by Janice

Summer 1987

The early summer breeze was rustling through the orchard as fifteen year old Trixie Belden sat, her back to the gnarled trunk of an old crab apple tree. The day had a bittersweet quality to it, she thought. On the one hand, the weather was beautiful with clear blue skies and enough breeze to keep the heat down and it was the first Saturday of her summer vacation with nothing to do but enjoy it. On the other hand, they were approaching the last few weeks together for the Bob-Whites of the Glen, the semi-secret club that she and her friends had formed nearly two years ago.

At the end of this summer, Jim and Brian would go away to college and nothing would ever be the same again.

“What we need now is one last adventure together,” she said aloud to a passing butterfly, “something exciting; worthy of their send-off.”

“Your aspiration is my behest, O mistress,” came a disembodied voice, while a branch tapped her on the head, “I am the omnipotent wish-butterfly. Command me!”

“Mart!” she cried, “Leave me alone!”

“Sorry,” he grinned. “Moms says that she’s going shopping and if you want to come you’d better move it.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, Mart.” she called behind her as she ran back towards the house. This was exactly what she needed to keep her mind off things.

As she neared the house she saw her best friend, Honey Wheeler, sitting on the porch swing.

“Honey!” she called, “I didn’t know you were here. Mart could have told me.”

Her best friend smiled and shook her head. “I got here after he left. I came here to invite you to go shopping with me, but your mother invited me to go shopping with you. Shall we?”

“I’d better clean up a bit first.” said Trixie ruefully, as she glanced at her pastel blue T-shirt and faded denim shorts, both of which were streaked with dirt.

Thirty minutes later, the two girls were strolling down the main street of Sleepyside, having made an agreement to meet Trixie’s mother in two hours’ time.

“I told Jim that I’d meet him for ice cream a little later,” Honey remarked as she looked over the latest fashions in one of the boutiques. “Would you like to come too?”

Trixie blushed. It seemed that someone was always trying to match her up with Jim. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the idea but, as far as Trixie could tell, he had never shown any particular interest in her.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to stay here by myself,” she muttered. She looked desperately around her for something to change the subject. “Oh, aren’t these the cutest things you’ve ever seen?” she said, grasping on the first item she came across.

Honey took the fake fur earrings from Trixie’s hand and with a raised eyebrow placed them back on the rack.

“I think I’ll pass, thanks Trixie. Why don’t we start walking toward the ice cream parlour.” Honey could see that her friend had had enough teasing for now. She steered the conversation towards safer topics and Trixie gradually felt better.

Before long the two girls had reached the ice cream parlour and spotted Jim, sitting at a table by himself. They greeted him and quickly placed their orders.

With only the briefest of glances, Trixie could tell that something was wrong. Jim had a strange, tense look on his face and on the table in front of him were some strange-looking papers. While the girls waited for their ice creams, Trixie watched out of the corner of her eye as he stared at the papers, shuffled them around and stared some more. Finally, the orders were filled and they could join him at the table.

“So, what happened?” Honey asked breathlessly, as she plonked down her sundae dish.

Before Jim could answer Trixie jumped in, “What’s going on? Where have you been Jim? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Whoa, slow down Trix!” Jim smiled, the tension draining from his face. “I’ve been corresponding with Mr. Rainsford for a few weeks now. You remember him, don’t you?”

Trixie nodded. Mr. Rainsford was a lawyer who had been the executor of Jim’s great uncle’s will. He was also a friend of Matthew Wheeler’s and had arranged for the Wheelers to adopt Jim.

“He’s the executor of a another will,” Jim continued. “It wasn’t anyone I’d heard of so I was sure he’d made a mistake. That’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone. I didn’t want to build any false hopes.”

“And?” prompted Trixie.

“And I’ve just inherited a property from someone I’ve never met, or even heard of before,” Jim explained, in a voice that was filled with wonder. Both girls just stared at him.

After a moment Trixie found her voice, “So, who was it and why did they pick you?”

“Well, the woman’s name was Thelma Jean Henley and she was my great aunt’s cousin. Henley was Aunt Nell’s mother’s maiden name and Miss Henley was her mother’s brother’s child. Apparently, she has no living relatives or close friends. The will was made just after Aunt Nell died, and my father was the sole beneficiary, with the proviso that if he predeceased Miss Henley I was to get the estate.”

“So, what did you inherit?” Once again, it was Trixie who led the discussion while Honey was still trying to work out the family relationships.

“A property somewhere near Sleepyside and its contents. The papers were so old they only have the lot number and the words ‘via Sleepyside’. There is also a small amount of money and some personal effects, too, but I don’t think there’ll be very much.” Jim shuffled through his papers as he spoke.

“Is there a house on the property, Jim?” Honey spoke for the first time since Jim had dropped this particular bombshell.

“I think so,” he replied, “and I think these are the keys for it. When I find out where it is, the Bob-Whites can help me explore the place.”

“That would be great!” cried Trixie, bouncing in her seat. “We could have a picnic lunch and then afterwards we could all work at cleaning and gardening and-”

“Hold on there, Trixie,” Jim interrupted. “Maybe we should find out a little more before we make grand plans. I was thinking of calling a meeting of the Bob-Whites to tell everyone. Why don’t we talk about it then. In the meantime, Dad says he has a map of the area with the lot numbers on it which I could use to get the street address.”

“I’ll contact everyone about the meeting,” Honey offered.

“Thanks,” said Jim, looking at his watch, “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you later at the clubhouse. Usual time.”

“We’d better go too,” Honey remarked, “or we won’t be in time to meet your mother.”

The rest of the day was a blur to Trixie. All she could think of was the mysterious woman who had left Jim so much. She wandered around in a daze, bumping into things and mishearing anything said to her.

Finally it was time for the meeting. Even as she sat at the conference table in the clubhouse, Trixie couldn’t seem to focus on what was happening. Wild theories chased each other through her brain.

Maybe it was another mansion, or perhaps a spooky old house, or a forgotten cottage in the woods. Would the house be full of beautiful old furniture, like Mrs Vanderpoel’s or would it be cosy and comfortable like Crabapple Farm? And what about the old lady? Had she been a recluse like Jim’s great uncle? Had she lived, like he had, in a run-down house while all along there was plenty of money to keep it up?

Suddenly, Trixie realised that all eyes were on her. She blushed to the roots of her hair as Mart made some smart comment about her lack of attention. She muttered an apology and waited for someone to fill her in.

“We’re waiting for you to start the meeting, Trix,” Brian whispered, with a sympathetic smile.

Trixie’s focus returned with a jolt. She quickly called the meeting to order and turned the floor over to Jim.

“I asked for this meeting to be called,” he explained, “so I could tell all of you my news at once.”

“I knew it, you’re becoming a nun,” joked Mart. The others groaned.

“Ignore him,” said Di, impatiently, “and tell us the news.”

Jim smiled. “Dad and I had a meeting today with Mr. Rainsford, and found out that I have inherited another property. It was owned by my great aunt’s cousin. It’s not far from here, on Glen Road, adjoining Dad’s land.”

“What?” cried Trixie and Honey together. Trixie continued, “How can that be? I don’t know any Henleys near here and I didn’t know there was even a house on the property next to Manor House.”

“You didn’t know any Maypennys, either,” Mart reminded her, earning himself a withering glance.

“Miss Henley, my great aunt’s cousin,” Jim explained to the others, “didn’t live in her house. She’s been in a nursing home since 1976.”

“Maybe Moms and Dad remember her,” Trixie added thoughtfully. “I’ll ask them when we get home.”

“Thanks, Trixie,” Jim replied. “I’m taking your suggestion and having a picnic lunch there tomorrow. Maybe you could tell us all then. You’re all invited, of course.”

Jim’s invitation was greeted with enthusiasm from the others. They made plans to meet the next day at the clubhouse and bike together to his new property.

Trixie wanted to get home quickly to ask her parents about Miss Henley and left before any of the others. She found her parents sitting at the kitchen table and launched straight into the discussion.

“Moms, Dad did you know a Miss Henley who lived near here?” Trixie chose an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite, sat next to her mother.

Her parents smiled indulgently. They were used to Trixie’s entrances.

“Yes, there was a Miss Henley who lived on the other side of the Manor House when you were very little. She was quite frail, though, so we didn’t see her often,” her father replied.

“Why do you ask, Trixie?” her mother asked.

“She’s the one who left her house to Jim,” Trixie answered. She had told her parents Jim’s news earlier. “We’re going there tomorrow at ten for a picnic and to look around. I told Jim that I’d ask you if you knew her.”

“Very little,” Trixie’s mother replied, thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, she did often visit the Fraynes. Mr. Frayne would pick her up in the car. I remember thinking at the time how sad it was that she couldn’t visit him once Mrs. Frayne died because, of course, he never drove again and Miss Henley couldn’t walk that far. She moved to the nursing home fairly soon after that.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Trixie asked hopefully.

Neither parent spoke for a moment, and they shared a look which Trixie couldn’t fathom.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s nothing much,” Trixie’s mother said slowly, “but I think you should be careful when you go over there.”

Trixie felt like she was going to burst with the suspense when her mother stopped there.

“Why?” Trixie prompted when her mother didn’t continue.

“There was an accident there once,” her father said, taking up the story, “a man was badly injured not long after Miss Henley left. He fell into a deep hole and was only saved by his belt being caught on something as he fell. It took them days to find him, since there was no one living in the house at the time and no reason to suspect he would be on the property.”

Trixie sensed that there was more to be told. “Why did they even look there at all?” she asked.

Once more, her parents’ eyes met and she felt a swell of frustration at their apparent lack of trust in her. It must have shown in her face as her mother quickly continued.

“He was an escaped criminal, a murderer. The authorities thought he might want to harm Mr. Frayne, as they were somehow connected. The police warned us to leave so we stayed in town while the manhunt was on. Mr. Frayne stayed, and so did most of the other families in the area.”

Trixie was full of questions but the one which suddenly came to the forefront was the one which most affected tomorrow’s picnic.

“Where was the hole?” she asked, as images of terrible accidents flicked through her mind.

Her parents looked taken-aback. Undoubtedly they expected a different question.

“I don’t know,” said her father, “though I think it might have been an old well so it could be quite close to the house.”

At that moment, Trixie’s older brothers Brian and Mart arrived home.

“Here she is!” exclaimed Mart angrily. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Trixie took a big bite of her apple to swallow the retort which was struggling to escape her lips. Brian simply laughed at his younger siblings.

“I told you she’d be here,” he said calmly. He turned to Trixie and asked “So what did you find out?”

“Only that Miss Henley knew Mr. and Mrs. Frayne and that after Miss Henley left an escaped murderer hid on her land and fell down a deep hole and hung by his belt for days,” Trixie let out in one breath.

“Sounds painful,” remarked Brian.

“Terribly painful, I believe,” added their father, “and very nearly fatal. Be careful over there tomorrow. I was just telling Trixie that I don’t know where the hole was, but that it might have been a well-shaft.”

