The Secret Passage by Nina Bawden Page A

cupboards and put clean paper on all the shelves. John and Mary hung around, trying to hurry her up by helping her, but she seemed maddeningly slow, taking down each piece of china from the top shelf and wiping it carefully before she put it back again.
    Mary said, “Aunt Mabel, you really ought to get out in the open air. It’s good for you.”
    From her perch at the top of the step ladder, Aunt Mabel looked down at Mary’s pink face.
    “Well,” she said. “Since when have you been interested in my health, may I ask?”
    John said innocently, “We’ve been thinking you looked a bit peaky, Aunt Mabel.”
    Aunt Mabel gave a funny little snort. I’ll go out when I’m good and ready. Not before. I’ve got a lot to do because it’s Lifeboat Day tomorrow and I shall be busy selling flags.”
    “To pay for the new Lifeboat? The one that’s down on the front, near the pier?”
    Aunt Mabel nodded. “It isn’t fitted out yet, though. We shall need to collect a lot of money.”
    “Will you be out selling flags all day tomorrow?” John asked eagerly. He grinned at Mary, whose eyes shone. They could only get into the passage when Aunt Mabel wasn’t there and even if she went shopping she might easily get back before they did and find out what they were doing. If she was going to be out all day, tomorrow would be a wonderful opportunity.
    “Most of the time, I expect,” Aunt Mabel said. She gave them a small smile. “As a matter of fact, I thought you might like to help …”
    “ Oh ,” said John and Mary together. Their response was hardly enthusiastic and Aunt Mabel looked at their crestfallen faces in surprise. Although she believed they were spoiled, she had almost without realising it, come to think of Mary and John as very helpful children who were usually willing to do things for people. She said, rather crossly, “Well—we’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’m sure I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
    Mary said quickly, “It’s not that we don’t want to, Aunt Mabel. We didn’t mean …”
    “Never mind what you meant,” Aunt Mabel said. “I’m too busy to talk about it now. Run along and play—and take Ben with you. What’s Ben doing?”
    “Sitting with Miss Pin,” John said, with a little sigh.
    *
    Ben had been with Miss Pin for the last hour. She was talking about Aunt Mabel. The oil stove threw a yellow, feathery pattern on the high, dim ceiling; Ben sat close to its lovely warmth, on the leather footstool, and listened. From time to time, he fed the tortoise, Sir Lancelot, with a piece of fresh lettuce.
    Miss Pin was saying, “You should have seen your Aunt Mabel when she was young. She was the prettiest girl in Henstable. Tall and bonny, with long, graceful legs, like a deer. I used to sit here, in this room—it was just after my arthritis had laid hold of me properly—and listen to her, singing in the big garden next door. She sang all day, such sweet, pretty songs, to amuse her little sister. That was your Dear Mamma, Ben. I never saw any two sisters so loving. When your Aunt Mabel was married, your Mamma was her bridesmaid, in a pretty dress of white lace. They asked me to the wedding—such a pretty card, with gold bells all over it. Of course I couldn’t go. Even if it hadn’t been for my arthritis, it wouldn’t have been Safe. I daren’t leave Papa’s treasure, you see. I’d promised him I would guard it always. But your Aunt Mabel came in to see me afterwards and brought me a piece of wedding cake. I’ve still got it somewhere—in that old chest in the corner, I think. She was wearing such a pretty dress …”
    “Get onto the sad bit,” Ben said. He was much more interested in hearing how Mr Haggard’s ship had gone down in a great storm in the Pacific Ocean, than he was in the dress Aunt Mabel was wearing when she got married.
    Miss Pin frowned. “Don’t be impatient, boy. All in good time. Just fill my kettle first, will you, dear?”