The Night Gardener

The Night Gardener by Jonathan Auxier Page A

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Authors: Jonathan Auxier
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the girl’s glasses and set them on the nightstand. “Well,” she said, buying herself a moment, “some folks say she was actually a fallen angel.”
    “I bet that’s why the archbishop fancied her,” Penny said. “Did she have real angel wings?”
    Molly nodded. “But she had to give ’em up when she got here. You could see the stitches from where they cut off her wings”—she ran a finger along Penny’s shoulder blades—“right here.” The girl squirmed and collapsed onto the mattress. Molly pulled the covers over her. “I’ll tell you somethin’ else about Cleopatra. When she sang, her voice was so pretty that the whole world stopped what it was doin’ just to listen. Wherever you were, you could hear her, like a choir of bells.”
    “Can you sing?” Penny asked.
    Molly shook her head. “Not like that, I can’t.”
    The girl sighed. “Mummy used to sing to me. She’d sing about Princess Penny—that was me. And afterward she’d hold my hand the whole way while I fell asleep.”
    This surprised Molly, who had trouble imagining her mistress being anything but stern. Just thinking of the way she had treated poor Master Windsor at supper left Molly feeling a chill. “Your mother don’t tuck you in no more?” she said.
    Penny sighed. “Not since we moved to this ugly house. Now she’s only cross with me. I hate this place. There’s no one to play with.”
    “You’ve got your brother, miss. And mine.”
    The girl sat up, her face a picture of scandal. “I can’t play with
boys
.” She flopped back down. “Besides, Alistair won’t let me play with him. He just bullies me.”
    Molly pulled the covers right up to Penny’s chin. “I promise that whenever I’m around I’ll not let him bully you. Fair?” She crossed her heart to show she was serious.
    Molly glanced at the girl’s bed stand. She noticed a stack of books hidden behind a lamp. They were square and thin—the sort of books that contained more pictures than words. Each one was brightly colored and had gilded lettering along the spine. They seemed to be part of a series:
    Princess Penny and the Beast
    Princess Penny Eats a Whole Cake
    Princess Penny Visits the Moon
    Princess Penny Stays Up Late
    Molly reached for the closest one, which had a picture of a girl with glasses fighting a sea dragon. “Princess Penny … just like your mum’s tales!”
    Penny sat up. “Don’t!” She reached out to intercept Molly’s arm. “You’re not supposed to see those.”
    Molly thought she was making a joke, but the girl looked very serious. “Fair enough, miss. We’re all entitled to our secret things.” She winked. “Only you might want to look for a better hidin’ place.”
    Penny sat back, apparently satisfied that the issue had been settled. “Why did you and your brother leave Ireland?” she said.
    Molly knew that these questions were a way of tricking her into another story, but she found it hard not to oblige. “The truth is, I came here because I had a dream.”
    The girl gave a small gasp, sitting up. “Was it a very bad dream?” She spoke with the tone of someone who knew the subject all too well.
    Molly shook her head. “Far from it, miss. I dreamed about a little girl named Penny who needed a maid.” She stroked Penny’s dark hair. “And she was so pretty and well behaved that I decided to come right over and do the job myself.”
    Penny shrank from her touch. “That’s not true,” she said.
    “True as time, miss.”
    Penny tugged at a knot in her hair. “I used to have dreams like that. But here, everyone has horrid dreams. Every night. Mummy, Papa, even Alistair. I hear them in their rooms.”
    Molly thought of her own dreams, which had lately been terrible and haunting. She looked into Penny’s dark eyes and wondered if this was the reason the girl had become so dependent on bedtime stories: they were a candle to light her to bed. “Of course, you know bad dreams is only that,” she said. “They’re

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