Eldritch Manor (3 page)

“Miss Trang is not fond of outsiders coming into the house, so you should probably be on your way.”

He gestured kindly but firmly toward the door. Willa hung back. None of this was going the way it should. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “How many people live here?” The old man scratched his head. “People? That rather depends on your definition....”

Willa continued, the words tumbling out. “Is ... is Miss Trang ... keeping all of you prisoner here?” Horace blinked a couple of times then burst into laughter.

“Prisoner? Keeping us PRISONER? HAhahahah!” He slapped his knee and doubled over, guffawing loudly.

Willa blushed. “I just thought ... ” she began, but was interrupted by a tremendous CRASH from the kitchen. Horace headed that way, still howling with laughter.

“Girls! Wait'll you hear this!”

Willa winced. How could she have been so wrong ... about
everything?
Laughter erupted in the kitchen. It was time to leave.

As she turned to go, something moved in the corner, making her jump. It was the bird, stirring in its cage. In the dim light its feathers shone dully, red and gold with a metallic sheen. Willa watched as it slowly pulled its head out from under its wing and looked at her. Willa held her breath. Instead of the parrot she thought it was, this creature looked more like a hawk or an eagle. Long, sharp talons gripped the perch, and above a cruel yellow beak two eyes burned like embers. It stared evenly at her as Willa stood frozen in her tracks. As the bird looked right through her, she felt her thoughts laid out, bare and open. Then the bird blinked, and such warmth flooded into its eyes that Willa felt comforted, embraced, and happy. And strong. And brave. It was odd, but she no longer felt the sting of embarrassment over her misguided mission, even though she could still hear Horace and the ladies giggling in the kitchen.

Reluctantly, Willa turned to leave, but caught sight of something scurrying under the sofa. It must be one of the cats she kept hearing but not seeing. Willa bent to look beneath the sofa. “Here kitty, kitty ...”

There was a soft skittering and a rustling in the floor-length drapes. Willa followed the sound along the drapes to a big armchair in the corner.
Aha! Got you cornered now
, thought Willa as she knelt on the chair and looked over the high back.

Crouched on the floor behind the chair was a hairy little man, only a few inches tall, staring up at her with large, scared eyes. Willa stared in shock. Behind her an angry voice suddenly filled the room.

“WHAT IN HEAVEN'S NAME ARE YOU DOING?”

Willa spun around. Miss Trang was in the doorway, a bag of groceries in her arms, her face dark with anger. Willa shrunk back in the chair.

“I — I was just ... looking for your cat, and ...” Her voice trailed off. Horace, Belle, and Baz appeared in the dining room, watching with wide eyes.

Miss Trang dropped the bag and tin cans clattered across the floor. “We don't HAVE a cat!” she hissed, moving slowly toward Willa and casting a cold, cold shadow. Willa opened her mouth but no words came out. Miss Trang leaned closer and closer, until her face was inches from Willa's. Willa stared into her unblinking eyes — they were golden in colour, with flicks of red shooting through them. She held her breath as Miss Trang stared at her for a long, terrible moment.

Swick!
Everyone turned to see a tiny suitcase slide out from under the piano, followed by the hairy little man Willa had seen behind the chair. He crawled out, his face puckered purposefully, picked up the suitcase, and stomped toward the front door.

Miss Trang's mood changed as she spun to follow the little man out into the hall. “Wait! Don't go!” she pleaded. “She didn't mean it. It won't happen again!” Belle shook her head at Willa. Horace gave her a sympathetic grimace. In the hall the front door opened and closed with a bang.

Willa peeked out the window. The little man reached the sidewalk, looked right, then left, then right again, before marching off to the right.

“Now you've done it,” Belle muttered ominously. “Do you know how hard it is to find a good brownie? He worked day and night,
nonstop.
And never asked for a penny in return. Lived entirely on tea and biscuits.”

Willa was stunned. “That was a
brownie?
”

Before anyone could answer her, Miss Trang re-entered the living room, ducking to fit through the doorway. Her eyes were really ablaze now. Her hair had worked its way out of her neat little bun and was floating like snakes in the air around her head.

“You interfering little pest! Why do you keep bothering us?” Her voice boomed, lower than before. And she was getting larger by the minute. Her head brushed the ceiling now, and her shoulders had broadened. The room seemed crowded, too small to hold her. As she advanced on Willa, teacups and china figurines fell crashing to the floor. Belle and Baz disappeared into the kitchen. Horace remained, trying to make peace.

“Miss Trang, please! Think of your blood pressure.”

She loomed over Willa now, her head hunched forward as her shoulders pressed up against the ceiling. She became wedged there for a moment and flailed around with one arm, smashing the ceiling lamp. The room went dark. Willa dropped to the floor and crawled between Miss Trang's tree trunk legs as the woman thrashed about in the dark, breathing noisily through her nose and grunting like a great beast.

Willa reached the dim light of the hall, stumbling through the tin cans to the front door. Behind her Miss Trang, or the thing that used to be Miss Trang, roared out after her as she made her escape.

