"I used that Fire and Hemlock Fire and Hemlock picture," Polly said, bleaching with shame to admit it even to Granny. She described what she had done that day. But she had barely got to the part where it had worked, and she had seen Tom with Laurel, when Granny arose, creaking a little, and gathered up Mintchoc. picture," Polly said, bleaching with shame to admit it even to Granny. She described what she had done that day. But she had barely got to the part where it had worked, and she had seen Tom with Laurel, when Granny arose, creaking a little, and gathered up Mintchoc.

"See what they do to your mind from That House," she said. "I'd wondered about that picture often, but I never thought to look. We'd best look at it at once, Polly." She marched up the stairs to Polly's room, and Polly marched after her, both of them so determined that Polly felt they needed military music playing to express it. "Take it down," Granny said, with her arms full of Mintchoc, nodding at the picture.

Polly carefully unhooked it and laid it on her bed. While she did it, she found she was watching Mintchoc as carefully as Granny was, but Mintchoc sat serenely against Granny's chest and did not seem perturbed. There seemed nothing to perturb anyone about the picture. It was a big, enlarged color photograph, exciting enough, but still empty of the mystery Polly had seen in it as a child. "I've often wondered," she said, "why they never tried to take it back."

"My guess is they couldn't," Granny said. "It must have been his to give, and he gave it you. It looks to me as if the back unclips.

Take it up, but carefully."

Polly turned the picture over to show the typewritten label that said simply Fire and Hemlock Fire and Hemlock, and loosened the big clamps that held gla.s.s to picture and picture to the board behind. She pulled the board up. "Oh." There was a hank of hair inside, between the board and the back of the photograph, pale hair, a little wavy. The sort of hair the boy in the stolen photograph had had. "The Obah Cypt," she said. "He never could think what it was. And I had it all the time." She put out a cautious fingertip and touched the hair. The wavy end she touched dissolved to dust as her finger met it. She s.n.a.t.c.hed her finger back.

"Don't do that!" Granny said sharply. "Let it lie. You may have voided the charm, but there's no need to kill him. Put the back on again and let's have some more tea."

Down in the biscuit-scented kitchen again, where the clock seemed to tick louder as the room darkened, Polly sipped the new brew of tea and asked, "But have you any idea what I can do?" do?"

"Maybe," said Granny. "Read me the charm out of the second song again."

"Charm?" said Polly.

"Goose," said Granny. "The bit that sticks out from the rest. Give it here. I'll know it. It talks generally." She took the book and leaned back so that her long-sighted eyes could see the print. "Here we are-and I wish I'd known of it when I was your age- The night it is good Hallowe'en, The fairy folk do ride, And they that would their true-love win At Miles Cross they must bide.

There's what you do. Plain as apikestaff."

"What? Go to the station?" Polly said.

"Where else?" said Granny. "Between twelve and one o'clock, it says. But I should be there by eleven, if I were you. We don't know what clock they're keeping."

She seemed so certain that Polly took the book back and looked at the rest. The instructions, once you began to see them as that, were very clear and detailed. "And there'll be three companies, it says, and he'll be in the last. And not the brown or the black, but the white. Are you sure?"

"Well, you'll have to look sharp about you. It may not seem the same in these modern days."

"And then just hang on to him, I suppose, whatever they do to stop me," Polly said. "That's what Janet did. But I've a feeling that won't seem the same either."

"If she she could, could, you you can," Granny said. She chuckled. "I must say I like that Janet, even though she was no better than she should be." She was quiet for a moment, sitting very upright, with the clock ticking loudly in the near-dark of the kitchen. Polly could see the white outlines of Granny's face and no more. It struck her suddenly that she now knew what Granny looked like when she was young, knew it properly, not just from a photograph. "And I envy her too," Granny added. can," Granny said. She chuckled. "I must say I like that Janet, even though she was no better than she should be." She was quiet for a moment, sitting very upright, with the clock ticking loudly in the near-dark of the kitchen. Polly could see the white outlines of Granny's face and no more. It struck her suddenly that she now knew what Granny looked like when she was young, knew it properly, not just from a photograph. "And I envy her too," Granny added.

"What do you mean?" Polly asked.

"Your grandfather," said Granny. "He was called Tom too. She does like that name. You should have heard him play the violin, Polly. But she took him when the nine years were up. I didn't know any charm to help. I was left alone, with Reg ready to be born."

