‘What does the front of the house look like?’
‘It was built by Sir John Vanbrugh. There are two wings, an East Wing and a West Wing, and in the middle is a block with six stone columns where the main rooms are.’
‘What about statues?’
‘There’s a statue of Hercules strangling a snake in front of the West Wing and a statue of St George spearing a dragon in front of the East Wing.’
‘Now go through the front door. Think of yourself as coming back to where your father grew up. Think of yourself as Bernard Taverner’s son,’ said Finn – and had to turn his face away as he remembered how good it had been really to be his father’s son, and how much he missed him.
‘You go into a Great Hall which is always cold, with stone flags, and a big oak chest into which Dudley shut your father for a whole night when he was three years old—’ Clovis broke off. ‘Dudley is dead, isn’t he?’
‘Of course he’s dead,’ said Finn impatiently. ‘That’s what all the fuss is about. Go on. Go upstairs.’
‘There’s a Long Gallery with a knight’s armour, very tall, which used to shine in the dark. Once Dudley got in and made it raise its arm and a housemaid fainted. And there’s a picture of a Taverner ancestor who went to the crusade, with the head of a Turk impaled on his lance.’
Clovis sighed. Westwood did not sound cosy.
‘What about Joan?’ Finn went on. ‘Remember she’s your Aunt Joan really. Where was her room?’
‘On the next floor, overlooking the stables. The walls were completely covered with rosettes she’d won for riding – red ones and yellow ones and blue ones, and she had a fox’s tail with dried blood on it nailed above her bed. Only it isn’t called a tail, it’s called a brush.’
‘And what was her nickname?’
‘The Basher. Because she bashed people.’ He looked anxiously at Finn. ‘But she isn’t there now, is she? You promised.’
‘No, of course not. She’s married to a man called Smith and has four daughters.’
But he could see that Clovis was looking far from happy so he flicked over the pages of the notebook to find the few things at Westwood which Bernard had liked.
‘What about the bluebell wood?’
‘It’s on the far side of the lake – not where Joan held his head under the water. On a slope down to the river. There was a pair of woodpeckers nesting there, and a badger sett.’
‘And the garden?’
‘There was a walled kitchen garden and the gardener was nice. He used to let your father pick strawberries, but he had a stammer and Dudley used to imitate him and—’
‘Never mind Dudley,’ said Finn quickly. ‘He’s dead. What about the other servants?’
‘The butler was called Young, but he wasn’t young he was old, with liver spots on his hands and everyone was scared of him. He got a maid sacked for reading the books in the library – the one that helped your father.’
‘And the dining room?’
Clovis rattled through every detail of the dining room. It always cheered him up thinking of English food and English meals.
But as often as he felt brave and forward-looking, Clovis felt scared and told Finn he couldn’t do it.
‘I wish Maia would come,’ he kept saying, which annoyed Finn. Finn wished it too. Till Maia came they would not know what had happened in the museum and whether their plan would work.
But when she did come, the next day, they saw by her face that all was well.
To get away from the Carters, Maia had needed to work hard at her pulmonary spasms. She had had a spasm at breakfast, wheezing and twitching, and another one in the drawing room when she was doing her embroidery. They were good spasms, she thought, but it wasn’t till the third one, just before tea, that Mrs Carter said icily that if her lungs were giving her so much trouble she had better go out.
Since it was raining – the heavy, dark rain that fell so often in the afternoons – she thought Maia might refuse, but she was out of the house in minutes.
And Furo, thank heaven, was in his hut and ready to take her to Finn.
This time the dog greeted her as a friend, placing his cold nose in her hand, and the happiness she always felt when she came to this place rose up in her.
‘It’s all settled,’ she said. ‘The professor was wonderful – he showed me everything. And I stole the keys,’ she added proudly. ‘At least I think I did, though he did tell me where they were so that may not be proper stealing.’
She handed them to Finn, hoping for praise, but he had obviously expected her to do what he had asked.
‘Good. The trapdoor may be difficult to lift, we’d better take some oil. It’s still under the sloth, is it?’
