Brightwood (15 page)

THIRTY-­TWO

Among all the things that had been stored away in Brightwood Hall, Daisy had once found a collection of tiny books, each no larger than two inches wide. They had pictures inside. When she held one in her left hand and flipped through it very fast with her right, the pictures in the book all joined together in a single movement. It was only when she flipped through a book slowly that she saw that each of the pictures was actually separate from the others.

It was exactly the same as she looked up now. As if every tiny fraction of a second were a separate picture being slowly flipped. Daisy saw Tar running along the chain towards the chandelier. Then she saw him pause, struggling for balance as the chain swung wide.

The Marble Hall had stood strong for over two hundred and fifty years. Now Daisy watched the crack in the ceiling widen to a chasm as Tar added his weight to the chandelier.

Gritting was frozen below, his face turned up in astonishment. A great wrenching noise filled the air like something huge being pulled up by the roots, and the chandelier swayed and rang as fragments of masonry struck its shivering glass.

Then, with a groan so deep and sorrowful that it shook the house, the wheel and pulley ripped from the ceiling and the chain snaked free.

For a split second, Daisy saw Gritting, his eyes wide, his body trying to pivot away. Then the chandelier fell with all the weight of its ten thousand crystal tears, and Gritting disappeared.

Daisy must have fallen at the same time, although she had no sense of it. She lay curled on the floor, her arms covering her head. The enormous, thudding crunch of the chandelier hitting the ground was followed by the silvery tinkle of hundreds of pieces of glass flying and shattering in all directions.

But it wasn't the end. The end came with a splitting of wood and a violent rumbling that made Daisy scream. She flung herself back, scrambling over boxes and broken china. The floor had collapsed under the weight of glass and twisted metal. She heard a shuddering crash as the chandelier burst through hidden layers of wood and brick and landed on the floor of the basement far below.

Daisy gaped at the huge hole where the central clearing had once been, hardly daring to move. Gritting was nowhere to be seen. He must have fallen with the chandelier. Daisy knew he was surely dead.

An accident had killed him. The Hunter would have said there was poetic justice in that fact. But Daisy couldn't feel any satisfaction. Only a deep sickness in her stomach.

The passageway behind her was blocked with boxes. Moving with great caution and taking care to keep as far away from the hole in the floor as possible, Daisy inched around the closest shelving unit and slipped into the next passageway. She turned sideways, navigating through the stacked shelves like a crab, and after a few moments, she emerged safely at the other end.

Walking slowly now, her mind dazed, Daisy went up the great staircase to her room. There was nothing left to do except pack her bag.

THIRTY-­THREE

Daisy put what she needed into her bag and turned to leave. Out in the Portrait Gallery, she took a last look at Little Charles.

“You can't go!” His voice was a pleading whisper. “You said you'd give me more room. I want to see my nanny.”

It hardly mattered now if she made a mess with the books.

“I love my nanny,” Little Charles said. “She's the only one I love.”

Little Charles's painting was not particularly large. In a few moments, Daisy had cleared the books that had been hiding it. There he stood with his hoop and his dog, Minette. A man and a woman were behind him in the room. The man wore tight trousers and a jacket with a lot of buttons. The woman was dressed in a shining white gown that covered her feet. They both had long noses and a proud, haughty look.

“Is that your mum and dad?”

Little Charles nodded, his face woebegone. “They're very grand. I have to call them ‘Sir' and ‘Madam.' It's only Nanny who hugs me.”

Daisy examined the painting carefully. She could see no other figure in the room.

“She's not there, is she?” Little Charles said. “I hoped and hoped she would be, but she's just a commoner and commoners aren't good enough to be painted.”

“You're a terrible snob, Little Charles,” Daisy said.

“I know,” he said with great sadness. “All the best people are.” His eyes glistened.

“Don't cry, Little Charles.”

“I can't help it,” he said. “I miss her so.”

“I know where your nanny is,” Daisy said.

“You do?”

She nodded.

“Where is she?”

“You can't see it,” Daisy told him, “but there's a door painted in the back of the room you're standing in.”

She leaned forward, gazing at the little scene. “The door is closed. But your nanny is right behind it. She's got her hand raised to knock.”