“Which could be anywhere, not necessarily close to the house,” Brian added. “We’ll be careful, Dad. Thanks for the warning.”

At that the younger Beldens went upstairs to their respective rooms.

The next day dawned bright and clear. Trixie could hardly concentrate on her chores as her thoughts kept going back to Jim’s new house and the story her parents had told her about it. At a quarter to nine she couldn’t take it any longer.

“Moms, I’m going for a bike ride. I’ll be back after the picnic,” she called. She heard her mother’s reply as she went out the back door.

Once she was riding, her head cleared of thoughts and she simply enjoyed the sensation of freedom. Without really noticing where she was going, she soon found herself at the Wheeler’s lake. The water looked inviting as the day was becoming warm.

A swim is just what I need, she thought. She quickly changed in the boathouse, left her bike and other belongings well back from the water and dived in cleanly. The water was cool after her ride and she shivered slightly. She swam out into the lake to get herself warm.

Turning back towards the shore, she caught sight of Jim standing on the edge of the lake. He had evidently been watching her.

“How’s the water?” he called.

“Fine. Come on in,” she replied with a grin.

Trixie admired Jim’s muscular build as he waded and swam towards her, his arms moving strongly through the water. She ducked under in an attempt to clear her mind.

Jim slowed as he came close to Trixie and drifted to a stop. The water was deep and they both needed to tread water in order to talk.

“So, did your parents know her?” he asked.

“Slightly,” she responded, “and they knew that she often visited your great uncle and aunt. They didn’t seem to have any idea that they were related though.”

Jim nodded. He had expected as much. If Trixie’s parents had known of the connection they surely would have told him.

Trixie continued. “They did tell me about something that happened after she left her house.” She related the story her parents had told her, trying hard to be accurate and not to exaggerate.

Jim looked stunned. “And you didn’t know this had happened so close to your house?”

“Well, the way Moms was talking I was pretty small when it happened - about four or five, I think. And I do remember staying in town that time, I just didn’t know why. They didn’t seem to want to tell me about it either. Besides, I didn’t even know there was a house there.”

Trixie puffed a little and continued, “Lets swim back towards shore. This is tiring.”

When they had reached the shallows Trixie outlined her plans for getting further information. “I’m planning on going to the library tomorrow to check the newspaper files. After that, maybe we could talk to some of the other people who lived around here then. Someone must know more about him.”

“Him?” questioned Jim.

“The escaped murderer, of course. We know he had some connection to your great uncle and aunt, and I intend to find out what it was,” Trixie stated determinedly.

“Well, don’t expect too much. It’s probably something trivial,” Jim answered. “I’m going to get changed and head over to the clubhouse, unless you’d like to change first.”

Trixie let him go. She lay back at the edge of the lake, resting her head on a smooth stone and watched the trees sway in the breeze. She just knew that there was something more to be found out.

Jim called out to tell her the boathouse was free. After she had changed she found Jim outside waiting for her and they went to the clubhouse together.

Diana, Honey and Dan were already there waiting for them and Trixie filled them in on what she had learned. They were soon joined by Brian and Mart.

“Let’s get moving, gang.” said Jim, as soon as everyone was there. “I’ll lead the way and we’ll meet at the front gate.”

The short ride was uneventful and the seven were soon gathered at the entrance to Jim’s new property. Large trees overshadowed the drive, its wooden gates hanging slackly on their hinges. Long grass and untidy bushes had grown up outside, as well, effectively hiding the entrance from view. The whole place seemed overgrown and there were no buildings in sight.

Jim carefully unlatched the gate and tried to open it. Drifts of fallen leaves had gathered behind the gate so that its bottom scraped on the ground and it shuddered to a halt.

“Try the other side,” Dan suggested, while peering over his shoulder. “It looks clearer.”

Jim raised the bolt and the gate swung open freely. He led the way up the drive, pushing his bike.

Trixie felt a thrill as she entered through the gateway. Off to one side she saw a post with what must have once been a white box on top.

“Wait!” she cried, “Is that the letterbox, Jim?”

“It looks like it.” he replied, pushing through the undergrowth towards it.

Brian held Jim’s bike as he looked at the box.

“I think it has the name of the place on it. It definitely doesn’t say ‘Henley’,” he said, rubbing the inscription with his hand. “It says ‘Rose Cottage’.” Jim looked pleased.

They continued up the hill, following the drive. Even after eleven years it was still clearly marked. The land on either side of the drive was almost as wild as parts of the Wheelers’ game preserve. There was still no sign of any kind of building and the drive continued to curve away up the hill.

After one final curve the drive split in two. Straight ahead was a clump of untidy shrubs, behind which rose what appeared to be a chimney.

“Left or right?” asked Brian, who had arrived first.

“I don’t think it matters,” said Jim, “I think this might be a turnaround.”

“In that case, four of us can go one way and three the other and we’ll meet at the other side,” Mart suggested. He, Diana and Dan turned to the right. The others turned to the left and in two minutes the idea was proved correct.

The group stood in front of a charming old house, its windows shuttered against the elements. It looked to be sturdily constructed of pale brown bricks and had three dormer windows peeking out of its steep roof. Aside from its overgrown grounds and closed shutters, the house looked like someone could have left it yesterday rather than eleven years ago.

In confirmation of the name on the letterbox, ‘Rose Cottage’ was painted on a faded sign next to the front door. Trixie realised that the prickly plant growing wild over part of the house must be a climbing rose. There wasn’t a flower in sight.

“It’s beautiful, Jim,” exclaimed Diana. “I’d love to live in a house like this.”

“A little prickly for my taste,” remarked Mart as he tried to get a little closer. The climbing rose had completely cut off the house from the drive. “We saw a path leading towards the back of the house. Maybe we should try that.”

Assuming that the others agreed, Mart set off in the direction from which he had arrived. The path he followed was overgrown but far enough from the house to be free from the thorny branches. Soon the whole group was assembled at the back door to the cottage.

The building was rather more run down than it had seemed from the front. Paint peeled from the windowsills and cobwebs clung to the eaves. Water marks marred the brickwork under the roof to the wide back porch.

“Shall we make this our base?” asked Jim. The others nodded and began to prop their bicycles.

“I have some cookies,” Honey offered, shyly. “Would anyone like one before we continue?”

“Oh, exquisite, seraphic Honey, your pulchritude is only exceeded by your altruism,” exclaimed Mart, dropping to his knees at her feet. Trixie rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. After all, she wanted a cookie too.

Dan produced one of the bottles of cola they had brought and soon everyone felt refreshed. As the snack was finished, Trixie began to throw curious glances at the closed door.

“Well, this is the moment of truth,” murmured Jim, taking her hint. He walked across the stone floor of the porch, the edge of which they had been sitting on, and inserted a key into the lock. He tried the next key, and the next until the second last key on the ring turned the lock.

Jim held his breath and tried to open the door. It gave the most almighty creak, making Honey and Diana jump in fright.

“I’ll bring some oil next time,” said Jim, with a smile.

Inside, the house was dark and dusty. The stone floor of the porch continued across what must have been the kitchen. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom they could make out a large country-style kitchen table and wide benches. An old-fashioned stove was set into the old kitchen fireplace.

The house smelled musty and as a gust of wind blew in through the open doorway the dust filled the air.

“I think we might open some windows before we explore the house,” Jim decided ruefully. “I’ll open something on the other side to get some cross ventilation.”

Brian and Mart started on the kitchen windows while the others moved back outside.

Trixie felt disappointed. The house was the most interesting thing they’d come across so far and to think they would have to wait for the air to circulate tore at her. She sank down onto the edge of the porch.

Jim re-emerged from the house with smears of dust on his face and clothes.

“I think we might split up into groups now,” he said, “so that some of us stay here and some can look around the rest of the place. I’ll be staying here.”

“Good thinking, Jim,” said Honey, smiling sweetly, “How about if Brian, Dan and I continue along this path, Mart and Di take the other one over there near that tree and Trixie can keep you company.”

“Agreed,” said Dan and Mart together. “Let’s move, gang,” added Dan.

Suddenly, Trixie found herself alone with Jim. She felt rather annoyed with Honey for pushing her into this situation. Jim looked faintly embarrassed.

“I don’t think it will be long before the air clears,” explained Jim, “which is why I decided to stay. I’d like to see the house before anyone else does.”

“What do you think you’ll do with it?” Trixie asked.

“Now that I’ve seen it, I think I might live here someday. When I first found out where it was I thought I might just sell the land to Dad and let it become part of the preserve, but there’s something about it that makes me think this might make a nice home.”

Trixie didn’t know what to say to that so she said nothing. Why am I so tongue-tied when we’re alone? she wondered. After a pause, Jim spoke again.

“I think I’ll check inside and see how it’s going.”

Trixie’s mood dropped as he hurried away. Great, she thought, now he’s escaping from me. She heard his voice from inside the house.

“Come on in. It seems fine now.”

She slowly rose and walked into the house. The air was certainly cleaner now, though it still had a musty smell. She stopped in the kitchen to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. It was then that she realised that the kitchen was at a slightly lower level than the rest of the house. The room beyond the kitchen doorway was bathed in shadows but in the light from the open doorway behind her she could make out a dining setting with eight chairs, each covered in a cloth.

Stepping up into the room she noticed what must be a wooden sideboard of modest proportions, also covered in a cloth. The room was otherwise empty. Jim must have gone beyond to the next room.

The doorway opened into the living room. Its old-fashioned setting was covered in dust cloths like the dining room furniture, but still cosily arranged around the fireplace. At one side was a staircase to the upper level and another doorway. On the opposite side was the front door. Jim was nowhere in sight.

Trixie looked out the front door onto its porch. It was empty. She walked back towards the stairs and checked the doorway next to them. To her surprise she found herself looking back into the kitchen.

How could I have missed seeing this, she asked herself.

On taking a second look she realised that she could not have seen this doorway from where she had stood as it was hidden by the ancient refrigerator and she had not been sufficiently interested in the kitchen to explore it properly.

She turned towards the stairs, and wondered if Jim had already ascended.

“Jim?” she called.

“Upstairs,” came the reply faintly.

She started up the stairs, pausing part way to get another view of the room she was leaving. It reminded her strongly of Crabapple Farm, cosy and lived in despite the dust covers on all of the furniture.

At the top of the stairs there was a landing with four doorways, two on each side. One of the doors was ajar but she decided to take a peek into the other rooms first, as she passed them.

The first doorway on the right opened onto what must be the master bedroom. The room was furnished with an old fashioned bedroom suite: matching bed, wardrobe, dressing table and commode. Like the rest of the house it appeared to have been carefully prepared for its owner’s absence.

The first doorway on the left opened onto the tiny bathroom. Trixie closed the door and moved on.

The second doorway on the right opened onto another bedroom, this one empty save for some boxes. Trixie deduced that Jim must be in the last room.

