CHAPTER 2
Jenny, Jack and Claire sat in row 2 seats A, B and C on the flight to La Rochelle, right near the front so the cabin crew could keep an eye on them. They had all been on planes before, of course, but never alone. Their mother would now be back in Islington having travelled by train to the airport, handed them over to the airline staff and made sure the plane was on time. The flight only took an hour and a half so the children didn’t have time to get bored. They had no sooner boarded the plane, had a drink and a snack than it was time to get off.
The airport at La Rochelle was tiny compared to London and as they walked down the steps of the plane the wind blew in gusts straight off the Atlantic Ocean. “Well,” thought Jenny, “not exactly perfect summer weather but at least I am on holiday.” The airhostess who was looking after them took them off the plane before everyone else and whisked them through customs and passport control and into the special arrival area for “unaccompanied minors” where she waited with them until they saw their Aunt. They had decided that they would need very few clothes as the weather in France in August is supposed to be hot and mum had packed a bag of hand luggage for each of them. The weather at the airport was far from hot and the wind brought in driving rain but they didn’t mind, they were all too excited after their flight. Suddenly they saw their Aunty waving at them from behind the barrier. The airhostess looked a little shocked when she saw her.
Aunty Izzy‘s wave was as exuberant as her personality. She was up on her tiptoes and waving a red scarf for all she was worth. She looked like a football hooligan as she jumped up and down when she saw them approach. “Well petals, you made it!” She had always called them funny names like petal and flower, which they liked but were slightly embarrassed by, especially Jenny who thought it was rather unsophisticated. But even Jenny was pleased to greet her colourful Aunt. Isabelle was dressed in stripes, in all colours of the rainbow. She had a striped hat, a striped skirt and a striped bag. A huge bag, big enough to carry a picnic lunch and a bedroll, in case she found herself without a place to sleep in some exotic country, Jenny imagined.
Aunty Izzy hurried them out across the car park and pointed to the old banger she had bought for her four-month stay. It was gruesomely green. One of those cars that Jenny had heard about in class, deux chevaux, she thought. Did that mean two hairs or two horses, she wasn’t sure! They all bundled in and with a plume of smoke and a cackle of engines they were away. Aunt Izzy was a dreadful driver. She didn’t seem to worry about road rules or even notice when she had broken them. She made her way around the outskirts of La Rochelle and on to the country roads that would take them to her house. It took an hour and by the time they arrived all three were nervous wrecks, except Aunty Izzy who was as cool as a vanilla ice cream! “Here we are, I’ll just open the gates,” she said, not noticing how quiet the children were and that they had all turned various shades of grey.
The children were all very glad to have arrived safely at Les Volets Bleus. Even the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to come out in honour of their arrival. The name of the house was painted on a rickety old sign that was attached to the huge iron gates that were at the entrance to the property. Aunty Izzy hopped out of the car, turned a large rusty key and the gates swung open. She got back into the driver’s seat and told them that the name meant blue shutters the reason for this would become obvious as they neared the house. She drove forward and then hopped out to close the gates. She then drove far too fast down the long driveway. Suddenly, the house came into view and Aunty Izzy slammed on the car brakes, careered across a courtyard and finally came to a halt in front of a huge old oak door; the entrance to the house.
The children, still shaking slightly, stood in the courtyard and surveyed their holiday home. It was very dilapidated now but had obviously been enormous and very grand in the past judging by the elaborate stonework over the entrance door where it was just possible to make out the date 1720. Izzy had gone inside to pour them all a cool drink telling them to look around, so the three children took the opportunity to explore the courtyard. There was an old stone well in the centre. It still had the winding mechanism and an old wooden bucket but the well itself had been blocked with a strong metal lid. There were buildings on three sides of the courtyard some in ruins others in a better state of repair. Some of the buildings had been stables and still had their doors opening into the small cubicles where the horses had slept. In one of these, a rusty old bridle hung on the wall and a crumbling stone water trough stood in a corner. An ancient sign was nailed to the wall over the water trough. It was metal but the letters had nearly rusted away. When Jenny looked in she could just make out the letters P.a.l.m. She assumed it had been the name of a particular horse long ago. On the side opposite the stables were the remains of a very old chapel. It still had a bell tower but some of the walls were missing and a quite large tree was growing through another part of the roof. There were other tiny buildings possibly for pigs or other animals attached to the main house which, even in its current state, stood majestically in the centre of all the other buildings. The house was three stories high and had the remains of towers at each corner of the building making it even higher. In the upper stories the blue shutters were closed; they were all open on the ground floor. The whole domain looked very ancient and mysterious. Jennifer wondered what stories they would hear if only old stones could talk.
