The Secret Garden Read online

  She passed tall, craggy rocks dripping with water and reached a jungle of enormous green plants that towered over her head. They had stems as thick as tree trunks and leaves as big as umbrellas. They blocked her way, but she pushed through them until she emerged into a sunny clearing. The long meadow grass was as high as her waist in places, and there was a wide stream on the far side with rocky banks, its water reflecting the sunlight. Mary waded through the grass toward it. As she reached it, she heard a woof and felt a rush of delight. Jemima was on the other side of the stream, her injured leg held up protectively underneath her.

  “Jemima!” Mary called.

  The dog gave Mary a suspicious look and backed away.

  “No, you can’t be cranky with me,” Mary pleaded. “That trap wasn’t my fault. Come on, come back and we’ll get that wound better for you.”

  Jemima held her gaze but didn’t move, so Mary came to a decision.

  “Very well.” If Jemima wouldn’t come to her, then she would go to Jemima! She pulled off her coat and bag, and leaving them on the grass, she stepped into the clear water, gasping at the coldness. The water got deeper and deeper until she realized she was going to have to swim. She wasn’t very good at swimming, but she struck out and swam determinedly to the far side. Reaching the bank, she pulled herself out of the water, shivering with the cold.

  Jemima watched her warily.

  “Can I see your paw now, Jemima?” Mary said.

  The dog didn’t move.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” Mary said. She took a step toward her, and Jemima took a step away. Mary sighed. “You don’t want help? Very well, then. We’ll deal with your paw later. First, we’ll explore. This is such a mysterious place! Come on.”

  She walked past Jemima, and Jemima followed her on three legs. Mary broke into a run and Jemima overtook her, leading the way. She still seemed to be able to move just as fast on three legs as four.

  There was so much to see in this garden that was hidden away behind the wall. They raced past giant tree ferns, through a grove of strange trees with bulbous trunks and frond-like leaves, and wriggled their way through junglelike foliage.

  As Mary pushed the leaves aside, a story bubbled up inside her. “There were once two friends called Mary and Jemima!” she cried. “And they discovered a strange but beautiful garden together. They stayed there and played in it all day long!”

  They emerged into a formal area with overgrown flower beds, gravel paths, and stone statues covered with ivy. At the far end was a beautiful sunken temple—an old building of gray stone arches with no roof. Mary and Jemima ran over to it.

  “Oh, Jemima! Look!” said Mary, gazing in delight at the ankle-deep pool in the center of the temple, which shimmered and gleamed, reflecting the light. The dog barked excitedly, and Mary barked back, happiness filling her.

  Jemima leaped into the pool. Mary followed, and they splashed joyfully through the water, spraying droplets in all directions. Jumping out, they hurried on together until they reached a grassy clearing with overgrown mounds of scarlet flowers and red-barked dogwood trees all around. Mary sank back in the grass, panting for breath. Why was this garden hidden away behind such a high wall? Gardens weren’t usually secret places. They were for people to walk in and enjoy, but this place felt as if no one had been in it for a very long time.

  Hearing a bird singing, Mary glanced around. A robin with a bright red breast was perched on top of an old stone statue of a giant broken head that was covered with thick moss. The robin gave her a beady look and twittered again.

  “Hello to you too,” said Mary with a smile, wondering if it was the same robin she had seen when she’d first arrived at Misselthwaite.

  The robin sang and fluttered its wings. Mary had the strangest feeling that it was trying to tell her something “What is it?” she asked.

  The little bird flew into the statue’s open mouth. Then it popped its head out and twittered at Mary again. Jemima barked.

  Mary was sure that both animals were trying to get her to do something. She scrambled to her feet and went over to the statue. The robin’s insistent singing grew louder as Mary got closer, and she had the strangest feeling that it was encouraging her.

  “Is there something inside there?” she whispered. “Something you want me to find.” Standing on tiptoes, she reached into the mouth. She felt dry moss, and then her fingertips touched something hard and metallic. What was it? It was just too far for her to reach.

