Journey to the River Sea - 10th Anniversary Edition (32 page)

‘You’d better tell me exactly what’s happened,’ said Finn, after they had given their order. ‘You said you were in a mess. Well, I’ll help you out – but I must know. Obviously you haven’t told him who you really are. You haven’t confessed.’

‘But I have,’ said Clovis. ‘I have – and it was absolutely awful.’

So then he told Finn what had happened when at last he found Sir Aubrey alone and willing to listen to him.

‘I told him I wasn’t Finn Taverner and it was all a mistake. I was going to explain everything properly, but as soon as I said I wasn’t really his grandson he went a ghastly sort of blue colour and started clutching his chest, and then he crumpled up and fell on the floor. I knew his heart wasn’t good, but I didn’t imagine ...’ Clovis shook his head, remembering the horror of that moment. ‘I was sure he was going to die and that I’d killed him. The servants came and carried him off to bed and the doctor said he’d had some sort of a shock and I wasn’t allowed to see him.’

Clovis picked up a cut-glass ashtray and started fiddling with it.

‘When they did let me in,’ he went on, ‘he tried to sit up in bed, and then he said, ‘‘You were only joking, boy, weren’t you? Tell me it was a joke and you’re really my grandson. Boys like to play jokes, I know.’’ ’

‘And?’ Finn’s voice was sharp. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, yes of course it was a joke. Of course I was Bernard’s son and his grandson. I know I shouldn’t have done, but if you’d seen his face ... And then he began to get better quite quickly. But he wants to make everything legal because I don’t have a birth certificate or anything. He wants to name me officially as heir to Westwood and give me an allowance – quite a big one. And I don’t know what to do. He’s absolutely certain I’m his grandson – there’s a painting of some admiral who’s supposed to have my nose ...’

Finn was leaning across the table, staring at him intently. ‘And you don’t want it? You don’t want Westwood or the money or anything? That’s why you asked me to come?’

The lady brought their muffins and the teapot in a knitted cosy. When they were alone again, Clovis said, ‘It isn’t that I don’t want it – the old man’s been very good to me and well ... there are things I could do. I’d like to bring my foster mother here to cook – she’s always wanted to work in a house like this, and the cook we’ve got is leaving. And my – your – cousins are nice. The Basher’s girls. You wouldn’t think she’d have nice children but she has. But I couldn’t take it from you for the rest of your life. For always. How could I live in a great house and take the money that’s really yours when you live in a wooden hut ... I mean, now that you’ve seen it, surely—?’

He broke off. Finn was looking very odd. Different. He reached for Clovis’ hand.

‘Clovis, do you
swear
that you don’t mind staying here as Master of Westwood? Do you absolutely swear it?’

‘I swear it.’

Finn, as he walked back with his friend to the station, seemed to be made of something quite different. Not muscle and bone – feathers and air ... and lightness. He did not actually intend to fly because that would have been showing off, but he could have done so if he’d wanted to.

‘You’ll never know what you’ve done for me,’ he said as they reached the gates of the level crossing. ‘If there’s anything you want—’

Clovis grinned. ‘Can I have Maia when she’s grown-up?’

Finn’s smile vanished in an instant.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Oh well ...’

Maia would probably want to go off adventuring again one day, thought Clovis, and that wouldn’t suit him. He’d settle for one of the Basher’s banshees. There was plenty of time to decide which one.

At two o’clock, Maia saw Mr Murray’s motor stop outside the school. Five minutes later, Miss Minton arrived, walking across the square.

The interview took place in Miss Banks’ private sitting room while Maia waited in the hall, and as soon as she saw Mr Murray’s face, Miss Minton knew there was no hope. She would not even be allowed to look after Maia in the holidays. She was in complete disgrace.

Miss Minton had spent the night with her sister and bought another corset because the good times were gone. She sat up very straight and before Mr Murray could begin she opened her purse and took out ten sovereigns.

‘This is Maia’s money,’ she said. ‘We sold the things we had collected on the journey, and since there were four of us it seemed proper to divide everything we earned by four.’

Mr Murray looked at the heap of coins in surprise.

‘And I have of course kept a list of expenses. Anything I bought for Maia out of her allowance, I have written down here.’

‘Yes, yes ...’ Mr Murray had no doubt about Miss Minton’s honesty. It was her sanity he was not sure about. He cleared his throat. ‘I have to tell you that before this ... escapade . . . I was considering making you joint guardian with me of Maia. I’m getting old, and a woman would be able to help her with the problems she might soon meet. But now I’m afraid I shall have to dismiss you and arrange for Maia to spend her holidays at school.’

Miss Minton bowed her head. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I was expecting that.’

Mr Murray pushed back his chair.

‘Miss Minton, what on earth made you let a young girl travel up the Amazon and spend weeks living with savages? What made you do it? The British consul thinks that you must all have been drugged.’

‘Perhaps. Yes, perhaps we were drugged. Not by the things the Xanti smoked – none of us touched them – but by ... peace ... by happiness. By a different sense of time.’

