned down at the beginning of the row, which was accompanied as a result by a silent counterpoint of gun battle and cavalry charge. And although the picture was badly distorted, even in the worst moments of the telling off everybody’s eyes kept sliding round to the screen.
“And what’s that rubbish?” said Mrs Watson.
“Some – things we found,” said Roland.
“And you brought them back? Good heavens, child,what will you do next? Take them outside at once: you don’t know where they’ve been.”
The children escaped to the bathroom while their mother unpacked the cases to find them a change of clothes.
Cleaning was a lot easier than it had been on the train, but the lime in the plaster set hard when they tried to wash their hair.
“Where’ve you put the Treasures?” said Helen.
“In the shed,” said Roland.
“How are we going to stow them in the furniture van tomorrow?”
“We’re not.”
“But we can’t leave them!”
“Of course not,” said Roland. “But the house is going to be empty for at least a month, so we’ll hide the Treasures here, and when we’ve found somewhere safe for them at the new house we’ll come back and collect them.”
“Where’ll we hide them, though?” said Helen.
“Through the hatch in our room,” said Nicholas.
“Yes,” said David. “No one’ll look there.”
In the wall of the boys’ attic there was a door about a foot square, leading into the space between the ceiling joists and the roof. It was too small for an adult to climb through without having a good reason.
“And when Mum’s cooled down, perhaps we can tell her about it: or at least ask her to let us keep the Treasures in the house,” said Roland. “They’ll be all right if we clean them up a bit.”
“I’ve not much hope of that,” said Nicholas. “You can’t blame Mum for going off at the deep end tonight, and she won’t forget it in a hurry. And what are you going to tell her? And who’s going to try? If we say, ‘Mum, we went into an old church and came out in a different place on the other side and these are really four valuable Treasures,’ what’ll happen? You know how hot she is on the truth.”
“But it is the truth,” said Roland.
“And would you believe it if it hadn’t happened to you?”
“Yes – if it was somebody I trusted,” said Roland.
“Well, perhaps you would,” said Nicholas. “But normal people wouldn’t.”
“Could we say they’re for something one of us is doing at school?” said Helen.
“But it wouldn’t be the truth.”
“Oh, Nick!”
“Have you ever tried lying to Mum?” said Nicholas.
“Then what can we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Nicholas. “We’ve got to manage it by ourselves. No one can help us.”
Among the confusion of the next morning it was easy for the children to hide the Treasures behind the bedroom wall. Roland squeezed through the hatch and laid them out of sight between two joists.
At last the tailboard of the furniture van was fastened, and the children went on ahead in the car with their parents.
The new house was only about six miles away. Mrs Watson spoke of it as a country cottage, which it may have been a hundred years earlier, but now it stood in a suburban road, and its front door, with the porch, opened on to the footpath.
It was a brick cottage with four rooms and a lean-to kitchen, but
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