‘Well – we’re off,’ said Philip, pleased. ‘And it was perfectly easy for you to escape, wasn’t it? Golly, what fun it will be to have you and Lucy-Ann at Craggy-Tops! Dinah will be thrilled to bits when we arrive.’
‘Off to Craggy-Tops!’ sang Lucy-Ann. ‘Off to the sea and the wind and the waves! Off to Craggy-Tops!’
Yes – off to Craggy-Tops – and to a wild and astonishing time that not one of the children could possibly have imagined. Off to Craggy-Tops – and off to Adventure.
4
Craggy-Tops
The train sped on through the countryside, passing many stations, and stopping at very few. On towards the coast it went, through high mountains that towered up, over silver rivers, through big, straggling towns.
And then it came to wilder country. The sea-wind came in at the window. ‘I can smell the sea already,’ said Jack, who had only once before been to the sea, and scarcely remembered it.
The train stopped at last at a lonely little station. ‘Here we are,’ said Philip. ‘Tumble out. Hi, Joe! Here I am. Have you got the old car handy?’
Jack and Lucy-Ann saw a strange man coming towards them. His skin was lined, his teeth were very white, and his eyes darted from side to side as he looked at them. Running behind him was a girl a little older than Lucy-Ann, but tall for her age. She had the same brown, wavy hair that Philip had, and the same tuft in front.
‘Another Tufty,’ thought Jack, ‘but a fiercer one. It must be Dinah.’
It was Dinah. She had come with Joe to meet Philip, in the ramshackle old car. She stopped short in the greatest surprise when she saw Lucy-Ann and Jack. Jack grinned, but Lucy-Ann, suddenly feeling shy of this strapping, confident-looking girl, hid behind her brother. Dinah stared in even greater amazement at Kiki, who was telling Joe to wipe his feet at once.
‘You mind your manners,’ said Joe roughly, talking to the bird as if it was a human being. Kiki put up her crest and growled angrily, like a dog. Joe looked startled.
‘That a bird?’ he enquired of Philip.
‘Yes,’ said Philip. ‘Joe, that trunk should go in the car too. It belongs to my two friends.’
‘They coming to Craggy-Tops?’ said Joe in the greatest surprise. ‘Miss Polly, she didn’t say nothing about any friends, no, she didn’t.’
‘Philip, who are they?’ asked Dinah, coming up and joining the little group.
‘Two friends from Mr Roy’s,’ said Philip. ‘I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.’ He winked at Dinah to make her understand that he would explain when Joe was not there. ‘This is Freckles – I told you about him, you know – and Lucy-Ann too.’
The three children solemnly shook hands. Then they all got into the jerky, jumpy old car, with the two trunks at the back, and Joe drove off in a manner that seemed most dangerous to Lucy-Ann. She clutched the side of the car, half frightened.
They drove through wild hills, rocky and bare. Soon they saw the sea in the distance. High cliffs bounded it except for breaks here and there. It certainly was a wild and desolate coast. They passed ruined mansions and cottages on their way.
‘They were burnt in the battle I told you about,’ said Philip. And no one has rebuilt them. Craggy-Tops more or less escaped.’
‘That’s the cliff behind which Craggy-Tops is built,’ said Dinah, pointing. The others saw a high, rocky cliff, and just jutting up they could see a small round tower, which they imagined was part of Craggy-Tops.
‘Craggy-Tops is built out of reach of the waves,’ said Philip, ‘but on stormy nights the spray dashes against the windows almost as strongly as the waves pound the shore.’
Lucy-Ann and Jack thought it all sounded very thrilling. It would be fun to stay in a house that had spray dashed against its windows. They did hope there would be a terrific storm whilst they were there.
‘Is Miss Polly expecting you all?’ asked Joe suddenly. He was plainly puzzled by the two extra children. ‘She didn’t say nothing to me about them.’
‘Didn’t she? How strange!’ said Philip. Kiki screeched with laughter, and Joe wrinkled up his nose in dislike of the noise. He was not going to fall in love with Kiki, that was certain. Jack didn’t like the way the man looked at his pet bird.
Dinah suddenly gave a shriek and pushed Philip away from her. ‘Oh! You’ve got a mouse down your neck! I saw its nose peeping out. Take it away, Philip; you know I can’t bear mice.’