"Oh." There seemed nothing Polly could say. This explained so much about Granny, and probably a great deal about Reg too. She sat in the dark, thinking of Granny, all these years doing what she could not to forget, and a memory came to her. Her own hands with woolly gloves on, carefully hanging a little oval photograph up in the place of the one she had decided to steal. She wondered if the old-fashioned boy in it had been her grandfather.

From there she pa.s.sed to wondering about the way Hunsdon House had opened that time to let her in to take the photograph. It must have been hers to take, then. Did that mean there was some hope now, or not?

Here Granny sprang up, saying, "This won't do!" and turned onthe light. "I must get some food into you if you're to walk to Miles Cross before eleven." She looked closely at Polly. "You're not wearing your pendant."

"No," said Polly.

"Better be safe than sorry," Granny said.

"But think of being both at once," said Polly. "I've pa.s.sed the point where I care about being safe. Besides, they've been able to get round it for years."

Granny sighed, but accepted it. Apart from insisting as strongly as Fiona that Polly eat something, she said very little else. When Polly got up to leave, Granny kissed her goodbye without comment and went to the door with her. It proved to be pouring with rain outside. Granny picked the famous green-and-white umbrella out of the hall stand and put it in Polly's hand. "Any other time I'd say make sure to bring it back," she said. "But don't put it up inside the house, all the same."

Granny, Polly thought as she trudged off into the rain, was not really expecting to see her back.

The rain had slacked to a drizzle by the time Polly reached the station. The forecourt was black and shiny, and unreal with orange wriggles of light. A little hesitantly Polly crossed it and approached the thing in the middle that she had always thought was a fountain. She now saw it was a cross, old and weather-bitten and eroded, like the one in Stow-on-the-Water. She climbed the steps to it and stood leaning against the upright. And waited. The entire place seemed deserted, although there was dim light in the station building. There were no people about, and nothing to do but watch the rain run in little orange-lit shivers across the black forecourt.

I'm on a wild-goose chase, she thought some time after eleven had struck in the distance. The railway station was a silly place to be. It had to be wrong. She should have gone to Hunsdon House. But the book had been so clear, and she had no other guide. She went on waiting. She knew she would still be standing here at two o'clock, just on the wild chance it was true. It was not because of the things Fiona had said, or Granny, or because she was determined not to be embarra.s.sed off this time. It was not evenbecause Tom had given her an awkward, sideways goodbye kiss. It was because this really was the only way she knew to prevent certain murder.

The drizzle kept gusting in under Granny's umbrella. Polly was soaked through and her feet were numb by the time she heard midnight striking. And still nothing had happened. She put her wrist close to her eyes and tried to see her watch in the murky orange light. I'll give it five minutes, she thought. If nothing's happened by then, I'll have to go, and run like crazy to Hunsdon House. This has has to be wrong! It was stupid to trust an old rhyme like that. Her hand shook drops from the spikes of the umbrella from the effort she had to make not to start running to Hunsdon House that instant. She put her watch to her eyes again. It was ticking, but the hands did not seem to have moved. to be wrong! It was stupid to trust an old rhyme like that. Her hand shook drops from the spikes of the umbrella from the effort she had to make not to start running to Hunsdon House that instant. She put her watch to her eyes again. It was ticking, but the hands did not seem to have moved.

But there were some people coming. Polly heard them crossing the court in the distance, in an irregular splashing of feet, a lot of them, with whistles, catcalls, and loud, drunken-sounding laughter. She moved the umbrella to look and saw a riotous crowd of dark shapes stampeding toward the station entrance. Only a crowd of drunken youths, after all. Polly subsided against the cross, feeling rather exposed and more certain than ever that she had foolishly come to the wrong place. The boys did not notice her. They went straight to the station building, laughing and whooping and pushing one another about, where, in the doorway, their progress was interrupted by the inevitable drunken quarrel. The group milled about, and loud, young voices barked like dogs for a second or so. After that, they seemed to sort it out, and all went piling into the booking hall. But just for that second enough dim light fell on the struggling bodies for Polly to see that one of them was Leslie.

I think this really is it! she thought.

Shortly after that, several big cars drove into the forecourt. Each raced past Polly, slashing rain across her, gleaming under the light so that they looked almost unreal, and stopped in a group near the station entrance. The doors opened. The headlights blazed ample, freckled light.