Trixie gently pushed open the last door, uncertain what she might find. What she did see shocked her to her core.

Jim sat on the floor among piles of boxes and furniture, tears streaming down his face. He had a large, flat object held tight to his chest.

“Jim!” Trixie cried, “Are you all right? What’s wrong? Speak to me, Jim!”

Jim simply handed the object to Trixie. She saw, by the light of Jim’s flashlight, that it was a framed photograph of a beautiful young woman with a little red-haired boy in her lap. By the style of the clothes Trixie could tell that the photograph was more than ten years old.

“Your mother?” she asked. Jim nodded, as tears continued to fall.

Trixie gently set the frame down and put her arms around him. He began to sob and Trixie held him until minutes later he was calm.

“All of these things belonged to my parents,” he began, breaking the silence that followed. “I suppose they must have asked to store them here when they sold the farm. After all, Miss Henley must have known my father if she left everything to him.”

“There are a lot of things here,” Trixie added, looking around her. “This room is packed.”

“And it means more to me than you can imagine. I thought all of these things were lost to me. I never had pictures of my parents to show you. There’s one of my father too.” He handed her another framed photograph and Trixie was struck by the resemblance between the man pictured and the young man in front of her.

She was drawn from her thoughts by sounds from downstairs.

“Trixie? Jim?” she heard Di call.

“I’ll go down and talk to them,” she told him. “Coming!” she added in a loud voice.

As she raced back towards the stairs she noticed another door, set flat in the wall. Must be a closet, she thought. She wanted to give Jim some time alone before having to face the others so she decided to check it out later.

She found Di just inside the kitchen door, her face strangely white.

“We found the hole,” Di said simply.

A chill stole over Trixie.

“Where’s Mart?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“I’m here,” she heard Mart grunt, “and I’m not moving.”

Trixie rushed out of the back door to find Mart lying flat on his back on the porch. In an instant, she was down on her knees, mindless of the rough, stony surface. Her face filled with concern, she leaned over him. No matter how much they teased each other, they really did care for each other.

“What are you doing down here, Mart?” Trixie asked, anxiously. “Are you hurt?”

“No, but it was a close thing. And I’m not moving.”

“We were walking along that path,” Di began, pointing to the path Honey had chosen for them, “when we came across some ruins. We were just looking around when I heard Mart call out. The next thing I know, he’s hanging over the edge of a hole.”

“Needless to say, I got out and after I’d had a little time to recover we came back here,” Mart finished.

Before Trixie could reply, the other three Bob-Whites appeared and Honey called a greeting.

“Is it lunch time?” she asked, then, “Why are you lying on the ground Mart?”

Mart groaned and Trixie told the others she would get Jim.

She passed through the kitchen, into the living room and up the stairs. There was enough time for a quick look in the upstairs cupboard she had seen before fetching Jim.

Trixie expected to see shelves, perhaps empty, but reality was quite different. A narrow staircase, so steep it was practically a ladder, stretched upwards and out of sight between the bathroom and the room where she had last seen Jim. Trixie closed the door and stepped into the adjoining bedroom.

“The others have come back for lunch,” she told him. “Are you ready to come down?”

“Yes, I think so,” he replied.

“Did you notice the door which looks like a closet?” she asked. He shook his head and she continued, “I think it leads to an attic.”

They left the room together and she showed him the staircase she had just discovered.

“We’ll look up there later,” he muttered, closing the door and heading for the stairs. Trixie thought he seemed a little dazed.

The others were talking excitedly as Trixie and Jim arrived at the meeting place and they didn’t seem to notice anything different about Jim.

“So, what did everyone discover?” asked Jim, as he helped himself to the food which had been set out.

Mart groaned as he realised he would have to recount his tale once more.

“Mart found the hole,” piped up Di.

“And Brian found the barn,” added Honey.

“And Dan found the chicken coop,” Brian added. They all laughed.

“Why don’t you go first,” Mart said to Brian, “since Trixie hasn’t heard your story either.”

“Well,” began Brian, “that path leads to the farm buildings: a big old barn, a chicken coop and what we think might have originally been stables. Before you get to them though, there are two walled sections which we think were the kitchen gardens and the orchard.”

“We found the ruins of some older buildings,” Diana continued, “and the hole that Mr. Belden was talking about. Mart almost fell in,” she added to Jim.

“Did you find anything interesting in the house?” Honey asked.

Trixie looked to Jim, indicating that he should tell of his discovery.

“I found some articles that my parents must have stored here when they sold the farm.”

“Oh, Jim, that’s wonderful,” Honey exclaimed. “Are those some of the things? May I see?”

Jim handed her the two photographs he had earlier shown Trixie. The others crowded around her to see.

“She’s lovely, Jim,” Honey said softly, “and you’re very like your father.”

Jim smiled sadly. “What are the plans for after lunch?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Why don’t we have a look around the house and then check out the other buildings together before we leave?” Diana suggested. “That way we can lock up the house as soon as we’re finished.”

“Good idea, Di,” Jim said.

As everyone had finished eating the group cleared everything away.

“Lead the way, Jim,” said Brian when everyone was ready.

Jim guided the group around the house, beginning with the downstairs rooms then proceeding upstairs. When they reached the doorway which led to the attic he paused.

“I haven’t been in here yet, so I’d prefer if the rest of you waited until I have a look.”

Jim disappeared up the narrow staircase, flashlight in hand. Trixie could hardly contain the urge to follow and see what was up there. After what seemed to Trixie like an eternity, Jim returned, even dustier than before.

“Well, there’s certainly not room for all of us up there, but if you want to look you can go up one at a time.”

“What’s up there, Jim?” Honey asked, not keen on the idea.

“It’s the attic,” Jim turned to Trixie, “like you guessed. It’s absolutely full of old furniture and boxes.”

Through sheer exuberance, Trixie contrived to be the first to take a look. On reaching the top of the stairs she found herself in a tiny room with a low, slanting roof and only just enough space for her to stand. As Jim had mentioned, the room was full, almost to overflowing.

This has got to be the tiniest attic I’ve ever seen, she thought. I wonder if there are any windows.

She turned off the flashlight and found herself in near-absolute darkness. Either there were no windows or they were completely blocked.

Turning the flashlight on again, she turned to leave but as she did so the light fell on a pile of small cloth-bound books. Opening the first, she realised that they were journals. The one she held began in December 1921 and finished in March 1927. There were ten books in all. Trixie gathered them up and quickly went back down the stairs.

“Jim, I found some diaries. Can we read them?” she asked as she arrived at the bottom of the stairs with a bump. She handed the flashlight to Mart who muttered something about it being about time.

“If you want to,” Jim replied.

Trixie smiled her thanks and wandered off to examine her finds. Her best friend had other ideas, however, and pulled her aside to talk.

“Diana and I are thinking of having a sleep-over at my house tonight,” Honey told her. “Do you think you can come?”

“I’ll have to ask Moms,” Trixie replied, “but I’m sure it’ll be okay. Maybe we can take a look at these.”

Honey took one of the small, dusty books and opened it randomly. “If you like,” she conceded, though dubiously. “Di and I were thinking we could talk about . . .” She smiled, as she glanced over to the male members of their club.

Trixie rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the diaries.

By the time that everyone had been up to the attic who wanted to go, it was a lot later than the group had intended to stay. On the way out, however, Diana spotted another door leading out of the kitchen.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It must be the laundry,” replied Honey, “I haven’t seen one anywhere else.”

Honey was right. The small room was almost empty but was unmistakably intended for cleaning clothes. In one corner was a wooden panel set flat in the floor.

“Help me open it, Dan,” Jim asked.

Together they lifted the rings set into the large panel and opened the hatch. By the light of Jim’s flashlight they could see a small cellar, completely empty save for some built-in shelves.

“We’ll leave it open to air, I think,” said Jim, “and explore it next time.”

Jim securely locked the house and the group made preparations to leave.

“Shall we meet here again tomorrow?” asked Mart.

“I have some other things to do,” Trixie put in quickly.

“How about the next day, then?” suggested Jim.

As all agreed, they made arrangements to meet again on Tuesday.

Trixie could hardly wait to get home. Once the group was outside of Rose Cottage’s gates she raced along Glen Road and up the Belden driveway. She quickly stowed her bicycle and was in the back door before her brothers had turned into the drive.

“Moms, Honey’s invited me to stay at Manor House tonight. May I?” she asked without even saying hello.

Helen Belden smiled and considered.

“Yes, that will be fine Trixie,” she responded, “but first can you help me get dinner ready?”

“Yes, Moms, I’ll just clean up first,” Trixie replied. She knew her mother would not appreciate the dirt and dust in her clean kitchen. “I need to let Honey know too.”

After dinner, Trixie gathered a few items together and set off for Manor House. She was looking forward to the sleep-over with Honey and Di, as it had been several weeks since the three of them had been alone together.

Miss Trask greeted Trixie at the door and told her that the other girls were already upstairs. Trixie bounded up the stairs to Honey’s room.

Trixie dumped her belongings in a messy heap and sat herself next to the other girls. The radio played softly in the background and Trixie recognised the Bangles singing ‘Walk Like An Egyptian’.

“What’s in that bag?” Honey asked once the girls had greeted each other.

“The diaries I found in the attic,” Trixie replied, “I thought we might like to look at them.”

Pushing the plastic aside with one lavender-polished fingernail, Diana picked up a small volume and opened it.

“What do you think we’ll find in them?” she asked, screwing up her nose.

Trixie considered for a moment. “Maybe something to do with Jim’s parents,” she said slowly, “or at least his great uncle and aunt.”

“This one’s too early for his parents,” Diana noted, putting it down. She selected one from the bottom of the pile. “Nineteen sixty-two. I’ll try this one.”

Honey selected one from 1968 and Trixie found one from 1973. The three girls started to read. Honey was the first to find anything of interest.

“Listen to this,” she said, “ ‘September 16, 1968. Visited Nell and James today. Their nephew Win and his wife Katie were there also. No children so far, but they have only been married a short time.’”

The girls read on in silence. Diana spoke next.

“ ‘February 15, 1963. Went to Nell and James’ Valentines party last night. Sat with James’ brother Thomas, his wife Ruth and their sons Win and Harlan at dinner.’ Do you suppose that might be Jim’s father?”

“It must be,” said Trixie, “but I didn’t know he had an uncle. Let’s go ask him.”

“No, I’ll get him,” said Honey, matching action to words before either of the others could object.

Minutes later, Jim was reading the passage for himself.

“I’ve never heard of someone called Harlan, but I know that Dad’s parents were Thomas and Ruth, although I don’t remember them. Maybe Miss Henley was mistaken.”

“Maybe he died,” Trixie speculated, “or your father fought with him and they never spoke again, or-”

Jim laughed. “Maybe you should talk about something else, Trixie. I’ll see you all in the morning.”

At that, he left the room and the girls were once again alone.