“Does she have bread and honey for me?”

“Yes,” Daisy said. “Three whole slices. And after you've eaten, she's going to take you out to play. You'll be able to run with your hoop, Little Charles.”

He gazed at her, his eyes wide. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Daisy said. She touched his painted face with the tip of her finger. “Good-­bye, Little Charles.”

As she walked away, Daisy thought she heard the click of a door and the murmur of voices behind her. Then—quite clear and distinct—a cry of joy.

Daisy didn't turn to see. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and went down the great staircase without looking back.

She paused halfway. A dark shape was crouched on the bottom stair.

“Tar!” Daisy cried, running down. She reached for the rat and picked him up carefully. “I thought you must be dead.”

“I told you rats have ten lives,” Tar said, squirming in her hands.

“You must have used nine of them when that chain came down.”

“I used four,” Tar corrected her, a little crossly. “It's important to keep count.”

“I'm going,” Daisy said. “But I can't leave you behind. Who would feed you?”

He squirmed even harder, his eyes bulging.

“You're frightened,” she said. “I know you are. There's nothing to worry about, Tar. We'll go out of the house and walk down the driveway, and when we get to the gates, we'll just keep on walking.”

Daisy drew a deep breath.

“You'll see. It's going to be all right.”

“What are you talking about?” Tar said peevishly. “I'm always all right. I've been to the outside world zillions of times. It's just the same as here, only there's more of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Daisy put him in her pocket and stood up. “Okay,” she said. “I'm ready.”

Outside on the lawn, Frank was waiting for her. She was fainter than before, no more than a gray shadow above the grass.

“I told you the temple trap would work,” she said.

“It didn't work the way you thought,” Daisy said, although she didn't feel like arguing.

“He's dead, isn't he?”

Daisy nodded.

“Well, then.”

Frank flickered and seemed to lose substance, her figure nothing but a wisp in the dusk. A white moth flew up from the grass and fluttered clean through her. Daisy felt a great sadness, too mysterious for tears.

“Please don't vanish,” she whispered. “Come with me.”

“I'm not on that expedition,” Frank said. “You won't need me.”

“Don't you
want
to come?” Daisy said. “Think of all the new places you'll see.”

Frank didn't answer. But her face came into sharp focus for a moment, and the look of longing in her eyes was enough to break Daisy's heart.

“It's not an option,” Frank said. “There's no use blubbing about it.”

“
Why
isn't it an option?”

“You know why.”

Daisy hesitated. Then she nodded. Frank could explore the jungles and deserts and endless snowcapped mountains of the made-­up world. But not the real one.

The real world was a place she could never travel to.

“But
you
can,” Frank said. She was so faint now that Daisy had to stare hard to make out her shape. Her voice was barely louder than the breeze in the grass.

“Go for me . . . ”

“I will,” Daisy said. “You'll see—I will. I promise.”

She closed her eyes and turned away. If she stayed any longer, she would start to cry and that would be letting Frank down.

She walked slowly along the driveway, keeping her eyes fixed on the main gates. She didn't want to look back and see nothing except grass and trees and the terrible empty space where Frank had been.

THIRTY-­FOUR

Daisy stood at the main gates with the two stone lions, Royal and Regal, on either side. As she passed between them, she expected them to try to stop her with their usual tears and warnings. But they were completely silent.

A few more steps, and then Daisy was outside.

She stopped, listening for voices calling for her return, or the creak of the house itself reaching to pull her back. No sound came. Brightwood Hall was the only place where Daisy had ever existed. Perhaps it was the only place where she
could
exist, and she would simply vanish now that the gates were behind her.

But she was still there, still visible. And the sky was the same, and the air. She wrapped her arms around her body. She could feel her heart and the unfamiliar texture of the road beneath her feet. In the daze of leaving, she had forgotten to put on her shoes.

Daisy thought that if she went back to fetch them, she wouldn't find the courage to leave for a second time. She looked left and right, and set off slowly in the direction where she knew the village lay, walking on the grass by the side of the road.

The sun had dipped into the long dusk of summer, and the road was clear ahead. Daisy kept her head down, willing herself to keep walking without looking back.

