Darius Bell and the Crystal Bees (14 page)

Cyrus looked at Darius impatiently. ‘Why are you telling me all this?'

‘Because I need help,' replied Darius.

‘No – that part I understood. What I don't understand is why you think I'm going to give it to you.'

‘Who else will?'

‘That's not a question for me to answer, Darius. I think you're the one who should be concerned about that.'

‘Cyrus,' said Darius. ‘I'm serious.'

‘So am I.' Cyrus leaned back against his desk. ‘Let me see if I've got this straight. You've made a “deal” with Mrs Lightman – Mrs
Lightman
, of all people – to supply thirty-two costumes from Bell House for your classmates – even though you've got no idea how you're going to find these costumes – in return for having those same classmates spend two weeks pollinating Mr Fisher's crops.' Cyrus shook his head in disbelief. ‘I don't know where to start.'

‘It's true.'

‘The fact that it's so ridiculous makes me think it might be. Not even you would invent something so unbelievable. On the other hand, Darius, it
is
unbelievable.'

Darius sighed. He told Cyrus again that the Mayor's Prize this year was a costume parade, and Mrs Lightman really thought Viglen had a chance if she could get her hands on clothes from Bell House. ‘She'll do anything to win it.'

‘She'll never win it with you there. Once the mayor sees you in the class, he'll never choose Viglen. Doesn't matter if you really are the best – which I find difficult to imagine, anyway.'

‘
I
know that, but she doesn't.'

‘So she offered your class as agricultural labourers for two weeks?'

‘Pollinators. But basically, yes. It'll be fun. Better than being at school for two weeks. And we probably will learn something.'

‘Right. And in exchange for this wonderful educational experience, you're going to give her thirty-two costumes you don't even have.'

‘Yes,' said Darius. ‘That's where you come in. You used to like dressing up, Cyrus, I can remember.'

‘I did not.'

‘You did. I can remember when I was little, you were always dressing up.'

‘That's a lie.'

‘If anyone knows where there are old clothes in the House, it's you.'

‘I never dressed up!'

‘You did. I remember.'

‘Shut up, Darius! Shut up!'

Darius was silent. He knew that Cyrus didn't like being reminded that he had liked dressing up when he was smaller, but he hadn't realised just how sensitive he was about it.

‘I won't tell your friends . . .' said Darius.

Cyrus's eyes narrowed. ‘What did you say?'

‘I said I won't tell your friends – if you help me, of course.'

‘That's blackmail, Darius.'

Darius shrugged. Suddenly everyone was accusing him of blackmail, but that was only because they refused to do what they should have done anyway. He was asking Cyrus for a couple of hours of his time, at most, in order to save the Fishers, whose fruits Cyrus had enjoyed ever since he was a little boy. If Cyrus wasn't prepared to do even that, Darius didn't see why he should be prepared to keep his mouth shut about Cyrus's dressing-up, especially when there were so many anecdotes to tell about it.

‘It won't take long, Cyrus. Please. Just help me and we can get this over with.'

Cyrus watched him for a moment. ‘I suppose you've been to the chest in the green drawing room?'

Darius nodded. ‘That only had three things.'

‘All right. Come with me.'

Cyrus led Darius up the stairs of the east wing to the second floor. They went through a couple of empty rooms and then at a narrow doorway turned into a room where there was a large wardrobe.

‘I know this wardrobe,' said Darius. ‘There's nothing there.'

‘Isn't there?' Cyrus opened the wardrobe. It was empty. He reached inside. Darius heard a click and Cyrus lifted the floor of the wardrobe to reveal a huge hidden compartment, full of clothes.

‘No wonder I could never find where you kept your dress-up clothes,' murmured Darius.

Cyrus smirked.

‘How did you discover it?'

‘I can't remember. I suppose I just did. It was great, though, because no one else knew, not even Mama. It was my secret. She had no idea where I got the clothes.'

Darius looked in the drawer. He saw a camel-coloured coat with turned-up cuffs. ‘I remember you wearing this.'

Cyrus smiled.

Darius took it out of the drawer and held it out to him. ‘Put it on.'

‘No.'

Darius laughed. ‘Go on, Cyrus, put it on.'

Cyrus laughed as well. He took the coat and put it on.

‘At least it fits you now,' said Darius.

Cyrus held out his arms, looking at the cuffs. He looked down at himself. ‘I used to love this coat.'

‘You looked like a midget.'

‘Well, I was small.'

‘What else is in here?' Darius looked in the drawer and pulled out a red dress with lace. Suddenly he had a memory of Cyrus wearing that as well.

‘You used to wear this dress,' he said.

‘I did not!' retorted Cyrus.

‘You did so!'

‘Did not!'

‘Put it on.'

‘No.'

‘Put it on!'

Darius pushed the dress at him. Cyrus pushed him away. Darius pushed back. For a moment they fought, then Cyrus pushed Darius down and sat on him in his camel-coloured coat.

‘I never wore that dress, all right? Never!'

‘If you say so.'

‘Say it! I never wore that dress.'

Darius grinned. ‘You never wore that dress, Cyrus. Never ever ever.'

Cyrus looked at him suspiciously. Then he got up. He took the camel-coloured coat off and dropped it on top of Darius. ‘Come on. See what else you want. Hurry up.'

Darius got up and went back to the wardrobe. He pulled out the rest of the clothes. There were a couple of jackets, another coat, three pairs of trousers, two dresses, some flouncy shirts, a collection of hats and a few pairs of shoes. Enough to make costumes for five or six people, thought Darius, and not in great condition. The camel-coloured coat with turned-up cuffs was the pick of the bunch. No wonder Cyrus had liked it.

