Mr Watson had had a bathroom and an extra bedroom built over the kitchen. The old black-leaded grates had been scrapped and replaced with yellow tiles, except for the one in the sitting room, which Mr Watson had made himself in rustic brick.
Mrs Watson had searched antique shops for horse brasses to hang on the walls, and she had also found three samplers, two coach lamps, and a framed map of the country, hand coloured, and dated 1622.
The cottage was convenient for the station, so that Mr Watson could travel to work in Manchester, yet being in an outer suburb there were fields half a mile away. It was a much smaller house than the one they were leaving, but Mrs Watson said that it was worth the sacrifice for the children to be able to grow up in the country.
The first thing Roland saw when the car turned into the road was the porch.
For an instant he felt that something would happen. The porch was out of place here now: it belonged to Elidor. His vision of it against the Mound had been so clear that the actual porch was a faded likeness by comparison. But suppose when they opened the door there was a passage beyond it, lit by a dead light…
“Here we are,” said Mr Watson. “Welcome home, everybody.”
There were newspapers on the floor, but the carbolic smell was going.
They set up base next to the kitchen – in the dining room, according to Mrs Watson, but the children called it the middle room. The stairs went up one wall, and under them was the larder.
The furniture was unloaded into the sitting room, which opened by way of the porch straight on to the footpath, without any hall.
By evening it was possible to eat off a table, to watch television, and to sleep.
The children went to bed early. The stairs came through the floor of the boys’ room, so they all sat in Helen’s, which, being newly built, had a well-fitting door.
“We’d better decide what we can do to keep the Treasures safe,” said Roland.
“Drop them in a lead box and bury them,” said Nicholas.
“We must be able to put our hands on them quickly,” said David, “in case Malebron wants them back at any time.”
“I don’t think he will,” said Nicholas. “We may as well face it at the start. You saw what came out of the forest, and what were climbing over the battlements. He didn’t stand a chance.”
“I thought that at first,” said Roland. “But I think there was one chance. Didn’t you notice something aboutMalebron right at the end? He wasn’t really frightened: he was more excited – as if the important thing was to send us through the door.”
“That’s just it,” said Helen. “He didn’t care what happened to him as long as the Treasures were safe.”
“I don’t know,” said Roland. “He said that it was Fear coming out of the Mound, and we were making all those things out of it with our imaginations. Well, he was right, because I’d seen some of them before.”
“You would have!” said Nicholas.
“That bird with arms,” said Roland, “and that thing with its face in the middle of its chest – they’re in those pictures in the art hall at my school. You know: where everybody’s being shovelled into Hell.”
“And did you see that tall thin thing covered in hair, with a long nose?” said Helen. “I can remember dreaming about it when I was little, after I’d been frightened by Mum’s fox fur.”
“What are you driving at?” said David. “Do you mean that those things were real only as long as we were there, or scared of them?”
“So once we’d left Elidor they’d all disappear?” said Helen.
“I think so,” said Roland.
“I hope so,” said Nicholas. “But we’ll probably never know.”
“What are we going to do about the Treasures?” said David. “Should we make a special place for them which we can keep a secret?”
“Better not,” said Roland. “If we don’t have them with us we can’t be sure they’re safe.”
“It’d be easier to talk Mum round if we
Mrs Watson had searched antique shops for horse brasses to hang on the walls, and she had also found three samplers, two coach lamps, and a framed map of the country, hand coloured, and dated 1622.
The cottage was convenient for the station, so that Mr Watson could travel to work in Manchester, yet being in an outer suburb there were fields half a mile away. It was a much smaller house than the one they were leaving, but Mrs Watson said that it was worth the sacrifice for the children to be able to grow up in the country.
The first thing Roland saw when the car turned into the road was the porch.
For an instant he felt that something would happen. The porch was out of place here now: it belonged to Elidor. His vision of it against the Mound had been so clear that the actual porch was a faded likeness by comparison. But suppose when they opened the door there was a passage beyond it, lit by a dead light…
“Here we are,” said Mr Watson. “Welcome home, everybody.”
There were newspapers on the floor, but the carbolic smell was going.
They set up base next to the kitchen – in the dining room, according to Mrs Watson, but the children called it the middle room. The stairs went up one wall, and under them was the larder.
The furniture was unloaded into the sitting room, which opened by way of the porch straight on to the footpath, without any hall.
By evening it was possible to eat off a table, to watch television, and to sleep.
The children went to bed early. The stairs came through the floor of the boys’ room, so they all sat in Helen’s, which, being newly built, had a well-fitting door.
“We’d better decide what we can do to keep the Treasures safe,” said Roland.
“Drop them in a lead box and bury them,” said Nicholas.
“We must be able to put our hands on them quickly,” said David, “in case Malebron wants them back at any time.”
“I don’t think he will,” said Nicholas. “We may as well face it at the start. You saw what came out of the forest, and what were climbing over the battlements. He didn’t stand a chance.”
“I thought that at first,” said Roland. “But I think there was one chance. Didn’t you notice something aboutMalebron right at the end? He wasn’t really frightened: he was more excited – as if the important thing was to send us through the door.”
“That’s just it,” said Helen. “He didn’t care what happened to him as long as the Treasures were safe.”
“I don’t know,” said Roland. “He said that it was Fear coming out of the Mound, and we were making all those things out of it with our imaginations. Well, he was right, because I’d seen some of them before.”
“You would have!” said Nicholas.
“That bird with arms,” said Roland, “and that thing with its face in the middle of its chest – they’re in those pictures in the art hall at my school. You know: where everybody’s being shovelled into Hell.”
“And did you see that tall thin thing covered in hair, with a long nose?” said Helen. “I can remember dreaming about it when I was little, after I’d been frightened by Mum’s fox fur.”
“What are you driving at?” said David. “Do you mean that those things were real only as long as we were there, or scared of them?”
“So once we’d left Elidor they’d all disappear?” said Helen.
“I think so,” said Roland.
“I hope so,” said Nicholas. “But we’ll probably never know.”
“What are we going to do about the Treasures?” said David. “Should we make a special place for them which we can keep a secret?”
“Better not,” said Roland. “If we don’t have them with us we can’t be sure they’re safe.”
“It’d be easier to talk Mum round if we
Similar Books