“
Don't tell anyone what you saw here! I'm warning you!”

Willa didn't tell a soul. In fact, as the next few days dragged on in their boring and ordinary way, it became harder and harder to believe the incident had happened at all. Willa couldn't stop thinking about the place. It seemed every time she pondered one of the house's mysteries another five or six came to mind. First the coins, then Miss Trang, then the old man in the tree who had pelted her with acorns again as she ran away that day. And what about the loud crashing upstairs, and the strange bird, and the little man behind the armchair? Was it possible? Did brownies really exist?

And then there were the tin cans. The ones she had tripped over in the front hall. Cat food.

A new job and a shocking discovery

T
he
summer was definitely not working out as planned. Willa's odd jobs work hadn't really taken off. She spent one hot day cleaning out Mr. Santos's garage, and another afternoon washing Mrs. Blanding's St. Bernard dog, who managed to get soap suds all over her, the yard, and the neighbour's fence, which she then had to wash off as well. Other than those jobs and three lawns to mow, for the next week or so Willa didn't have much to do except think about the old folks in the boarding house. Once she had regained her nerve she began to wander by there once in a while, walking slowly, hoping to see someone but ready to run if it was Miss Trang. To her disappointment the curtains were always drawn tight and not a soul could be seen. She wondered if they'd all left town. Maybe Belle had finally gotten her way and they'd gone to the seaside for a vacation.

“Honey! You've got a job this morning! Hurry up and I'll take you on my way to work.”

Her mom was rushing around the kitchen as Willa straggled down the stairs, trying to flatten her crazy slept-on hair with her hands. She was tired but glad for the work — she felt guilty she hadn't been making much money so far this summer.

Mom pushed some toast toward her with a glass of juice. “A lady just called, wants you to come by right away.”

Willa spread some marmalade on her toast and grimaced. “I hope it's not another garage.”

“She didn't say what she wanted you for. It's at that old place, the rooming house near the park. Now hurry and eat, I'm running late.” Her mom hurried out the door, not seeing her daughter turn deathly pale.

“Miss Trang!”

During the drive Willa tried to think of a way to tell her mom, but what could she say? That she saw a tiny little man and this lady got mad and grew real big, so Willa ran away? Not a chance. The only way out was to walk up to the front door, and as soon as her mom was out of sight, get the heck out of there.

Willa got out of the car very slowly. The house looked quiet, the windows dark.

“See you later, hon,” her mom called.

Willa smiled weakly as she started up the walk. She paused below the willow, glancing up, but Tengu wasn't in the tree. She looked back. Her mom was still there, waiting until she was inside. Her heart thumped as she tiptoed up the porch steps. At the front door she reached out a shaky hand but just pretended to ring the bell. She'd say there was no one at home, it was a crank phone call. Her mom was still watching as she turned, did a big shrug, and started down the steps again. Behind her the door swung open.

“Come on in, dearie. She's waiting for you.”

Baz stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed and grinning slyly. Willa was trapped. She was steered inside as her mom waved and drove off.

Baz ushered her into the parlour. Willa stared in shock. It didn't look like the same room at all. Dirty plates and teacups were perched on every available flat surface, books and magazines were scattered everywhere, the plants were yellowed and droopy. Paintings hung crooked on the walls and broken glass crunched under her shoes.

“This is what happens when a brownie quits.” Willa jumped, her heart in her throat. Miss Trang stood in the kitchen doorway, but she was normal size again. Her hair was neatly tucked into her bun, and though stern, she looked very ordinary.

Willa looked down at her shoes, not sure of what to say. Miss Trang continued. “But let's not talk about that, shall we? Let's get right to the reason you're here. I can't keep up with the work around here. I need help, and despite my reservations, it was suggested to me that you would be the best choice for the job.” She held up a paper — one of Willa's posters.

“Will you help us out with the cleaning until we can find another brownie?”

Willa nodded dumbly. And that was how she came to work for Miss Trang.

Willa was hired to come in three times a week, arriving promptly at nine a.m. and leaving at noon. She was to clean the entire main floor — entrance, hall, parlour, dining room, and kitchen — except for Miss Trang's office, which she was not to enter. Upstairs she had to clean the hallways and the washroom, but was
not under any circumstances
to go into any of the bedrooms or the library. The backyard and stable (
Stable!
thought Willa excitedly) were expressly out of bounds. Most importantly, she was not to tell anybody
anything
about the house or its inhabitants. Miss Trang was adamant about that. “And I will
know it
if you do,” she said ominously, and Willa believed her. On top of everything else the hourly wage was very generous. Willa began right away.

As she loaded stained teacups into the kitchen sink, Willa took a deep breath and tried to still her trembling hands. She couldn't believe she was actually there. For weeks she had been dying to know what was going on in this place, and now she had her own key! Willa worked very, very hard at her new job. She tidied up after the oldsters, who left things everywhere. She dusted the many, many knick-knacks — china figurines, exotic lacquer boxes, souvenir spoons from around the world, ornately carved letter-openers, framed photos with the images fading away, collections of pebbles, seashells, and pine cones. She washed legions of teacups, mopped the floors, and scrubbed the windows. And she took great care to water and care for the plants, which slowly perked up and stopped dropping their leaves.