The twins had run off to explore the tiny, ancient church and Jennifer could hear them chattering excitedly somewhere beneath the bell tower. Just then a gust of wind moved the bell and it tolled a long and mournful sound. Jenny jumped and she heard the twins squeal and then start to giggle. She gazed around the courtyard wondering if the bell could be tied up to stop it ringing in the wind, but her eyes were drawn back to the stables. She though she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Surely she must have imagined it. But suddenly one of the stable doors opened, the one with the old rusty sign, and a girl of about the same age as her appeared leading a horse already saddled up for a ride. She was slim and had her reddish hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was in full riding habit, but it looked strangely unfamiliar. The green riding jacket was fitted at the waist and then flared over the hips. But strangest of all, the girl wore a long skirt in amber velvet that came down past her knees to meet her brown riding boots. She looked very elegant but very old fashioned and Jennifer, who was pleased she would have a friend of her own age this holiday, wondered how on earth she could ride a horse wearing such clothing. All her friends who rode horses wore jeans and a protective riding helmet but this girl went bareheaded. Jennifer was about to call out to her when she began to fade. That was the only way Jennifer could describe it. She literally began to disappear before Jennifer’s eyes, the horse too slowly faded, and suddenly the courtyard was empty again and the stable door swung on its hinges. Jenny rubbed her eyes but the stables were empty.
“Cold drinks all round,” shouted Aunty Izzy, sticking her head out of a small window directly in front of where Jennifer was standing gazing at the creaking stable door. The twins came running back into the courtyard as if chased by a ghost.
“Did you hear the church bell, Jenny.” They asked as they approached their sister.
“Yes,” Jennifer replied, “It was a bit spooky wasn’t it?”
As they came in Aunty Izzy handed them each a large glass of orangeade and then said she was going to her studio to paint. “Make yourselves at home, flowers, dinner’s at 7pm. You can have any room you like. Mine’s next to the studio here on the ground floor. There are loads of rooms upstairs. I haven’t explored them all myself yet.”
While Claire and Jack ran off to explore the house from the inside, Jenny followed her Aunt who was already mixing paints. “Do you think this house could be haunted, Aunt Izzy?”
“Well it is very old so I suppose it’s possible. Why do you ask? Have you seen a ghost already,” she laughed.
“No,” Jenny replied quickly, “I just heard something in th
e courtyard.”
“Probably the birds nesting in the church tower or it could have been the old bell. It often rings when it’s windy. I rather like the sound don’t you?” Clearly her Aunt didn’t expect a reply but Jennifer said, “Yes. That was probably it.” With that she went to find Claire and Jack. She decided not to tell the twins what she had seen, partly because she didn’t want to frighten them and partly because she wanted to find out more about the girl. She didn’t really believe in ghosts and decided that the girl was real and that a weird trick of light must have been responsible for her disappearance.
The ground floor consisted of one huge room that Aunt Izzy used for a studio because the light was superb. It had very large French windows all along one side; in fact the whole wall was virtually glass and the light flooded in for most of the day. These large glass doors opened out onto the back of the house and looked out over an extensive orchard. This was the opposite side of the house from the courtyard with the well. This wall of French windows faced south so the room was always light and warm. The windows on the opposite side of the great hall looked out onto the courtyard and were much smaller. There were two of these smaller windows on each side of the massive oak entrance door. At one end of the large room, probably the end that attached to the church, there was a stone fireplace so big that even an adult could stand up in it. At the other end of this room was a small kitchen area with a large table, which made it a dining room. Next door was a very small room, all dishevelled, which was Aunt Izzy’s bedroom and next to that a small bathroom. The rest of the ground floor had various blocked in doorways in odd places, which at some time in the past, probably led to some of the buildings they had seen outside in the courtyard. Beyond the house the grounds stretched away as far as they could see but the children had decided to leave the gardens until tomorrow. With her overnight bag on her shoulders Jennifer made her way upstairs to find the twins and look for a suitable bedroom of her own.
