The Midnight Swan Read online

  Seren let him pull her away. But she kept tight hold of the Box, and took another look back, puzzled and scared, at where the alleyway should have been.

  They had been angry. This was something secret, something They didn’t want her to have.

  But it was too late now.

  2

  Some worrying questions

  Iron horseshoes on the door.

  Why ask what has gone before?

  Next morning Seren sat up and tugged aside the curtain round her bed.

  A shaft of bright sunlight was slanting across the darkness of the room, gilding the left paw of Sam the cat, where he lay sprawled out on the dressing table, watching her.

  ‘Bore da, Sam,’ Seren said sleepily.

  It was a quarter to eight by the clock.

  She looked down at her clothes on the floor. She had been so tired by the time they got back last night that she had done nothing but tug off her dress and scramble into bed.

  Now she grinned, thinking of Lady Mair giving the prize for the best pig to a small bent man called Dai Hughes, who everyone had known would win because his sow, Anwen, was so white and fat. And their very own bull, Angus, had won best in show and been given a rosette to wear behind his ear!

  She laughed out loud.

  A sniff came from the depths of the room. A disapproving, tetchy sniff. ‘Had a good time, did you?’

  ‘Oh yes! It was such fun!’

  ‘I’m so glad.’ He didn’t sound at all glad.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said quietly.

  Sam jumped over onto her quilt and purred.

  ‘No, not you,’ she said, smoothing his head. ‘You. Clockwork Crow.’

  Silence. A rustle in the wardrobe.

  ‘You’re not still sulking in there?’

  ‘I’m not sulking, silly girl,’ he snapped. ‘I’m cogitating.’

  ‘Well, come and do it out here.’

  Another creak, louder this time. A rattle. Then, ‘I can’t. The stupid door seems to have locked itself on me.’

  Seren grinned. Pushing Sam aside she sat up, swung her feet out and went and tugged the curtains wide so that sunlight, already warm, flooded the room. She opened the casement and let in the soft, sweet, summer air. Then she unlocked the wardrobe and stood back.

  The Clockwork Crow stalked out.

  He was moth-eaten and his beak was bent and his black feathers were very ruffled, but he held his head high with rigid dignity. He flapped up to the windowsill, folded his wings and glared out at the sunny lawns and blue lake. ‘Another glorious summer day! How lovely!’

  Seren sighed. ‘You’re still in a bad mood.’

  The Crow didn’t even bother to answer.

  She didn’t like this. Usually he would have told her off for lounging in bed and then demanded answers to a whole list of nosy questions about the Fair: who was there, what they did, what they ate, who won what.

  He would have been scornful and boastful and slyly interested.

  She wished he would even tell her off. It would be better than silence. She sat on the bed. ‘So what was in your brother’s letter?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Seren crossed her legs. ‘Anyway I already know. Enoch is in London. He can’t get here. Because he’s in prison.’

  The Crow almost choked. ‘What!’

  Seren tried to look modest. ‘I deduced it. It was … elementary.’

  The Crow was still spluttering. ‘I can’t believe…’

  ‘I know it’s a bit of a disgrace for your family. But if it’s just for debt…’

  ‘Stop. STOP!’ The Crow held up a wing furiously. ‘AT ONCE!’

  She stopped.

  The Crow drew itself up. ‘How dare you sit there and tell me Enoch is in prison!’

  ‘But … the envelope…’

  With a flourish the Crow produced the letter. ‘Read it for yourself, Miss Detective. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think I was telling lies!’

  She took it and read it, and felt her face getting redder and redder.

  It was headed 16 Marshalsea Lane, Preston.

  ‘PR e S toN, not prison!’ she whispered in dismay. Then she read,

  Dear Brother,

  I’m so sorry I can’t get to you at present due to such a foolish mistake on my part. I stepped off a moving tram and I seem to have broken my big toe. (Left foot.) It’s in plaster and I have to keep it still for a few days.

  Please don’t feel upset. I was so sure that the alchemist in Wolverhampton would be the answer to your problem, and it was such a shame that he blew himself up just before I got to speak to him. But don’t despair, dear brother! We will get you back to your human shape! Please don’t do anything rash, and BEWARE of Them because as you know They can’t be trusted in anything.

  Your affectionate brother,

  Enoch.

  ‘Oh.’ Seren felt very small. ‘Prison … Preston … it’s an easy mistake to make.’

  ‘Seren, I’m going to confiscate every detective story you have. They are total rubbish and quite clearly a very bad influence on your imagination.’

  No! She couldn’t have that!

  ‘Poor Enoch,’ she said quickly. ‘His writing is just like him. Tall and thin and nervous. I hope his toe doesn’t hurt too much.’

  ‘Enoch needs to look where he’s going. As for you,’ the Crow folded its wings with grim intent, ‘I intend double homework for a week and then…’

  ‘I bought you a present,’ she said quickly.

  The Crow blinked. Its jewel-bright eye fixed on her. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I bought you a present. From the Fair.’

  ‘Oh dear. Some tatty ballad-sheet…’

  ‘NO! A Box. A really interesting Box. Look. I’ll show you.’

