The Little Secret (3 page)

LADY MATILDA

It came as a shock the next day, to remember how peculiar Staffa looked beside the rest of the class. Her braids were so black and stiff, and had a shine that made Jane think of plastic. This time, instead of the red-velvet dress, Staffa was wearing a pleated skirt of navy blue, with straps over the shoulders and a starched white blouse. This outfit sent Ellie and Angie into fits of giggles.

Staffa didn't seem to care about the giggling, but it made her thoughtful. At break, she pulled Jane over to the low wall in the playground.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No thanks.” Jane did not sit down beside her. She wasn't nearly as sure as Staffa that the two of them were “best friends.”

Staffa calmly opened her Thermos and poured herself a cup of black coffee. Again, the bitter smell of it made Jane wrinkle her nose.

“I can't help noticing,” Staffa said, “that my clothes are attracting attention. There must be something wrong with them.”

Jane was embarrassed. “Well —”

“Please tell me the truth, Jane. It's important that I blend in. What's wrong with my clothes?”

“They're just a bit — fancy.”

Staffa nodded, not at all offended. “And perhaps a little out of date?”

“Er — maybe.”

“I must buy some new things. I need some pants, like yours. I could have beaten Dan and Jon yesterday if I'd been able to move properly.”

Jane laughed. “That'd serve them right — I'd love to beat those two.”

“And I had a very good idea last night, Jane. We should build an army assault course in your paddock — I know all about them, because of my brother's experiences in the army. Those old oil drums would make an excellent tunnel.”

Jane was impressed. This was a terrific idea. She could hardly wait to tell Dan and Jon. “Yes, and there's loads of ropes and stuff in the garage. I'll ask my dad what we can have. Can you come over again after school?”

“Actually, I was rather hoping you'd come home with me. I'd like you to meet my mother.”

“Oh.” Jane tried to picture what the mother of Staffa could be like. She was curious, and a little scared. “Okay.”

She could not have escaped, even if she had wanted to. The moment school was over, Staffa took her hand. She marched over to the gate, where Mike and Phil were waiting.

“Please tell Mrs. Hughes that Jane's coming to tea with me today. We'll bring her home at about half past six.”

Jane never went to tea with anyone, and it felt strange to see the twins walking away from her. Staffa tugged her in the opposite direction. The huge black car was parked around the corner, in a narrow side street next to the convenience store. The same driver, wrapped in a black scarf that covered his (or her) face, sat behind the wheel as still as a statue. Staffa opened the door. Jane climbed in after her, very conscious of her extremely muddy sneakers. The inside of the car was very grand and spotlessly clean. The seats were made of the softest leather, and there were all sorts of little cupboards and compartments.

A sheet of glass separated them from the driver. Staffa picked up a long tube and spoke into a kind of metal bulb at the top. “Market Square, please.”

The engine purred. The car pulled away. Staffa opened one of the little doors.

“Wow,” Jane said. “You've got a fridge!”

The fridge was crammed with cans and bottles. Staffa took out two cans of cola. “Yes, it's a convenient car for people who do a lot of traveling.”

Jane sipped cola and leaned more comfortably against the seat. Though the windows of the car looked black on the outside, you could see out of them perfectly normally. She found that she was enjoying the smooth, luxurious ride. Wait till her brothers heard about this.

“Your parents must be very rich,” she said.

“My mother is, I suppose,” Staffa said. “My father's dead.”

“Oh — sorry.” The little worm of envy that had begun to nibble at Jane quickly died. “That's awful.”

Staffa shrugged. “He died when I was a baby. To tell the truth, we don't miss him much.”

Jane was shocked. If anything had happened to her dad, the whole family would have been brokenhearted.

Staffa saw the look on her face, and smiled. “So you see, we're only rich in money. In every other sense, you're the rich one.”

She looked so pale and sad that Jane felt ashamed of envying her. All the money in the world couldn't buy a Boy Garden.

Staffa opened another little door. There was a television behind it. Staffa turned it on, and the two of them swished into King's Lumpton while watching the news. The car halted in the empty market square.

“I told Mother all about you,” Staffa said. “She can't wait to meet you. Please don't be shy.” They got out of the car. “We're staying at the Crown and Sceptre.”