‘Oh, shut up and don’t be an idiot,’ said Philip crossly. Dinah at once flew into one of her tempers. She clutched Philip’s collar and shook him, trying to dislodge the mouse and frighten it away. Philip gave Dinah a push, and she banged her head against the side of the car. She at once slapped him hard. Jack and Lucy-Ann stared in surprise.
‘Beast!’ said Dinah. ‘I wish you hadn’t come back. Take your two horrid friends and go off again to Mr Roy.’
‘They’re not horrid,’ said Philip, in a mild tone. ‘They’re fun.’ He put his mouth to Dinah’s ear, after seeing that Joe was paying no attention, and whispered: ‘They’ve escaped from Mr Roy. I asked them to. Their uncle will pay Aunt Polly for them to stay with us, and she can pay that bill you told me about. See?’
Dinah forgot her temper as quickly as it had come. She stared with interest at the brother and sister, rubbing her bruised head as she did so. What would Aunt Polly say? Where would they sleep? This was going to be exciting.
Joe drove headlong over the bumpy, stony road. Jack wondered that any car could stand such driving. They drove up the cliff, then down a hidden way that sloped round to Craggy-Tops.
And there, suddenly, was the roaring sea and Craggy-Tops standing sullenly above it, built half-way down the cliff. The car stopped, and the children got out. Jack gazed at the strange house. It was a strange place. Once it had two towers, but one had fallen in. The other still stood. The house was built of great grey stones, and was massive and ugly, but somehow rather grand. It faced the sea with a proud and angry look, as if defying the strong gale and the restless ocean. Jack looked down at the water. On it, and circling above it, were hundreds of wild sea-birds of all kinds. It was a perfect paradise of birds. The boy’s heart sang for joy. Birds by the hundred, birds by the thousand. He would be able to study them to his heart’s content, find their nests, photograph them at his leisure. What a time he would have!
A woman came to the door, and looked down at the four children in surprise. She was thin, and her hair was sandy-coloured and wispy. She looked tired and faded.
‘Hallo, Aunt Polly!’ cried Philip, running up the stone steps, ‘I’m back!’
‘So I see,’ said his aunt, giving him a peck of a kiss on his cheek. ‘But who are these?’
‘Aunt Polly, they’re friends of mine,’ said Philip earnestly. ‘They couldn’t go home because their uncle broke his leg. So I brought them here. Their uncle will pay you for having them.’
‘Philip! How can you do a thing like this? Springing people on me without telling me!’ said Aunt Polly sharply. ‘Where will they sleep? You know we’ve no room.’
‘They can sleep in the tower-room,’ said Philip. The tower-room! How lovely! Jack and Lucy-Ann were thrilled.
‘There are no beds there,’ said Aunt Polly, in a disagreeable tone. ‘They’ll have to go back. They can stay the night and then go back.’
Lucy-Ann looked ready to cry. There was a harshness in Aunt Polly’s tone that she could not bear. She felt unwelcome and miserable. Jack put his arm round her and gave her a squeeze.
He was determined that he would not go back. The sight of those gliding, circling, soaring birds had filled his heart with joy. Oh, to lie on the cliff and watch them! He would not go back!
‘They all went in, Joe carrying the trunks. Aunt Polly looked with much disfavour on Kiki.
A parrot too!’ she said. ‘Nasty, squawking, screeching bird! I never liked parrots. It’s bad enough to have all the creatures you collect, Philip, without a parrot coming too.’
‘Poor Po
lly, poor old Polly,’ said Kiki unexpectedly. Aunt Polly looked at the bird, startled.
‘How does it know my name?’ she asked in astonishment.
Kiki didn’t. It was a name she herself was often called, and she often said ‘Poor old Polly!’ or ‘Poor old Kiki!’ She saw that she had made an impression on this sharp-voiced woman, and she repeated the words softly, as if she was about to burst into tears.
‘Poor Polly! Dear Polly! Poor, dear old Polly!’
‘Well I never!’ said Aunt Polly, and looked at the parrot more kindly. Aunt Polly felt ill, tired and harassed, but no one ever said they were sorry, or seemed to notice it. Now here was a bird pitying her and speaking to her more kindly than anyone had for years! Aunt Polly felt strange about it, but quite pleased.