As glad as Willa was for the work, as time went on she was not finding much satisfaction in her job. She wasn't getting any answers to her many questions, that's for sure. And she felt terribly isolated. Everyone stayed in their bedrooms while she worked. Even Miss Trang spent the entire time in her office. Willa sometimes heard her muttering to herself in there. She ran into Horace in the hall one day, and he admitted, in a whisper, that they were supposed to stay away from Willa as much as possible. Since her friends were out of town, the only people she had to talk to all day were her mom and dad, and she couldn't tell them anything at all about the house, because of her promise to Miss Trang. It was all very frustrating.

The only soul she had for company was the bird in the parlour. A small tarnished plaque on the cage read “Fadiyah.” Willa began talking to her, calling her “Fadi.” After all, the bird seemed to be her only friend in the house. Just taking a break and gazing into the bird's eyes for a moment or two gave Willa that warm, happy feeling she had felt the first time she'd seen her.

Days passed without event. Once she found Baz snoozing on the sofa and had to tiptoe around, cleaning quietly. A couple of times she met Belle wheeling to or from the bathroom, where she loved to take long, long baths, but the old lady always ignored her completely. This made Willa very sad, because there was something about Belle that fascinated her. There was a deep, silent melancholy about her that just broke Willa's heart. Sometimes Willa could hear her humming up in her room. The sound made her stop what she was doing and listen, transfixed, until it faded away to silence. It was hard to believe that such haunting music could come from that cranky old dame.

In all this time she didn't catch even a glimpse of the cat that she knew
had
to be there. There were white cat hairs on the sofa, one cupboard in the kitchen was full of cat food tins, and occasionally she could swear she heard, or felt, a deep thrumming purr coming from somewhere upstairs. Yet Miss Trang had insisted that they had no cat. Why would she want to keep it a secret? Her mind reeled with this and other questions.... Why was there a padlock on the doll's house in the parlour? Why did the brownie leave? How did a bunch of old people come to be living in a house with a magic brownie? Nothing made any sense. Willa was desperate to know the full story of the house, but she wasn't about to pry or break any of the rules, because she sure didn't like it when Miss Trang got angry. No, she was determined to stay on the woman's good side from now on. Of course there was no rule against keeping her eyes and ears open, and that's what she did.

One grey and dreary day Willa was mopping the second floor hallway. One wall was lined with large windows looking out onto the back garden, and as she wrung out her mop Willa stared out at the view. She could just make out the stable, a crumbling, ivy-covered stone building at the back of the rather large property. The rest of the yard was an overgrown mess of vines, shrubs, huge oak trees, and rose bushes gone wild, so it was hard to see what else might be back there. She was just trying to picture how it might have looked in days gone by when she heard a soft tapping sound behind her.

The hallway was empty. The sound came again. She moved quietly down the hall until she reached the library door. Tap, tap. She looked up. A slender branch poked out from the top of the tall door, sporting three droopy yellow leaves. The leaves were tapping gently against the door. One of them detached and fell to the floor at her feet. She picked it up. It was dry and cracked in her hands. Willa had carefully brought all the other plants back to life, and now she desperately wanted to water this poor thing. She wasn't allowed to enter the library, but Miss Trang had gone out to buy the groceries, and it would only take a moment....

She refilled her watering can downstairs in the kitchen (since Belle was in the bathroom, as usual) and returned to the library door. She pushed it open. It was dark, there was nobody in sight, and she could see the plant in the corner right beside the door. Carefully keeping her feet planted in the hallway, she leaned in and poured water into the pot, which began to make the strangest gurgling sounds.

“Hello, Willa.” She jumped. Horace was peering around the edge of a high, wing-backed chair by the window. “Come in.”

Willa shook her head. “I'm not supposed to be in here. Miss Trang said. I just noticed the plant was dying....”

Horace raised an amused eyebrow. “It's quite all right. Come in. I'll take the blame if Miss Trang catches you. Besides, the hibiscus has already invited you in.” He gestured to the plant. “Does it
look
like it's dying?”

She took a step into the room and looked the plant up and down. It was perfectly green, healthy, and bushy. It was sending runners out all over the room. They trailed across the tops of the bookshelves and down the sides. One little vine was even draped over Horace's chair.

“But ... the leaves that were sticking out of the door were dead.”

Horace laughed and shook a finger at the plant. “Playing tricks on our new friend!” He turned back to Willa. “I think it was just curious to meet you.”

“Curious? How could it be curious?”

“Come over here. Have a seat.”

She gingerly walked over to join him. She sat in one of the big leather chairs, her feet dangling. Horace pulled a volume from a shelf and flipped through the pages. He showed her a diagram of the same plant. “Gossiping hibiscus. Very rare.”

“Why is it called that?”