The Hidden Room

hat night, Mary returned to Colin’s room, wondering what mood she would find him in. To her relief, he seemed happy to see her. ‘Sit,’ he said rather grandly, pointing to the end of his bed. ‘Now I want to know more about this magic garden.’

Mary didn’t need any more encouragement. She had explored some more with Dickon that afternoon and she had so much she wanted to tell Colin. ‘I will, but then you must spit and promise not to breathe a word to anyone. It really is the most wonderful place!’ Her eyes shone.

‘There are hundreds of trees and plants, the moss glows and there are strange plants that look like giant umbrellas.’ Her words came faster as she tried to convey the magic of the garden.

‘There’s an ancient temple that looks as if it’s grown up out of the ground, with a lake inside, and a path lined with statues, and a stream that can heal wounds. There are animals there too, most sleeping under the ground still until spring comes, but there are birds. A robin who reveals secrets and a dog who is master of it all!’

‘That last bit sounds like rot, but is there really a lake in a temple?’ Colin asked eagerly.

‘Well, maybe you wouldn’t call it a lake,’ Mary said. ‘More a pond. But there is a stream and I believe it can heal. Now you promised to spit,’ she reminded him.

Colin shifted in his bed. He spoke awkwardly as if he didn’t like admitting he didn’t know something. ‘Mary, you … you may need to educate me in how to spit.’

Mary laughed and spat on her hand and held it out.

‘Oh,’ Colin said, blinking. ‘Surprisingly simple.’ He copied her and they shook hands.

‘Now we have spat and shaken, we can never break the promise,’ she told him earnestly.

‘I won’t tell a soul,’ said Colin. ‘You have my word. Now I want to know more about this dog. Maybe you will be able to train it,’ he said. ‘I have a book on dog training in my bookcase.’ He pointed across the room. ‘Fetch it.’

Mary laughed. ‘I most certainly shan’t if you talk to me like that.’ She sat down in the wheelchair instead. ‘When was the last time you used this chair?’

‘Fetch me my book!’ Colin said crossly.

She ignored him. ‘I don’t believe your back is half as painful as you make out.’

‘And I know you didn’t kill your mother like you said,’ retorted Colin. ‘So who’s the bigger liar?’

Mary was shocked. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I said to the maid who cleans my room that I’d heard you moving about and I demanded she told me who you were. She said you were an orphan and that both your parents died in hospital of cholera. She was very clear you weren’t a murderess.’

Mary felt a lump swell in her throat. She wished what he said was true, but she knew what she’d done. Not wanting to talk about it, she changed the subject. ‘Colin, do you trust me? I want to show you something.’

‘Why would I trust you?’ he said.

She raised her eyebrows. He had the grace to look slightly ashamed and nodded. ‘Very well. But I am not going outside,’ he added warningly.

‘This isn’t outside,’ said Mary. She took the wheelchair over to his bed. ‘Now shall I help you in?’

‘No,’ he said, his cheeks flushing. ‘I do not want you to see my back where the hump is growing. Turn away. I can manage on my own.’

Mary went over to stand by the door and waited with her back turned to him. She heard him grunting with effort and cursing under his breath, but, at long last, he cleared his throat. ‘You may turn round.’

He was sitting in his chair with his dressing gown on over his pyjamas. His face was pale.

She hurried behind him, pushing him out into the corridor.

‘So I have trusted you tonight,’ he said, glancing back at her. ‘I believe you should trust me in return. Tell me why you believe you are a murderess?’

Mary hesitated. She knew how hard it had been for him to agree to leave his bed and she felt she owed him something in return. ‘I wished my mother’s death,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I was angry because she didn’t love me, so I wished her dead and then it happened. The cholera came and she and Daddy both died. I am absolutely a murderess, Colin.’

‘But Mary, that’s …’

‘I made it happen,’ she insisted, glaring at him. She didn’t want him trying to make her feel better. She knew it was her fault and that she had to live with the guilt of what she’d done.

He looked alarmed. ‘Very well,’ he said hastily. ‘If you say it is so, then … then I believe you.’ He started to look panicked. ‘But if you take me to the garden you will murder me too!’

Mary frowned. ‘I’m not taking you to the garden. I’m taking you into that room.’ She pointed to the room with the murals. ‘There’s something you need to see.’

She wheeled him inside. He stared at the murals as she found the hidden catch and the door opened into the secret room.

‘What is this place?’ he said in astonishment as she pushed him into the sparkling room. The radiant moonlight fell on the silvery cobwebs, and the gems on the gowns glittered brightly.

As Colin looked around, his shoulders tensed and his voice rose. ‘Was this my mother’s room? I don’t like it here, Mary. Take me back.’

‘Wait!’ said Mary, hurrying over to the pile of photographs. ‘You need to see these. I was three when your mother died and you and I are about the same age. What do you remember of that time?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Take me back to my room,’ Colin insisted.

