Read Online The Mystery of the Cupboard by Lynne Reid Banks - Free Book Online Page B

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    And when it was finished, I cried at last. I cried myself to sleep. And had a very strange dream that even now I can remember, so clearly that I believe it was no dream… But it is not part of this story. Perhaps the future reader will know what I am speaking of…
    Maria and Matthew had a telephone now. The next day I made my very first telephone call, from a public instrument.
    Maria answered. “Oh, Jessie, I’m glad you telephoned! I wanted to thank you. Our little girl was so thrilled!” For a moment I thought she would relent, but to make matters crystal clear, she said sweetly, “It was the best parting gift in the world.”
    I felt my heart grow hard again. “I didn’t telephone to be thanked. I want to come and say goodbye.”
    â€œBut — we agreed — in any case, Matt has taken her to visit his sister.”
    â€œTo say goodbye to
you”
    â€œTo me?” she said, startled. “But - but Matt doesn’t mean that you and I may never see each other!”
    â€œI am going abroad,” I said grandly. Of course this was a lie.
    â€œOh! Where?”
    â€œFar away — you don’t need to know where.”
    â€œBut I do!”
    â€œYou’ve never needed to know where I live in London,” I said with a trace of bitterness.
    She was silent. Then she said, “Well, come then. Come now. And we’ll talk. It won’t be goodbye — surely we’ll meet again, I couldn’t imagine life without you!”
    Silly, shallow girl,
I thought.
You seriously imagined you could deprive me of Lottie but keep me for yourself. You want it all, as you always did. But now you’ll find everything has its price.
    I went to her beautiful house, where I had known the only happiness of my adult life, for the last time. And there, in her boudoir, I did the deed. She once told me the word
boudoir
means ‘a sulking room’ in French. Is there a word for a stealing room?
    I sat calmly, waiting for her to leave me alone. I knew she would. I had arranged it.
    The maid who always let me into the house was also the one who would bring us our usual tray of tea. When she had opened the door to me I pressed a pound note into her hand - a fortune! — and said, “Millie, when the mistress rings for the tea, pretend not to hear.”
    â€œYes, Miss,” she said, looking absolutely dumbfounded.
    And she gave me my pound’s worth. Maria had to leave the room to find out why no one came when she rang. And in those few minutes I crept into the adjoining bedroom, opened the jewel case whose hiding place I knew well, snatched the aquamarine earrings, and closed it again. Then I slipped back to my usual chair by the window.
    I had done it so often in imagination, my heart was noteven beating fast nor my breath coming short. I remember thinking calmly,
I seem to be a born thief.
I felt then not one trace of guilt. Not then.
    I said my farewells to my sister, quite coolly. I pretended I was going to America. My mind and heart were numb of thought and feeling. The earrings were mine. The score seemed settled.
    A pair of earrings in payment for my darling Lottie? Well, I was mad at the time. Mad against my sister, against my life, mad with a grief that, even after last night’s outburst of weeping, I hadn’t let myself feel yet.
    You, reader of the future, before you judge me: Be sure you are not subject to fits of temporary madness during which you may do terrible deeds, with consequences as yet undreamed of.

8
The Old Bottle
    A t teatime one of the thatchers came to the window, gesturing. He had something in his hand - it looked like a dirty glass jar.
    â€œLook, Lionel! They’ve found the bottle!” exclaimed Omri’s mother excitedly.
    Everyone hurried out into the sunny, reed-strewn garden. The whole team was there, grinning broadly. ‘The oul’ bottle’ didn’t look particularly old. It was a