ONE

 

Vanessa was just eleven years old. But in the land of Partequineus, she was ten, or possibly twelve. Or nine, or maybe even a hundred and twenty-two. Ever since the purple mist drifted out of the fireplace and into her bedroom one Friday afternoon at precisely four o’clock, she had begun to think about time in a whole new way.

At the beginning of the third week of August, Vanessa and her mother moved into a pleasant, well-kept home on beautiful tree-lined Chestnut Street near the edge of town. She was happy. It was a small house, but ever so much bigger than the tiny, dark apartment where Vanessa had been forced to sleep on a pull-out couch in one corner of the living room. From now on, her Mom had promised she could have her own bedroom, all to herself.

The house was very old - more than two hundred years, the real estate salesman said. Vanessa thought it was beautiful, with lots of windows that let in plenty of light, and a huge yard that looked almost like a park. Many different kinds of birds nested in the tall trees, and red and grey squirrels chased each other through the branches and ran up and down the telephone poles that lined the street.

They had just come from the lawyer’s office, where they signed all the papers that meant the house really belonged to them. They climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, a small woman with white hair, a wrinkled face and a wide pleasant smile invited them inside.

“You’ve come just in time,” Grace Baxter said. “I’ve already called for a taxi, and I’m just about to leave. I have your keys all ready for you.”

“Thank you, Grace,” Vanessa’s mother said. They stepped into the bright foyer and followed the old woman into the living room. Vanessa looked around excitedly at the big comfortable sofa, the soft upholstered chairs, the polished wooden end tables, and the gigantic grandfather’s clock that stood across from the fireplace. Everything inside the house was theirs, too. Grace Baxter was moving to an assisted living residence, and wouldn’t need all that furniture any more.

“I’m so glad such nice people will be living in my house,” Mrs. Baxter said. “I’ve spent many pleasant years here.” She opened a desk drawer and took out a ring of keys. She handed them to Vanessa’s Mom.

“The biggest one is for the front door,” she said, pointing to a shiny silver key. “The two smaller ones are for the back door and the outside cellar entrance.” She turned to Vanessa. “And here’s an extra front door key just for you.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Vanessa’s mother said. “Vanessa gets home from school before I’m finished at work, so she’ll be able to let herself in.”

Grace Baxter stared thoughtfully at Vanessa. “That’s strange,” she murmured. “It seems as if I’ve seen you somewhere before. Many years ago, perhaps.”

“I’m only eleven,” Vanessa said.

“I know,” the old woman said mysteriously.

Then they heard the sound of a car horn outside.

“There’s my taxi,” Mrs. Baxter said. “I have to be going.” She headed toward the door, but paused with her hand on the latch. She looked back at Vanessa once more. She cocked her head to one side, as if trying to make up her mind whether to say more.

“There’s something I think I should tell you both,” she said seriously.

“What’s that?” Vanessa’s Mom asked.

“Have you decided which bedroom your daughter will sleep in?”

Vanessa and her mother looked at each other, puzzled. “Not yet,” Vanessa’s Mom said.

“Give her the front one,” Mrs. Baxter said. “You should take the one in back for yourself.” She leaned forward, staring directly into Vanessa’s eyes, so close that the girl backed up a little in alarm. The old woman’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “The room at the back of the house was mine when I was your age, child, so I know what I’m talking about. It’s best if you don’t go in there at all. Not ever.” She took a long, deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

“Well!” she said, a little too loudly and cheerfully, “I must be going now. I hope you’ll be very happy here.” She pulled open the door, stepped through it, and was gone in an instant.

“What was that all about?” Vanessa asked.

“I have no idea,” her mother said, “and I’m not going to worry about it. Let’s go exploring, shall we? The moving van should be here in about an hour, and we have to decide where to put all of our things.”