The Castle in the Attic (7 page)

“Very pleasant, my lord. I can't think of anyone better.” And what would Mrs. Phillips think of sharing the castle with Sir Simon? William wondered for a moment. He put the thought quickly out of his mind. He would worry about that later.

“All right, then. When will you bring her?”

“Tomorrow night. But I'll need the token. I'll have to do it on the front walk just as she's going to the bus stop. When her back is turned.”

“She does not know what you are going to do?”

William hesitated. “No, not exactly. But I'm sure she'll be happy once she's here.” The knight was frowning. “Under your protection.”

“As Alastor once told me, there is a price to be paid when you meddle with a person's allotted time,” the knight said. “She will be leaving your world to come into this one. If she should do that willingly, she may reenter her own world at the exact moment she left. But unwillingly . . .” He shook his head.

“What happens?” William asked.

“She loses time in her own world. Perhaps you could warn her first,” the knight suggested hopefully. “Tell her what a strong and honest man I am. I will protect her from any harm.”

William's head was whirling. Maybe he should have thought harder about this plan. But there was no time. She was leaving tomorrow. At last, he had what he had wanted all along, the power to keep her with him. He must not let anything change that.

“I'll convince her,” William said firmly. “But I want you to come too. I have a special belt pack I use for long bicycle trips. I can carry you downstairs in that. Be ready for me tomorrow afternoon. She's planning to take the four-thirty bus.”

That night William sat with Mrs. Phillips while she packed her bag.

“I hate goodbyes,” she muttered as she folded layers of tissue paper between her clothes.

“Don't forget this,” William said, handing her the photograph from the bureau.

She took it from him with a smile and placed it between the folds of a skirt. “You haven't been fighting to keep me here as hard as I expected,” she said. “That's a good sign.”

“I haven't given up yet,” William said.

“Can you sit on this suitcase for me, William? I can't get it to close. No, don't bounce,” she cried. “You might break something.”

He slid off the suitcase and opened it. “What's in here?” he asked, lifting off the top layers of clothes.
At the bottom, he found a green wooden box, which he took out and put on the bed.

“I made this for you in woodworking last year. I didn't know you still had it,” he said quietly, running his finger along the piano hinge that had been so hard to set in straight.

“I keep my secret things in it,” Mrs. Phillips said.

But William wasn't listening. He was thinking,
Wouldn't you like to stay with us forever? Live in a castle with a knight? Never leave?

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Please don't go,” he said one more time.

She put her arms around him and crushed him in one quick hug. “I'm not really leaving, you know. I will always be with you in spirit.”

“That's not enough,” he cried. He left the room before either of them could say any more.

After breakfast the next morning, William stood awkwardly near the back door while his parents said goodbye to Mrs. Phillips. The grownups were all trying hard not to cry, and it made their voices deep and brusque.

“Please write to us once you get to England,” said William's mother. “We want to hear all about your life there.”

“You come back and visit us, Mrs. Phillips,” said
Mr. Lawrence. He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Mrs. Lawrence and Mrs. Phillips hugged each other for a long time. William could see the tears running down his mother's cheeks, and he looked away.

Mrs. Phillips stood at the door and waved them away in the car, as if they were little children leaving for school. When she turned back, she noticed him still standing in the corner.

“You'll be late, William.”

He nodded but didn't move.

“Go on, now,” she said. “No, I haven't changed my mind and I'm not going to. Don't you see I can't turn back now?” she pleaded.

“Then don't blame me for what happens,” he said as he left.

Sir Simon was waiting for William when he climbed up the stairs after school. He could see the small man's body pacing up and down along the wall walk.

“This school of yours takes up entirely too much of your time,” the knight exploded as soon as William was in earshot. “When I was a youth, I went to school two mornings a week for some few hours only. There were, after all, more important matters to attend to,” he added, glaring at William.

Despite his worries about what was going to happen in the next hour, William had to laugh. “I agree with you completely, Sir Simon, but I don't think my school does. Are you ready to go?”

“Ready? Except for six turns around the courtyard and a quick lunch of mouse legs, I have done nothing but stand here attending upon your lordship. Let us get on with this business. I am eager to see the lady, and I expect she feels the same way.”

William let this remark pass.

“I want you to get in here,” he explained, unzipping the belt pack he had strapped onto his waist. He helped the knight into it and closed it, leaving a small opening so that Sir Simon could see out.

“Are you comfortable?”

“It will do,” came the muffled reply.

Mrs. Phillips's suitcase stood by the back door. William found her in the living room.

“My last tour,” she said quickly, her eyes shining. “Quite peculiar, really, to know that I won't see this house again.”

“You could come back for a visit,” William said.

“It would be too hard. Certain places you must never return to.”

She took her dark blue raincoat out of the front hall closet and walked through the kitchen, William trailing
along behind. He could hear faint exclamations of surprise from the belt pack, but he ignored them.

“I suppose I'd better get out front, or the bus will leave me,” she said.

“I'll take your suitcase,” he said, twisting around the kitchen table ahead of her. As he leaned over, he whispered, “Get the token ready, Sir Simon. Do it as she's walking up the path, but make sure you wait until I'm out of the way.”

Mrs. Phillips slipped her arm through William's, and they started up the front walk side by side, William slightly bent over with the weight of her suitcase.