The twins had climbed the first flight of rickety stairs and discovered three rooms; all ancient. They all had huge roof beams that would have knocked their father’s head off. They, being shorter, were able to walk under the beams. The rooms were all the same size and led into each other. There were no corridors like they had at home, just three rooms all connected. The twins decided on the two next to each other; both had small wash basins and comfortable looking beds. They put their bags down and began to unpack and put their few clothes in the huge wardrobes that the French call armoires. Jack placed the small torch he liked to carry on the window ledge near his bed. They managed to open the small bedroom windows and pinned the shutters back against the outside walls with the little metal stoppers in the shape of ladies’ heads, provided for that purpose. The view from these bedrooms was over the large garden and orchard that was close to the house; further on the view seemed to stretch to the horizon.
The twins busied themselves in their rooms as Jennifer went up to the next level. She could have chosen the room adjoining Claire and Jack but decided, as she was the oldest, to go higher and find a separate room of her own. The next floor was like a huge attic space and looked as if it had not been used for years. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could just make out some furniture; a desk, an armoire and a huge chest of drawers that had been stored there for years by the look of the dust and cobwebs. This upper space was truly enormous, the size of the whole building. It would make a marvellous roller skating space if it hadn’t been so full of old junk! The huge roof beams, which looked hundreds of years old, were full of dust. She could see no sign of any beds up here and there was virtually no light just a few shafts coming through the roof tiles. Cautiously, she made her way to the windows and pushed the shutters back. This attic had obviously been used for storage for years and years. When she opened the shutters the light streamed in and she could see quite clearly how much stuff there was. The space was full of old boxes, paintings and even a piano in one corner. Just as she thought she would be forced to have the room next to the twins, she noticed at the very end of this vast chamber, a small door.
Jenny walked forward with trepidation. She was quite a brave girl and loved reading stories that had mysteries to solve, but when it was happening in real life she wasn’t quite sure about how brave she really was, especially after the mysterious girl and her horse. Jenny breathed in deeply, closed her eyes and repeated the school motto, “Forward with Courage!” She opened her eyes feeling much braver and looked at the tiny door ahead of her in the gloom. The door seemed very small and she remembered the way Alice, the heroine of “Through the Looking Glass” had had to drink a magic potion in order to shrink to the size of her small door. As Jenny approached she realised that the door was of normal size, it just looked small because it was so far away and the attic was so large. The door creaked as she pushed it open. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and repeated the school motto then opened them and peered in. A narrow stone staircase wound up to another door. It was very dark but she decided once she opened the door at the top of the stairs, she would be able to see well enough. She climbed up five tiny steps and stood in front of the door. She took a deep breath and held it as she turned an old doorknob that had been carved in the shape of horse’s head and painted gold and white. The colours were very faded but still just visible. The door swung open without even creaking. It was as if someone on the other side had opened it for her at exactly the same moment that she had reached for the horse’s head. But there was no one there when she stepped inside. She exhaled slowly.
The room took her breath away. In the dim light she could just make out a tiny but beautifully furnished room, fit for a princess or at least someone very rich. The small bed was covered with red velvet cloth. The light was a tiny chandelier that hung in the centre of the room. There was a gold painted wooden chair and a tiny ornate table with a mirror of gold hanging over it. The floor was covered in a richly patterned carpet and there was a tapestry on the wall. Best of all this tiny room had a large window. As Jenny went towards it and pushed the shutters open she was surprised to see that her window was, in fact, a door. The door pushed open onto a tiny balcony and as the light flooded in she realised that the tiny room must have been truly magnificent in the past, but now looked quite forlorn. The red velvet cover on the bed was nearly threadbare, the carpet looked very fragile and the chandelier had been converted to take electricity, “Less romantic,” she thought, “but more practical and it won’t take much to bring this perfect little bedroom to life again.” She stepped onto the tiny balcony that reminded her of the Shakespeare play they had read at school last term. From now on she would call this the “Romeo and Juliet” room and it was all hers. She could hardly believe her luck. She stepped out onto the tiny balcony and looked out across the landscape. To her great surprise she could see the ocean in the distance and a huge lighthouse that seemed to be on the beach in line with the house. “This room must be on the opposite side of the house to the twins’ rooms,” she thought. She didn’t usually like to share things with the twins, but this was too good to be true and she raced down the little stone staircase, across the large attic room, and then called down the stairwell to them in excitement. “Hey you two, come and see what I’ve found.”
