The Night Gardener (17 page)

Kip closed his eyes and shoved off the edge. He hit the bottom hard and fell to one side. Dirt crumbled around him. He picked up his crutch and stood. The hole was about as deep as he was tall. If he stood on his strong toes, he could peer over the top at the lawn. From
this vantage, the little hills surrounding the grounds really did seem like mountains, and Kip suddenly felt very small.

He crouched down to examine the dirt floor, which was covered with the night man’s boot prints. The same prints he had seen in his sister’s room. He ran his hand along the dirt wall. Cold earth crumbled down, releasing a musty, rich smell that reminded him of the farm back home. He saw something nestled in the dirt. It was a root from the tree. Kip brushed away more dirt to get a better look at it. The root was black and gnarled and very, very thin. It almost looked sick. He took the end between his fingers, but when he touched the root, the most surprising thing happened—

It moved
.

Kip leapt back, startled. He shook the nerves from his hand and touched the root again. Again it moved. The tiny fibers at the end came alive, reaching for him, twining around his fingertip. He looked around the hole, and he could now see tiny roots everywhere, pushing gently through the soil. The tree was
growing
right before his eyes. “You’re alive,” he whispered.

Just then, he felt a sharp pain. The root had tightened, choking the tip of his finger. Kip jerked his hand back, trying to pull himself free—but the root would not let go. He pulled harder. “Ow!” he cried out as his hand finally came away.

A gust of wind howled overhead. Kip looked up and saw leaves and loose dirt blowing into the hole, piling up around his feet. He tried to pull himself out of the hole, but a strong gust knocked him backward.
Dirt and leaves poured down over his body, burying him. “Help!” Kip shouted, but he knew no one could hear him. Molly and the family were inside the house. Even Galileo was gone. More and more tiny roots came out of the soil, grasping at his legs, his arms, his neck.

Kip screamed again, straining against the roots. His voice came back to him, muffled and small. He could barely move beneath the weight of dirt and leaves—a rustling, choking darkness.

Kip twisted his body and felt something hard against his face—

It was his crutch.

It was Courage.

With all his strength, he ripped his right arm free of the roots and took hold of his crutch. He pushed against it, lifting his body up and freeing his other arm. Using the crutch he pulled himself up, hand over hand, until he was standing.

His head broke through the leaves, and he gasped for air. Wind beat against his face, stinging his eyes, trying to push him back down. Kip fought the wind, raising Courage over his head. He stretched the crutch across the width of the hole and, bracing his good leg against the wall, pulled himself up to the grass.

Kip rolled onto his back, panting, shaking. The wind had died down, and everything was silent. His arms and legs and neck tingled, as though he had rolled through a bed of nettles. He sat up and examined his throbbing finger. He squeezed the tip, and a tiny red pinprick appeared—

A single drop of blood.

Kip sucked the blood away. He stared at the giant tree towering over him, its branches spread across the sky like a black web. He shook his head, his heart still pounding. “Why on earth would a person build a house next to
you
?”

hen Molly reached the house that morning, she was surprised by the woman who greeted her. Constance Windsor was indeed upset, but she was not angry. “Molly!” the woman cried, very nearly
hugging
her. “We couldn’t find you anywhere. I feared that you and your brother were …” She stepped back, giving an unconvincing smile. “That you had left us.” Molly had the distinct feeling that Constance had feared more than that.

“They were sleeping under the stars!” Penny exclaimed. “Why can’t we do that?”

Molly knelt down. “That would ruin your pretty hair, miss.”

“Indeed,” Constance said, looking pointedly at Molly. “That was incredibly reckless. These woods are no place for a young girl after dark.” The words recalled to Molly’s mind something she had been told on her first day:

This house is no place for you.

Molly stared at the woman, wondering just how much she knew about the spectre that haunted her halls. Was
this
why Mistress Windsor had been so reluctant to hire them?

If Constance noticed Molly’s dirty hair and ruined dress, she chose not to mention it. Instead, she told her to take the remainder of the day off and rest. Though exhausted, Molly did not want to rest. She feared that if she closed her eyes, the nightmares about Ma and Da might come back—or worse, she might dream of
him
.

So Molly decided to give the house one last cleaning before she gave her final notice. She did not know where she and Kip would go. She did not care. She just knew they had to leave.

Molly rinsed her hair and put on some clean clothes and set to scrubbing the foyer for the very last time. She pushed her soapy brush back and forth over the floorboards, thinking of the hat, the footprints, and the night man. She forced those thoughts from her mind, focusing on happier things—Kip, Ma and Da, home …

“Aren’t you going to move?” said a voice above her. Molly looked up to see Penny hanging from the banister like a bored
ourang-outang
. “You’ve been at that spot for eleven whole minutes. I checked on the clock in the foyer.”

Molly sat back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Musta been daydreamin’, miss.”

Penny let go of the banister and hopped down the stairs in her usual manner. “Why are you scrubbing the floors at all?” she said. “Mummy said you could have the day off to play.”

Molly shrugged. “I’d prefer to scrub floors, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Well, it’s
not
all the same to me.” Penny planted her hands on her hips. “I want you to play with me and tell me stories.”

Molly let out a tired breath. She tossed her brush back into the bucket and dried her hands on her apron. “All right,” she said, patting her knee. “I’ll tell you a story.”