“You know how I hate goodbyes,” she said, “so I don't want you to wait for the bus. You must write to me. I will be leaving for England in a couple of weeks, after I pack up my apartment. I'll let you know my address when I get there. Remember, you will do well in life because of who you are inside here,” she said, giving him a thump on the chest. “A brave, but gentle person. Keep your toes pointed and your body tight for the back handsprings. Believe in yourself, be your own spotter. Now give me a hug and go back into the house.”

At the last moment, just as her large arms were encircling him, William remembered Sir Simon and twisted the bottom part of his body to the side. She
may have thought he was pulling away from her, because she let him go with a quick kiss. In that awkward moment, he wanted to say,
You're not really leaving, so this hug doesn't matter so much
. But of course, he said nothing, and she took her suitcase and walked stiffly up the path. Forgetting that this wasn't really the end, he stood without moving, imprinting her on his brain. And then she was gone. Completely gone. The token had done its work.

“Sir Simon, where is she?” William cried.

“Down on the ground somewhere, I expect.”

“Hold on,” William said as he ran forward and dropped to his knees. It didn't take him long to find her, marching stalwartly forward across what was now the great gray expanse of one flagstone, suitcase in hand.

“Mrs. Phillips,” he said in a very small voice so as not to startle her. She stopped and turned. “Look up. I'm up here.”

“Where am I?” she cried. “Who are you?”

“It's me, it's William.” Out of the corner of his eye, William saw a gray flash.

“Sir William, pick her up,” cried the voice from his belt pack. “The cat.”

William reached down and scooped her up, suitcase and all, just before the neighbor's gray cat pounced on
her. Very gently, he lowered her into the belt pack next to Sir Simon. “You explain everything to her,” he said to the knight. “I want to get you both back up to the attic before anything else happens.”

William walked slowly through the house up to the attic. It would probably take Mrs. Phillips a while to get used to her new arrangement, and he wasn't quite ready to face her. He could barely hear the rise and fall of small voices inside the belt pack. He hoped Sir Simon was doing a good job of explaining the situation to her. He sat down on the top step and waited. The knight was the first to stick his head out.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Back in the attic,” William replied. He put his hand down, palm outstretched, and Sir Simon scrambled on to it. Then the knight turned to help Mrs. Phillips.

“Come, my lady,” he called into the darkness of the belt pack. “No need to be afraid. Young William has
a remarkably steady hand.”

Looking down, William saw her emerge slowly, first the top of her head, the straight white hair rumpled from the trip, then her small arms, still holding her blue raincoat, and finally her small feet in their practical brown walking shoes. Although she'd only known Sir Simon for one short, bumpy ride, she seemed to trust him already. She allowed him to steady her and nodded wearily when he asked her a question in a low voice.

“Hold still,” the knight snapped at William. “I understand that you explained nothing at all to her. She is quite shaken. I am going in for her suitcase.”

“I'm holding as still as I can,” William muttered.

While the small knight fished around for her case, his legs tickling William's palm, she stood without moving or turning around. William looked down at her, but he didn't call out. Small as she now was, she was still Mrs. Phillips, and he could see she was disappointed by the curve of her shoulders.

Sir Simon inched his way back on to the platform of William's hand, pulling the suitcase behind him. “Let's go to the castle, William. I would like to show the Lady Elinore her accommodations.”

“She already knows where they are,” William said, smiling at the knight, who seemed to have lost ten years in the last hour.

“Ah, but not from the inside,” the knight replied.

William lowered the drawbridge and lifted the portcullis for them. Sir Simon helped his companion off William's hand and escorted her across the wooden planks of the bridge, talking and gesturing all the while. When they disappeared around the corner of the outer wall, William lay down on his stomach and waited for them by the entrance. They reappeared from time to time, now at the door of the chapel, now in the front tower. When he saw them head across the courtyard to the kitchen, he lifted the roof off the second floor and watched them come out from the staircase into the master chamber. Mrs. Phillips leaned her head close to the knight's, listening intently to all he had to say. She seemed at home with Sir Simon, which William knew should make him happy, but it didn't. It made him feel oddly lonely.

He sat up so that his face was the right height and distance from theirs. “Do you like it, Mrs. Phillips?” he asked when he saw that the knight had at last come to the end of a sentence.

She stared at him. It was the look of one person trying to recognize another after a long separation. Then she whispered something to Sir Simon and walked off to the other corner of the room.

“William, my lady says she will not speak to you until you restore her to her normal size.”

“But Sir Simon, have you told her we can't do that?” William whispered.

The knight put up both his hands as if to warn William off. “There cannot be too many shocks for her at one time,” he said quietly. “She thinks this is just temporary and seems resigned to the situation for the moment. Any further revelations would be most unwise right now. I shall make her some dinner and see that she is settled comfortably.” He started to move away.

“Wait, Sir Simon,” William said. “Tell her—” He stopped. “Tell her I did it because I couldn't stand to have her leave. No, never mind. I'll tell her myself tomorrow. I'm sure she'll speak to me then.”

He watched the knight escort Mrs. Phillips toward the tower door, hoping that she'd turn and wave goodbye to him. But of course, she didn't. When Mrs. Phillips made up her mind about something, she rarely changed it. William switched on the small night lamp next to the castle and went downstairs. He wandered through the house, which was darkening quickly with the setting sun.