  Jemima woofed beside her. Mary looked down and saw that the dog had fetched a stick. She dropped it at Mary’s feet.

  Mary smiled. It was just what she needed! “That’s as good an idea as any you’ve had, Jemima!”

  Picking the stick up, Mary stuck it in the hole and used it to fish the metal object out. As she pulled it into the daylight, she saw that it was a large iron key covered with moss. She brushed the moss away and looked at it in astonishment. What was a key doing hidden in the statue’s mouth, and what did it unlock?

  “Well?” she asked the animals. “Is that what you wanted me to find? What do I do with it?” Jemima jumped around on three legs, barking, and the robin sang.

  “I don’t know what you both mean,” said Mary with an exasperated laugh. She looked around at the sunlight falling on the garden, the giant green ferns and protective ancient trees. “But this place—this garden—it’s amazing.” She longed to explore some more, but just then, she heard the faint sound of a bell ringing and Mrs. Medlock calling her name from far away.

  “I’m going to have to go,” she said in frustration, putting the key in her pocket. “But I’ll come back tomorrow. I promise. I need to have a look at your leg, Jemima. I hope it’s going to heal.” A thought struck her. “Now how do I get out of here?”

  Jemima woofed and trotted away into a nearby copse of trees. Mary followed her and found that she was back where she had started. Picking up her coat and bag, she put them on, then scrambled up the bank to the base of the wall. She began to climb. At one point, her foot slipped, but she felt a branch suddenly meet it and boost her upward. Her eyes widened. It was almost as though the tree was helping her! It seemed impossible, but Mary was beginning to think anything could happen in this enchanting abandoned garden!

  At the top of the wall, she paused for a moment and looked back. The garden stretched out like a secret kingdom. What a wonderful, amazing place. . . .

  “Mary!” she heard Mrs. Medlock shout.

  With a sigh, Mary swung her leg over the wall and scrambled down. On this side—the house side—everything seemed so much duller, so much grayer. Here a dog would be just a dog and a robin just a robin, but Mary didn’t mind. She knew that the garden would be waiting for her—and her heart sang.

  Mary was so excited about the garden that she didn’t even care when Mrs. Medlock scolded her severely for returning late with her new coat all covered in mud.

  “Look at you, girl! You’ve got dirt all over you. Your hair’s matted—and wet!”

  Mary shrugged. “Mr. Craven said to play. Well, I’ve been playing.”

  A little while later, as she lay in the steaming bath, soaking away the dirt, Mary looked at the key that she had smuggled into the bathroom. Why had Jemima and the robin wanted her to find it? Maybe there was a door into the garden and this key unlocked it. She felt like she was going to burst with her secret. If only there was someone she could tell. . . .

  She thought of her cousin Colin lying in his bed upstairs. Her other secret. Maybe she would tell him about the garden. In fact, he might know about it already. After all, Colin had lived at Misselthwaite his entire life.

  I’ll go and see him tonight, thought Mary, and with a feeling of happy satisfaction, she slid under the steaming water.

  10

  Cousins

  Mary was creeping cautiously along the corridor toward Colin’s room that night when she heard someone coming. She hid in a doorway and listened. Colin’s bedroom door opened.


  “No, please, Mrs. Medlock!” she heard him beg. “I don’t like it. It tastes horrible. It makes my stomach burn.”

  “I know you don’t like it, Colin,” said Mrs. Medlock, “but your father says you must have it. It’s going to make you well.”

  Mary heard Colin sob. “It won’t. Nothing will. Please . . .”

  “Colin, it’s either the medicine or the brace,” said Mrs. Medlock firmly. “Now come along. Be good and it will soon be over.”

  Colin screamed and Mary swallowed, feeling her own insides twist. Although she had heard the cries before, it was different now she knew that it was Colin making them. Her hands balled into fists. She wanted to run in and shout at Mrs. Medlock, to grab the medicine from her and throw it away so Colin never had to take it again. Why did he need medicine anyway? He was pale and thin, but he didn’t look dreadfully ill.