‘You can take a mattress up to the tower-room, and sleep there tonight with the boy – what’s his name?’ said Aunt Polly to Philip. ‘The girl can sleep with Dinah. It’s a small bed, but I can’t help that. If you bring people here without telling me, I can’t prepare for them.’
The children sat down to a good meal. Aunt Polly was a good cook. It was a mixture of tea and supper, and the children tucked into it well. All they had had that day, since their breakfast, were the sandwiches that Mr Roy had packed for Philip – and one packet of sandwiches did not go far between three hungry children.
Dinah gave a sneeze, and the parrot spoke to her sternly. ‘Where’s your handkerchief?’
Aunt Polly looked at the bird in surprised admiration. ‘Well, I’m always saying that to Dinah,’ she said. ‘That bird seems to be a most sensible creature.’
Kiki was pleased at Aunt Polly’s admiration. ‘Poor Polly, poor dear Polly,’ she said, her head coyly on one side, her bright eye glinting at Aunt Polly.
Aunt Polly likes your parrot better than she likes you,’ whispered Philip to Jack, with a grin.
After the meal, Aunt Polly took Philip to his uncle’s study. He knocked and went in. His Uncle Jocelyn was bent over a sheaf of yellow papers, examining them with a magnifying-glass. He grunted at Philip.
‘So you’re back again. Behave yourself and keep out of my way. I shall be very busy these holidays.’
‘Jocelyn, Philip has brought two children back with him – and a parrot,’ said Aunt Polly.
‘A parrot?’ said Uncle Jocelyn. ‘Why a parrot?’
‘Jocelyn, that parrot belongs to one of the children that Philip brought home,’ said Aunt Polly. ‘Philip wants these children to stay here.’
‘Can’t have them. Don’t mind the parrot,’ said Uncle Jocelyn, ‘Keep the parrot if you want it. Send it away if you don’t. I’m busy’
He bent over his papers again. Aunt Polly gave a sigh and shut the door. ‘He’s so interested in the past that he forgets all about the present,’ she said, half to herself. ‘Well – I suppose I must ring up Mr Roy myself. He’ll be wondering about those children.’
She went to the telephone. Philip followed close behind her, longing to know what Mr Roy would say. Dinah peeped out from the sitting-room and Philip nodded towards the telephone. If only Mr Roy was cross and said he would not have Jack and Lucy-Ann back! If only Aunt Polly would think the cheque was big enough to make it worthwhile letting them stay!
5
Settling in at Craggy-Tops
It seemed ages before Aunt Polly got through to Mr Roy. The master was worried and puzzled. Jack and Lucy-Ann had not returned, of course, and at first he had thought they had gone off for one of their walks, and that Jack had found some unusual bird and had forgotten all about time.
But as the hours went by and still the children had not come back, he became seriously worried. It did not occur to him that they might have gone with Philip, or he would have telephoned to the boy’s aunt at once.
He was most relieved to hear Mrs Sullivan, Philip’s aunt, speaking, giving him the news that the children were safe.
‘They arrived here with Philip,’ she said, with some sharpness. ‘I cannot think how it was that they were allowed to do this. I cannot possibly keep them.’
Mr Roy’s heart sank. He had hoped for one wild moment that his problem concerning Jack and Lucy-Ann, and that tiresome parrot, was solved. Now it seemed as if it wasn’t.
‘Well, Mrs Sullivan,’ said Mr Roy politely, though he did not feel at all civil, ‘I’m sorry about it. The children went down to see Philip off, and I suppose the boy persuaded them to go with him. It’s a pity you could not keep them for the rest of the holidays, as they would probably be happier with you and Philip. No doubt they have told you that their uncle cannot have them back these holidays. He sent me a cheque for a large sum of money, hoping that I could have them. But I should be pleased to hand this over to you if you felt that you could take charge of them, and we could get Mr Trent’s consent to it.’
There was a pause. ‘How much was the cheque?’ asked Mrs Sullivan.
There was another pause after Mr Roy told her the sum of money that had been sent. It certainly was a very generous amount. Mrs Sullivan thought quickly. The children would not cost much to keep. She could see that they kept out of Jocelyn’s way. That girl Lucy-Ann could help Dinah with the housework. And she would be able to pay off a few bills, which would be a great relief to her.
Mr Roy waited hopefully at the other end of the wire. He could not bear the thought of having the parrot back again. Jack was bearable, Lucy-Ann was nice – but Kiki was impossible.