  She went over to the drawer of her dressing table and opened it, remembering for a moment that last night, even though she had been so tired, she had not wanted to leave the Box out, as if it might be dangerous. She lifted it out now and put it on the table.

  ‘It’s this. It was on a sort of stall, but then the stall disappeared. I think it belonged to Them, because there were all these ugly eyes and faces, and I sort of stole it though I did leave a penny and They were angry and ran after me, and it rained but it couldn’t have really because I wasn’t a bit wet…’

  The Crow was not listening. It was sitting very still and its eyes were wide as moons.

  It was staring at the Box’s starry cover.

  ‘My goodness,’ it said at last, in a faint whisper. ‘My giddy goodness.’

  Seren smiled happily.

  ‘I knew you’d like it. There are words look, all around…’ She reached out.

  ‘NO!’ The Crow snapped.

  Seren’s hand stopped in mid-air.

  ‘Don’t touch it! It could be a trap. It smells … dark.’

  From far below, the breakfast bell tinkled.

  The Crow hopped closer, looked sidelong at the Box. Cautiously, it stuck out a talon to touch the dark lid, but drew back shaking its head. ‘Breakfast first. Then lessons. I have to think about this.’

  But as she dressed quickly and hurried out she looked back and saw that the Crow was sitting more upright, with the old greedy gleam back in its eye, and she smiled secretly to herself.

  At breakfast everyone was busy telling tales of their day at the Fair. Lady Mair sipped her coffee. ‘I did so enjoy it,’ she said. ‘And I think, dear, that it’s given me an idea.’

  ‘Really?’ The Captain was reading his newspaper but he put it down politely. ‘What about?’

  ‘I think it would be wonderful to revive the Plas-y-Fran Midsummer Ball.’

  ‘Oh.’ Seren gasped through a mouthful of toast. She had a sudden vision of a room of swirling dancers and a band playing wonderful music. ‘What, a dance? Here?’

  Captain Jones laughed. ‘We haven’t had that since my father’s day.’

  ‘Exactly!’ Lady Mair’s eyes w
ere shining. ‘It’s about time we started it up again.’

  ‘You won’t have much time. That’s tomorrow night.’

  ‘Will it be fancy dress?’ Tomos’s eyes lit up. ‘I could be a pirate. With a cutlass!’

  ‘I don’t know about that, old man.’ Captain Jones reached over and took his wife’s hand. ‘But if you really want to do it, my dear, go ahead. Have a chat with Mrs V, though. She’ll have plenty to say, I’m sure.’

  Lady Mair squeezed his fingers. ‘Oh Arthur, it would be wonderful. I’ll start at once.’

  ‘And now I have some business to attend to.’ Captain Jones stood and went to the door. Then he turned, a little reluctantly. ‘I wonder, Seren, if you’d come to my study before your lessons. Just for ten minutes. Nothing important…’

  Seren stared. ‘Yes, of course.’

  She glanced at Tomos, who made a puzzled face.

  Had she done something wrong? For a moment, a thread of worry went through her.

  As she ate the rest of her toast and licked the orange marmalade from her fingers she tried to think what it was. Nothing really bad came to mind, though they had broken a little window in the stables with the cricket ball, but Tomos had hit it; she had just been bowling.

  It couldn’t be that.

  When breakfast was finished, she waited till Tomos had run upstairs and Lady Mair had gone out to her sitting room, and still she sat there, at the crumb-covered table, thinking.

  Maybe they were going to send her away to school.

  It had to happen sooner or later. There were no schools near Plas-y-Fran. Tomos would go to boarding school next year – he said he was looking forward to it, but she wondered if that was true. Sometimes he seemed a little nervous about the other boys, and the masters, and all the hearty games and sports. She knew all about living with other girls, and she didn’t really want to do that again.

  And it wasn’t as if they didn’t have an expert teacher of their own!

  She grinned, rubbing the crumbs with the tip of her finger.

  Lily the maid came in. ‘Finished, miss?’

  ‘Oh yes, diolch, Lily.’ She stood and went out and along the corridor.

  The Crow was their teacher. Of course it was all top secret. Lady Mair thought that Tomos and Seren went to the schoolroom and taught themselves from books. When she tested them on Latin and Greek and History and Geography she was always startled at how well they were doing. ‘Quite extraordinary!’ she had said last time. ‘I don’t know how you children are so clever!’ And the Clockwork Crow, who had been perched listening behind the waxed fruit dome, had smirked and preened himself with pride.

  But that couldn’t last either.

  The Crow had to find his human shape again, and they had to help him.

  It was only fair.

  The house was lovely on a summer morning like this. All down the corridors dust hung in the slants of sunlight from the high windows. Doves cooed from their perches on the eaves, and the casement hung open so that Seren could hear the hum of bees in the lavender on the terrace below, and smell the sweet honeysuckle that climbed the garden wall.

  She was so lucky to live here!

  As she ran along the upstairs corridor her fingers brushed the panelwork. The house was safe now. There had not been a whisper of the Tylwyth Teg since Mrs Honeybourne’s strange scarlet coach had disappeared into a flurry of leaves last autumn.