‘Yes. And the professor is still worried about the missing rib. How’s Clovis?’
‘He’s washing his hair. He’s always washing it,’ said Finn gloomily. ‘I thought you might cut it for him.’
‘I’ve never cut anyone’s hair before.’
‘There’s always a first time.’
Clovis came out of the hut then, with a towel round his head and very pleased to see Maia.
‘She’s done it,’ said Finn. ‘The hiding place is set up, she’s got the keys. The boat goes at dawn on Saturday, so on Friday we’ll get you settled there. We’ll need blankets, a lamp, some food. I’m going to let everyone think it’s me hiding there, even the Indians; that will make it safer. I’ll tell them that the crows have heard about the lagoon.’
But Clovis was looking definitely green. ‘How long do I have to be in the cellar?’ he asked fearfully.
‘Not even a whole night. The crows are due back on Friday afternoon; they’ll come looking for you almost straight away. You’ll see it will work.’
‘Clovis, it’s the best thing, honestly,’ said Maia. ‘The Goodleys have been turned back at the border. They’ve been locked up until they can sell their assets and clear their debts. They think you’re staying with me so they won’t bother about you any more.’
‘I suppose I could stay here,’ said Clovis doubtfully, looking round the hut.
‘No, you couldn’t,’ said Finn. ‘I won’t be here, I told you. I’m setting off in the Arabella.’ He turned to Maia. ‘Come and see her,’ he said. ‘We’ve done quite a bit to her.’
Maia followed him onto the launch. The rain had stopped. Finn had painted the floorboards and mended the awning. ‘She’s almost ready,’ he said.
‘Are you sure you can sail her alone? With having to get wood and everything?’
‘Yes. I couldn’t take you anyway,’ he said, reading her like a book. ‘I don’t even know exactly where I’m going and you’re a—’
‘Don’t say it,’ said Maia angrily. ‘Don’t you dare say I’m a girl.’
Finn shrugged. ‘All right, I won’t. But it could be dangerous and I won’t involve other people.’ He looked back at the hut where Clovis was towelling his hair. ‘He’s absolutely hopeless at the chores, but he’s amazing at memorizing things. I reckon he knows everything about Westwood already. We did Sir Aubrey this morning – his eyes, his whiskers. An actor’s training is not to be sneezed at.’ Then: ‘How long have you got?’
‘Long enough to help you polish the funnel,’ said Maia, and took a cloth.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Clovis had been in Finn’s hut for three days, he knew Westwood by heart. He could go upstairs and downstairs, into the attics where the maid Bella had hidden Bernard’s secret pile of money, and into the cellar where he had made friends with the bats. He knew the outhouse where Bernard had kept a pet rat and the tree to which Dudley and Joan had tied a little girl from the village and beaten her with willow twigs because she had been trespassing by the lake.
And he could imitate any accent.
‘After he’s been there a week, he’ll be talking like Sir Aubrey or braying like Joan,’ Finn said to Maia.
The Goodleys had taught Clovis to fence and he had been in so many plays set i
n grand houses that his table manners were excellent. If he got to Westwood, Finn was sure he could hold out for a little while. Finn had shown him a map of the north of England and Clovis had discovered that the village where his foster mother lived was only thirty miles away, which had cheered him up a lot.
‘But he’s such a coward,’ Finn said to Maia. They were scraping the old paint off Arabellas deck-fittings, a job which Clovis did not care for.
‘I don’t think it’s cowardly to be afraid of hiding in a dark cellar and waiting to be snatched by two horrible crows,’ said Maia.
Finn frowned. ‘You’re always defending him,’ he said crossly.
‘Well, he’s alone in the world.’
‘So am I alone in the world,’ said Finn.
‘No, you aren’t. You’ve got Lila who adores you and Professor Glastonberry and the chief of police, and all the Indians here. And when you get to the Xanti you’ll probably have lots and lots of relatives. Aunts and uncles and cousins – and maybe grandparents too. A huge family . . .’