Laurel got out of one car with a number of other women, allbeautifully dressed. Mr. Leroy and Seb, in smart suits, got out of another. And a crowd of other people, equally well dressed, whom Polly vaguely knew as Hunsdon House folk, climbed out of the other cars. All held their hats or put up umbrellas and hurried into the station.

There was no longer any doubt. Polly leaned on the k.n.o.bby stone of the cross, knowing she only had to wait. And behind the umbrella she heard more cars. One stopped. Another. Handbrakes croaked. A third stopped, with a wild squeal of wet tires. Doors slammed. Feet barked on the tarmac. Two dark figures hurried by, one short, one tall, carrying violin cases. Ed seemed to be in black, Sam in dark brown. Neither of them saw Polly. Tom came next, wearing a light-colored padded parka, carrying his cello case, and turning his light-colored head to say something to Ann, who was a little behind.

6.

And see you not yon bonny road That winds across the ferny lea?

That is the road to fair Elfland Where you and I this night must be.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

Polly found herself smiling because of the well-known way Tom's head turned. It was an utter delight just to see it again. Now watch it. Watch it, she told herself. She was reminded of the glee she had felt while she set up that piece of witchcraft with the picture. It was not to be like that this time. This was not what it was about. All the same, she was so glad! She was still smiling as she slipped round the cross and down the steps, tottering a bit on her numb feet, and seized hold of Tom's arm. She felt it tense and jerk. "h.e.l.lo," she said.

It did not surprise her particularly when Tom turned and peered at her blankly through his rain-speckled gla.s.ses. "I think you'vemade a mistake of some kind," he said.

"No I haven't," Polly said. It was bound to be like this. "And I'm hanging on to you from now on."

By this time Ann had pa.s.sed them and joined Ed and Sam. Tom hurried after them, shaking his arm to free it from Polly, and Polly went with him, hanging on. "Will you please let go," he said.

"My good woman," Polly prompted him. "No, I won't."

"What's the matter with you? Do you want money or something?"

"You know perfectly well I don't!"

"I don't know anything about you. Let go!"

They pa.s.sed the cars Laurel's party had come in, practically fighting. Polly saw Ann, Ed, and Sam pause in the station doorway and look round for Tom. Seeing the struggle, they turned away, obviously embarra.s.sed, and went inside. "I'm not going to let-!" Polly was panting, when another person pushed past them and hurried into the station too. Tom tore himself loose from Polly with almost no trouble at all and plunged after. Polly saved herself from falling by catching hold of the wing mirror of Laurel's car, but her numb feet let her down. She could hear the thumping of feet from inside the booking hall, and raised voices, but by the time she made her feet take her through the doorway, the quarrel seemed to have died down.

Ed was standing with Ann and Sam, blocking the way through to the platform. All of them looked angry and Ed was rubbing his arm. Mr. Piper was looming in front of them, like something at bay. Tom was buying a ticket, with his back to everyone.

"Let me through," Mr. Piper said peremptorily. When none of the three moved, he turned and shouted, "Tom! For pity's sake! I'm in a hurry. She's got Leslie now!"

Tom turned round and gave his yelp of laughter. "So much for your hiding and pretending!" he said. "If you'd told the truth, you could have warned him. Don't worry. The train will wait for me."

Ann and Sam moved slowly aside. Ed moved even more reluctantly, and as Mr. Piper dived past him, out onto the platform beyond, he shouted after him, "And be careful who you're shovinganother time!" While Ed was shouting, Tom picked up his cello.

All four hurried after Mr. Piper, so quickly that Polly nearly got left behind. She ran to the ticket window, fumbling out her student card and a five-pound note, which was all the money she had.

"The same, please," she said. She supposed the clerk behind the window knew. A ticket came back, and quite a lot of change. A short journey, then. Polly s.n.a.t.c.hed it up and ran. The train might wait for Tom, but it would not wait for her, which Tom of course knew. But, thanks to Mr. Piper, Polly also knew that Tom had not been trying to shake her off as hard as he had pretended. She ignored her lifeless feet and sprinted. The train was at the platform, beginning to move. Polly was in time to see Tom's white parka through the gla.s.s of one of the doors. She put on a spurt and managed to claw hold of that door. Then, hopping on one foot as the train gathered speed, she got it open and threw herself inside the train. The door crashed shut behind her.