  Denzil had iron horseshoes hanging over every doorway, and when Captain Jones had laughed at him about it he had just shook his head and said darkly, ‘Better safe than sorry, Captain. Better safe than sorry.’

  So there was no need to worry. But, as she came to the door of the Captain’s study and stood outside looking at the brass doorknob, there was one tiny fear inside her that she didn’t even want to name.

  She knocked, lightly.

  ‘Come in.’

  She peeped round the door. ‘It’s just me.’

  ‘Oh come in, Seren, please. It won’t take a minute.’

  She came in and stood in front of the desk. It was a big wooden structure, with estate documents littered across it, and letters and a pipe-rack. The whole room smelt sweetly of tobacco; it must be, she thought, just how Mr Sherlock Holmes’ rooms in 221b Baker Street must smell.

  ‘Well now. Sit down.’

  She looked round and saw that a stool had been pulled up; she sat on it.

  Captain Jones was a tall man. He walked up and down looking out of the open windows. He seemed a little bit nervous, she thought. ‘Well, Seren. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a few days now. It’s … ah … a little bit… Um … well, it’s something I’ve been thinking of for a while.’

  ‘About me?’

  ‘In a way. Tell me, Seren,’ he turned quickly. ‘You are happy with us here, aren’t you? At Plas-y-Fran?’

  She stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘I love it here, with Tomos and Gwyn and you and Lady Mair and the Cr … cats and doves and everyone. Denzil and Mrs Villiers and Lily. I love everything about it.’

  She felt a bit frightened. How could she explain that Plas-y-Fran was the best place she had ever been in all her life and that she never, never wanted to leave? She couldn’t, so she just said, ‘It’s home.’

  ‘That’s quite right. It is.’ But he didn’t seem quite satisfied, she thought.

  He rummaged in the papers on the desk. ‘All I want, Seren, and I’m sorry if this is a bit strange, is a few details from you about your life before you came here.’

  She was really worried now. ‘Before…?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, your father was a great friend of mine when we were both boys. We went to school together. I was at his wedding to your mother and then he asked me to be your godfather at your baptism. I held you at the font. Goodness, you were so tiny then! But when he went away to India I didn’t hear much from him. I had a letter saying he was doing well and that was about all.’

  She nodded. Why was he telling her this?

  ‘I do blame myself that we lost touch. I went into the army, and met Lady Mair and got married and I had no idea that my dear old friend Roger had died, and his wife too, and that his daughter was in an orphanage. I do wish I had known earlier, Seren.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said kindly, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  ‘So what I want you to tell me is … do you have any other relatives? Aunts? Cousins? Anyone at all?’

  Seren frowned. ‘My aunt died. I don’t know about anyone else.’

  ‘No one has ever written to you saying they were your family?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see. I thought not, but… Of course your aunt’s solicitor might be able to help. I have already written to him to enquire.’

  Seren fidgeted on her chair. Written to the solicitor! That sounded bad.

  Captain Jones sat at his table and dipped a pen in the inkwell. He made notes of her full name, Seren Elinor Rhys, her date of birth and anything she could remember about her family, which wasn’t much, because before the orphanage everything was a blur. She was tempted to make a few things up, but something stopped her. Captain Jones wrote it all down, and then blotted the page dry. ‘Well. That will have to do. You’d better run off to your lessons now. I’m sorry to have kept you from your fun.’

  But Seren didn’t move. She clasped her hands together on her lap and asked the question that was tormenting her. ‘Are you going to send me away? To school? Is that it?’

  Captain Jones looked surprised. ‘School? Is that what you would like? I hadn’t thought… Oh, goodness! Look at the time!’

  The grandfather clock in the corner was chiming ten softly. ‘I’m sorry, Seren.’ Captain Jones swept the papers into the drawer and locked it, and hurried to the door. ‘I have a meeting at the bank and I have to run or I’ll be late. Have a good morning, my dear.’

  He ushered her briskly out and strode off.

  She was alone in the corridor.

&nbs
p; 3

  A small brown photograph

  Shake and rattle, test and weigh

  You can’t measure the heart’s dismay.

  Seren gazed after him. Then she began to walk slowly towards the schoolroom.

  What was going on? Those forms and papers worried her. They reminded her of interviews with inspectors at the orphanage, who were always big men in dark suits and top hats, who wrote things down gravely and shook their heads a lot.

  A sharp whistle made her look up.

  Tomos was peering round the schoolroom door. ‘Where have you been? He says, fetch that Box. But be careful and wear gloves.’

  Seren sighed. Sometimes the Crow was just silly. She ran to her bedroom, put on her church gloves and picked up the Box carefully, wrapping a shawl around it just in case. Then she hurried to the schoolroom.

  ‘Put it down there.’ The Crow flicked a wing at the cleared table.

  Seren did. She stepped back. ‘What shall we…?’

  ‘Lessons first,’ the Crow snapped. ‘Box later.’

  She frowned at Tomos. They both knew the Crow was itching with excitement to examine the Box, but this was just like him, to pretend it was an ordinary day with nothing unusual going on.