‘Do you think so? I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ Finn did not look particularly pleased.
Maia nodded. ‘It’s sure to be like that. Whereas Clovis and I don’t have anybody.’
‘You’ve got Miss Minton.’
It was Maia’s turn to stare. Three months ago she hadn’t known that Miss Minton existed. When she’d first seen her, she thought she was a terrifying witch. But now . . .
There was a pause. Then:
‘And you’ve got me,’ said Finn.
Maia lifted her head and smiled at him. For a moment she felt completely happy. Then she looked at Finn’s hand resting on the tiller.
‘But you’re going away.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s true. I’m going away.’
Later that night when Maia was back in the bungalow, and Finn was frying some eggs Furo had brought for their supper, Clovis said, ‘There’s something I want to ask you about. When I was looking for Maia the first time, I asked for a place called Tapherini, or the House of Rest. Maia told me that that was what it was called and that Mrs Carter had it on her notepaper. But no one had heard of it and they looked . . . sort of funny. And then the captain of the boat wouldn’t put me down on the Carters’ landing stage. He said it was a bad place. What did he mean?’
Finn sat back on his heels. He seemed to be wondering whether to speak or not. Then he said, ‘I’ll tell you but you must promise to say nothing to Maia.’ And he told Clovis what had happened when the Carters first came to the Amazon.
‘They found an Indian longhouse by the river and some thatched huts back in the forest. The land and the houses belonged to the Tapuri, which is the tribe to which Furo and Tapi belong, but many of the Indians had left to find work in the town, and the elders of the tribe agreed to sell the land and the houses on it to the Carters.
‘The price was agreed before witnesses. A proper ceremony took place and Mr Carter signed the document to which the old chief put his mark. The Tapuri asked that the House of Rest which was what the longhouse had been called, should be left standing, because a very wise medicine man had died there and his spirit still lived in the house and did not want to be disturbed.
‘Mr Carter agreed to everything. Good land by the river was hard to find since so many Europeans had come to Manaus to make their fortune, and the rubber trees in the surrounding forest were plentiful.
‘The money was to be paid to the Indians in three lots. Mr Carter paid the first lot promptly, in gold coins fetched from the bank, and the chief of the Tapuri thanked him and took his people to build themselves homes further up the river.
‘A month later the chief ’s messenger came for the second lot of money and was sent away. Mr Carter, he was told, was waiting for more gold to come from the bank in England on a special ship.
‘The messenger went back into the forest and came again a month later. He was told that the ship with the gold on it had sunk in a storm.’
And so it went on. The Indians began by being polite, and ended up shaking their fists at the Carters. Those Europeans who knew what was happening went to the chief of police, who tried to force Carter to pay what he owed – but Carter always found an excuse not to do it. Not only that, but he broke his word to the Indians and pulled down not only the surrounding huts in the forest but the longhouse itself, and on the site he built his bungalow.
Mrs Carter had Tapherini, or House of Rest, put on her writing paper – she thought it sounded good – but no one in Manaus ever called it that, nor would the Indian traders land on the Carters’ landing stage but always, like the captain who had brought Clovis, stopped higher up. And the many decent Europeans who knew what had happened tried to have as little to do with the Carters as possible.
After this not many Indians would come to work for the family. Those that did, Furo and Tapi and old Lila, stayed for personal reasons – Lila because she wanted to be near Finn and his father; Furo because he was her nephew; Conchita because she had a crippled brother to support in Manaus. When they worked in the house, they were unforgiving and sullen, and secretly they believed that one day the old medicine man’s spirit, which had been disturbed and shamed, would rise up against the Carters, and the family would get what they deserved.
Clovis had been listening to Finn with a very worried face.
‘But that’s a sort of curse. Maia shouldn’t live in a house that’s been cursed.’
‘I know. But nobody has cursed Maia – nobody in the world would do that. And Furo and the others have promised to look after her. They absolutely promised.’
‘And you’re not going to tell Maia?’
‘No. Definitely not. She’s got enough to put up with, with those awful twins.’
