The Little Secret (5 page)

“Staffa? Are you okay?”

“I'll miss them, that's all.” Staffa did her best to smile. “I've had the time of my life at your Boy Garden. I'm glad I'm taking you away with me, as a souvenir.” She added, “For a few weeks, anyway. I don't think I could bear it otherwise.”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” said Lady Matilda. “Don't be such a drip.”

Jane thought this was mean of her. She gave Staffa's hand a friendly squeeze. “You can come back whenever you like.”

“No, I can't,” Staffa said. “I can't do anything I like.”

It was an odd remark, which made her mother scowl. When Lady Matilda frowned, deep furrows appeared in her white forehead, and she looked like the painted figurehead of an old-fashioned ship. Jane was a little afraid of her.

“Staffa, I'm warning you now — I will not put up with sulking. Make me a cup of Haw-haw tea.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And only four sugars, because I've decided to make my bottom smaller. I couldn't get my knickerbockers over it this morning.”

“Yes, Mother.” Staffa gave a snort of laughter, and winked at Jane to tell her she was all right.

The big gold teapot, complete with gaslight, was traveling with them in the car. So was the painted box. This beautiful object sat on the leather seat between Staffa and her mother, held perfectly still with its own seat belt. Lady Matilda often stroked it, and rested her jeweled hand upon it. Every now and then she wiped it with a silk handkerchief, though there was never a speck on its painted sides. She covered it carefully with the handkerchief while she drank her tea.

They stopped for lunch at a large hotel, somewhere in the middle of the countryside. It was very grand. Lady Matilda begged Jane to order whatever she fancied, and she chose a fancy kind of sausage and mashed potatoes, with ice cream to follow. It was all delicious.

“I MUST get you some new clothes, Jane,” Lady Matilda said, looking scornfully at Jane's jeans and sneakers. “Really, you look as if you'd come to mend the boiler!” She frowned down at her menu. “What a miserable selection of puddings! It's a good thing I'm on a diet — I'll just have two of each.”

Staffa, who had cheered up, gave Jane a nudge under the table. She nodded towards a painting on the wall of a large pig, and then nodded towards her greedy mother. Both girls shook with secret giggles. Jane knew this was rude, but she couldn't help it — Lady Matilda's big, gobbling red mouth looked so funny with the orange helmet.

After lunch, there was more driving. The car stopped in the busy main street of a large town.

Lady Matilda reached into a kind of pouch that was sewn into the leather of the seat, and pulled out a thick pile of cash. Jane was astonished. It was the most money she had ever seen in real life.

Staffa saw the way Jane stared at it. “Cash is very convenient,” she said, “when you travel as much as we do.”

“Come along, girlies!” sang Lady Matilda.

They got out of the car. Jane saw that the mysterious driver stayed stock still in the front seat, like a statue wrapped in black.

“What about him?” she asked. “Isn't he getting out too?”

“Who?” Lady Matilda asked vaguely, “Oh, you mean Prockwald.”

This was the first time Jane had heard the driver's name. She felt unkind for not asking about it sooner. “Doesn't Mr. Prockwald want to come with us?”

Lady Matilda gave a loud gasp — scaring off a nearby flock of pigeons — and burst into hoots of deafening laughter. Her dull, white teeth opened and shut like a poacher's trap. “Jane, you're too priceless! Staffa, did you ever? MISTER Prockwald!”

Bewildered, Jane looked at Staffa. What had she said that was so hilarious?

“He's a servant,” Staffa explained. She was embarrassed. “They're — not like us.”

“Why not?”

“You must understand, my dear Jane,” said Lady Matilda, “that these people don't have our fine feelings, or our exquisite tastes. It's unkind to pay them too much attention — it only confuses them. I promise you, Prockwald will be perfectly happy to wait in the car.”

Jane had never heard anyone speak in such a heartless, nasty way — though Prockwald didn't seem to mind. She thought how angry her dad would be, if he caught someone talking like that in the pub.

“Anyway,” her ladyship went on, “he has to stay here, to guard the box.” She took one last, loving look at the beautiful painted box before she shut the car door.