“Oh,” Jane said. It came out as a squeak. The Crown and Sceptre was the town's only fancy hotel. It had a famous French wine list and took up one whole side of the square. Jane had never been inside. She had only seen the polished wooden doors, and the lamps at the windows. She felt very shabby in her jeans and T-shirt.

Staffa strolled into the lobby as if she owned the place.

The carpet was deep and squashy. There were lots of sofas, and palm trees in brass tubs. A lady was playing the harp while other ladies had tea very quietly. Jane scuttled after Staffa, hoping nobody was looking at her.

In the elevator, on the way up, Staffa suddenly said, “By the way, you have to call my mother Lady Matilda. She goes mad if you don't.”

“Lady Matilda,” Jane repeated. She had never met anyone with a title. The idea was partly scary, and partly silly.

“But please don't be nervous. She's really all right when you get to know her.”

The elevator took them to a corridor, full of hush and polish.

Staffa opened a door. “Sorry we're late,” she said. “Here she is.”

“Well, well,” said a deep, rich, plummy voice. “So this is your friend Jane.”

Jane, feeling that her flaming face was as red as her hair, mumbled, “How do you do — er — Lady Matilda.”

“Oh, this is very good,” said Lady Matilda. “Very good indeed. Well done, Staffa.”

Staffa's mother sat on a velvet chair that was a kind of throne. She was a large lady, with a steep slope of a bosom. Her hair was like Staffa's — black and glossy and curiously lifeless. Her wide lips were painted bright red. She wore a long gown of bright blue satin. It was hard to tell how old she was. She looked older than Jane's mom, yet there was not a line on her white skin. Lady Matilda's skin was dead white. So were her large teeth, but it was a flat sort of whiteness, that reminded Jane of bathrooms.

“I'm thrilled to meet you, Jane.” Lady Matilda held out her hand. Her large fingers sparkled with jewels. Jane managed to shake hands, still blushing furiously.

“Sit down. Staffa will make us some tea. What kind of tea do you like, Jane? I can offer Assam, or Darjeeling — or my own particular favorite, a tea made from the bitter Haw-haw, which grows only in the gardens of my mountain home.”

“Mother, don't be silly,” Staffa said. “It's too hot for tea. We'll have fruit juice.”

“Oh, suit yourselves.” Lady Matilda's glassy blue eyes flickered with annoyance. “You can make me a cup of Haw-haw with six sugars.” Her huge red-and-white smile snapped back. “What wonderful hair you have, Jane — why, you're quite a beauty! How stupendous you'd look in a lime green ball gown!”

Staffa said, “Really? I see her more in bright blue.”

“Oh no, dear — such an unforgiving shade! Kingfisher, perhaps.”

Nobody had ever discussed what kind of ball gown Jane should wear. Feeling very shy, but also rather pleased, she sat down in the armchair opposite Lady Matilda. Staffa gave her a glass of cool, sweet mango juice. She lit a gaslight under a large brass kettle, which hung on a special little stand on the low table.

“Staffa has told me about your home,” Lady Matilda said. “Six brothers! What does your father do, my dear?”

Jane told her that her dad was a postman, who also worked some evenings at the local pub and did people's gardening. He was a popular figure in Lower Lumpton, and she was pleased when Lady Matilda said he sounded like a “splendid fellow.”

Staffa went into another room and came back pushing a large trolley. It was laden, top and bottom, with the most incredible afternoon tea — toast and crumpets on special hot dishes, plates of cream cakes, jam tarts and chocolate meringues. Jane began to relax. Lady Matilda was very kind and flattering, and she told Jane to eat as much as she wanted. Jane ate the delicious cakes, trying not to answer Lady Matilda's questions with her mouth full.

Lady Matilda seemed to have a great fondness for sugar. Her big white teeth chomped pastries and custards and chocolate creams in a way that made Jane think of Leonard the horse. When she saw that her nosiness was making Jane uncomfortable, Lady Matilda stopped asking questions. Sipping purple Haw-haw tea from a cup the size of a soup bowl, she began to tell fantastic stories, all about the northern land where she and Staffa lived. She described winter skating parties, summer balls that lasted all night, and water carnivals on the lake beside her mountain castle. It sounded wonderful.

