“Watch out when you push it open.”
Jeanie placed the stick against the trap door, and pushed. It opened wide, with little effort. “That was easy,” she commented.
“Yeah, finally. Can you climb in?”
Jeanie looked into the dark space above her head. “How?”
“Maybe you can lift me,” Ann said. She climbed on the table, and stood next to her sister.
“Ann,” said Jeanie with exasperation. “You’re nearly as big as me. I can’t lift you.”
“We need a ladder.”
Jeanie jumped down. “Let’s get Mother’s vanity chair, and put it on top of the table.”
They rushed downstairs. “My gosh,” cried Ann. “Look at this mess. Mother’s best things scattered everywhere.”
“We better clean it up right now.”
Just as they finished putting the room in order, Liz wobbled in, still wearing the lacy veil, and the high heel shoes.
“You’re in big trouble, Miss Priss.”
They left and hurried back upstairs. Jeanie put the stool on the table, and with help from Ann, climbed on it.. Just when she reached for the open trap door, the stool slid off the table. Jeanie hit the floor with a loud thud. “Oh-h-h,” she cried out in pain. “My leg is broken.”
Ann helped her to their bedroom. Ann felt the bones on her ankle. “I don’t think it’s broken,” said Ann. “It’s swelling up, though. See if you can move it.”
Luckily, it was only sprained. Ann bandaged it, and told Jeanie to stay in bed the rest of the day. “You’d make a great nurse,” said Jeanie.
“Maybe I’ll be a doctor someday,” Ann responded.
“I thought you wanted to teach school.”
“And be with little kids all day. No way.”
“I see your point,” Jeanie responded. “But kids get sick.”
“Then I definitely won’t be a pediatrician. Does your leg feel any better?” asked Ann.
Jeanie sighed. “I guess. I just don’t want to stay in bed all day.”
Ann took the vanity stool back downstairs. Her mother’s room was in shambles, and Liz w nowhere around. She hung up her mother’s best dress that Liz had been wearing, and put the costume jewelry back in her box. Then she went to fix lunch.
“Time to eat,” she called out the kitchen window to Ricky, Neil, and Liz. They were romping under the cherry trees at the edge of the orchard.
“Coming,” they responded, running to the house, like a pack of hungry wolves.
“Where’s Jeanie?” asked Ricky, when they sat down to eat.
“Glad you asked. Take this tray upstairs. She hurt her ankle.” She handed him a tray with an apple, a peanut butter sandwich, and a glass of milk. “And don’t spill the milk going up those stairs.”
“Okay,” he said reluctantly, wishing he had never asked. “Don’t let Neil eat my lunch.”
“Go on. Go on.”
“I’m gone,” he said. He lumbered up the stairs, spilling milk down the front of his blue jeans.
After lunch they went outside, except for Jeanie, and sat on the front steps of the red-brick house, quietly staring into space.
Ann looked at her three siblings. They were usually so restless and noisy. It was kind of nice for a change, having everyone so quiet. It seemed to her that the whole neighborhood was the same way. Tranquil. Waiting for something. Then she recalled an old saying, and shuddered. Was this the calm before the storm?
####
Chapter 5: Footprints on the Porch
It was three o’clock when the gathering storm clouds eclipsed the mid-afternoon sun. The skies darkened and the rumbling thunder shook the distant hills like exploding dynamite. A flash of lightning cracked through the sky, zig-zagging its way to earth. The five siblings huddled together on the third floor, putting aside their rivalries for the moment, and watching tensely as the rains came down and deluged the dry, cracked ground with a relentless force.
It was still raining at bedtime. The roof sounded like it was ready to blow off. An electrical power line was knocked out by the fury of the fighting winds. The lights flickered, then went out completely, leaving the house in darkness, except for an occasional flash of lightning. Their mother, who returned from the farm during the storm, lit two tall candles and put them on the mantle over the fireplace.
“Let’s tell ghost stories,” suggested Jeanie, who was still limping from her ankle injury. She curled up on the sofa next to her mother.
Neil ran to his mother’s side before responding. “Okay. You tell one.”