The three children stared out at the sea and the lighthouse and realised that they would be able to go swimming as soon as the weather cheered up. Claire was especially jealous of Jenny’s room but Jack couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. The best thing as far as he was concerned was the adventures they would have by the sea and that very exciting looking lighthouse in the distance. He was already imagining smugglers, shipwrecks and how he would save the good guys by lighting the beam at night as the sea raged below.
“Well,” said Jennifer, “perhaps this won’t be such a bad holiday after all.”
“Of course it won’t,” said the twins grinning at their elder sister.
“Food ahoy!” came a faint yell from downstairs and the three
adventurers raced down the stairs to be greeted by a huge supper. The food was all laid out higgledy-piggledy and it was clearly ok to dig in. They began with a delicious homemade tomato soup and lots of crusty bread. Next came the cold meats and cheese and to finish they had a huge tarte normande, a special French apple pie, with thick cream. They used the same knives and forks for the main course and the desert, and the bread simply placed on the table, not on plates! As they all tucked in Jenny said how good it was not to have so many knives and forks to wash and what a good idea it was not to have plates for the bread. She was thinking about a dinner party her mother and father had given recently where the table had so many knives and forks she had to ask her mother what they were all for. She thought her mother would have been horrified at the state of the table at the end of this their first meal in France. There were crumbs everywhere and the dishes were all still on the table. Her mother liked to clear as she went so that at the end of her dinner parties the dishwasher was all loaded and only the coffee cups were left to wash. Jenny thought her job as a journalist must have made her very well organised.
As they finished off the tarte normande Jenny decided to ask her Aunt if she knew anything about the original owners of the house. “Have you any idea how old the house is? “
“It must be nearly three hundred years, or even more,” replied Isabelle. “The date over the door is 1720 and there may well have been a house here before that date.”
“Did you know that there is a perfect little room in the tower? It looks as if the original owner has just stepped out for a while and will come back any minute.”
“I haven’t really been that far up, but I’m glad you like it Jennifer. What about you two; have you found somewhere to sleep?”
“Yes,” replied the twins together. “But not as nice as Jenny’s,” said Claire sounding a bit annoyed. She glanced at her Aunt whose faraway look told her that the comment was lost.
Later, as the twins were going up to their rooms for the night, they noticed that Aunty Izzy had begun a huge painting which stood on an easel at the other end of the room. It was only roughly blocked in but they could see the beginnings of a windmill in a large landscape. “Where is the windmill?” they asked. “I don’t know,” replied their Aunt, “I think it is in the grounds somewhere, but there is so much land I haven’t come across it yet. I don’t know why, but I just feel that I must paint it. Perhaps we will find it, if I paint it!” she laughed.
That night the twins and Jenny slept like logs, if logs sleep! That morning they had been in Islington breathing in the polluted air of a hot London summer with nothing much to do; now they looked out of their tiny windows onto a vast evening sky. The sea was really close and the Atlantic wind was blowing the rain away in preparation for a hot, sunny day tomorrow. The twins could hardly wait and were asleep in five minutes. Jennifer opened her door and stood on her Romeo and Juliet balcony dreaming of what the next two weeks would bring. She could just see the light from the studio, way below as it shone out onto the ground at the back of the house. “Aunty Izzy must still be painting even though it is dark now”, she thought. Jenny looked up to the sky and was astonished. In London you hardly noticed the stars at all because the streetlights were so bright, but here the stars sparkled out of the sky and seemed so close. She could make out the constellation of Orion that Jenny thought looked like a giant arrow pointing the way somewhere deep into the indigo sky, and she could see the plough. She knew the name of this one because on a holiday in Cornwall, where the sky was almost as big as this, her father had taken her out one night to see a partial eclipse of the moon and, as they waited for the miraculous event drinking mugs of hot chocolate, he named the stars for her.
Suddenly a huge light filled the sky. Jenny gasped and held her breath for a moment. “What kind of planet or star was that? Perhaps it was a comet!” Then it disappeared. Then it came again. She counted the intervals and then realised that it had a regular beat, flashing and circling its light out towards the ocean. “The lighthouse, of course!” Jenny said aloud. She stood on her balcony for a few more minutes and watched the slow steady light pulsing round and around, then went inside. She closed the door but left the shutters open so she could see the lights in the sky and the manmade light nearby. She felt she should have been scared of all the black space and the strange lights but oddly enough she felt as though the lighthouse and Orion were protecting them.