‘Well,’ said Mrs Sullivan, in the sort of voice that meant she was prepared to give in. ‘Well – let me think now. It’s going to be difficult – because we’ve so little room here. I mean, though the house is enormous, half of it is in ruins and most of it is too draughty to live in. But perhaps we could manage. If I use the tower-room again . . .’
Philip and the others, who could hear everything that was being said by Mrs Sullivan, looked at one another in delight. ‘Aunt Polly’s giving in!’ whispered Philip. ‘And oh, Jack – I bet we’ll have the old tower-room for our own. I’ve always wanted to sleep there and have it for my room, but Aunt Polly would never let me.’
‘Mrs Sullivan, you would be doing me a great kindness if you could manage to take the children off my hands,’ said Mr Roy earnestly. ‘I will telephone at once to Mr Trent. Leave it all to me. I will send you the cheque at once. And if you should need any more money, let me know. I really cannot tell you how obliged I should be to you if you could manage this for me. The children are quite easy to manage. Lucy-Ann is sweet. It’s only that awful parrot – so rude – but you could get a cage for it, perhaps.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind the parrot,’ said Mrs Sullivan, which surprised Mr Roy very much. Kiki gave a loud squawk, which Mr Roy heard down the telephone. Well – Mrs Sullivan must be a remarkable woman if she liked Kiki!
Not much more was said. Mrs Sullivan said she would write to Mr Trent, after she had heard again from Mr Roy. In the meantime she undertook to look after the children for the rest of the holidays.
The receiver clicked as she put it down. The children heaved a sigh of relief. Philip went up to his aunt.
‘Oh, thanks, Aunt Polly,’ he said. ‘It will be fine for me and Dinah to have friends with us. We’ll try and keep out of Uncle’s way, and help you all we can.’
‘Dear Polly,’ said Kiki affectionately, and actually left Jack’s shoulder to hop on to Aunt Polly’s! The children stared in astonishment. Good old Kiki! She was playing up to Aunt Polly properly.
‘Silly bird!’ said Aunt Polly, hardly liking to show how pleased she was.
‘God save the Queen,’ said Kiki unexpectedly, and everyone laughed.
‘Philip, you and Jack must have the tower-room for your own,’ said Aunt Polly. ‘Come with me, and I’ll see what can be arranged. Dinah, go to your room and see if you would rather share it with Lucy-Ann, or whether she would rather have Philip’s old room. They open out of one another, so perhaps you would like to have the two rooms.’
Dinah went off h
appily with Lucy-Ann to examine the room. Lucy-Ann wished she was sleeping nearer to Jack. The tower-room was a good way from where she herself would sleep. Jack took Kiki and went to a high window, settling on the window seat to watch the sea-birds in their restless soaring and gliding outside.
Philip went to the tower-room with his aunt. He felt very happy. He had become very fond of Jack and Lucy-Ann, and it was almost too good to be true to think they had come to stay with him for some weeks.
The two of them went down a cold stone passage. They came to a narrow, winding stone stairway, and climbed up the steep steps. The stairway wound round and round, and at last came out into the tower-room. This was a perfectly round room whose walls were very thick. It had three narrow windows, one facing the sea. There was no glass in it at all, and the room was draughty, and full of the sound of the crying of birds, and the roaring of the waves below.
‘I’m afraid this room will be cold for you two boys,’ said Aunt Polly, but Philip shook his head at once.
‘We shan’t mind that. We should have the windows wide open if there was any glass. Aunt Polly. We’ll be all right. We shall love it up here. Look – there’s an old oak chest to put our things in – and a wooden stool – and we can bring a rug up from downstairs. We only need a mattress.’
‘Well – we can’t possibly get a bed up those narrow stairs,’ said Aunt Polly. ‘So you will have to have a mattress to sleep on. I’ve got an old double one that must do for you. I will send Dinah up with a broom and a cloth to clean the room a bit.’
‘Aunt Polly, thanks awfully again for arranging all this,’ said Philip, half shyly, for he was afraid of his hardworking aunt, and although he spent all his holidays with her, he felt that he did not really know her very well. ‘I hope Mr Trent’s cheque will cover all your expenses – but I’m sure Jack and Lucy-Ann won’t cost much.’