LITMIR.BIZ

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day outside and you can’t go and run around the garden, so another fifteen minutes of play and then I want you both to go and get washed and changed.’

      ‘Yes, Mother.’

      They both spoke in unison and she stood up, holding out her arms to them. They ran over for a hug and she squeezed them tight.

      ‘Now you know that I would like nothing more than to spend tonight reading stories to you both, but your father is an important man and with great importance comes great responsibility, which means he must invite all the other important men and women that he works with into our home to share our precious time. I promise you both that, after dinner tomorrow, when the last guest has gone home, both your father and I will play whatever games you would like and read as many stories as you desire. How does that sound?’

      ‘Wonderful, Mother.’

      ‘Good. Now go and play for a while before you need to start acting like two of your father’s waxwork dummies. I love you both very much.’

      She kissed them, one after the other, on the tops of their heads and then patted their bottoms, shooing them out of the dining room.

      Joe ran along to the kitchen to see what Mary was cooking. He was starving. The halls were filled with the aroma of roast beef and roast chicken. Martha followed him, and Mary laughed to see them both looking like a couple of street urchins, with dirt-streaked hair and faces, and black marks all over their clothes.

      ‘Where the devil have you two been? Up to no good, I’ll bet. I suppose you’ll be looking for some biscuits and a drink of milk after all that exploring.’

      They both nodded and climbed onto the wooden chairs around the huge kitchen table that filled the middle of the room. It was covered in plates and dishes of food, and Joe had begun to lift the lid off one when he felt a tap on the back of his head.

      ‘Hands off! I haven’t been awake since five o’clock this morning baking and cooking for you to put your scruffy little hands all over my works of art.’

      Martha giggled and he stuck his tongue out at her, which made her giggle even more.

      They sat and drank the glasses of milk as they nibbled on warm shortbread biscuits that had just come out of the oven. When they finished and Joe had wiped his milk moustache from around his lips he bent his head towards her and whispered, ‘One last game of hide-and-seek and then I’ll play dolly hospital with you.’

      ‘You promise? You have to nurse the dolls and make them better and not grumble about it.’

      ‘I promise.’

      ‘I suppose so. Please can I count in here? I hate having to wait on my own.’

      He nodded his head, jumped off his chair and ran towards the door. ‘No peeking, Martha – I’ll know if you cheat.’

      Then he was gone. Martha could only count to twenty and then she had to stop and start all over again. She was watching Mary pipe icing onto the biscuits and forgot all about going to find Joe until she heard him call her name. He sounded like he was far away. She jumped off her chair and began walking towards the hall.

      A door banged behind her and she turned to see the cellar door ajar. He was just being mean and he was a big, fat cheat. She had told him not to go in the attic or the cellar and he had gone into both. He knew she didn’t like them. Well, he could wait in there all day. There was no way she was going down to look for him in the dark. She shivered. Just thinking about the dark and the rats made her want to cry. What if they nibbled her feet while she was walking around in the dark? She sat on the bottom step of the staircase and waited for him to get fed up and come back up. After what seemed like for ever she stood up and walked along to the door. She stood and listened and thought she heard her brother crying. Opening the door she stood on the top step and shouted, ‘It’s no good pretending. I don’t care one little bit if you are upset. I told you I wasn’t going down into the cellar to look for you so you might as well come back up.’

      Martha expected him to come bounding up and clip her round the ear for being so cheeky to him, but he didn’t. She listened again, only this time she heard a scratching and a dragging sound. She had no idea what it was but it sounded like something much bigger than Joe. Getting cross now she folded her arms and shouted at the top of her voice, ‘Joseph, I’m going to tell Father if you don’t come out of there right this minute and play dollies with me. You promised you would. Don’t be so mean.’

      Still there was no reply and Martha felt scared. What if he’d fallen over and hurt himself in the dark? It would serve him right but he could have at least called out and told her he needed some help. Worried now, she began to suck her thumb and turned to run and find her father. She didn’t have to go far as he was striding along the corridor towards her.

      ‘Martha, what have you been doing in the cellar? Why is the door open?’

      ‘It was Joe not me. We are playing hide-and-seek and I told him I wouldn’t look for him down there or in the attic but he’s still gone down. Only he’s not answering when I shout to him.’

      A look of alarm crossed her father’s face and he moved her to one side and leant forward to tug the light-pull and illuminate the steps.

      He ran down them and began to look around for Joe, who was nowhere to be seen. He shouted, ‘Joseph Beckett, if you don’t show yourself now you will not be able to sit down on your bottom for a week. I mean it.’

      There was no reply. He looked at the drain in the corner that led into the sewers and saw that the iron grating was out of place. It had been moved and not put back properly and his head began to pound. Surely a nine-year-old boy wouldn’t have the strength to move a heavy iron cover on his own and then move it back again? He ran towards it and fell to his knees, looking down into the black hole. ‘Joseph, are you down there? Are you stuck? Do you need help? If you do, then answer me, boy. I won’t be mad at you. Just tell me if you are down there.’

      A scuttling, scratching sound made him jump back. It sounded as if there was nothing more than rats down in that hole. But who had moved the cover? Unless it was the builders who hadn’t put it back properly and he’d just never noticed before. He stood up, taking one last look around the cellar, and then he ran back up the stone steps to Martha who was now crying.

      ‘He isn’t down there, Martha. Now where else could he be? Why don’t you show me the places he likes to hide in the attic? Maybe he’s fallen asleep and can’t hear you shouting.’

      She nodded her head and grabbed hold of her father’s hand, leading him up the stairs to the attic, but she knew in her heart that Joe was down in that cellar somewhere because she had heard him crying down there.

      They checked the entire house, and by this time her mother and father were panicking. Martha had been told to sit in the kitchen with Mary after she’d shown her father all of Joe’s hiding places and he was nowhere to be seen. Martha watched Lucy put her coat on and go outside to check the gardens in the pouring rain, but she could have told her not to bother. There was no point. Joe was in the cellar somewhere, except she didn’t know where; her father came in with Davey, the gardener, who doubled up as the caretaker when it was winter. They both had lanterns in their hands and were going down into the cellar to look for Joe. Her mother had come into the kitchen to sit with her and was very quiet. She didn’t speak a word and her eyes were watering, and all Martha could hear was Mary saying over and over again, ‘Don’t you worry, miss. He won’t be far. Up to no good as usual. They’ll find him. You just wait and see.’

      After the third time her mother screamed at Mary, ‘Shut up, please, just shut up. Where is he? He can’t have just disappeared.’

      Martha had never heard her mother shout at anyone, not even her father, and this scared her more than the thought of Joe being down in the cellar.

      Her mother grabbed her hand. ‘Where is he? Where did you last see him, Martha? This is very important. He might have hurt himself and need our help.’

      ‘I was in here. He begged for one last

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