32
Great Expectations

It is Pip who begins the counting: five, six, seven stones up from the ground, then seventeen, eighteen, nineteen stones from the end of the wall.

‘That’s the one!’ he says in a matter-of-fact way. He is pointing at a blue-grey slab, just like all the other stones in that bridge. Now Hannah comes to his side and they take hold of the stone, trying to wiggle it free from the wall. But the stone is jammed tight, as if it’s been there since the beginning of time. So Hannah runs off, and a moment later she returns with a short stick in her hand. Now she’s using the end of the stick to pick out the soil and moss and crumbling mortar from around the stone. While she’s working, Pip rushes back to the river and returns with cupped hands full of water, which he tosses against the stone to loosen the dirt.

Pip and Hannah dig their fingers into the joints and, very slowly, the dripping stone begins to shift.

Now Jack is there, and he’s just in time to see the blue-grey stone stir and shift and budge. He can feel their excitement, and suddenly, like a child being born, the stone loosens . . . leaps forward . . . and tumbles to the ground, almost crushing Pip’s toes.

For the second time in his life Pip hears Hannah laugh out loud. It’s as if her voice has shifted and broken free with the stone – and the silver sound echoes under the bridge like Lilybelle’s tinkling bell.

They stare wide-eyed at the gaping hole where the blue-grey stone has been. At last Pip rolls up one sleeve, and with trembling hands he reaches inside.

‘What is it, Pip, old fellow? What’s inside the hole?’ asks Jack, struggling to keep his voice steady.

And Hannah is there, and maybe it’s the excitement, but she seems to have forgotten that she can’t speak, because she repeats Jack’s words. ‘What is it, Pip, old fellow? What’s inside the hole?’

Her voice seems so sweet and funny to Pip, because it is her voice and her voice alone.

He reaches deep into the dark cold hole beneath the bridge, and his fingers wriggle back and back and back. His nostrils fill with the secret underground smell of wet earth and moss and worms. And then his fingertips touch something smooth and cold.

If only his hands would behave. If only they would stop shaking and dancing like Papa’s funny shuffle-dance. And Pip doesn’t know if he’s shaking because he chucked up his breakfast, or because this crazy thing that is going on is like the world’s weirdest Lucky Dip.

And very slowly he eases it out of the hole just like he did when he was a small kid with Papa at his side.

‘What is it, Pip? What have you found?’

‘Why, the cookie jar, of course!’

‘But what’s in the cookie jar, Pip?’ asks Jack.

And the peculiar thing is, Pip knows. He knows exactly what he will find inside the familiar jar, which was sealed so expertly behind the blue-grey stone.

Now Hannah and Jack kneel beside him with staring eyes, as if Pip is a great explorer about to open some Egyptian tomb. Very slowly Pip twists the lid, and prises open the cookie jar.

‘But what’s in the cookie jar, Pip?’ repeats Hannah, with her tongue tied around the words in the cutest way imaginable.

Why, the flour bag, of course; the brown canvas flour bag, tied at the top with yarn.

Pip lays the bag carefully on the ground, and all the time the river whispers and whispers, like it knew the secret all along.

‘But what’s in the flour bag, Pip?’ asks Jack.

And the peculiar thing is, Pip knows this too. He knows exactly what he will find inside the brown canvas flour bag. He’s fumbling with the drawstring and pulling open the flour bag.

‘But what’s in the flour bag, Pip?’ repeats Hannah. And she’s laughing at the whole crazy adventure and this brand-new toy called a voice.

Then Pip peeks inside. And he tips the bag out. And he’s saying, ‘Whoo-ee! Take a look at all the money, Hannah! Just look at all that money, Jack! All the dollar bills, and twenties and fifties, that Mama and Papa been saving all them years.’

All those dollar bills rolled up tight in a big bundle with a bootlace round it, as fat as a bullfrog, and neat as you please. Just like Papa says – the only safe bank is a riverbank.

‘That’s my great expectations, that is!’ says Pip. ‘Yes, siree! Yes indeed!’