CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER
3
Christmas was wretched, of course. That morning Peter and Julia had woken to find a new, clean blanket of snow covering the house, the trees, and the yard, and they both felt the tingle of anticipation that arrives on such a morning. But it didn’t last long.
They went downstairs to find their father, their stepmother, and Bertram and Louisa all sitting around the tree drinking hot chocolate and laughing together just like—well, just like a real family, Julia thought. The two children had already picked out which presents they wanted to open first.
Louisa got a dollhouse and Bertram got a new fishing rod and tackle box, complete with its own set of lures—“So that we can fish together in the spring,” the Captain said. Julia got a dress that she strongly believed was a hand-me-down from Louisa (judging by the smirk) and a pendant from her grandmother. It was carved out of some sort of greenish stone and shaped like a star with six long points. It hung on a thin gold chain and was accompanied by a short note:
I found this by the pond in our garden, Julia dear. I can’t think where it came from, but it seemed that it would suit you. A most unusual pendant, but I do hope you like it. Much love and a very merry Christmas to you.
Julia held the pendant in the hot palm of her hand. Something felt familiar about it — something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She fastened the chain around her throat and tucked the pendant into the high collar of her nightgown. The stone was cool against her skin.
Peter received a worn velvet box from his father. It opened on a hinge to reveal a tarnished compass that had seen better days.
“That compass has weathered many a storm with me,” said the Captain. “I hope it will remind you to steer your course in life straight.”
Peter and Julia’s stepmother murmured her agreement. “Your father’s right. You need some sense of direction.”
Peter looked at his father, looked at his compass, and then looked at Bertram’s new fishing rod. “Thank you, Father,” he said, and then shoved the box in the pocket of his bathrobe and tried very hard to forget all about it.
After they had opened their gifts the children all went upstairs to change for Christmas dinner. Julia took off the necklace and put on her new dress, twisting and turning in front of the mirror to see how it looked. It didn’t fit right—too big in the waist and stretched too tight around the shoulders. Definitely Louisa’s. But her father smiled when he saw it and said, “There’s my girl.” It was the first time he’d said this to her since he remarried, and she went into his arms for an embrace. He held her strong and close, and she breathed in the familiar scent of tobacco and aftershave.
“Do you”—she paused, not wanting to ruin the moment. “Do you ever miss Mother?”
She listened to her father breathe—once, twice, three times. “Of course I do. I miss her every day.”
Julia tightened her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against the buttons of his shirt. “Me too,” she said.
“But now you’ve got Louisa to play with, darling, and we’re a whole family again.” Julia stiffened, pulling away from her father. “And that’s the best Christmas present of all, don’t you think?”
She forced a smile. “Yes, Father. Best it could be.”
The Captain patted her shoulder. “Run along now and tell Cook we’ll be ready in a minute. Plum pudding, darling … won’t it be lovely?”
“Just lovely, Father.”
It wasn’t lovely. Peter was in a rotten mood and sat sullenly in his seat at the table, picking at the roast and mashing the peas with his fork. Julia was quiet because Peter was quiet, and Bertram—horrid Bertram — filled in the silence with a long story about how he’d gotten some other boy in trouble at school.
“He’d been sniveling in the baths during the science lecture,” Bertram was saying, “and I told Professor Rotswort he was there, and you should have seen him when he came out! He was all red and blubbering, and he got a beating for skipping class.”
“How very sportsmanlike of you,” Peter said, and the table went silent. Julia found herself clenching her fist around her knife. Her knuckles had gone white.
“Young men,” said the Captain, taking a long sip of wine from his glass, “who do not know the meaning of fair play ought not to lecture those who do.” His eyes moved from the wine in the bottom of his glass to his son’s ashen face. “Apologize, Peter.”
Peter pushed back his chair from the table. He stood. He picked up his glass of water. And he flung it straight into Bertram’s fat face.
It was a few hours later that Julia found herself once again knocking on Peter’s door. After several knocks there was still no answer.
“It’s just me,” she said against the door. “I brought some things from the kitchen.” She heard a grunt on the other side and thought it sufficient permission to enter.
Peter was standing by the bed, stuffing a bundle of clothing into a sack. He was wearing a hat and boots, and his winter overcoat lay unbuttoned over his shoulders. A scarf and pair of gloves—nice leather gloves, probably Bertram’s—lay beside the sack.
Julia took it all in with a moment’s glance. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“Away,” said Peter. “To Oxford, maybe. Grandmother and Grandfather would understand.”