“All this reading is making me sleepy,” said Diana, with a yawn. “Lets play a game until bedtime.”

“I know just the thing,” said Honey enthusiastically. “I’ll just go down to the kitchen and get it.”

Trixie was reluctant to leave the diaries just as things were getting interesting but decided to go along with the idea to avoid disappointing her friends. A few minutes later Honey returned with a cardboard box.

“I heard about this a few months ago,” she explained, while clearing an area to set everything up. “I’ve been meaning to try it out for ages so I washed it all up ready, just in case.”

Out of the box came an odd variety of objects. Trixie recognised some of them as belonging to the game KerPlunk which she had often played with Bobby. Honey quickly set up the familiar cylinder on its revolving base and inserted the sticks but, instead of marbles, she filled it with Malt Balls.

“I’ve had them in the refrigerator to make them really hard,” she added.

“How does this work?” asked Di, intrigued. “I thought the idea was to let the fewest marbles drop at your turn.”

“It does mess with the rules a little,” Honey admitted. “After all, you can’t have any of the Malt Balls until some drop into your section and you can get a better score by eating some of them but I think it will be fun.”

The game was soon underway amidst a chorus of giggles. They soon discovered that Honey was right in her assessment and the correct rules were quickly forgotten.

“So, how are things going with you and Brian?” Di asked Honey, then popped a chocolate into her mouth. She raised an enquiring eyebrow, while beside her Trixie whistled and pretended not to listen.

Honey shrugged an elegant shoulder and pulled out a stick. “Same as always,” she sighed. To her disappointment, the Malt Balls all remained in the cylinder. “How about you and Mart? I thought I saw the two of you talking this afternoon. You looked . . . close.”

The other girl considered, a slow smile spreading across her face. “He’s interested,” she mused, “but nothing has happened quite yet.”

“Brothers,” Trixie muttered, pulling out a stick with great force and stuffing her cheeks with two of the three balls which fell. “I don’ know why you’re even interested in them. Both of them are dorks.”

“Brian is very handsome,” Honey contradicted, with a sly smile at Di, “and Mart is cute, too. Besides, you are interested in my brother, and you don’ hear me complaining about it.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Trixie accused, a blush heating her cheeks. “And who says I’m interested in your brother?”

The other two burst into a round of giggles, before Honey tactfully changed the subject so that the game could continue. When each had eaten more of the chocolate treats than they should have, the three girls got ready for bed. Soon both Honey and Diana were asleep, but Trixie couldn’t keep the events of the day out of her mind.

Maybe if I read something I’ll go to sleep, she thought.

She turned on a small lamp and picked up the diary she had been reading. It took her a little while to find her place. When she had found it, she discovered that the next entry was considerably longer than any of the others. Intrigued, she read:

‘June 27, 1974. A terrible tragedy occurred last night. James Frayne’s brother Thomas and his wife Ruth were killed and it seems that their own son was responsible. Their younger son, Win went to see them this morning with his wife and young son. He found Harlan cleaning blood out of the carpet, with the bodies of their parents nearby, wrapped in tarpaulins. The house was in a terrible mess.

‘The two of them fought bitterly and if a neighbour had not been close by to help I don’t know what would have happened. Harlan has been arrested.

‘I spent the day today at James and Nell’s, trying to comfort them in their loss. The police came and interviewed each of us and said they may call again. I didn’t know what to say to them.

‘I had no idea he was capable of such a thing. Of course, I knew he was troubled. The months he spent living with me showed me that quite clearly. I almost wish he had killed me instead. There would be far fewer to mourn my passing.

‘I promised Nell that I would not tell any of the neighbours that this has happened, or confirm that they are related if the names get into the papers. We both feel bad about letting someone like that live here, especially when there are so many children about.’

Trixie stared at the page in front of her, thinking about what she should do. Her first impulse was to tell Jim immediately. A glance at the clock confirmed her suspicion that he was probably asleep as it was well after midnight.

I’ll have to wait until morning, she thought, but I certainly can’t sleep now so I might as well keep reading.

The next few pages contained scant information but before long another important entry appeared:

‘July 18, 1974. Last evening a copperhead snake bit Nell and they couldn’t save her.’

Soon after, there was another:

‘August 23, 1974. I have made a new will. I have left everything to Win Frayne and his family since they are the closest thing to relatives that I have. I don’t think that James will last long now without Nell and he doesn’t need my belongings anyway.’

Trixie read for a few more pages, but by now she was feeling quite sleepy. She turned off the light and went to sleep.

When next she opened her eyes sunlight was streaming in the window. The other girls were still asleep and there was still more than an hour until breakfast but Trixie was keen to get the day underway.

She quickly dressed, found the place in the diary and went to Jim’s door. She tapped lightly on the door, without even a thought for what she’d say when Jim opened the door.

Trixie heard a muffled and sleepy-sounding “Come in.”

She opened the door a little way and announced herself. “Jim, it’s me. Can we talk?”

“Is it important? I was asleep,” Jim said, grumpily. “Well, I’m awake now so you might as well. Come on in.”

Suddenly, Trixie felt shy. Jim was still in bed and she suddenly saw that it might not really be appropriate for her to visit his room so early in the morning. It seemed that it dawned on Jim as well, as he corrected himself.

“On second thought, we’ll meet downstairs. I’ll be there soon.”

Trixie left quickly. Soon she was joined by Jim and they went out onto the terrace together.

“I found something else in the diaries, after the others were asleep,” Trixie began. “I thought you should be the first to know about it.”

Jim took the diary from Trixie’s outstretched hand and opened it where Trixie had marked. His face paled as he read and, for the second time in as many days, Trixie found herself comforting him. After a time, he spoke.

“Trixie, if it’s all right, I’d like to go to the library with you today. I’d like to try and find some more about this.”

“Of course,” she replied. “I’ll do anything to help you with this, Jim. Anything.”

Before he could respond, the door swung open and Honey and Diana walked out onto the terrace.

“Here she is,” Di announced, in exasperation. “Trixie, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Jim, is everything okay?” asked Honey.

Jim handed her the open diary and the two girls read in stunned silence. Honey was the first to speak.

“Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Help me find out about this,” he replied. “I need to know what happened.”

Over breakfast, the four decided to go to the library together. Once there, Honey and Diana would concentrate on the accident at Rose Cottage and Jim and Trixie would find out about the murders. They also decided that they would not discuss either matter inside the library. Trixie had had too many run-ins already with Sleepyside’s rather overzealous librarian.

It was not long before the group found themselves in the newspaper file section of the library. The problem was, while Jim and Trixie had a date for their crime they didn’t know where it occurred. Honey and Diana knew where their incident had occurred but they didn’t know the date, or even the year.

The four worked carefully for several hours. Trixie went upstairs into the main section of the library to borrow a book before they left. At the end of the morning the four went to Wimpy’s to discuss their findings over burgers, fries and milkshakes, where Honey and Diana insisted that Jim and Trixie share their information first.

“We didn’t find out very much,” Trixie began, “just that the crime occurred in Rochester, that it was probably to do with gambling debts and that Harlan Frayne was sentenced to life in prison. Everything else we already knew.”

“We found out a little more than that,” Honey revealed, with shining eyes. “We found out that Harlan Frayne was the man who fell into the well.”

“It all fits, doesn’t it?” Trixie gasped, after a pause. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of that after we read Miss Henley’s account of the murder.”

“There’s more,” continued Diana, consulting her notes. “He escaped from an upstate prison on June 26, 1977 and was found in the hole on July 2. He was put in the hospital under guard and listed as ‘serious, but stable’. One of the articles mentioned that he had killed his parents to get money to pay his gambling debts.”

“And the way the accident was described to us sounded much nicer than what the newspaper said,” added Honey. “They said he was found about sixteen feet below the surface.”

“That does sound worse,” Jim said, grimacing.

“What are you going to do next?” Honey asked.

“I’m going to try to find him,” Jim replied. “He would be the closest family I have.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Honey asked, uncertainly.

Jim considered for a moment.

“No, but it’s what I feel I should do.”

Jim sounded so determined that the others left it at that.

The next morning Trixie set out early for Rose Cottage. The others weren’t due to arrive until eleven, but Trixie wanted some time alone to reflect and to read the book she had taken out from the library.

She settled on the back porch with the book resting against her raised knees and began to read. Some time later Trixie heard someone coming down the path towards the back of the house. She soon saw that it was Jim.

“You’re here early,” he said.

“I wanted some peace and quiet,” she replied with a smile. “It’s a little hard to come by at Crabapple Farm.”

Jim smiled. “What are you reading?” he asked.

Trixie showed him her book. “It’s about genealogy,” she said. “I thought it could help us get more information on your family.”

“It’s worth a try,” he replied. “I’ve been in touch with Mr. Rainsford and he’s agreed to find out about my uncle. In the meantime, though, I think I’ll concentrate my efforts on this property. I’m going to have a look at the barn. Do you want to come along?”

Trixie put her book down and stood up.

“I wasn’t getting very far anyway,” she admitted.

The pair walked along the path which Honey, Brian and Dan had taken two days previous. Not far from the house the path passed between two low brick walls.

“These must be the garden and orchard that Brian was talking about,” said Jim.

To the left, the garden was a mass of weeds with a few recognisable herbs and vegetables scattered amongst them. To the right were rows of ancient fruit trees, obviously unpruned for many years.

Shortly, they emerged from between the walls and caught sight of the outbuildings. An old-fashioned barn dominated the yard, with a chicken coop on its right-hand side. On the opposite side to the chicken coop was another building and between the two was a fenced area, using the walls of the two buildings as sides. Beyond the buildings the two could see glimpses of open fields.

“Let’s check the smaller building first,” said Jim.

He lifted the bar which held the door closed, opened it and the pair peered inside. The interior was dark and cluttered. It seemed that this building had been used as a sort of garage, with car parts and tools piled around the edges. Two car-shapes filled the main part of the room, each draped with cloth.

Jim stepped inside and lifted one of the cloths. A vintage car was revealed, in fairly good condition. He let the cloth drop.

Trixie carefully moved through the narrow walkway which led towards the back.

“It was a stable,” she called to Jim. “There are horse stalls back here, and this looks like the tack room.”

Apart from the dust, the tack room looked as if there were still horses in the stalls. It seemed to have been closed up and never touched again after the last horse was gone.

“One day, if I ever live here, I’d like to turn this back into a stable,” Jim decided.

After a few minutes the two moved on to the barn.

“It looks like Miss Henley started in here once the attic was full,” remarked Trixie once the door was open.

The inside of the barn was a mess. Old farm equipment was mixed up with furniture and boxes. In one corner there was a pile of what might have been animal feed, now dried out and useless.

“Do you think Miss Henley hoarded all this or did her house and other buildings come pre-filled?” asked Trixie, peering at a strange, black object and trying to discern its identity.

“I suppose she might have inherited the house,” said Jim, considering. “It seems unlikely that she could have bought all of the things we’ve seen in the house, the stable and here.”

