IT WAS AS IF a door had slammed shut. Poco and Georgina had never felt such a jolt. One minute Walter’s mother was there, with a face and a life, and her terrible shyness. The next she was gone—whisk!—out of the world.
“But she was alive. We saw her. She spoke to us!” Georgina said it often in the days following.
“Maybe not,” Poco would answer. “That was only what she seemed. She might really have been the ghost-mother Walter believed in. Don’t look so upset. These things happen.”
“No they don’t!” Georgina gave a violent, disbelieving shiver. “Remember how we sat drinking our sodas? She was washing dishes like an ordinary mother. All that time she was really dead?”
Poco smiled. “I think Walter liked her better that way.”
“But that has nothing to do with it.”
“Maybe it does if you’re desperate enough.”
About none of this did they ever speak to Walter. What was the use when nothing could be proved? His view of things was as good as theirs. Better, in fact; he was a steadier person. His mother had left him, but this time it was expected. She had done what he had asked, held up her end. For some reason, this gave Walter confidence. There was no need to creep into corners or vanish like Houdini when he felt unsure. Walter walked in the open air. The old demon spirits that had stalked him went away, and he began to take charge of his powerful antennae. Where before they had picked up cold, distant worlds, now his radar worked on things close to home. He saw, for instance, how lonely Granny Docker was and began to talk to her in a different way.
“Louder, you mean?” Georgina demanded.
“Softer,” Walter said. “She hears me better.”
Amid all this change and the scurry of summer, the one forgotten thing was the Little Match Girl. The friends never did walk over that morning, because Juliette was struck by a bad case of weakness. Perhaps she had used too much strength on the waitress. Walter was forced to carry her home from the shop, with Poco’s robin fluttering wildly overhead. For a while they were afraid the cat would decide to pass on to her next life that very night. But thankfully she rallied and paid them all the compliment of choosing to stay a little longer.
So it was not until nearly the middle of August that the friends found themselves walking up the knoll again, and coming face-to-face with the bronze girl. Juliette, who was with them, thanks to Walter, sat on the little lawn and gazed up at her with a look of grave respect. By now the grass had become quite long. From everywhere bushes seemed to have exploded, and there was a general thickening of stem and foliage. It was amazing to see how fast things could grow. The green veil that had hidden the statue from the park was rising again. Before the month was out, the Little Match Girl would once more crouch in shadow.
At first Poco and Georgina were shocked by this state of neglect. While Walter and Juliette watched, they rushed about, pulling up weeds and vines. But soon the heat of the day overwhelmed them. They lay back on their elbows and gazed out at the park, knowing they would never be able to keep up with nature. The knoll was too wild; its roots went too deep. Even the flowers they had planted were in danger of being choked.
“All that work for nothing,” Georgina said.
“Oh no,” said Walter. “I don’t think that at all. It was nice to see the Match Girl out in the open. Now she wants to go back undercover.”
“She wants to!” said Georgina. “How do you know?”
“See how she’s trying to turn her face?”
They looked, and it did seem to be so, whether because of the new burst of leaves or a certain cast of afternoon light. Where the Match Girl had appeared to reach out to them before, now she was modestly drawing away.
Suddenly it seemed to them that they’d never really known her. She was a statue from a story that had happened too long ago. They could come to visit her over and over, but they would never understand why she’d frozen as she had. Or whether in the end she was sad, or happy, or if heaven was a place she really wanted to go.
While everyone was thinking these thoughts, Juliette stood up, stretched, and padded toward the statue. She swirled with elegant steps around the Match Girl’s hand. Otherwise, Georgina’s eye never would have caught it.
“Poco! Walter! Look, a ring!”
It was different from the other. Smoother, plainer, silvery colored.
“Wait a minute!” cried Georgina. “What is going on?”
Walter smiled. “Maybe the Match Girl is expecting another ghost.”