Penny clapped and ran toward Molly. “Is it about the good rooster Chanticleer?” She settled into Molly’s lap. “Make it about Chanticleer!”

Molly wrapped both arms around the girl and rocked her gently. “This story is about two children, a brother and a sister, who had bright red hair. They lived in a big house with a little girl who was secretly a princess.”

“Those are the best kind of princesses!” Penny declared. “Except, are you sure the house wasn’t actually a tower guarded by ogres? Make it that instead!”

“Nay, this was just a house.” Molly rested her chin on Penny’s head. “The brother and sister cared for the princess, and they grew to love her very much. But one day …” She took a deep breath. “One day, the red-haired children had to leave the house behind. And it was very sad, and they were heartbroken, but it was the way things had to be.” She held Penny tighter. “And after that, every night, no matter where they were, the girl and her brother would look up at the moon, and they knew that same moon was shinin’ over the
princess in her house, and it was like they were never really apart.”

Penny craned her neck to look at Molly. “That’s a horrid story!”

Molly lowered her eyes. “It’s just a story, miss.”

“Of course it’s not!” Penny broke from Molly’s grip and stood up. “It’s about you and Kip, and how you’re going to leave!”

Molly looked down the hall. She didn’t want the house learning of her plan before she told Mistress Windsor. “I didn’t say we were leavin’—”

“Yes, you did, right there in the story! You’re going to leave me all alone in this big, ugly house!” And then, with new horror, “Who will tell me bedtime stories if you’re gone?”

Molly stared at the girl, unable to answer. “Maybe you’re gettin’ a bit old for stories.”

“That’s ridiculous! Nobody’s too old for stories—not even God himself. You told me that!” Penny glared at her. “Promise me you won’t ever leave.”

“Now, Miss Penny—”

She stomped her foot. “Promise it!” The girl’s jaw was clenched tight. It was clear she was about to cry.

The sight nearly broke Molly’s heart. She would have loved to promise the girl that she would never leave, that they would always be together. But Molly of all people knew that those sorts of promises could not be kept. She lowered her head. “I canna promise you,” she said softly.

The girl’s mouth went as small as a pinprick. “Fine!” she shrieked.
“I’ll get my own stories!” She kicked over Molly’s bucket, and dirty water sloshed across the hall.

“Penny, wait!”

But the little girl had already stormed off. Molly righted her bucket and set to mopping up the water. She hated the thought of parting with Penny on bad terms and told herself that the girl would return within the hour, the argument forgotten, and the two of them could then spend the rest of their last day together chatting about ogres and princesses. But even as Molly thought of this, her spirits fell. She knew no amount of stories would change the fact that Penny was stuck in this horrible place. Molly pushed the thought from her mind, telling herself that the girl would be fine. She had family. She had a home. She had a life filled with storybooks and sweets and jewelry and bags of money.

Hours passed, and Penny did not return to make peace. Molly continued with her chores, occasionally looking in some of the girl’s favorite hiding places. She checked the kitchen pantry, the stairs closet, the space under Alistair’s bed, even the dumbwaiter. Penny, however, was nowhere to be found.

Molly was dusting off books in the study when she finally heard the muffled trill of laughter. “Miss Penny?” she called, expecting a reply.

Penny did not answer, but a moment later Molly heard what sounded like a gasp of horror. She got down from the ladder and went into the hall. “Miss Penny?” she called, crossing the foyer. “I know it’s you.”

She heard someone clapping. The girl was hiding somwhere on
the second floor. Molly crept up the stairs. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang. Molly reached the top of the staircase and listened for another clue.

A burst of laughter sounded directly behind her. Molly was so startled that she nearly tumbled back down the stairs.

The sound was coming from behind the green door.

Molly saw now that the door was not completely shut. Through it, she could hear the sound of Penny giggling. Molly moved toward the door, one hand still on the banister. She had waited so long to see inside this room. But now, for some reason, she felt afraid.

“Hooray!” cried Penny’s voice from the other side.

Molly could take it no longer. She grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

Penny was sitting on the floor of a small, empty room, facing away from Molly. In her lap was a large book, decorated with a giant colored picture that spread across both pages. Penny turned the final page to find it blank. “That can’t be the end!” she said, casting the book aside. “I still don’t know what happens!”

Molly watched as the girl jumped to her feet and marched to the far wall of the room. Only, it wasn’t an ordinary wall: part of it consisted of the tree, whose massive trunk ran from the floor to the ceiling. In the center of the trunk was a big knothole, about the size of a pumpkin. Penny put both hands on her hips. “I want another story!” she said, looking up at the knothole. Molly listened, confused; it almost seemed like the girl was talking to the tree.

Penny made an exasperated sound. She rose to her tiptoes and peered into the knothole. “Hulloooo?” she called into the darkness.

Molly crouched down, picking up the book that Penny had discarded. The title read
Princess Penny and the Tower Guarded by Ogres
. The book looked like part of the same set that Molly had seen in Penny’s bedroom on one of her first nights. At the time, Penny had behaved as though the books were a secret.

Molly opened the book, looking at the colorful pictures, which showed a little girl with dark braids and glasses battling a monster-filled tower. Fighting alongside the little princess were two other people, a boy and a girl, both of them with striking red hair. Molly caught her breath. She was looking at
herself
.