  After a few minutes, Mary heard Mrs. Medlock leaving. “I shall come back later, when you’ve calmed down,” she said, shutting the door with a shake of her head.

  Mary pressed herself into the shadows. She could only imagine how much trouble she’d be in if she was found. She waited a few more minutes and then crept along the corridor and opened Colin’s door.

  He jumped. There were tears on his face. He wiped them with his hand and turned away from her. She could tell he was trying to compose himself, that he didn’t want her to see him crying.

  “Sometimes I need to be medicated.” He spoke in a stiff, stilted voice as if he felt the need to explain. “My father says it’s for my own benefit. I never see him. He’s much too busy, but it’s what the doctors told him.” He took a breath and turned to look at her. “I thought you wouldn’t visit again.”

  “I decided I wanted to,” Mary said.

  Her eyes fell on something on the far side of the room—a wheelchair! She hadn’t noticed it the day before. She went over and sat down in it. “Is this your chair? Can’t you walk? Is that why you have it?”

  “That is not your business. Don’t touch it!” Colin said crankily.

  “It moves well,” said Mary, swinging from side to side in it. “Do you want me to help you into it, then we can go and explore together? I could push you!”

  “No!” Colin said. “I don’t use it much because of my back. You’ve seen my father’s hunchback; well, mine is the same, only much worse. I’ve never been able to walk.” He sighed deeply. “Mary, I’m afraid to say your cousin is dying!”

  The words sprang out of Mary’s mouth before she could stop them. “You don’t look like someone who’s dying.”

  Colin sniffed peevishly. “How many dying people have you seen?”

  Mary didn’t answer. Her mind was too busy turning over what he’d just said. If he really was dying, why didn’t he look more ill? She’d only seen him sitting in bed, but he didn’t appear to have a really bad hunchback. And why did he sound almost proud that he was dying? Something wasn’t right.

  “We could go outside?” she suggested. “That might make you feel better.”

  “Outside?” Colin echoed as if she’d suggested going to the moon. “I can’t do that.” He put a hand dramatically to his throat. “They tried to take me outside once, and the stench of the roses nearly killed me!”

  Mary couldn’t hold back her grin. “You’re telling me you’re afraid of flowers?” Her cousin glared at her. “That really isn’t very sensible.”

  She could see he was cranky that she wasn’t taking him seriously.

  “What if I was to tell you that there’s a paradise out there?” she went on. “Where the birds sing for you and a friendly dog plays with you?”

  “I’d say you were lying,” Colin said. “And,” he went on, his voice rising, “I’d say that I’m not interested, even if you are telling the truth. I am not interested in anything outside!”

  “But . . .” Mary began.

  Colin turned away. “I’m tired now. You may go.”

  Mary’s mouth dropped open. How dare he order her around, particularly after she had just told him something so wonderful! “What?”

  “I’m tired,” Colin repeated. “Please leave.”

  “No.” Mary folded her arms and felt a stab of satisfaction as Colin gave her a shocked look. He clearly wasn’t used to having his commands ignored. “I am not your play toy, to be put down when you choose!” she told him.

  “You came here to me. I didn’t invite you,” he said.

  “I told you secrets,” she retorted. “About my magic place.”

  “Secrets I didn’t care to know of!” He sat bolt upright. “Now get out and leave me alone,” he ordered, pointing to the door.

  “Oh, you’re insufferable!” Mary snapped, marching over to it.

  “And you use words you don’t understand!” Colin exclaimed.

  Mary looked back, and their eyes met. In that moment, Mary felt a strong connection surge between them. We’re really quite alike, she realized suddenly. Not in all ways but in some. We . . . we belong together.

  Colin sank back against his pillows, and some of the tension seemed to leave the room.

