Believe in Magic

artha and Dickon pulled Mary away from the house. She collapsed next to her uncle, drawing in deep breaths. Her uncle’s clothes and face were covered in soot and ash and she knew she looked no better.

‘Room! Give them room!’ cried Mrs Medlock, flapping round them as there was the sound of sirens and the fire brigade arrived.

‘What were you thinking, girl? That was very, very stupid of you,’ Mrs Pitcher scolded Mary, not looking like she knew whether to laugh or cry.

‘And very brave,’ said Martha, helping Mary to sit up.

Mary met Dickon’s worried eyes and felt a rush of relief. She’d done it. She’d saved her uncle.

Mr Craven struggled to his feet. He looked like a broken man. ‘Show me,’ he said hoarsely to Mary. ‘Show me my son. I must see him.’

Mary looked at Dickon who gave a small nod.

‘It’s this way, sir,’ Mary said to her uncle.

She and Dickon led the way to the ivy-covered gate. Mary glanced at her uncle and saw that his face was rigid. ‘Colin’s in here,’ she said, pushing back the creepers and turning the handle.

As her uncle and Mrs Medlock stepped into the garden, the sun shone down through the long canopy of yellow laburnum flowers. Mary saw the astonishment on her uncle and Mrs Medlock’s faces as they walked through the beautiful golden tunnel and out into the garden with its formal flowerbeds bursting with blooms.

‘Why, it’s beautiful!’ Mrs Medlock said wonderingly as she looked around at the overflowing flowerbeds, the tended trees and the gravel path that was now free from weeds.

‘It’s ours,’ said Mary. She glanced at her uncle who was staring around in shock at the blooming garden with its riot of flowers. ‘It was hers, but now I think she wants us to share it.’

‘And he’s here?’ Her uncle looked at her pleadingly. ‘Where is my son?’

‘Call for him, sir,’ said Mary encouragingly.

Her uncle moved swiftly through the garden. ‘Colin?’ he called, pushing plants aside as he searched.

‘Colin?’ Mary, Dickon and Mrs Medlock followed.

‘Please be careful, sir,’ said Mrs Medlock anxiously, but Mr Craven ignored her.

‘Colin!’ His voice rose.

Colin was sitting on the grass by the temple, his sleeves rolled up. ‘There!’ Mary said, pulling her uncle’s sleeve and pointing.

‘Father!’ Colin shouted in relief. ‘You’re safe!’

Mr Craven broke into an unsteady run. Mary bounded beside him. He stopped a little way from Colin and stared as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘I thought I’d lost you,’ he whispered, his eyes riveted on his son’s face. ‘And of all the places to find you. Here. In her garden …’

He stepped closer but Colin shook his head. ‘No, wait. Please, Father.’ He began to struggle to his knees and, using a stick that Dickon had carved for him, he pulled himself to his feet. He smiled proudly at his father.

Mr Craven paled. ‘You are standing, Colin!’

Colin nodded and took a step towards his father. He paused then took another and another. Mr Craven watched, transfixed. ‘But how is this possible?’ he whispered.

Colin stumbled the last few steps and fell forward into his father’s arms. ‘Magic,’ he said as his father grabbed him. Their eyes met. ‘Secrets.’ He glanced round the garden. ‘Her.’

‘Her?’ said his father, confused.

‘His mother,’ said Mary.

Mrs Medlock spoke. ‘She’s here. I’m sure of it, sir,’ she said and her voice was warmer than Mary had ever heard it before. She and Mr Craven looked at each other over Colin’s head and a tear fell down Mr Craven’s cheek. With a groan, he hugged Colin as if he would never let him go. Eventually, he pulled back.

‘Forgive me, Colin. I should have visited you more and then I would have realised you did not need the medicine. But it was …’ He swallowed. ‘Too hard for me. I am sorry, so very sorry.’

‘It’s all right, Father,’ Colin said, his eyes bright with tears. ‘I understand. You have been in a prison as much as I.’

His father looked at him wonderingly. ‘How is it that we are taught by our children?’

Mary exchanged looks with Dickon. We have all taught each other, she thought. And the garden taught us most of all.

Colin’s voice became brisk. ‘Enough of this. Tell me, Father. How do you like our garden? Would you like me to give you the grand tour?’

A smile lit up his father’s face. ‘Yes, Colin,’ he said, clearing his throat and nodding. ‘I believe I would like that very much.’

With a grin, Colin began to hobble round the garden, pointing out the different plants to his father and Mrs Medlock. Mary smiled at Dickon as they followed on behind with Hector trotting at their heels.