Julia set the plate of sandwiches she’d brought from the kitchen on Peter’s dresser. She thought for a moment. “Can I come with you?”
“Of course not. You’d only slow me up.” Peter folded a navy blue sweater into a clumsy square and shoved aside the other contents of his sack to make room for it.
“I wouldn’t,” said Julia. “You think I want to stay here a minute longer? They’re just as awful to me — especially since they think you tried to drown Bertram. Let me come, Peter.” He shook his head and resumed his packing, but Julia grabbed his coat and turned him around to face her. “I’m coming. I’ll meet you out back in ten minutes—just give me ten minutes, all right?”
Peter started to speak but then stopped, his mouth hanging open. He nodded toward the plate of sandwiches she’d left on the dresser. “Don’t forget to wrap those up. We might get hungry on the way.”
Twelve minutes later (it had taken her the extra two minutes to wrap up the sandwiches, Julia said) they met by the back door of the house. Julia was bundled up in several layers of scarves and had her ice skates tied to her bag by their laces.
“Skates?” said Peter.
“For the pond in Oxford,” said Julia.
“Ah,” said Peter. And they were off.
They had to cross a long stretch of lawn before they hit the trees that lined the drive, and Julia spent the walk hoping that no one would think to look out the window just then and see them running away. In this she was not so fortunate, but it would be a few minutes yet before she found this out. Peter had his compass out and was insisting that the shortest path to the train station was, in fact, through the woods.
“I don’t care,” Julia said. “We’ll lose the way if we don’t go by the road. You remember how hard it was to find our way through those forests in Aedyn? We ought to have gotten lost a hundred times.”
“But we’ll be seen if we go by the road,” said Peter. “Come on. North by northeast.” He plunged into the woods, and Julia had little choice but to follow.
It soon became clear that they should have left a few hours earlier if they were going to leave at all, for the night was just beginning to press against the sky and the branches of the trees above them were starting to cast long shadows over the snow. They walked quickly, not talking much. Peter checked the compass from time to time, sometimes changing direction slightly to stay perfectly on course, and Julia followed behind him, tramping in his larger footsteps.
It couldn’t have been ten minutes since they had reached the woods—though it felt much longer indeed—when they came to the stream. It was swollen with the melted ice and rain from the storm, and rushing much faster than they had last seen it in the summer. Peter paused, uncertain how to proceed, and checked his compass again. There was no way to jump the stream now.
“Oh, honestly,” said Julia. “You know we’ll never get across it like this.”
“If it were only a bit colder I suppose you could jolly well skate across!” said Peter shortly.
“I don’t suppose it gets any narrower if we follow it for a bit …”
“No. It’ll be worse further on. This is the only place you can jump — don’t you remember? We used to do it back when we were kids.” Peter turned the compass to one side, perhaps hoping it would tell a different story.
“Then I suppose we go back to the road.”
“No, we’ll be seen. I already told you.”
Julia put her hands on her hips and raised her chin in a way that befit the Chosen One of Aedyn, and probably Peter would have relented had he been given the chance. In fact, he had already opened his mouth to say “All right, have it your way,” but another voice—a thin, nasal voice—came first.
“Naughty naughty, trying to run away! Wait until your papa hears.” It was Louisa, standing a ways back from them and half hidden in the trees. Peter’s heart plummeted into his stomach. She was going to ruin everything. Everything.
“Go away, Louisa,” said Julia sternly, her pointed chin still raised. “You’re not wanted here. Go back home and tattle on us like the little beast you are.”
“And if I do they’ll know right where to find you,” taunted Louisa. Peter and Julia looked down: she was right. Their tracks were laid out in the snow, plain as day for anyone to follow. Louisa put her hands behind her back and started humming—she was always humming, thought Julia.
“Next time,” Peter said to his sister, “remind me to run away in the summer.” And remembering the strength that had come to his fingers when he held the bow and arrow and faced the dark lords of Aedyn, Peter knelt down, scooped up an icy fistful of snow, packed it into a ball, and hurled it at Louisa.
She shrieked and threw up her hands, but not quickly enough, and the snowball smacked right into her nose. Peter laughed and launched another, then another, until Louisa started to run. And he really cannot be blamed that she had lost her bearing and ran toward the stream, and not back in the direction from which she had come.
Water that has just been frozen has not forgotten its chill, and Louisa screamed as it closed over her. Julia found that she was screaming too, and she and Peter both rushed forward to help her. But as they raced to the water they found that they were standing not on the bank of a stream but on the edge of an icy chasm, and before they could cry out they were both falling in.