“Let me,” interrupted Liz. Then she began, “Once upon a time these five kids went to live in a haunted house for the whole summer. One day a storm came and thunder roared and lightning flashed across the sky and scared all the kids. The roof blew off, and the rain came in and the two oldest girls drowned. The other girl had to take care of her little brothers, who were so scared they started crying. She hid them in a secret passage in the fireplace until the storm was over. They lived happily ever after.”
“Wishful thinking,” said Jeanie, when Liz finished.
“Then you tell one, smarty-pants.”
“I will,” said Ann. “Once upon a time two sisters lived alone in an old, haunted house. The ghost who roamed the house at night was murdered there over two hundred years ago. He only came out on stormy nights when the lightning cracked through the sky and the rains poured out of the storm clouds in large gushes. The last time he came out was very much like tonight. It was storming and the winds were blowing tree limbs against the old house. The sisters heard footsteps in the hallway. ‘What’s that?’ asked one sister. “Sh-h-h,’ said the other sister. ‘Let’s listen.’ Creak, crack, pitter-pat, went the footsteps. Over and over and over, they heard the same sound: Creak, crack, pitter-pat.” Ann dropped her voice to a whisper and drawled out the footstep sounds real slow.
Neil couldn’t contain himself, and let out the first scream, “Agh-h-h.” This set off a chain reaction, and Ricky and Liz began screaming and rushed to their mother.
Even Ann, who was telling the story, got the jitters when tiny shadows flickered from the candle across the walls. With each flicker, they all jumped and held their breath.
Their mother suggested they sleep on pallets in her bedroom, since there wasn’t any electricity and they were all hyper. But they didn’t get much sleep. Between the mice running in the walls, and the thunder and lightning cracking through the sky, they were awake most of the night.
The storm finally stopped in the wee hours, and the mice got tired of running. They got up later than usual, and had a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast with hot chocolate. Their mother assigned their chores, then left for the farm. But when she stepped outside, she noticed muddy footprints on the front porch, like someone had walked to the middle of the porch, then turned around and left. They weren’t near the door or any of the windows.
She looked closer. They were large, the size of a grown man. Whoever it was, didn’t try to get in. But, why was anyone on the porch in the first place? And who would be out in such a storm? Was it someone in trouble? If so, why didn’t he ring the doorbell?
She decided to file a complaint after she got to the farm. The police decided it was worth an investigation and sent two officers. By the time they arrived at the red-brick house, with their sirens blaring and their lights flashing, the children had finished breakfast and some of their chores. Ricky and Neil bolted out the front door to see the police car when it whizzed by.
Only it didn’t whiz by. It stopped right in front of their house.
Two officers in blue uniforms got out and strolled up the walkway. “I’m Officer Dalton,” the first one announced in a loud voice. “I hear you got some muddy footprints on your front porch.”
“Oh,” they both said, looking from one officer to the other.
Jeanie, Ann and Liz stood gawking from the doorway. “Who sent you?” Ann said when she finally found her voice.
“Let’s see,” he answered, glancing down at his pad. “Now Mrs. Grayson, if you’ll excuse us, we need to look around.”
The other officer, who followed Officer Dalton to the porch, said under his breath, “I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
“I think they just moved in for the summer,” Officer Dalton replied. “That’s what I heard.”
“It’s been vacant for years.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Well. Well. They must be desperate.”
“Hey, you kids,” Officer Dalton called out. “Come here.”
They scrambled forward, nearly knocking him down the steps. “Hold it. Hold it,” he commanded. “Where are the footprints?”
“I don’t know,” they replied, looking around the porch, except Liz. She stood near the door, watching quietly.
“Well. I don’t see any,” said the other officer. “This porch looks pretty clean, if you ask me.”
Liz smiled proudly, and stepped from the doorway. “I mopped it all by myself.”
The officers looked over at Liz. “What did you say?”
“I mopped it by myself.”
“Did you see any muddy footprints?” asked Officer Dalton, looking from Liz to the other officer and back to Liz.