Mrs Carter had at last arranged Maia’s piano lessons with Netta’s father, Mr Haltmann. Maia went to his house before the dancing class while the twins were shopping with their mother, so she could enjoy it and not have to pretend that learning the piano was boring. If there was one thing the twins really hated, it was if Maia seemed to enjoy anything.
Mr Haltmann came from Vienna and he was a first-class musician. He not only taught Maia the piano; he understood her need to learn the songs she heard everywhere: in the streets of Manaus, on the river boats, in the huts of the workers.
‘It is a rich land for music, Brazil. Everything flows into everything else. In one song you can hear the rhythm of the Africans, the poetry of the Portuguese and the sadness of the Indians.’
He promised to look at the songs she had written down, and he suggested too that she had singing lessons and train her voice – but this she wouldn’t do.
‘My mother was a singer – she was wonderful and I don’t want to try and copy her,’ she said.
The other good thing which came out of her time with the Haltmanns was Netta’s friendship. The Austrian girl welcomed her wholeheartedly; she had a litter of kittens in a basket, a basset hound with soulful eyes, and a baby brother as fat as butter. Netta walked with her afterwards to the dancing class, and if Maia forgot to put on a gloomy face when she saw the twins sitting with their legs stuck out in the locker room, waiting to have their shoes put on, she was in trouble.
‘What are you smirking about?’ asked Beatrice now. ‘I suppose you’re waiting for Sergei to ask you to dance.’
The twins’ plans for getting rid of Maia were not going well. They had been to her room and picked over her things, but Miss Minton had heard them, and since they themselves never went out of doors, it was difficult to spy on Maia properly. The notice of the reward for the capture of Taverner’s son was still on the hoardings, but time was running out. Mr Low and Mr Trapwood were supposed to be leaving on the Bishop in three days’ time.
Sergei did ask Maia to dance. Not only that, but he asked her to a party.
‘It’s on Friday night – it’s for Olga’s birthday. I know it’s very short notice, but my father has to go to Belem the next day and we wanted him t
o be here.’
Maia hesitated. Friday night was the night Clovis was to hide in the museum. For her to be in Manaus then would be perfect if she was to betray Clovis to the twins – but only if the twins were there as well.
‘I’d love to,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think I can come without Beatrice and Gwendolyn. I’m sort of their guest – you know how it is.’
Sergei looked mulish. ‘They’re horrible. I hate them. But if you won’t come without them . . . I’ll ask Olga.’
Olga also disliked the twins, but she too said that if Maia couldn’t come without them she’d better bring them along.
‘If Miss Minton comes too, it ought to be all right,’ said Sergei. ‘She’ll keep them in order and she gets on well with our Mademoiselle Lille. And there’s no trouble about getting you home – my father will send you back in one of our boats.’
The Keminskys were one of the richest families in Manaus. Sergei’s father, Count Keminsky, owned huge plantations of rubber trees; he treated his workers well and the money flowed in – not only from rubber but from hardwoods and coffee and sugar cane. Maia had passed their house; a big mansion with pink walls and blue shutters, and a garden full of flowering trees. There couldn’t be anywhere better for a party.
If the twins were pleased to be invited, they didn’t show it. Only Mrs Carter’s eyes gleamed. She hated the Russian family – but a count was a count, and who knew what might come out of it for her girls?
Finn’s dog was called Rob, but no one used his name much. He was somehow all dogs rolled into one with his trust and intelligence and faithfulness; and though he could hunt his own food and steady the canoe by putting his weight in the right place, he understood that when humans were upset one had to sit there while they pulled one’s ears, or buried their faces in one’s back, or even cried. A dog who will allow himself to be cried over is worth his weight in gold.
He had been Bernard Taverner’s dog and now was Finn’s, and other people did not interest him very much. But he was always very polite to Maia, and as she rubbed his back and said, ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get the twins to do what I want,’ he caught the worry in her voice and did not move away though he had heard some interesting noises in the bushes behind the hut.