Could it possibly be true? Jane noticed that some of the stories made Staffa frown. Perhaps she was embarrassed because her mother was making things up.

On the other hand, it was obvious that Lady Matilda and Staffa came from nowhere ordinary. Jane couldn't have said exactly why or how, but she knew they were not ordinary people. It was quite easy to imagine them dancing through the night in grand ballrooms, wearing silks dyed to look like the wings of butterflies.

“All this talk of dancing makes me thirsty,” said Lady Matilda. “I need another cup of tea.” She held out her enormous cup.

Staffa (who wasn't eating anything) took the cup. She filled it from the huge, pear-shaped brass teapot. There was a strong smell of orange peel and gasoline. The tea was such a dark purple that it looked almost black.

Jane was looking curiously around the room. Most of the furniture was comfortable and boring, and obviously belonged to the hotel. But Lady Matilda's throne-like chair was surrounded by all kinds of strange objects, which she must have brought from her home. On the low table, beside the big brass teapot, there was a large picture in a gold frame, of a handsome young man in some kind of uniform — Jane wondered if he was Staffa's brother. Next to the picture was a huge and hideous brass spider, upon which was carved the word “Tornado.”

The strangest and most beautiful thing in the room was a box that stood on a table at her ladyship's side. It was about the size of a small bedside cabinet, perfectly square and covered all over with paintings so wonderful that Jane felt she could have stared at them forever — castles, mountains, deep forests bathed in sunlight. The colors were so rich and bright that it almost hurt to look at them.

Lady Matilda smiled broadly (with her mouth full of doughnut). “Ah, you're looking at my box. Do you like it?”

Jane said, truthfully, “I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“What good taste you have,” Lady Matilda said. “It's an old family treasure, made by our people many hundreds of years ago. I simply can't travel without it. I must have my comforts around me. My gold teapot, for instance — you must always brew Haw-haw in a teapot of solid gold.”

“Gold?” Jane was fascinated. “I thought it was made of brass!”

“Certainly not — that would ruin the flavor.”

Jane saw now that the yellow metal of the teapot was far too beautiful to be brass. She tried to remember whether solid gold was softer or harder than brass. Wouldn't the flame of the gaslight melt it? She decided to ask Mom, who was good at science. “What about the spider?” she asked. “Is that solid gold too?”

Lady Matilda patted the large and hideous spider. “Oh, yes. Only gold was good enough for him.” She leaned across the table. “His name was Tornado. He was a racing spider. I had this little statue made when he won the Queen's Cup for the tenth time.”

“Oh,” Jane said. She had not known there was any such thing as a racing spider.

“Poor Tornado died shortly afterwards,” Lady Matilda said. “Four of his legs were broken. He had to be shot.”

“Oh.” Jane looked uneasily at Staffa. This sounded crazy. What kind of gun would be tiny enough to shoot a spider? Wouldn't it have been simpler just to step on it?

Staffa jumped up. “I think Jane has to go home now.”

“Oh, what a shame,” said Lady Matilda. “It's been a delight to meet you, Jane.” She rose from her throne. She was very tall, and she loomed over Jane like a great blue satin cliff. “Staffa, find a big bag and fill it up with cakes for Jane's brothers.”

“Good idea,” said Staffa. “And can I go to have tea at the Boy Garden tomorrow?”

“Yes, dear. I don't see why not.”

“You like Jane, don't you?”

Lady Matilda smiled. “She's perfect!”

Jane was puzzled. Why were Staffa and her mother nodding at each other in that odd way? The strong smell of the Haw-haw tea was starting to make her a little dizzy. She was glad it was time to go home.

Staffa went into the other room to fetch the cakes. Lady Matilda bent down towards Jane. “Next time you come, my dear child,” she said, “I'll show you some pictures of ball dresses. And I might measure your head for a crown.”

“A — what?” Now Jane knew she had to be crazy.

“Don't be alarmed, Jane. It's just a little game I like to play! Just a game!”

Staffa came back, holding a large shopping bag. Jane jumped up and stammered out her thanks. It was a relief to leave the hot, perfumed room.