Liz pondered the question by wrinkling her forehead like they do in the movies, and answered, “No-o-o. I didn’t see any.”
“But you did see mud?”
“Yes sir. I mopped it all by myself.”
“Well, we can’t do anything now,” said the other officer. “Let’s get on.”
“Thank you very much,” said Officer Dalton. He turned and headed toward their shiny, black police cruiser. Ricky and Neil waved when they drove off down Chase Street.
The sidewalk outside the gate was lined with children of all ages and sizes, peering through the iron picket fence like caged animals at the zoo. Neil and Ricky ran out to greet them.
“Hi. Do you want to come in and play?”
Neil shoved the gate open. The peering eyes blinked, and the children all jumped back like Neil was a mad dog with rabies. “Come on in,” he said again.
They moved back a little further. Someone whispered hoarsely, “Don’t go. That house is haunted.” Then they scattered in all directions, like frightened animals.
“Did you hear that?” asked Neil, He watched them run down the street. “This house is haunted.”
####
Chapter 6: A Friend
The neighbor kids ran down the street and scattered in all directions, except for one girl. She had wavy, brown hair that was cropped short around a perfectly molded head. She looked regal, standing next to a tall oak tree just outside the gate. She smiled and called out, “Hi. I’m Cindy.”
“Hi,” Jeanie and Ann responded in unison, smiling back.
“Would you like to come in?” Ann asked, pushing on the gate.
“Thank you,” she answered politely, when she entered the yard. Her movements were slow and graceful.
“Where do you live?” asked Ann after they sat down on the cool, crisp grass at the edge of the orchard.
“Over there,” she responded, pointing toward a brownstone mansion across the street. It was nearly obscured by moss-laden oaks and weeping willows that offered protection from the probing eyes of neighbors.
“Oh-h-h,” the three sisters sighed.
“It’s a mansion,” Ann commented.
“Are you rich?” asked Liz.
Cindy smiled. Her braces glistened in the sunlight. “Oh. Not really. I think Grandpa has a lot of money.”
“How old are you?” asked Jeanie.
“Thirteen. And you?”
“I’m nearly fourteen,” answered Jeanie. “Ann is twelve and Liz is ten.” She pointed to her brothers, who were playing tag nearby. “Ricky is nine and Neil is seven.”
No one spoke for a few moments, each waiting for the other to say something. Finally Ann broke the silence. “Is our house really haunted?”
Cindy looked amused. “No-o. It belongs to my grandpa.”
Jeanie looked at Ann and then back at Cindy. “Your grandpa is our landlord? He owns this house?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you ever been inside?” asked Ann.
“Many times.”
“And you know for sure it isn’t haunted?” asked Jeanie.
Cindy laughed. “No-o-o. What makes you think it’s haunted?”
“Then why did those kids say it was?” asked Liz, who had been listening quietly. She was convinced that ghosts and goblins were real.
“Why did they run away?” Ann added.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” answered Cindy.
“I think it’s haunted,” said Liz, turning around and staring at the dissipated exterior.
“Really, it isn’t. In fact, I was born in that house,” she said with finality, as though that fact settled the matter altogether.
“Let’s go inside,” suggested Ann. “I’ll make some lemonade.”
The next day Cindy came back, then again the day after that. She continued to come over every day, bringing tennis rackets, volley balls, or her croquet set.
Liz thought Cindy had everything a little girl could possibly need or want: A beautiful home, lovely clothes, and dozens and dozens of toys and games.
Liz day-dreamed about living in such a mansion when she grew up, married Prince Charming, and lived happily ever after. She would let her little girl dress up in her clothes and jewelry anytime she wanted to.
One afternoon, shortly after Cindy went home, the sky clouded abruptly and a slow drizzle chased them indoors. Liz disappeared into her mother’s bedroom, while Ricky and Neil drew animal pictures on the foggy windows.
Jeanie and Ann plodded up the two flights to their bedroom. “Hey, Jeanie,” Ann said. “I know what we can do while it’s raining.”
“Fix up our club room?” Jeanie answered.
“Why not?”
“We need some furniture.”