‘I don’t think you have explained why you let Maia—’

Miss Minton interrupted him. ‘I will explain. At least I will try to. You see, I have looked after some truly dreadful children in my time and it was easy not to get fond of them. After all, a governess is not a mother. But Maia ... well, I’m afraid I grew to love her. And that meant I began to think what I would do if she was my child.’

‘And you would let her—’ began Mr Murray.

But Miss Minton stopped him. ‘I would let her ... have adventures. I would let her ... choose her path. It would be hard ... it
was
hard ... but I would do it. Oh, not completely, of course. Some things have to go on. Cleaning one’s teeth, arithmetic. But Maia fell in love with the Amazon. It happens. The place was for her – and the people. Of course there was some danger, but there is danger everywhere. Two years ago, in this school, there was an outbreak of typhus and three girls died. Children are knocked down and killed by horses every week, here in these streets.’ She broke off, gathering her thoughts. ‘When she was travelling and exploring ... and finding her songs Maia wasn’t just happy; she was ... herself. I think something broke in Maia when her parents died, and out there it was healed. Perhaps I’m mad – and the professor too – but I think children must lead big lives ... if it is in them to do so. And it is in Maia.’

The old lawyer was silent, rolling his silver pencil over and over between his fingers.

‘You would take her back to Brazil?’

‘Yes.’

‘To live among savages?’

‘No. To explore and discover and look for giant sloths and new melodies and flowers that only blossom once every twenty years. Not to find them necessarily, but to look ...’

She broke off, remembering what they had planned, the four of them, as they sailed up the Agarapi. To build a proper House of Rest near the Carters’ old bungalow and live there in the rainy season, studying hard so that if Maia wanted to go to music college later, or Finn to train as a doctor they would be prepared. And in the dry weather, to set off and explore.

Mr Murray had risen to his feet. He walked over to the window and stood with his back to her, looking out at the square.

‘It’s impossible. It’s madness.’

There was a long pause.

‘Or is it?’ the old man said.

Maia had been sitting absolutely still on a chair in the hall, waiting.

Now she heard a loud peal on the street bell and turned to see a dark, wild-haired boy running up the steps. Taking no notice of the flustered maid, he came up to Maia.

‘I’m going home, Maia,’ shouted Finn. ‘I’m going home!’

Upstairs a door had opened and Miss Minton came slowly down the stairs, dabbing her eyes.

Then she drew herself up to her full height. ‘

We are
all
going home,’ she said.

Eva Ibbotson lives in Newcastle upon Tyne and has four grown-up children. She has written many other books for children. Journey to the River Sea won the Nestlé Gold Award, was runner-up for the Whitbread Children’s Book of the Year and the Guardian Children’s Fiction Award and was shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal. The Star of Kazan won the Nestlé Silver Award and was shortlisted for the Carnegie Medal.

For more information about Eva Ibbotson and her books visit:
www.bebo.com/evaibbotson
and www.panmacmillan.com/evaibbotson

Praise for
Journey to the River Sea

‘Enchanting and inspiring. Any reader presented with this book will be enriched for life’
Anne Fine, Children’s Laureate

‘The most perfect children’s book of the year ... captivatingly told, funny and moving’ Nicolette Jones,
Sunday Times

‘
Journey to the River Sea
is pretty much perfect. A richly satisfying, superbly written adventure’ Dinah Hall,
Sunday Telegraph

‘A bubbly and fantastical adventure ... Driven by humour and warmth,
Journey to the River Sea
has an irresistible charm’ Julia Eccleshare,
Guardian

‘A plot too exciting to put down. Sheer pleasure’ Sarah Johnson,
The Times

‘This is a wonderful adventure story, told with energy and imagination’
Mail on Sunday

‘
Journey to the River Sea
is funny, wise and true’
Philip Pullman

Eva Ibbotson writes ...

Many years ago, a friend, who had been travelling in Brazil, told me that a thousand miles from the mouth of the Amazon river, in a city called Manaus, there was a fantastic opera house with grass growing through cracks in the stone and howler monkeys screeching on the roof. I immediately felt that little kick inside the head which means that you have found something that is
yours
. For years I researched that part of the world. I learned about the ‘rubber barons’ who became so rich from harvesting rubber trees that they could wash their carriage horses in champagne. It was they who built Manaus and sent for famous entertainers to perform in their beautiful opera house. Yet all the time the untamed jungle was on the doorstep, waiting to take over if they failed.

I have written books for children about wizards, witches, harpies and ghosts, and books for adults about all sorts of things, but my interest in the exotic world of the Amazon has never left me.
Journey to the River Sea
is my attempt to share this world with you.

Books by Eva Ibbotson

The Dragonfly Pool

The Star of Kazan

Journey to the River Sea

The Beasts of Clawstone Castle

The Great Ghost Rescue

Which Witch?

The Haunting of Hiram

Not Just a Witch

The Secret of Platform 13

Dial a Ghost

Monster Mission

For older readers

A Song for Summer

The Secret Countess

The Morning Gift