The Music Box: Chapter Four

Now Emily’s mother was certainly not insane, as father explained, she had merely had a turn and the best doctors in the land for looking after a turn like that happened to be at the Institute.

Luckily, nobody had ever found out that this was the ‘hospital’ where her mother had spent six long weeks.

Emily tried another tack. “Dudley, if you promise to me that you don’t say a word to anyone about me being here, and if you also promise to leave me be for now, then I will come and see you tomorrow afternoon.”

She could think of nothing she wanted to do less, but she had to think of something.

“You promise?”

“Dudley, I swear on my grandmother’s grave. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

She saw the cogs clumsily turning in his boney head, his mouth screwed up to one side and his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Well, okay then, as long as you mean it and aren’t playing a dirty trick on me.”

“I mean it Dudley, I really do.”

“Well, see you tomorrow,” he said.

All the while they had been walking slowly down High Street, passing the butcher, the bakery, the greengrocer and the bank. By now they were about half way down, near Mr Pickles’ Confectionary Store. Emily reached into her purse and pulled out a shiny new coin. She had been saving it for a treat for herself, but pressed it into Dudley’s palm. “Why don’t you go into Mr Pickles’ and get yourself some sweets? Then you can tell me about them tomorrow.”

With a smile and nod, he stood outside the store while she kept walking. She turned when she reached the corner and saw he was still looking after her, so she shooed him in with a wave of the hand.

Now she was going to be quite late, Emily realised with a huff. That Dudley was nothing but trouble. But she could never stay too mad with him – she half understood this was because she was flattered by the attention, but Emily was still much better at realising the keenness of her own feelings than really understanding anyone else’s.

Stepping along quickly now, Emily had little time to really take in her surroundings. While she normally loved looking around on trips to the centre of town with mother, now all she could think about was getting to the end of the street. Her short little legs were almost a blur as she pumped her elbows like pistons, willing herself along. If only she had wheels on the bottom of her feet, or wings with which she could swoop above it all and land right where she needed!

The street whirred by in a flash of window displays, fading signs, barrows of goods pushed out onto the street and other passersby – all grown-ups. She was going so fast she almost ran straight into Mr Brown the postmaster and just about tripped over the tiny little dog being dragged along by the enormous wife of the innkeeper, its teeth bared and snapping as his lead was jerked away from her just in time. By the time she saw the harbour Emily was just about out of breath. She deliberately slowed for the length of the last block, trying to regather her composure. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window of a barbershop as she went by, looking almost as red as the candy striped pole beyond the window.

“Okay Emily Button, you stop that now,” she admonished.” You just be yourself and don’t let your worry get the better of you.”

By now the smell of the sea wrapped her in its consuming embrace, the salty soup of the air somehow both refreshing and making her a little drowsy. She loved the sea, though she rarely got to be near it. Mother would only rarely visit, despite the town being perched on its very edge. Though she felt she shouldn’t dawdle for long, Emily could not resist standing out here a moment, gazing down to the harbour where ships were getting ready to slide off from their moorings, heading to destinations far, wide and mysterious, to places too magical and beyond her understanding to truly comprehend.

How she longed to be on one. The nights when the breeze would carry the unmistakeable scent of the sea across the town, up the hill and into her bedroom, were her favourite nights. She would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the shadow puppets dancing on it cast by the trees that lay just beyond, picturing the boats in the harbour pulling out and setting sail. She would imagine herself stowed away on board, curled up behind some barrels of rum or salted pork, or wrapped up in some spare sailcloth so that nobody would find her until it was too late, they would have to keep her aboard. She wouldn’t mind working, helping out in the kitchen or scampering around above deck – best of all would be a role as a lookout, high in the crow’s nest. Her eagle eyes would spot things before anyone else could, she would quickly earn a reputation as the finest lookout on the seven seas. She would watch the cat’s paws pad across the ocean top, turning her face to them and waiting for the wind to hit, licking the crusting salt off her dry lips.

The finest, most handsome captains would clamour for her to be on their ship, she would bring good luck and much fortune with her special talent. But such was the lot of a girl, a young girl at that, that she knew this was all but a dream, a flight of fancy that could never be. Mother would miss her too terribly, while father would expressly forbid it. She came crashing back to earth, but more determined than ever that there must be more to her life than living out other people’s expectations, more to look forward to than sewing and cooking and cleaning. In what could only have been a few seconds, the music box had convinced her of all this and more.

Emily had reached Mr Crouch’s store. Standing outside, taking in its blackened and dusty windows, its air of musty sadness and stale whiff of danger, her resolve – so strong only moments prior - all but dissolved. She must be crazy. What was she doing here, what made her think she could possibly face Mr Crouch, let alone bring up the music box with him? It was madness. She should just go home now and pretend that it had never happened, that she had never come here. Emily bent down to her socks, reached to her ankle and pulled out her rock. “You silly thing,” she whispered. “What lunacy you get me caught up in!”

Emily straightened up and turned to go. Not more than one step had she taken before she ran straight into a big, black, unmoveable mass - falling flat on her tail. A little dazed, she passed her hand across her face and looked up. An electric chill ran right up and down her spine, setting her every hair on end.

“Emily Button; I’ve been expecting you.”