Ann Pilling - Amber’s Secret

Mrs Spinks said that she had her instructions from Mum. These were that Dad mustn’t be told about the illness because it would only worry him, and besides, she really was going to be all right . The doctor had said so. Sally tried and tried to believe Mrs Spinks but she didn’t succeed. Why had they put Mum into that special room if she was going to be ‘all right’? When she’d said this to Mrs Spinks, she’d just turned her thin old-lady lips into a single line. That meant ‘No more questions, Sally Bell’.

Her big brother, Alan, suddenly going away with the army, to do his National Service, wasn’t the terrible thing either, though if he hadn’t gone, they could have stayed together in their own house, till Mum came back. Alan was good at looking after Sally. But he’d said, ‘When a soldier gets his orders, Sally Bell, he has to obey. It’s like school.’ It was funny how Alan called her ‘Sally Bell’, like Amber and Mrs Spinks; but he didn’t do it in a grumpy way.

No, the terrible thing had happened the day before Sally had slept her first night Next Door at Mrs Spinks’s. It had happened when she was all alone in their own house. It had happened in the hall.

She’d borrowed the key from where Mrs Spinks kept it, under a red plant pot on her kitchen windowsill, and gone home to feed William her pet mouse. Mrs Spinks didn’t like mice, not even clean white ones who lived in clean cages. So William had to stay behind.

Sally had made him a promise. While she was at Mrs Spinks’s she would come and see him every day, and give him a run around. What nobody knew was that Sally often gave him quite big runs around, when no-one was looking. He knew Sally’s voice and he always came back to his cage. He was a brilliant mouse.

But that day, William seemed to be in a mood. He wouldn’t even come out when Sally opened his cage, he just sulked in a corner. When she put her finger inside and made wheedling noises he disappeared into a cocoon of straw. She knew what was wrong. William was sensitive. Sally was sad so he was being sad too.

She sat in the middle of the carpet and looked round the big square hall. Its walls were covered with the carved wooden masks of animal-people and bird-people which Dad had brought home from Abroad. The house itself felt sad, as if it knew they had all gone away and left it. Even the grandfather clock had stopped ticking.

Mum loved the old clock. It had belonged to her mum’s mum’s dad. Nobody touched it but Mum because she said she knew its little ways. ‘Look after Grandfather for me, Sally,’ Mum had said, when she went off to the hospital. But now even Grandfather had fallen silent. Something felt very bad indeed.

Sally decided to wind the clock up. She knew exactly how to do it and where Mum kept the key. She had a feeling that if Grandfather started ticking again, Mum might start getting better. Sally sometimes got these funny feelings but she didn’t tell anybody about them. She just did what they advised.

To Sally, the old clock felt more like a person than a piece of furniture, and she knew a lot about Grandfather because, once, a man had come to clean him. The week he came their class had been doing a school project on ‘Time’, so she’d asked him a lot of questions and written down all the answers. Her project had ended up being all about their very own grandfather clock and she had been given a gold star for it.

She had discovered, for example, that when the clock was made, in the olden days, it had been made in three different parts which all fitted nicely together. There was a bottom part, which stood firmly on the floor and held everything else up, and into this slid ‘the trunk’, which had a door in it. You could open the door and see the huge weights and the pendulum swinging to and fro. On top of the trunk was a carved case which held the painted face and the shining brass hands and, hidden behind all this, the actual works of the clock, the most important part. This wooden case also slid on and off and it was called the ‘hood’.

When Mum and Dad read Sally’s project, and admired the gold star, they said that she knew more about the old clock than anybody.

Sally fetched the key and the stool Mum stood on, when she wound Grandfather. But she was much shorter than her mother and she couldn’t reach the keyholes in the face of the clock. So she put the key into her pocket and went into the study where Dad kept all his books.

She found four enormous ones on the bottom shelf. They were so huge and heavy that she had to carry them into the hall one by one. With the books, she made a neat platform and on to this she put the stool. Then, very carefully, she climbed up. The stool wobbled a bit so Sally did everything slowly, to keep her balance.

She still couldn’t reach the holes so she went back to Dad’s bookshelves and fetched four more books. It was quite a tall platform now and the stool felt more wobbly. But Sally was determined to get Grandfather ticking again.

Very carefully, and holding on to the clock very tight with her left hand, Sally opened the glass door that protected the face. She had never been so close to Grandfather before. Now she could see that the little girls painted in each corner had pretty, rosy faces. From down below they had looked like little blobs.

One had a fur coat on, she was Winter. One was picking daffodils, she was Spring. One stood in the middle of a field of golden corn, and was Summer. One held a basket of apples, and was Autumn. In between Winter and Spring there was a moon with a big, kindly face, a moon that moved slowly out of sight as the days ticked by, and changed into the sun. Underneath were some numbers that also changed and, under them, the months of the year. And she could see now that the clock had stopped on the second day of July, the day that Mum had been taken into hospital. Sally stared at the face of the clock and felt like crying.

Just as she took the key out of her pocket, something unexpected happened. William must have crept out of his cocoon of straw and come to see what she was doing. Suddenly, without any warning, he ran straight up the clock, his tiny pink feet scurrying along her bare arm and up her fingers. When he reached the very top he sat on one of the carved wooden roses that decorated the case, staring down at her cheekily, his beautiful whiskers all of a quiver.

The feel of his cold little feet on her skin was such a shock that Sally jumped violently, started to sway, and then to wobble. She knew she mustn’t panic so she stayed exactly where she was until she got her balance again. She was cross with William, so she ignored him.

Carefully, Sally inserted the big old key in to the left-hand winding hole and began to turn it. The clock made gentle creaking noises and there was a dull thudding from inside. She knew that it was the sound of the huge weight banging against the door as it travelled up to the top on its thin, strong thread. When she stopped winding, the clock struck three times. Sally was excited. That meant the striking part of Grandfather was properly wound up again.

But now she had to wind up the part which moved the hands round, and told you the time, so she put the key into the right-hand winding hole.

From on top of the clock, William gave a pitiful little squeak. He wanted to come down again. He liked playing in Sally’s hair, he liked making nests in it. Sally looked up. ‘You’ll just have to wait,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m concentrating on this.’

But William took no notice. He had discovered that it was much easier to run up things than to slither down them and Sally’s nice thick hair spelt safety. To William it was like the safety blanket held out by firemen for someone stuck on the top of a burning building. He bunched himself up into a tight white ball and took an almighty leap.