“I wonder how we could find out?” Trixie mused.

“No time to think about it now,” said Jim, looking at his watch. “We’re supposed to meet the others in three minutes.”

When they reached the back porch of the house, all of the others were already there.

“And where have you two been?” asked Di, with a smile.

Trixie felt her face turning red. Jim conveniently ignored the question.

“Well, let’s get started,” he said. “Shall we have a look around the grounds first?”

He led the way back in the direction he and Trixie had come from, filling the others in on what they had discovered on the way. Once they had looked around the barn yard the group decided to take one of the trails leading out of it to see where it went.

After several minutes walk they found themselves near the spot where Mart had almost fallen in the well. The ruins of a few small stone buildings stood in a rough semicircle. None had a roof and some sizable trees grew up through the earthen floors.

“That’s where Mart fell,” said Diana, pointing.

A little way from the buildings was a gaping hole, one side brushed clear of leaves. What appeared to be broken boards stuck out from the sides, holding the leaf litter suspended over space.

“I’d hate for anyone else to fall down there,” Jim commented, with a shiver. “I’ll have to get someone to see about covering it.”

“This is a sad place,” mused Honey, looking at the ruins. “Let’s move on.”

They walked back towards the cottage in silence, the mood of that scene having dampened their spirits.

“Who’s for lunch?” asked Mart as soon as the cottage was in sight.

“Mart!” cried Honey and Di together. Di continued, “Don’t you ever think of anything but food?”

“Should I?” asked Mart.

“Quit fooling around, then, and get it ready,” said Trixie.

“Foiled again,” sighed Mart.

He did, however, start preparing the lunch. Soon, everyone was satisfied and their thoughts turned again to exploring.

“Shall we check out the cellar next?” asked Dan.

As this idea met with general approval, they tidied up the lunch things and the whole group went into the house. A few minutes search, however, confirmed that the cellar was completely empty.

“It’s funny,” said Trixie, “how some parts of this place are so full they could burst and others are strangely empty.”

“Next, Trixie will solve ‘The Conundrum of the Senescent Denizen’s Domiciliary Observances’,” kidded Mart, making the others groan loudly.

“On a more serious note,” said Jim, “does anyone have any ideas what I can do with this place. I don’t want it to sit empty for years while I’m at college.”

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable to talk about it,” suggested Honey. “If we go out through the front door we could sit on the front porch.”

The front porch turned out to be much smaller than the back one, and the climbing rose had impinged on its space considerably, so there was only just enough room for the seven young people.

“I’ll write down the ideas if you’d like,” Honey told Jim, who accepted gratefully. She took up a pen and paper, waiting for the first idea to be voiced.

“You could rent it out,” Brian suggested, after a pause.

“Or you could live in it during breaks,” said Mart. “Just think of the freedom you’ have!”

“Just think of the responsibility,” Brian contradicted, with a meaningful glance at his sister. Jim pretended not to notice, though his face reddened.

“How about we use it as a Bob-White house, like the clubhouse only bigger,” suggested Dan. “We could hold some great parties here.”

“Tom and Celia might like to live in it,” suggested Honey. They had recently announced that their first child was on the way and kind-hearted Honey thought that Celia might prefer to live in a house to a trailer once the baby was born.

“I agree with Honey,” said Di. “Why don’t you offer Tom and Celia the chance to house-sit for you. They would have somewhere to live which is close to their work and you would have someone to take care of the house. Everyone wins.”

“It does sound like a winner, but there’s a lot of work to be done first. Is everyone willing to help with it?” asked Jim.

“This sounds like our next project,” Trixie pronounced, before anyone else could speak. “You can count me in.”

The others agreed. Jim would offer the place to Celia and Tom that evening and arrange to show them the place as soon as possible. Once they had an answer they would start work on making the place livable.

Before the group left that afternoon, Trixie asked Jim for some information on his family.

“From what I’ve read so far,” she said, “the first thing you need to do when you trace your family tree is write down everything you already know.”

“There’s not much,” he replied, “but I’ll think about it and let you know. I would appreciate it if you would research it for me.”

“I’d be happy to,” she responded.

The next few weeks were very busy. Tom and Celia gratefully accepted the opportunity to house-sit and the Bob-Whites suddenly had a lot of work to do. Trixie’s evenings were filled with reading and researching to try to find out more about Jim’s relatives while her days were taken up with working at the cottage and doing her chores at home.

The Bob-Whites met at Rose Cottage to decide how to proceed.

“I think,” began Jim, when all had arrived, “that it might be easiest if we divide into teams. Each team will have one area to work on and will make a list of what needs to be done. Once we all have our lists we’ll meet back to talk about how to get it done.”

“How about if we have three teams of two,” suggested Honey, “who all report back to you? There could be one team for the house, one for the gardens and one for repairs.”

This suggestion met with general agreement and soon it was decided that the first team would be Trixie and Honey, the second Mart and Diana and the third Brian and Dan.

The three teams set to work, with Jim establishing himself at the newly-cleaned kitchen table to list all of the professionals he would need to bring in.

“I’ll be here when you’ve finished your lists,” he told the others.

Mart and Diana finished their list first, and helped Jim get the food ready for lunch. They were soon joined by Trixie and Honey.

“I think we gave Dan and Brian the biggest job,” commented Honey half an hour later. “Oh, here they are now.”

The seven soon demolished the piles of sandwiches, cold chicken and salad which had been set out, but had plenty of room left when Honey brought out some cake.

“Now, pass the lists around so that everyone can read them,” directed Jim between bites of delicious cake. “Then we’ll decide what’s most important.”

“Are you going to get the old well professionally sealed?” asked Brian.

“Yes,” said Jim, “and I’ll be getting a plumber, an electrician and someone to clean the chimney, as well. We need to concentrate on the things we can do ourselves - minor repairs, cleaning, painting and so forth.”

“In that case, why don’t we stay in the same teams and work on the things we can do first. Dan and I will be finished with the repairs fairly quickly so we can help someone else then,” Brian suggested.

“And if we need extra help, each team can find someone who knows about what they’re doing,” added Honey.

Once this was agreed, each team wrote a work plan and gave a copy of it to Jim.

“These look great,” he said, after reading them. “Let me know what materials you need to buy and I’ll pick them up.”

The group soon scattered, gathering the things they needed from far and wide. Only Jim, Trixie and Honey stayed behind. Jim had decided to take some items back to the Manor House and he was sorting and loading them into the station wagon. Trixie and Honey had decided to begin their tasks by going through the house carefully and listing in detail what needed to be done.

By late afternoon, the girls had checked all of the ground floor and bedrooms and Jim had taken three loads back to the Manor House.

“Would you like a lift back?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” sighed Honey. “I’m utterly exhausted.”

“There won’t be as much work as we thought, though,” said Trixie. “Miss Henley sealed her boxes really well, so we think everything inside will still be quite clean, and she listed the contents on the top so we didn’t have to open them.”

“All the cupboards are empty,” added Honey. “We can get the exterminator in right after everything’s repainted.”

“We’re not sure what to do about the attic, though,” continued Trixie. “What do you think, Jim? Should we leave it, or clean it out?”

Jim considered for a moment. “I think it should be cleaned out, but I don’t know what to do with the things up there,” he said with a smile. “When were you going back? I’ll come and help.”

“First thing in the morning,” Trixie said. Honey groaned.

“I’ll pick you up,” Jim offered, as they pulled up at Crabapple Farm. “Let’s say around nine-thirty. I’ve got a couple of things to do before we go.”

Things did not go as planned, however. Each of the other pairs had made plans which conflicted with this and Jim wasn’t available until much later in the day.

By the time that Jim arrived, Trixie and Honey had carried numerous articles down from the attic to the floor below and had sorted them for Jim to view.

“You should see what’s happening outside,” he commented, “it’s like a circus out there. But first, what have you found?”

“Well,” began Honey, “we’ve discovered that Miss Henley was certainly methodical. Everything up there is packed just as carefully as the boxes down here.”

“And there doesn’t seem to be any old junk, like you’d ordinarily find in an attic. It’s all ordinary household goods,” continued Trixie.

Jim read some of the labels. “There seems to be everything here,” he said, surprised. “Tablecloths, cutlery, ornaments, kitchenware.”

“And there’s still more upstairs. We only carried enough down that we could see the rest,” added Trixie.

“I’ll speak to Celia about what she will want to use,” said Jim. “We’ll clean up the attic and then put everything she doesn’t want back.”

“I’m going downstairs,” said Honey. “I thought I was tired yesterday, but now I feel worse.”

“Me too,” added Trixie. “I hope there’s something good to eat. I thought I could smell hamburgers just before.”

On arriving at the back porch, Trixie found that in fact there were hamburgers being cooked. Mart had found a wood-fired barbecue and had cleared it off to cook on. His mother had supplied hamburger patties from the freezer and Jim had picked up bread rolls while he was out buying materials.

“Come and see what we found,” called Diana, excitedly. “You’ll never guess.”

The other two girls followed her around to the front of the house and along the drive a short way. Diana parted the bushes which seemed to fill the middle circle of the turn-around and Trixie and Honey gasped at what they saw.

“Mart thought your mother could give us advice on the garden, Trixie,” Diana explained, “and the instant she saw these bushes she knew it was an old hedge. She said we’d probably find a rose garden in the middle, so we found a space and here it is.”

The roses were tall and spindly from years of neglect, but many of them were in full bloom. They were so interspersed with weeds, however, that it was hard to imagine how anyone would ever be able to make the garden presentable again.

“The hedge is probably beyond help, but the roses look pretty good,” continued Diana. “We’ll be starting work here tomorrow.”

“What are you doing after lunch?” asked Trixie, hoping for some help with the house.

“Measuring up the rest of the beds, then starting on the planting diagrams,” replied Di. “I need to have them finished tonight to show Jim so we can start early tomorrow before it gets too hot.”

Lunch was delicious, and everyone was glad that Mart had discovered the barbecue. They all went back to work in their separate areas, and soon the day was gone. On the way out, Trixie and Honey stopped to admire Brian and Dan’s handiwork. The gates now swung freely and the area around the letterbox was cleared.

At the end of the next day, the group gathered on the back porch to report their progress.

“Dan and I have repaired the gates and the letterbox,” Brian began, “and cleared right along the front fence. Next, we’ll be putting up a hitching post and setting up a water trough so we can bring horses over here.”

“I don’t want to get Regan mad at us just because we’re spending a lot of time here. And Dad is getting some men out to clear the old path from here to the Manor House,” Jim explained to the others. “Also, I’ve arranged for someone to seal the old well. He’ll be here next week.”

“Mart and I have started on the gardens,” Di reported. “We’re working at the moment on the rose garden, then we’ll be moving on to the climbing rose at the front, then we’ll start around here.”

“Di has done some beautiful designs for the gardens,” said Jim, holding one up. “I’ve put them in this display book if anyone wants to see them.”