But how could she
not
look back? She could still sense the house behind her, with all its beloved corners, its stately trees and secret pathways, its mornings and its nights. Down dusty corridors, ten thousand memories lay stored. All dreams were there, all stories too.

Daisy turned her head for one last look.

She had never seen Brightwood Hall from outside the grounds. It looked different, oddly distant. The house a little smaller, the wall a fraction lower. This was the view that people passing on the road must have, she thought. This was the Brightwood they saw. And now, Daisy saw it too. The realization brought a rush of grief, as if she had lost a part of herself and would never get it back, no matter how long she lived.

She stroked the outside of her pocket, feeling Tar's warm shape.

“Don't be sad, Tar,” she whispered. “It's all right . . . ”

She carried on down the road, reassured a little by the sight of familiar trees and bushes. Brightwood Hall was full of the same sort of plants. Then the trees thinned out, and there were fields on either side, fenced by wire and slender wooden posts.

The fields stretched towards a far horizon. Daisy couldn't see where they ended. She had always known what lay around every corner, her world mapped to the last box of groceries, the smallest clearing in the grass. Now there was no telling what lay beyond the fields, or behind the curving road. Her breath quickened with fear.

“It's just fields,” she told Tar. “It's just a bend in the road.”

He wriggled, and she pinched her pocket tight between her fingers.

“It's like you said it was,” Daisy said. “The outside world is just the same, except there's more of it.”

After it curved, the road ran up a hill and then dipped down in a long straight line, with little except low hedges and the occasional tree on either side. Daisy trudged on. She had been walking for twenty minutes without a single car passing. Then three came, one after the other.

The first one was blue, and it drove by so fast that she almost fell backwards with the surprise of it. The second car was also blue, and it slowed down a little as it went by, as if it were thinking of stopping but decided against it at the last moment.

The third car was white, and it stopped on the road right next to her.

Daisy stopped too, although she didn't look at the car. She kept her gaze fixed on the grassy edge of the road. She heard the car window being rolled down.

“Do you need a ride?” It was a woman's voice.

Daisy was too frightened to answer.

“Where are you going?”

Daisy risked a quick look at the driver of the car. She saw a dark-­haired woman staring back at her, a worried expression in her eyes. The woman's gaze moved down to Daisy's bare feet and then back up to her face.

“Where's your mother, sweetheart?”

The question was so astonishing that Daisy's heart seemed to stop beating for a second or two. How did the woman know Daisy's mum was missing? How could she tell she was looking for her?

“I don't know,” Daisy said, her voice breaking a little.

“You're as white as a sheet,” the woman said, “Are you all right?”

She sounded so kind that tears rose in Daisy's eyes.

“There's a m-­man in my house!” Daisy burst out before she could stop herself. “He's dead. He's an uncle or a cousin. I didn't, I didn't . . . ”

The woman got out of the car and closed the door behind her. She leaned down, searching Daisy's face with her eyes.

“It's okay, sweetheart,” she said. “What's your name?”

“Daisy. Daisy Fitzjohn.”

The woman paused, and for a terrible moment, Daisy thought she was about to say that there was no such person, just as Gritting had done. But the woman only smiled.

“How old are you, Daisy?”

“Eleven.”

“It's going to be okay,” the woman said, straightening up. “Although you can't be out all by yourself. It's at least ten miles to the village. Hop in the car, and we'll get this all sorted out in no time.”

Daisy hesitated. She felt the woman's hand, gentle on her back.

“It's going to be okay,” the woman repeated. “I promise.”

The car door opened, and then Daisy was inside. She sat in the front seat, next to the woman, every muscle in her body clenched. The fields ran by in a green blur.

“The man in your house,” the woman ventured, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “The one you said was . . . dead. Where do you live, sweetheart?”

“In Brightwood Hall,” Daisy said. She tried to talk slowly, to explain, but the words came out in a gulping rush. “It's just me and my mum, only she didn't come home and he came instead and I asked him to go, but . . . but he wouldn't and he killed the rabbits and the chandelier fell down on him.”

Daisy knew she hadn't made any sense, but the woman only nodded.

“I think the best thing to do,” she said, “is call ahead and let the police know we're coming.”