The Secret Passage by Nina Bawden Page B

She waited while Ben put a kettle on the oilstove and gave her a new one for her lap. Then she put her hat straight on her head, tucked her bright shawl firmly about her, and went on. “For about a year, Ben dear, your Aunt and her nice young husband were happy as the day is long. My Dear Mamma used to say you can only have so much happiness in this life. Your Aunt Mabel had it all—in one short year.”
    She sighed deeply, but Ben knew she was enjoying herself. Like Ben, Miss Pin thought sad things were more interesting than happy ones. She huddled up in her chair, looking like an aging parrot, and went on in a low, trembling voice. “It came to an end so suddenly. That terrible storm at sea—I can see it, Ben. The great, purple waves breaking over the ship, the fierce winds buffeting it, the poor sailors … The storm only lasted about an hour, but long before it was over, all was lost. They sent out S.O.S. messages, but there was no ship near enough to help them. The ship broke up completely, and went down with the brave Captain standing on the bridge, saluting. The crew took to the boats, but no lifeboat could last in that sea. No one was saved except the ship’s cat who came floating ashore at some island or other, riding on an old plank and miaowing like a banshee. Just think, Ben! Your poor Aunt had only been married a year.” Miss Pin raised a-corner of her shawl to her eyes as if to wipe away a tear. “Until fourteen years ago, she was the merriest creature you ever saw. Then, suddenly, everything changed. In one month—one short month, Ben, her poor husband died and she lost her little girl. Of course your Mamma was still with her, to comfort her, but she wasn’t there long. She married just after—out of the schoolroom …”
    “Lost what ?’ Ben interrupted her in an astonished voice. This was part of the story he hadn’t heard before.” I didn’t know Aunt Mabel had a girl.”
    “Indeed she did. The prettiest little thing. Very delicate, of course—like a little doll. Your Aunt and your Mamma were living in the big house next door—their parents were dead long since, you know—and your Aunt put the dear baby outin her pram while she got ready to go shopping. When she came out, the child was gone.”
    Ben’s eyes were large and round as saucers. He whispered, “Did the Enemy take it? The baby, I mean?”
    Miss Pin looked at him. There was a queer, sharp look in her boot-button eyes. She said slowly, “I suppose he did, Ben dear. But I shouldn’t have told you. Mrs Haggard will be cross with me.”
    “Her bark is worse than her bite,” Ben said kindly. “But you needn’t worry. I won’t tell her I know.”
    He was going to ask Miss Pin if Aunt Mabel hadn’t looked for her lost baby and why the police hadn’t found it, but just at that moment the door opened a crack and John’s face peered through it.
    He said, in a carrying whisper, “Ben, she’s gone out. Hurry …”
    Ben stood up. “I’ve got to go now, Miss Pin. Thank you for having me,” he said politely.
    “It’s been a pleasure, Mr Mallory,” she said in her queenly way. “I shall be delighted to see you again. Have you still got the little horse?”
    Ben dived into his pocket and brought out some rubber bands, a mint toffee that he had half sucked and put back in its paper, a nail or two and the green horse.
    “What do you call him?” Miss Pin asked.
    “I call him Pin,” Ben said, rather shyly. He was afraid she might not like this.
    But she didn’t seem to mind. Her black eyes snapped and she said, “Guard him well. He is part of my Papa’s Treasure. He will bring you luck.”
    This time, the passage did not seem nearly so dark, nor so long. In case the torch gave out, they had bought a new battery with half a crown John had found in the pocket of his best suit. And Mary had a wet flannel, rolled in a polythene bag and stuffed under her jersey. “We can’t go into someone else’s house with our hands all