With her mountainous orange bosom leading the way, Lady Matilda took the two girls into a famous shop, full of lovely clothes.

The next half hour was like a daydream. Jane had often thought how great it would be to go into a shop and buy every single thing she wanted. This was exactly what Lady Matilda did. She whisked through the rails of clothes, scooping up skirts, dresses, tops, shoes and bags, until Jane felt slightly giddy — were all these things for her? The clothes were rather girly, and some of the colors (sugary mauve, neon yellow) were rather “bleck,” but Jane couldn't say anything without seeming ungrateful. For the first time in her life, she would be totally dressed as a girl. It was incredible, and she was not going to argue about a few colors.

Lady Matilda surprised the girl at the register by handing over the whole heap of money. “You count it out, dear — I can't be bothered.” She let out a sigh. “Really, what an appalling place! No junior debutante evening gowns! No dancing pumps! And absolutely NO semi-formal cocktail dresses in children's sizes! This is what happens when girls stop wearing corsets. Oh, well.”

Festooned with plastic bags, she led Staffa and Jane out of the shop. Prockwald waited beside the car.

Lady Matilda dropped the bags in a heap at his feet. “Put these in the trunk, then drive us to the hotel — and I'll be drinking tea back there, so take the corners slowly.”

Staffa brewed another pot of the purple Haw-haw tea. The car filled up with a smell of gasoline and orange peel. Lady Matilda drank two cups and fell asleep.

“That's the one good thing about this revolting tea,” said Staffa, switching on the television. “It's like her having an off button.”

Jane settled back against the soft leather seat. She was having such a fantastic time, she could hardly believe it was real. The posh car, the new clothes, the wonderful food — she couldn't wait to tell the boys. This was the vacation of her dreams.

Their hotel was an old manor house, in the middle of the countryside. At the reception desk in the hall, Jane learned that she was to have her own bedroom and bathroom, with cable television and a mini-bar full of sweets. It was so thrilling that she hardly noticed the oddity of Lady Matilda's arrangements.

“So that's one room with bath for Miss Hughes, one large double with bath for myself and my daughter, one single for my driver (though I still don't see why he can't sleep in the corridor), and one room for my box. Prockwald, bring Miss Jane's new clothes. I will carry the box myself.”

Lady Matilda went upstairs, holding the painted box carefully in her gloved hands.

“The box first,” she said. “Staffa, unlock the door of twenty-two.”

Staffa was carrying the keys to all their rooms. She opened the door of number 22. Lady Matilda carried the box inside and placed it carefully on the dressing table. Staffa took two gold candlesticks out of a special canvas case she was carrying, and Lady Matilda placed these on either side of the box. Jane watched, completely baffled. What on earth were they doing?

Strangest of all, the box apparently had a room to itself. Lady Matilda locked the door and put the key in her pocket.

“Staffa, dear, you and I are next door. Jane, you're across the way. Do have all the sweets you like, and please put on the flowered green dress for dinner. I will see you in the dining room in precisely forty-five minutes.”

Staffa handed her the key. Jane let herself into her room. It was wonderful. There was a huge bed, a fridge filled with sweets and a shining bathroom with tiny bottles of shower gel and shampoo. There was a telephone beside the bed. Jane looked up the instructions for making a call, and called the Boy Garden.

Mom answered the phone, and Jane had a sudden attack of homesickness. She could hear little Ted squawking in the background, and Dad having some sort of argument with Jon. For a moment, she longed for the messy kitchen, and the small television, and the big sofa with the stuffing leaking out.

She cheered up when she started telling Mom about her luxury lifestyle, and the heaps of new clothes.

“How generous of Staffa's mother!” Mom said. “Please say thanks from us.”

Jane said, “I miss you a lot.”

“We miss you too, darling. But we all want you to go on having a lovely time.”

The phone call ended with all the boys shouting, “'Bye Jane!”

The luxurious room felt too quiet after that. Jane distracted herself by finding the flowered green dress and putting it on. There were white tights and green shoes to go with it. Jane stared at herself in the mirror. Anybody could see that she was not a boy. She was a girl, and when she wore girl's clothes, she was actually pretty.