Inside, it was a perfectly normal train, with a gangway down the middle and rows of foursome tables on either side. Ann, Sam, and Ed had already taken three seats at a table some way along. It was obvious that Tom would join them in the fourth seat as soon as he had finished stowing his cello. Polly darted up the gangway and stood in front of the fourth seat, stopping him. Ed and Ann looked at her, and looked away. Sam's face twisted with embarra.s.sment as Tom turned round and saw Polly. He stood waiting.

"Get out of my way, please."

"No. And you do know me," Polly said.

"I've never seen you before in my life," said Tom.

"Nonsense. I haven't changed that much," Polly said. She leaned one hand on the table to look at Ed. "Ed, do you you know me?" Ed shook his head and tried to avoid her eyes. It was the way anyone behaves when a stranger tries to pester him on a train. Sam was already looking away when Polly turned to him. They really did not know her, any more than Leslie had done. Still, I'm know me?" Ed shook his head and tried to avoid her eyes. It was the way anyone behaves when a stranger tries to pester him on a train. Sam was already looking away when Polly turned to him. They really did not know her, any more than Leslie had done. Still, I'm not not going to be embarra.s.sed out of it this time! Polly thought. That was something of a clue, really. Laurel thought she would be. Laurel worked by admissions, one way or another. Polly looked on to Ann. "Do going to be embarra.s.sed out of it this time! Polly thought. That was something of a clue, really. Laurel thought she would be. Laurel worked by admissions, one way or another. Polly looked on to Ann. "Do you youknow me, Ann?"

Ann was clearly very tired. She was leaning sideways with her head on Sam's shoulder. She looked up at Polly, direct and penetrating and dark, and frowned. "I think I do, somehow. But I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Bless you, Tan Audel!" Polly said. She turned to Tom in triumph, but he simply walked up the gangway to another seat and sat there. Polly followed, and sat down facing him. Tom behaved as if she was not there. He took his wet gla.s.ses off and cleaned them with a handkerchief. Without them, Polly could see how white and hollow-cheeked and strained his face was. Water dripped from her hair, and her elbows left damp smudges on the table while she sat there studying him. The train clattered round them, hurrying away into the night.

He did know her, Polly was sure. What he felt about her turning up again like this was another matter, but it did look as if Laurel had forced some kind of prohibition on him not to know her. So it followed that it must be important to get him to admit that he did. Or was this simply Polly's own feelings making her think this? She had been prepared to be cool and alert and collected, and it was all overthrown by her utter delight at seeing him again. She wanted to burst into wild, joyful laughter.

"I know I must be one more d.a.m.n thing to you," she said, "but I have come to help if I can. I want to make amends for what I did to you-or apologize at least." Tom held his gla.s.ses up toward the light overhead to see if they were clean, and did not answer. "Do you know," Polly said, "the Obah Cypt turned out to be the Fire and Hemlock Fire and Hemlock picture? I had it all along. There was a lock of your hair in the back of it-I found it today." picture? I had it all along. There was a lock of your hair in the back of it-I found it today."

Tom put his gla.s.ses back on and unzipped his wet parka. He sat back, staring beyond Polly. "I seem to be shut in a train with a raving female," he said. "There is no such thing as an Obah Cypt."

"Well, it's the only name I know for it," Polly said. "Who is is Mr. Piper? He seems to have been Tan Coul as much as you were. There Mr. Piper? He seems to have been Tan Coul as much as you were. There was was a giant in the supermarket. Edna told me." a giant in the supermarket. Edna told me."

"What inst.i.tution did you escape from?" said Tom.

Some of the wild laughter did break loose from Polly. "St. Margaret's College, Oxford. I share a padded cell with Fiona Perks."

"Go back there," said Tom.

"How ungrateful!" said Polly. "Don't forget you started it by hauling me out of that funeral."

Tom did not answer.

Polly bit her own tongue angrily. Polly, you fool! Keep off funerals. Of all the things to remind him of! "I think," she said, "I've gone and left Granny's famous umbrella on the steps of Miles Cross. You know the one? The big green-and-white umbrella you held over her that Sports Day before you went to Australia." Tom did not reply. Polly tried again. "I don't exactly blame Granny for telling you off then. She was right, according to her own lights, even though I suspect Morton Leroy had got at her. After all, Granny wasn't to know you'd already made it quite plain at the panto that I was nothing but a complete nuisance to-"

"Come off that, P-!" Tom began violently. And stopped. "Did you happen to remark what your name was?" he asked carefully.