  Mary glanced at a portrait of Aunt Grace on the wall near the door. “Is that your mother?” she asked. “They say I look like her.”

  “I hate her,” Colin muttered.

  “Hate her?” Mary echoed, confused.

  Colin nodded. “For dying. She loved me hugely, but then she died and left me all alone—is that not unforgivable of her?” He gave Mary a self-pitying look, clearly expecting sympathy.

  But she had none to give. “At least your mother loved you,” she said sharply. “My mother never loved me!” She stared at the floor.

  There was a long silence.

  When Colin spoke, his voice was softer. “Will you read to me while I try to fall asleep, Mary? I struggle to sleep. My back hurts, and I think too much.” She glanced up and saw he was looking at her almost pleadingly.

  She nodded and then returned to his bed and sat in the wheelchair beside it. “Very well. I will tell you a story of gods and a quarrel over who first made fire.”

  Colin snorted in disgust. “That sounds terrible.” He gave her a book. “Here, read me this instead.”

  A laugh burst out of Mary.

  “What?” Colin said in surprise.

  She shook her head. “I think you might quite possibly be the rudest boy I have ever met!”

  Colin opened his mouth indignantly. Mary raised her eyebrows at him, and he subsided. Opening the book, she began to read.

  11

  Dreams and Memories

  Mary read on until Colin’s eyes closed, and then she got up and tiptoed out of his room.

  As she pushed his door shut, she froze as she heard the sound of merry laughter behind her. Swinging around, she saw two ghostly figures running up the corridor—two young women in long white ball gowns—her mother and Aunt Grace. They smiled at her and vanished into thin air.

  Mary blinked, icy fingers running up and down her spine. Had she really just seen two ghosts? I must have imagined it, she thought, staring at the empty corridor. Mustn’t I?

  Just then, a different noise made her jump—it was the sound of Mrs. Medlock coming upstairs again. No! She was going to be caught! Mary dashed to a nearby door on the opposite side of the corridor to Colin’s and turned the handle. To her relief, it opened, and she slipped inside the large room.

  Moonlight was shining in through the windows, bright enough for her to see that the walls were covered with detailed murals—painted scenes. The room was neat and tidy. Objects were set out around it as if they were on display—an ornate oriental screen, a wooden chest painted with flowers, display cabinets filled with carved ivory, and little elephants made from black wood.

  Walking curiously around the room, Mary noticed a line of pale light on one of the walls. Going over, she realized that it was the outline of a hidden door. Excitement bubbled up inside her. Where did it lead? She carefully traced her fingers in the groove around the doo
r until they snagged on a slightly raised piece of wood. She pressed it, and with a faint click, the door swung open.

  Mary caught her breath as she gazed inside. The room on the other side seemed to shine and glow with light. The moonbeams streaming in through the large window were reflecting off swathes of thick white cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. There were dressmaker’s dummies arranged around the room, clothed in beautiful, old-fashioned gowns, all decorated with gems that glittered brightly. Other dummies were piled with elegant cloaks and fur stoles. Mary stepped inside the room, her eyes widening in awe as she walked between the gowns, gently touching the soft, silky fabrics.

  There was a pile of photographs and pictures stacked against each other in the center of the room along with boxes of photographs. Mary looked through them curiously. They were all of her mother and her aunt from when they were children through to when they were adults—her mother sitting with her twin sister’s arms around her, the two sisters running through woodland and dancing in a field. In every picture, her mother and her aunt looked wonderfully happy. Mary paused at one of them walking away along a path lined with beautiful flower beds and statues. They were with two very young children and were all walking hand in hand, their backs to the camera. There was another picture of them all sitting under a big oak tree that had a swing attached to one of its branches.

  Mary drifted away from the photographs and opened a wardrobe. It was filled with even more beautiful dresses. As she riffled through them, a few fell from the hangers and spilled onto the floor. Picking up a silver one, Mary couldn’t resist trying it on. She slipped it over her nightclothes. It was much too big for her, but she spun around in it.