‘Is this it?' asked Darius.

‘What else do you want?'

‘It's not enough. Are there any other clothes?'

‘Those are all I know about.'

Darius needed more. He would have to search the whole house and hope he came across something. That could take days. And even then he might come away empty-handed.

‘Are you sure you don't know about anything else?'

‘I've told you, Darius, those are all the clothes I know about. That's it.'

Darius began to pick them up. ‘Give me a hand to take them down.'

At the bottom of the stairs they ran into their mother.

She folded her arms. ‘Cyrus, aren't those the clothes you used to dress up in? I didn't know you still enjoyed doing that.'

‘It's Darius,' said Cyrus, going red.

‘Darius? Aren't you a bit old to start dressing up?'

‘There's a school competition, Mama. We have to wear costumes. The school with the best ones wins.'

‘And you're taking those?' Darius's mother laughed. ‘Isn't that rather a lot for you to wear?'

‘It's for some other people as well.'

‘Well, it's very nice of you to help them.'

‘I still need more,' said Darius. ‘I kind of . . . well, no one's really got anything, so I promised to bring costumes for the whole class.'

‘What about the rest of it, Darius?' said Cyrus slyly.

‘What rest of it?' asked his mother.

‘Aren't you going to tell her?'

‘I kind of . . . did a deal with Mrs Lightman.'

‘The principal?'

Darius nodded.

‘A deal?'

‘What kind of deal, Darius?' asked Cyrus, as if he had no idea.

Darius bit his lip. ‘I bring costumes for the class and in return . . . our class is going to come here for two weeks to pollinate Mr Fisher's crops.'

His mother stared at him.

‘We're kind of supposed to learn science while we do it, but basically we're going to pollinate the crops. It's possible to do it by hand – you just need a lot of people. If we can do it, Mr Fisher will be able to stay.'

Darius's mother frowned. ‘And Mrs Lightman is prepared to do this deal, is she? She's prepared to take your class out of school and have them working here for two weeks in return for getting these costumes? The principal of your school is actually prepared to do that?'

‘She's desperate to win this competition, Mama. She'd do anything.'

‘So she's prepared to have her students working here for two weeks instead of studying in class?'

‘It's a way of learning science, too,' said Darius lamely, although he suspected that wasn't going to convince his mother any more than it had convinced Mrs Lightman. The only person who would believe that was Mr Beale.

Darius's mother raised an eyebrow.

That was the end of it, thought Darius. His mother was never going to let it happen. It probably wasn't such a bad thing anyway, considering that he had only managed to find about five of the thirty-two costumes he had promised, and none of them was particularly impressive.

‘Well, for the first time in her life, it seems, Mrs Lightman has done something I approve of.'

Darius looked at his mother in surprise.

‘Where did you get the idea?'

Darius shrugged. ‘I was thinking about crystal bees.'

Micheline smiled. ‘What?'

‘It's hard to explain. It gave me the idea.
We
could do it. My class. Why not?'

‘Why not indeed? Responsibility, persistence, the value of hard work . . . There are a lot of good things your class can learn from working together for a couple of weeks to do something like that.'

‘Not to mention all that
science
as well,' said Cyrus, grinning sarcastically.

Micheline ignored him. ‘But the clothes you've got there, Darius, they really are rubbish. It's only the stuff I used to let Cyrus play with.'

The grin disappeared from Cyrus's lips. ‘The stuff you let me play with? What does that mean? Are you saying you had better stuff?'

‘Of course I did. Do you think I was going to let you play with anything I really valued?' Micheline took an orange jacket out of Cyrus's hand and showed him its torn sleeve. ‘Look what you did to this. And that was after I sewed it up for you. I must have sewn this one up for you five times. Do you know how rough little boys are?'

‘But Mama . . .You mean I had this and you had . . .'

‘Much better stuff, Cyrus.'

Cyrus dropped the clothes he was holding and stared at her in disbelief. He looked as if he was about to cry.

‘I've always had an interest in clothes,' said Micheline. ‘You may not be aware of this, but when I met your father at university, I was studying—'

‘English literature,' said Darius, as his father had always been fond of telling him.

Darius's mother smiled mischievously. ‘Yes. To an extent. I did study it a bit. Most of the time, I was studying the history of fashion.'

‘And Papa doesn't know?'

‘Oh, I do think I told him. I'm sure I wouldn't have forgotten to mention something like that.' The mischiev- ous smile played at Micheline's lips again. ‘But your father, as you know, is a man of literary sensibilities. Romantic sensibilities, one might say. I think he always preferred to think we were studying the exact same thing. A meeting of minds, as it were, as well as hearts, attuned in every way.' Micheline paused. ‘The fact that I was spending most of my time on the history of fashion – which I'm sure I did tell him – is something he has simply blocked out of his mind.'

Darius smiled.

‘Anyway, the point is, after I married him, when I first came to live here, I went all through the House, thinking I might find some wonderful old clothes and textiles and I might even write a book about them.'

‘Don't tell me you've written a book and you didn't even tell us!' said Darius.

‘No. I didn't find enough for that. I think all the really fine clothes and fabrics had been sold off years earlier. But I did find quite a few things. Not really worth anything, but interesting to me. The best of them I put away. I left a few odd ones out in case either of you boys wanted to play with them.'

‘A few odd ones?' murmured Cyrus, his tone still a mixture of injury and disbelief. ‘When you
knew
how much I loved dressing up?'

‘Cyrus, look what you did to them! You should be grateful I gave you those. I made sure you had what you wanted. How do you think you found them? How do you think you discovered that hidden drawer in the wardrobe?'