“Let’s look in the junk pile in the cellar,” said Ann. When she headed out the door, Jeanie turned and followed.
In the cellar, they found several pieces of furniture in usable condition, though worn and dusty from setting dormant in the basement for many, many years.
“You know what this reminds me of,” said Jeanie, staring at the collection of antiques. “That poem Mother read when we were little, Little Boy Blue. Remember?”
“The little toy dog is covered with dust, but sturdy and staunch he stands,” began Ann.
“How could we ever forget. Mother must have read it a hundred times.”
Ann continued, “The little toy soldier is covered with rust, but his musket molds in his hands.”
“Time was when the little toy dog was new,” Jeanie added. “And the soldier was passing fair. But that was the time when the little boy blue, kissed them and put them there.”
“That was my favorite poem for years,” said Ann. She lugged out an old table from the pile. “Hey, Jeanie, look at this. Let’s take it upstairs.”
“How about this stuffed chair?” asked Jeanie.
“It’s a little ragged. But if you want it, I don’t mind. ”
They continued rummaging until they had a small end table, an oblong table, two stuffed chairs, and a small desk.
After struggling up three flights of stairs with their dusty furniture, they plopped down on the two chairs, exhausted. Puffs of dust blew up to the ceiling.
Jeanie started coughing. “Guess they could use some hard pounding,” she said.
“Think we can get this junk cleaned up?” asked Ann. They didn’t look so good in the bright daylight.
“We better. Before Mother sees it, and makes us take everything back to the basement.”
They scrubbed and dusted, and rearranged their furniture the rest of the afternoon. They hadn’t even noticed that the rain had stopped, and the sun was shining brightly. Ann went to the window, and looked down. Ricky, Neil, and Li
z were running around the yard, playing tag in the damp, clean air.
“Come on,” said Ann. “Let’s get some fresh air.” They bounded down the two flights, and out the door.
“Hey,” shouted Jeanie. “Can we play?”
“Okay,” answered Ricky, hitting Ann on the back. “You’re it.”
Ann chased Neil into the orchard just when Liz appeared in full view. “Liz,” she yelled, “get out of those clothes right now.”
“Oh-my-gosh,” said Jeanie, when she caught a glimpse of Liz. She had on two silk scarves tied together, five bracelets jangling from her arms, and a necklace of imitation pearls around her forehead. Her face was plastered with rouge, lipstick and mascara in grotesque shapes.
A truck drove up, and their mother got out and waved. Ricky and Neil ran to the gate. Jeanie and Ann followed, but Liz froze in her tracks.
“Mother-r,” they all yelled happily. Except Liz. She ran inside and up the stairs, two at a time. She quickly slipped out of the scarves and jewelry, and rushed to the bathroom where she washed off the makeup and put on her sundress. She descended the stairs just when her mother entered the front door. She smiled benignly, and purred like a kitten, “Hi, Mother. How was your day?”
“Lizabeth,” her mother drawled back. “You’ve been in my things?”
Liz looked at the four passive faces behind her Mother, trying to guess who tattled. “Yes’m,” she confessed.
“Go to your room,” her mother said quietly. She was too tired to get angry.
Liz looked down at the floor. “How long?” she asked.
“I’ll let you know. Now go.”
She looked at her two sisters and two brothers, trying to figure out who tattled. They all looked guilty. “Tattle-tale, Tattle-tale,” she yelled, turning on her heels and bounding up the stairs to her room.
That night Liz dreamed she had become a very famous child actress, and everyone was sorry they’d tattled on her. When she woke up the next morning, she was in a very serene mood, and virtually danced into the dining room for breakfast. Her hair was piled high on her head, held up with combs and bobby pins and cluttered with small colored bows. She had two small pencil marks on each cheek, and a big smile on her face.
“Your face is dirty, Liz,” said Ricky.
“That’s not dirt. They’re dimples. Like Shirley Temple.” She looked at the platter of biscuits in the middle of the table, and started to reach for one, but paused instead. Batting her eyelashes caked with mascara, she said very, very politely, “Pass the biscuits, please.”