Feeling very elegant but rather shy, Jane made her way downstairs to the hotel dining room. Lady Matilda had booked a private room, which had a view of a garden and a round table with a white cloth.

“My dear Jane,” Staffa said, “you look delightful.” She was alone.

Jane asked, “Where's Lady Matilda?”

For a moment, Staffa was uncomfortable. “Oh — she said we should start without her. She's — she's been delayed.”

“Delayed?”

“I mean, she's doing some business stuff upstairs, and she'll join us when she can.”

They were halfway through their bowls of tomato soup when Lady Matilda came crashing into the room.

“So sorry, girlies — I had to catch up with a little paperwork.”

Jane stared. Lady Matilda did not look as if she had been catching up with “paperwork.” Her orange suit was speckled with black stuff, like soot, and there was black smoke around her head.

Staffa said, “Your hat's on fire.” She picked up her glass of water and poured it on her mother's terrible orange hat.

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Lady Matilda said breathlessly. “It must have caught during the explosion — but it's all fine for the time being, and I got two of them with my own hands. Shoot them first, that's what I say — then you won't have the expense of hanging them later.”

“Mother,” Staffa said softly. She nodded towards Jane.

“Ah,” said Lady Matilda. She looked worried for a moment, then gave Jane one of her gleaming, toothy grins. “Don't take any notice, Jane — it's really not important. Someone get me a cup of tea.”

What on earth had she been up to? What kind of “explosion” happened in the bedroom of a quiet country hotel? And why was Lady Matilda talking about shooting and hanging? Jane saw the warning looks Staffa was giving to her mother. There was some kind of secret between them that she was not supposed to know about.

She decided to pretend she hadn't noticed anything odd, and Staffa gradually relaxed. As usual, the gold tea-pot was bubbling beside Lady Matilda's chair. Staffa made her a huge cup of Haw-haw tea, and then another — and another, and another, until Jane stopped counting.

Lady Matilda was in a strange mood — excited and giggly. If she hadn't been drinking tea, Jane might have thought she was drunk.

“Oh, to BLAZES with the diet!” shouted Lady Matilda. “I'll have TEN of those weeny chocolate mousses — this is a NATIONAL EMERGENCY!”

When the chocolate mousses arrived (brought by a rather scared-looking waitress) Lady Matilda began to sing:

Oh, hark to the tale of Tornado the spider,

Who won the Queen's Cup

With Batsindo, his rider!

Staffa rolled her eyes at Jane. “Take no notice. She always sings when she's had too much.”

It was a very long song, and Jane could not make out all the verses — lots of burbled stuff about a jockey named Batsindo, who saw a bad omen in his breakfast on the day of the race. Lady Matilda was still singing when the three of them were going upstairs to bed. “This is the pad sart,” she told them foggily, “I mean, the sad part.” Suddenly tearful, she sang:

When they reached the third plughole,

Batsindo, he cried,

Farewell, my dear mother!

Farewell, my sweet bride!

And he fell down the plughole,

So hairy and wide!

“I'm so sorry you had to see this, Jane,” Staffa said, unlocking the bedroom door while Lady Matilda — still singing — sagged against the wall. “She doesn't do it often. I think she's suffering from shock because her hat caught fire. Good night.”

Jane lay awake in her strange hotel bed for ages. She missed her bedroom at home, with its faded Postman Pat wallpaper. She missed her own bed, with its comfy, twanging old mattress. And she had been alarmed by Lady Matilda's weird behavior — though she couldn't help laughing to herself, as she remembered her ladyship hooting out that meaningless song in her smoking hat.

When she finally fell asleep, Jane had an amazing dream. She dreamed that Lady Matilda was standing in front of her, pulling up the skirt of her blue satin gown. Under the skirt, she wore a pair of huge frilly bloomers (in her dream, Jane made a huge effort not to giggle at the sight of these).

There seemed to be a secret pocket on the inside of the left leg. Lady Matilda took out something small and very bright that shot out light like little bolts of lightning. She loomed over Jane's bed. Her big, painted face came closer and closer, until Jane wanted to scream. The small object that she had taken out of her bloomers flashed in Jane's eyes.