The laughter tore loose from Polly again. "No," she said. "I didn't, and you know it. And, of course, my name isn't Polly, as you also know. It's Hero."

She had done it, Polly realized. She had got it right. Tom took his gla.s.ses off again and attended to what was probably an imaginary smear, and he was smiling as he wiped them, all over his strained face, in the same way that Polly was, as if he could not help it. He put the gla.s.ses on again, leaned his elbows on the table, and did at last look at Polly. "Polyphonic a.s.sistants," he said. "You shouldn't have done that. You never did understand the risk."

"Yes I did," said Polly. "I had a talk with Morton Leroy after that pantomime. Had you known all along?"

Tom shook his head. Around them, the train rushed and rattled into darkness. The noise and the pressure suggested they were going through a tunnel. Tom had to shout against the clatter. "Not a notion, to begin with-it was too unbelievable-just like Tan Coul in the supermarket-slowly realizing it could only be a giant-"

"That's the gift she gave you," Polly shouted back. "Things you make up to come true and then turn round and hit you."

"Not till you wrote Leroy by mistake for Legris," Tom shouted. "Then I saw. But you still think 'This can't happen to me!' I still do."

The things Polly wanted to shout in reply to this were lost, because the train rushed out of the tunnel again, into bright daylight. It burst across them so that they both had to shield their eyes from the brightness. When Polly managed to blink out of the window, she found they were traveling along beside the sea. White surf was folding and smashing almost beside the rails, and a myriad dazzles flickered off the gray water stretching toward the sun.

"Is it always like this?" she said.

"I think it varies," said Tom. "I've only ridden in Laurel's train once before. It was hills and desert then. Whatever suits her sense of humor, I think."

"I could do without her sense of humor," Polly said bitterly. 'True Thomas. You haven't got cancer, have you?"

"Is that what she told you?" Tom pushed his hands wearily over his face, lifting his gla.s.ses to rub his eyes. The train was slowing down now, noticeably. Tom's face looked as if his rubbing hands were wiping the color out of it with every rub.

"If I'd been thinking of you at all," all," Polly said, angry and remorseful, "I could have seen through that. She only lied when I asked. You taught me about sentimental drivel, but I didn't think of that Polly said, angry and remorseful, "I could have seen through that. She only lied when I asked. You taught me about sentimental drivel, but I didn't think of that once!" once!"

The brakes of the train were shrieking. A station of some kind was sliding into view. Tom stood up. "Well, I'd had years of Laurel, and you hadn't."

Polly stood up too. Down the carriage, Sam, Ed, and Ann were collecting their instrument cases and moving to the door. When they got there, they stood looking back doubtfully, waiting for Tom.

"You go on," Tom called to them. "There's only one way to go. You can't miss it. I'll catch you up in a minute." Ann nodded and got off the train. Sam and Ed looked at one another before they followed her, clearly wondering whether to come back and rescue Tom from Polly, and then deciding that it would be too embarra.s.sing. They got off too, and Tom turned to collect his cello.

"Can't you just not go?" Polly said.

"I don't really want them coming to fetch me," Tom said. "Off youget."

Polly and he climbed off the train onto an empty, sunlit platform. The place seemed deserted. They walked across the platform, and their feet boomed on the hollow wooden floor of the booking hall. Outside was a long street, lined on each side with chestnut trees, from which big orange leaves, like hands, drifted down across Ann, Ed, and Sam, walking ahead in the distance. Above the trees stood the moon, flat and white in the blue sky.

"You shouldn't have come," Tom said as they set off down the street. "I'd suggest you don't come any further, except that I think the only way out now is to go on."

"I know you won't want me looking on-" Polly said.

"I don't," he said. "But it's not that. You don't understand-there's nothing you can do now."

"Yes there is," said Polly. "I have to hang on to you."

Tom sighed. "I knew you didn't understand. You were doing that for about five years, but you stopped. I can't say I blame you." A hand-like leaf fell on the case of the cello, and slid off again.

Polly shuddered. "Anyhow," Tom said, "I'm quite glad of a chance to apologize."