Everyone wanted to look at Diana’s designs. They all agreed that they were beautiful, as Jim had said, and she received many compliments.

“Honey and I have been cleaning out the house and sorting everything in it,” began Trixie. “We’ll be starting on the heavy cleaning next and then it will be time for Jim to make the decisions on how to redecorate.”

“Why don’t you two choose?” Jim asked. “After all, I’m sure you both know a lot more about decorating than I do.”

Trixie didn’t feel at all sure, but Honey readily agreed and the matter was settled.

“I think you all deserve a day off tomorrow,” said Jim. “How about you all take some time to relax, then meet tomorrow evening for a barbecue at the lake.”

“You’ll have to count me out,” said Brian. “Dad’s going out to see Uncle Andrew and I promised I’d go over some things with him before he goes away.”

“I’m out, too,” said Di. “It’s my sisters’ birthday. I’ll be pretty busy all day.”

The rest were available and it was agreed.

Trixie used her free day to catch up on her research. The work at Rose Cottage had been so strenuous that she could hardly keep her eyes open when she got home each evening and her other project had suffered because of it.

By lunch time she had a neatly-written chart of all of the relatives that Jim knew of, along with all of the information she had on each of them. Her book on genealogy included suggestions on whom to request birth, death and marriage certificates, and Trixie listed those for Jim to review. After lunch she intended to read the diaries, but her mother had other ideas.

“Trixie, could you please look after Bobby while I do the ironing?” her mother asked at the end of the meal. “With your father going away in the morning, I need to do his now.”

“Yes, Moms,” she replied, disappointed.

“When can I go to Jim’s house?” asked Bobby. “Will you take me Trixie?”

“Not today,” she answered. “How about we play with your dump truck in the sand pile?”

“Hooray!” he shouted, forgetting all about the house. “I’m gonna build a skyscraper and it’s gonna be taller than the house!”

The little boy ran off to get his truck and Trixie sighed in relief.

“I was hoping to get some time to read those diaries,” Trixie said to her mother as the two started to clear the lunch dishes. “Do you think Bobby would play quietly and let me read?”

“I doubt it,” Mrs Belden smiled.

“There don’t seem to be enough hours in the day,” Trixie continued, running the washing-up water. “I want to get the house ready for Tom and Celia, but I want to help Jim find out about his family too. Then, there’s always work to do at home, and Regan will kill us if we don’t start riding the horses more soon.”

“Life is like that,” her mother replied. “You need to balance all of the things that need to be done with what you want to do.”

“I’m sorry Moms,” Trixie cried. “You have lots more to do than I have and you hardly get any time to yourself. I won’t complain about helping with Bobby again.”

“That’s all right Trixie,” Moms replied, “if you mind him while I iron, I won’t need you again today. You’ll have plenty of time for reading before you go to the barbecue.”

That evening, five Bob-Whites met at the lake in time for a sunset swim. The day had been hot and they were all glad to cool off.

“So, what have you been doing today, Jim?” Honey asked, as they all lay in the shallows. “I haven’t seen you since breakfast.”

“I had a few people coming in today at Rose Cottage and had to be there to let them in,” he replied.

“What happened to the ‘day off’?” asked Trixie, with a smile.

“I said that you deserved a day off. I didn’t say anything about me,” he replied.

The others laughed.

“Besides, I think you’ll like the things that got done today,” he continued. “There’s now running water, electricity and a telephone.”

“However did you arrange all that?” asked Honey.

“Just lucky, really,” Jim admitted. “There have been some delays on that big new development on the other side of town. A lot of service people had put aside this time to work on it and when it fell through they were glad to get something else.”

“It will make our job a lot easier, at least,” said Honey. “I was wondering where we’d get water to clean with and I was really hoping it wouldn’ be out of buckets from the old well!”

“Oh, woe,” moaned Trixie. “I’d forgotten about that. Why did I get stuck with all that cleaning?”

“Would you prefer gardening?” asked Mart. “We could swap.”

“On second thought,” said Trixie, “I’ll stay where I am.”

The five had a pleasant evening, talking, laughing and eating. Trixie found time to update Jim on her work on his family tree and he agreed to write for the certificates she suggested as soon as he had checked through the rest of his family belongings. They all went home fairly early, though, as all had arranged to work at the cottage again the next day.

When Trixie arrived there early the next morning, she could hardly believe the transformation. Jim had neglected to mention that he’d had someone in to clear away the long grass and weeds from all around the house. They had also cleared away the old hedge with a chainsaw and the whole of it was gone, except for the stumps.

“Wow,” she said when she saw Jim. “This is different.”

“It looks better, doesn’t it?” he replied. “Dad sent the gardener from Manor House to help. He said it would be saving him time in the future not to maintain the area where the trailer is now.”

“Who will look after the gardens here when we’re done?” Trixie asked, thinking of the matter for the first time.

“We haven’t decided yet, but Diana says she’s making it as low-maintainence as possible. By the way, Honey’s waiting for you upstairs,” he finished.

“I’d better go see her then,” she replied.

Trixie went into the house and bounded up the stairs. She found Honey in one of the bedrooms, sorting through the boxes there.

“Oh, hello Trixie,” she said, looking up. “Jim and I have decided to put the boxes we’ll be unpacking into the rooms they belong to. Mother gave him a room at Manor House, so all of his parents’ belongings are there now. The room they were in has all of the boxes which will be going back into the attic. This room has the ones to be taken to other rooms.”

“Please don’t say we’ll be carrying boxes all day,” moaned Trixie. The room they stood in was piled almost to the ceiling in spots.

“No,” Honey smiled, “everyone will help carry boxes after lunch. We’ll be sweeping and dusting all morning.”

“I think that might even be worse,” Trixie crinkled her nose and slumped against the doorway. A moment later, she threw off the pretence and set to work.

The two girls dusted and swept out the tiny attic and its narrow staircase, ready for the boxes to be returned. After a short break they started on the master bedroom.

“The mattress on the bed was no good and Jim had it removed,” Honey explained. “He says we’ll need to order a new one when we’re getting the rest of the household goods.”

“What?” exclaimed Trixie. “Won’t Jim be choosing those things?”

“No, he says he has too much else to do, so we’ll be doing the furniture and white goods shopping,” Honey replied. “I thought we might invite Tom and Celia along with us, seeing as they will be using the things.”

Trixie nodded absently and started dusting.

As they worked, the two girls talked about what Trixie was reading in the diaries.

“I’ve started reading at the beginning,” Trixie told Honey, “and it’s been very interesting. Miss Henley started writing when she was eighteen years old, in 1921. She got the diary for Christmas. So far, it’s mostly about boys she’d like to marry and things that happened on the farm.”

“Did she live in this house back then?” Honey asked.

“I think so,” Trixie replied. “All of her descriptions sound like this house, and of course in those days girls lived with their parents until they got married.”

By lunch time, the two girls had dusted the bedroom and cleaned its furniture and floor. The walls and ceiling would need to be washed later so that they could be painted.

After lunch, Brian, Mart and Dan helped carry the boxes back to the attic and distributed the other boxes throughout the house. Jim started taking down the shutters and carrying them out to the barn, where he had set up a work area. Soon everyone was hard at work.

By evening, Trixie and Honey had cleaned all of the upstairs floors and furniture and had dusted each room. They sank down at the bottom of the stairs, tired but happy with their progress.

Downstairs, the house looked very different from when they had ascended. Jim had removed all of the shutters from the lower windows and light flooded the room. Diana was arranging roses in a vase and Dan was vacuuming the upholstery of the chairs.

Outside the front windows, the view was very different as well. More than half of the rose garden had been weeded and pruned, revealing an elegant design of pathways, and part of the drive was covered in piles of weeds and rose branches. Trixie saw her mother gathering something in a basket.

“I didn’t know Moms was here,” she said wearily.

“She’s gathering rosehips to make jelly,” replied Diana brightly. “She thought it would be terrible to waste them when there’s so many, so we called her when we were finished pruning for the day.”

“I hope she can drive us home,” said Honey. “I’m too tired to ride there.”

“Better still,” said Di, laughing, “she’s brought us food. Miss Trask thought we girls would like to stay here tonight, and I told her we’d love to, so she arranged it for us.”

“Where will we sleep?” asked Trixie, alarmed at the thought of sleeping on the floors she had spent the day cleaning.

“Tom just delivered some folding beds,” said Dan. “We’ll carry them upstairs for you before we go.”

A short time later, seven tired Bob-Whites gathered around the kitchen table to eat and talk about how they were going.

“We’ve got about two more days worth of cleaning,” said Honey, “then we’ll get onto the shopping.”

“We should finish the rose garden tomorrow,” Diana added, “and then we’ll start pruning the climbing rose.”

“We’ll be fixing the back porch roof,” said Brian. “Are you free to help, Jim?”

“I think so,” he replied. “Does anyone else need me?”

The others shook their heads.

“Then that’s settled. The girls will be staying here tonight. Where do you want the beds put, girls?” Jim asked.

The girls chose an empty bedroom and soon they were settled into it. Tired as they were, they still found the energy to talk for several hours before bed. The girls woke the next morning to the sound of gentle, steady rain. Diana looked out the window and sighed.

“So much for my plans for the day,” she said. “It could rain like this for hours.”

They went downstairs for breakfast and, as they were eating, the telephone rang.

“Oh, hello Jim,” Trixie said after answering it. “Let me just check.” She turned to the other girls, “Is there anything the boys can do for us inside today?”

“If they bring ladders and sugar soap they could wash the walls,” Honey suggested.

Trixie relayed the idea and soon hung up.

When the boys arrived, the girls had finished cleaning the stairs and had started on the living room. With seven people helping, the work was done quickly and by lunch time the dining room was also clean and all of the upstairs walls had been washed.

The seven talked and laughed over lunch and then got back to work. It was quite a productive day in the end: the whole house was swept, dusted and mopped, and almost all of the walls and ceilings were now ready to paint.

The girls had arranged to stay another night, and they spent the evening discussing the way the house would be decorated. As the garden would still be wet the next morning, they decided that the three of them would go on the first shopping trip for the house.

“I still don’t see why we have to choose,” Trixie sighed, settling herself comfortably on her bed. “It’s his house.”

Di smiled and glanced at Honey. “If you marry him, it’ll be your house, too,” she pointed out.

A splutter escaped Trixie’s lips. “Marry him? Who says I’d ever marry him? I wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on earth!”

“S-u-r-e,” Di drawled, while Honey giggled uncontrollably. “So, what do you think, Honey? Should we have the house painted all in blue? Blue trim outside, blue walls, blue ceilings . . .”

“It is Trixie’s colour,” Honey agreed, over her laughter. “It would be appropriate.”

Trixie pulled the sheet over her head, found it inadequate and replaced it with her pillow. Seeing that the teasing had gone far enough, Di added, “Though, maybe it would be better to take the colours from the roses in the garden. Did you see the ones I picked while we were pruning? They were just gorgeous!”