‘Colin!’ Mary took the box of loose photographs over to him. ‘Just look at these. Don’t be scared,’ she said as he glanced away. ‘You’ll like them. It’s your mother and my mother together. Look.’

She showed him the top few photographs and stopped at the one with the two children in it. The boy was slim and dark; the girl was smaller with a chestnut-brown bob. They were holding hands with their mothers.

‘It’s us,’ Mary said softly. ‘It didn’t make sense at first because I thought I hadn’t been to England before, but now I think my mother must have brought me here when your mother was ill. Martha told me they were very close so I think she came to see her twin – your mother – one last time before she died. Then afterwards she couldn’t bear to talk about it and so no one ever mentioned it to me. Isn’t it incredible, Colin, that we met when we were young although neither of us can remember it? And look. I think we were inside the secret garden!’

Colin’s hand had started to shake. He pushed the picture away. ‘I don’t want to see,’ he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

‘But isn’t it extraordinary?’ said Mary, her eyes shining as she rushed on. ‘And do you know what’s even more extraordinary? You’re walking in the picture, Colin. You don’t have a wheelchair or a hump and you don’t look ill. Colin, look …’

‘No!’ Colin exclaimed, shoving at her with both hands as she tried to put the photo back in his lap. ‘No. No. No! I said I don’t want to see. You’re just doing this to hurt me. You’re just jealous because my mother loved me and yours didn’t love you!’

Anger rushed through Mary and she moved to slap him. She stopped herself at the last moment, but he had started to scream. Desperately scared they would be overheard, she clapped her hand over his mouth to silence him. As they grappled with each other, Colin lost his balance and toppled forward out of his chair, pulling Mary down with him and knocking over one of the dummies on the way. It crashed into the one next to it and they both fell over, spilling clothes everywhere.

Mary sat up in a daze and for a moment thought she saw the hazy figures of her mother and Grace bending over Colin in concern. Mary gasped and the ghosts vanished.

‘Colin?’ Mary’s voice was little more than a squeak. Colin was lying on the floor, very still, his face white, his eyes shut. She crawled over to him. ‘Colin, are you all right? Colin?’

His eyes opened. Relief overwhelmed her. For a moment, she’d thought she had killed him! She knelt beside him and helped him sit up. ‘Where does it hurt? Where …’ She broke off as she realised something. ‘Your back, Colin!’ She looked closely. ‘You haven’t got a hump. Your back is just the same as mine.’

‘Of course it’s not,’ said Colin angrily.

‘It is,’ Mary insisted. She pulled his pyjama top up and ran her hand over his back. ‘I swear on your mother’s life that I can’t see a hump there at all. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your spine.’

He stared at her, his eyes disbelieving. ‘But my father said …’ His voice trailed off. ‘No. My back is the reason why he makes me have my medicine, the medicine that burns and hurts,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t make sense if I don’t have a hump.’

Mary stared at him wordlessly. He was right: it didn’t make any sense at all.

Turning it over in her mind, she began to silently help him back into his wheelchair. His back might appear normal, but his legs certainly didn’t seem able to take his weight. It was tricky to get him up.

‘Be careful,’ he said as she struggled to lift him.

‘You’re telling me to be careful?’ said Mary with a grin as she managed to manoeuvre him back into the seat.

Slightly breathless, they looked round the room and then back at each other. They shared a smile.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mary said, really meaning it. ‘I didn’t realise that bringing you here would upset you so much.’

‘It’s hard,’ Colin admitted. ‘Seeing all my mother’s belongings.’

Mary gave her cousin a sideways look. ‘I … I saw your mother and mine,’ she admitted. His eyes shot to hers. ‘Just now, when you fell. They were leaning over you as you lay on the floor. I think I’ve seen their ghosts before. I thought I was imagining it, but now I’m sure I’m not.’ She shot him a warning look. ‘If you tell me I’m lying …’

‘I won’t,’ he interrupted. ‘Because I don’t think you are. I’ve … I’ve never told anyone this, Mary, but when the soldiers were here, and I could hear them crying out, I used to see my mother’s ghost. She would appear and stand beside me. I always felt she came to comfort me because she knew I was scared.’

‘And now my mother has joined her,’ said Mary wonderingly.

He hesitated and took hold of her hand and they glanced round the secret room together. A room full of memories. Memories of twins who had meant the world to each other and memories of a house that had once been very different.

Filled with light, laughter and happiness, Mary thought, remembering Martha’s words. And now it’s just a prison filled with secrets.

As she spoke, a cloud passed over the moon and Mary saw the ghostly figures of her mother and aunt standing at the window together, gazing out in the direction of the garden. They turned and looked at her with a wordless appeal in their eyes. This time she felt no fear, just curiosity. ‘What do you want?’ she whispered to them. ‘What do you want me to do?’

And then the moon shone out again and the figures vanished, leaving just pale silver moonbeams tracing across the clothes on the floor.