“They were,” Honey agreed, with sincerity. “I love the creamy yellow ones, especially. I don’t think I’ve seen ones like them before.” To Trixie’s relief, the conversation turned to flowers.

The next morning, Tom picked up the three excited girls and drove them to the store which Jim had chosen to supply the paint. Trixie was dazzled by the display of paint sample chips and promptly forgot everything they had previously discussed.

“Oh, woe,” she cried, “how will we ever choose paint for an entire house?”

“I liked Di’s suggestion,” said Honey, “of choosing tones like the roses in the garden.”

“So did I,” said Trixie, “but how do we work out which ones they are?”

Diana picked out two or three chips, each banded with several tones.

“Just pick out a few you like,” she said, “we take them back and compare them.”

Each girl chose a few chips and Honey placed the pile in her purse. Before they left, the girls picked up a chart on exterior paints and a brochure on calculating how much paint would be needed.

The next stop was an electrical store, where they got prices and checked the features of the numerous appliances which needed to be bought. After seeing enough to get themselves seriously confused, the girls then went on to look at mattresses.

“I had no idea there were so many types of refrigerator,” Trixie complained, as they arrived back at the cottage.

“Or washing machine,” added Honey.

“Or mattress,” added Di.

The three girls laughed.

“We’d better interview Celia on her preferences,” said Trixie, “otherwise we’ll never be able to choose.”

“And we should talk to Jim about the budget,” Honey decided with a laugh.

The girls spent the next hour choosing paint for each of the rooms and for the windowsills, eaves and gutters. As the day was hot, the garden had dried out enough by that time for Di to go outside to work.

The next few days passed in a blur. Trixie and Honey decided to split up to get more done. Trixie tracked Jim down and figured out a budget for the electrical goods while Honey talked to Celia. They met back and decided which models were suitable and Honey telephoned some other stores for prices. Trixie then began measuring rooms to figure out the amount of paint needed.

Once both Jim and Celia had approved the choices, Trixie purchased the paint. Honey, with Celia’s help, found the best price on the electrical goods and mattress and they were ordered.

Trixie found time to read the rest of her book on genealogy and most of the diaries. She continued to add to her chart as new information came to hand and made arrangements with Jim to check through his parents belongings together for more clues the next week.

In the meantime, the boys had repaired the roof, finished washing the walls and had painted the ceilings.

The garden took shape, too. The roses were pruned and weeded, the climbing rose was pruned and its trellis was repaired; lawn seed was sown and the weeds in the old orchard were slashed.

One evening, the group gathered again at the kitchen table to share a meal and tell of their progress.

“How’s everyone going?” asked Jim. He had been away from the cottage for a few days and had just arrived back.

“All of the repairs are finished,” began Brian, “and we’re making good progress on the painting.”

“We’re finished with the garden,” Di added. “It just needs to be watered, and weeded every now and again.”

“Everything’s ordered,” Trixie told him. “We’re just waiting on delivery.”

“Great,” Jim replied, leaning back in satisfaction. “You’ve all done a really good job. I want the place as close to finished as possible, because I’m closing the place up for the weekend, beginning lunch time on Friday.”

“Why’s that, Jim?” asked Honey.

“You may not remember, little sister,” he began, smiling, “but Saturday is my birthday and I intend to celebrate it. Only two years ago my birthday dinner consisted of baked beans, eaten cold from the can.”

“I suppose we could heat them up for you this time,” joked Honey.

The following morning, Trixie arrived at the cottage early to get a head start. She found Jim on the back porch, sitting in one of the seats the boys had brought out from the barn.

“Is it bad news?” she asked him, indicating the letter which hung limply from his hand.

“Depends on your point of view,” he said. “He’s dead.”

“Your uncle?” she asked. Jim nodded and handed her the letter.

Trixie read:

‘Dear Jim,

‘I’m sorry to inform you that your uncle is dead. He died of complications from his injuries about six months after he was sent back to prison. Once again, I’m sorry Jim.

‘My enquiries into the trial have been a little more successful. It turns out that the defence lawyer is a friend of mine, Alfred Brentwood, and he recalls the case quite clearly. Harlan Frayne told him that he did it to get money to pay his gambling debts, but Alfred didn’t believe him. He pleaded guilty without the slightest hesitation and the jury found him guilty in near-record time.

‘He was sentenced to life in prison, and did not want to appeal.

‘Alfred tells me that the case intrigued him, since it was fairly clear that while his client was certainly guilty he didn’t want his real motive to be known. He never found out the true motive, but it didn’t seem to be anything to do with money. The house had been ransacked, but nothing of value seemed to have been taken or moved.

‘Enclosed is one of Alfred’s business cards. He would be happy to talk to you if you need anything further.

‘I’m very sorry that the news wasn’t better.

‘Sincerely, George Rainsford.’

“I’m sorry, Jim,” said Trixie. “I know you were hoping for another living relative.”

“It’s okay,” he said, with a sigh. “I don’t think I could have had any meaningful relationship with him anyway, considering that he would still be in jail. I don’t think this is a mystery you can solve, Trixie,” he continued. “Almost everyone connected to it is dead.”

“You can’t give up now,” she replied. “I’ve got quite a bit more from the diaries and I think we might find out more from Mr. Brentwood.”

“I don’t hold out much hope,” he said, thoroughly discouraged, “and I can’t see how the diaries could help.”

“Firstly,” Trixie began, “I’ve found out the reason Harlan stayed with Miss Henley. He had a disagreement with your grandfather over what Harlan called ‘dirty money’. He wouldn’t stay with your grandparents or with your great uncle and aunt because he thought they had gotten their money in a dishonest way.”

Jim looked shocked. Trixie realised that she should have been a little more tactful, since Jim had inherited from his great-uncle, but it was too late.

“Secondly,” she continued, a little more gently, “Miss Henley suspected that Harlan was actually more angry with your father than his own. She thought that he was jealous for some reason and that it was best to keep them as far separated as possible.”

Trixie paused a moment before continuing.

“And lastly, did you know what you grandfather and great uncle did for a living?”

“No,” said Jim, intrigued by the look on Trixie’s face.

“They ran a business together, importing antiquities, mainly from Egypt.”

Jim looked surprised. “I never had any idea,” he said after a pause. “I don’t remember seeing anything like that in Uncle James’ house,” he added, frowning.

“From what it said in the diary, I gather they sold the business and both retired twenty years or more before you were born. And your Aunt Nell couldn’t stand the stuff, so that would be why there wasn’t anything like it at Ten Acres.”

Jim nodded slowly, but did not answer, instead staring out across the yard in deep thought. He still had said nothing a few minutes later when Honey arrived, and the three went inside to start painting.

By Jim’s Friday lunch time deadline, most of the work was completed. The gardens were looking neat and tidy, everything was clean and most of the rooms had been painted in beautiful shades of cream, yellow and pink. All that remained was the kitchen, laundry and exterior paint, the exterminator and the deliveries.

All seven Bob-Whites enjoyed their well-earned break. On the Friday evening they met at the clubhouse for their own private celebration of Jim’s birthday. On Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were throwing a large party for Jim, but he wanted a party with just his close friends as well.

When Jim entered the clubhouse on that Friday evening he could hardly believe his eyes. The conference table was piled high with food and every available space was draped with streamers. Someone had also blown up a huge number of balloons, which dangled from the rafters on strings. Best of all, his six best friends had gathered to celebrate.

“It’s almost time,” someone announced, as Jim came inside.

“We’ve decided to start your birthday four and a half hours early,” explained Honey, as the countdown began.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy Birthday, Jim!” cried six voices in unison. They broke into song, singing “Happy Birthday to You” to a surprised and somewhat embarrassed Jim.

Mart lit the candles on an enormous cake, and Jim was encouraged to make a wish and blow them out. Soon the cake was cut and everyone had a slice.

“Do you like it?” asked Honey, shyly.

“It’s delicious,” Jim assured her. “Did you make it, Honey?”

“Mrs. Belden helped me,” she replied modestly. “It’s a family recipe of hers.”

“Speech!” yelled Mart, as soon as he had eaten his cake. The others soon joined in the cry.

“Thank you all,” said Jim, “both for throwing this party and for being such good friends. Two years ago, I thought that no one would ever care about me again. All of you have made the last two years very happy ones for me and I hope we have many years together ahead of us.”

The other six cheered.

“This is from all of us,” said Honey, handing Jim a small present.

Inside, Jim found a framed photograph of the seven Bob-Whites.

“We thought you could take it with you to college,” said Di.

“Thank you,” Jim replied. “I’ll do that.”

They stayed, talking, laughing and eating late into the night.

Trixie was tired in the morning, and she had plenty of chores to do, but she still found time to read some more of the diaries. She was beginning to feel that she knew Miss Henley from her writings.

“Did you ever keep a diary, Moms?” Trixie asked as she helped her mother prepare lunch.

“Yes, and I still do,” her mother replied. “I started when I was about your age.”

“Before I started reading Miss Henley’s diaries I couldn’t understand the point. Now that I’ve read them I’m starting to think it’s a good idea.” Trixie paused as she added the vegetables she had been cutting to the salad bowl. “She just wrote about the people she met and the things she did and the things she hoped would happen. And she doesn’t seem like a little old lady at all.”

“We were all your age once,” commented her mother, smiling.

“And every now and then I find a piece of information that we could never have known if she hadn’t written it down,” added Trixie. “It makes me wonder about our family history, and if there are things I don’t know that no one ever thought to tell me.”

“What sort of things?” asked her mother.

“I mean, I know that Aunt Alicia is your sister and that she’s not married, but I don’t know whether she chose to be single or was jilted or if the right man just never came along,” said Trixie.

“Is that important?” Mrs Belden asked with a smile.

“Yes and no,” said her daughter, considering. “I think that reading these diaries has made me think about how people get to be the way they are. Miss Henley had a fiancé who left her practically at the altar and she never considered another man again.”

“It wasn’t like that for your Aunt Alicia,” said her mother. “She chose to be single so that I could be married.”

“What do you mean, Moms?” said Trixie, confused.

“Our mother became very sickly about the time that Alicia and I were finishing school. One of us had to stay home and look after her and Alicia decided that it would be her. I already knew your father and Alicia didn’t have a boyfriend, so she made the sacrifice and looked after Mother,” Mrs Belden paused here, assessing her daughter. After a moment she seemed to come to a decision and continued. “I was supposed to finish college and then marry your father, but we just couldn’t wait. Before we knew it, I was expecting Brian and that was the end of college for me.”

Before Trixie could think what to say next, her mother briskly changed the subject.

“Time for lunch. Trixie, could you please fetch your brothers.”

That evening, the Wheelers held a grand party for Jim. Trixie thought it was much less fun than the one the previous night, but she kept that thought to herself.

Before she knew it, Trixie’s few days off were gone. On Monday morning she went up to Manor House to meet Jim and go through his parents’ belongings. Jim took her to the room where the items were being stored.

“Honey will be along a little later to help,” he said, handing her a box. “We’ll do one box each at a time, and repack them as we go.”

It was slow work. Each item held untold memories for Jim and he was soon lost in reminiscences from his childhood. The first two boxes held no clues to what they were looking for and they were packed away again.

They were part way through the next two boxes when Honey arrived.

“Choose a box,” said Jim, “and unpack it. If there’s nothing that helps us in it, pack it up again. Those are the ones we’ve done,” he added, pointing.

Soon after Honey opened the lid it was obvious that this was the box they were looking for. A smaller box inside contained hundreds of negatives, and further down the box was a manila envelope containing documents. There were also a number of old sepia photographs.

Jim had no idea who the people in the old photographs were. A few were pencilled in on the back, but most were unmarked.

“We should get some of these negatives developed,” said Trixie, holding one up to the light. “I’m not sure, but I think this baby with the green hair and black face must be you.”

“You could be right,” Jim laughed. “I’ll take a few into Sleepyside with me later.”

Honey, meanwhile, was going through the envelope.

“There are some letters here,” she said, “and these notes.” She placed some strange, hand-written documents in front of Jim.

“It’s my mother’s handwriting,” he said, “and it seems to be information on the family. Trixie, would you like to take these and read them?”

Trixie assented, and Jim placed all of the documents back in their envelope, setting it aside. The rest of the search was fairly fruitless in terms of information.

Trixie was eager to read what Jim’s mother had written. At the first opportunity she shut herself in her room and spread the documents out to look at them. First, she went through the letters.

One pile, carefully clipped together, appeared to be letters from Jim’s father to his mother. A quick glance told Trixie that they were love letters and, as she felt too embarrassed to read them, she set them aside.

The next pile seemed less personal, so Trixie read them. As she read, Trixie began to imagine what Jim’s mother must have gone through while her husband was dying. The letters were from various family friends and relatives, obviously in response to Jim’s mother’s enquiries. Each letter seemed to respond to the same question: Is there any family history of this sort of disease?

Trixie realised, then, that she had no idea what Jim’s parents had died of. She knew that his father had been sick for some time and that his mother was never very strong, but Jim had never said any more than that.

Trixie resolved to find out. The letters gave her no real clue. Each one basically said that to the best of its author’s knowledge, no one else in the family had ever had anything like it. She did, on the other hand, find out the causes of death for numerous other Frayne relatives.

The last pile contained the strange documents which had been in Jim’s mother’s handwriting. As she examined them, Trixie realised that they were notes on the Frayne family history. Katie Frayne had been researching her husband’s family tree.

As she read through the pages, Trixie could have shouted for joy. Detailed here were short descriptions of the old sepia photos, along with the names of the individuals pictured. There were also pages of notes from interviews with old family friends.

The last page puzzled Trixie a little. It contained the same sort of information for Katie’s own family, the Vanderheidens. Trixie wondered whether Katie had known that she was sick too, or whether she simply wanted to record her own family in the same way.

She tried to call Jim right away to tell him what she had found, but Miss Trask told her that he and Honey had just left for Sleepyside. Disappointed, Trixie started transferring the information to her chart.

Trixie began packing the documents back into their envelope, but no matter how hard she pushed they would not go back in. Taking them out again she put her hand inside to smooth the envelope. As she did so, she realised that there was one more item inside which she had missed. An envelope the same colour as the outside one had stuck to the side.

She carefully drew it out and found inside it a smaller envelope marked ‘Jim’ and some Death Certificates: Thomas Frayne, Ruth Frayne and Winthrop Frayne.

Confusion washed over Trixie. Why was Jim’s father’s death certificate here? His mother must, then, have put these things in Miss Henley’s house between four and seven years ago. Trixie thought she might be beginning to understand.

Maybe Jim’s mother put the things there before she married Jonesy, Trixie thought. That way, they would be safe for Jim to collect when he grew up.

“Trixie,” she heard her mother call, “Honey and Jim are here.”

“Coming,” she replied, gathering the papers.

“I found something else,” she said when she met the others in the kitchen. She handed Jim the envelope with his name and the death certificates.

Jim’s face paled. He fingered the envelope for a few moments then slowly opened it. After reading for a few minutes, he handed its contents to Trixie. She and Honey read:

‘My darling Jim,

‘By the time you read this I may not be around to explain things to you but I want to be sure that you understand.

‘We didn’t mean for you to be an only child, but that’s the way things turned out and I’m so afraid that I’ll be leaving you alone soon.

‘When your father was so sick and the doctors couldn’t say why I started to look into his family to try and find an answer. At first I got nowhere. He had so few living relatives and the family friends I contacted knew so little. No one that I could find had an unexplained illness.

‘Then I started to get sick too.

‘I knew that your father’s brother had been sick for several years before he died so I decided to start there. I don’t think you remember your Uncle Harlan. He did a very terrible thing when you were quite small and he was locked away.

‘It seemed that the only ones who had this problem were your father, your uncle, your grandfather and I, so I started to look at what we had in common. One day I realised what it must be.

‘When your father and I were married, your grandparents settled some of their property on their two sons. Most of it was articles that your grandfather and great uncle had imported from Egypt. They had a business together many years ago and your grandfather kept some pieces after the business was sold.

‘Your father sold the Egyptian pieces to buy the farm, but your uncle kept all of his. Among the other items were a few cases of wine which were divided between the two. Your grandfather insisted that it was very special and that we should take extra care of it.

‘Over the years we had drunk most of the wine. Your uncle had developed a ritual with his, where he would only drink it from a particular goblet in his collection. He once let slip that his father had told him to drink it that way.

‘I took one of the last bottles to be tested. It contained a slow-acting poison, which eats away at your health and slowly kills you as it builds up in your body. There was no antidote.

‘We soon realised that your grandfather had poisoned us deliberately, but by this time he and Harlan were already dead.

‘From what I had read, the poison did not affect a person’s mind, but both your grandfather and uncle showed signs of madness. Jim, if you find the goblet please destroy it. I don’t know what is wrong with it, but it made this thing worse. I think Harlan must have hidden it at Rose Cottage, but I can’t find it.

‘I know that I will probably die from the poison. I only hope that you are not affected, as it was already in my body when I was pregnant with you.

‘Please take care, Jim. I will love you always,

‘Mom.’

Behind the letter was a copy of the report on the analysis of the wine.

“Maybe you can solve the mystery after all,” said Jim, when they were finished reading, “but I’m not sure that I want to know anymore.”

“Let’s continue with what we came here to do then,” said Honey. She explained to Trixie, “Jim chose some negatives to develop into photos. We were going into Sleepyside to the new one hour photo shop to get them done and came to see if you’d like to come along.”

“I think I’ll go to the library as well,” said Jim, “and pick up a book which tells me about this poison.”

Once Trixie had asked permission, the three headed off. After dropping off the negatives Trixie and Honey headed for the same ice cream parlour where they had met at the beginning of the summer, while Jim went to the library.

“I can barely believe that so much has happened since the last time we were here,” said Trixie, sitting down at the same table they had used before. “This summer has been even busier than last summer.”

The hour dragged slowly by. Eventually, Jim arrived with the photos and the three shared a sundae while they looked at them. The photos showed happy days: new parents with their infant son; a chubby baby playing on a rug; a toddler holding his father’s hand; a small boy on his mother’s lap; a bigger boy astride a horse.

“They’ve turned out well,” said Honey. “Are you going to get the rest developed?”

Jim simply nodded. He seemed overwhelmed with emotion.

When she got home, Trixie went to her room to consider her next move. She wanted to know what was wrong with the goblet but the only way to do that would be to find it.

The work at the cottage was nearly complete and Trixie knew that she would not be missed if she spent some time away.

The problem was, where could the goblet possibly be when every inch of the cottage had been gone over?

Trixie decided to think the problem over for a day or two.

The next morning, as Trixie helped her mother with the breakfast dishes, she broached a subject which had been bothering her for some weeks now.

“Moms, I’ve been thinking,” she began. “It’s been so interesting finding out about Jim’s family. Could you help me trace our family tree?”

“Of course, dear,” her mother replied. “What do you need me to do?”

“After we’ve finished here, will you tell me about the family so I can write it down?”

Her mother readily agreed and soon the two were sitting at the kitchen table writing out a family tree for Trixie.

“I’ll have to do this with Dad when he comes home from Iowa,” she added.

“I have something for you,” her mother said when they were finished. “I’ll just get it.”

She returned shortly with a small cloth-bound book.

“A diary?” asked Trixie, giving her a hug. “Thank you, Moms. I’ll write in it every day.”

“Only if you want to, Trixie,” said her mother, smiling. “I find that every second or third day is enough.”

That day was Diana’s birthday and the seven Bob-Whites gathered at the Lynch mansion in the evening to celebrate.

“There’s one rule for tonight,” said Di, when they had all arrived. “No one is allowed to talk about Rose Cottage. I don’t think I ever want to see a paintbrush again.”

“We’d better get you a new birthday present then,” quipped Mart.

The party was a huge success. After all of their hard work the Bob-Whites needed to relax and they enjoyed the food, dancing and games which Di had organised very much.

At the end of the evening, Di made an announcement.

“When Daddy asked me what I wanted for my birthday I wasn’t quite sure what to tell him, so he made a suggestion which I loved. He thought I’d like to go away on a trip with all of you, since we had such a great time last year. So it’s all arranged. We leave the day after tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?” asked Honey.

“Cliveden,” replied Di, “to see the progress on Rosewood Hall.”

The following day was a flurry of activity. The boys raced to get the last of the painting done. Honey finished the curtains she had been sewing and hung them in the rooms which were finished.

Trixie was torn. On the one hand, she was eager to go on the trip. On the other hand, she still didn’t have the solution to this problem. As it turned out, she need not have worried. The trip was busy enough to keep her mind off it almost the entire time she was away.

The morning after the Bob-Whites arrived home, Trixie and Honey met at the stables for an early morning ride.

“I have almost all of it worked out now,” Trixie said, as she saddled Susie. “There’s only one thing left to do.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Honey, confused.

“Harlan Frayne,” said Trixie. “I know where he hid the goblet, and if I’m right we’ll know why he murdered his parents as soon as we find it. We can go there after we’ve been for our ride.”

“Okay,” replied Honey uncertainly, “but I don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

The two girls rode through the woods, circling toward their starting point. As they neared the stables they took the turn onto the newly cleared path which led to Rose Cottage.

They walked their horses and Trixie explained how she knew where to look.

“We know that the goblet couldn’t be hidden in the house because it’s been gone over from top to bottom. The barn and stables are no good, because we know that Harlan didn’t want anyone to find the goblet and there’s normally not anywhere to hide things in those sorts of buildings. Then I thought about what we know about Harlan and Rose Cottage.”

“Not much,” said Honey, thinking. “Just that he lived there for a few months.”

“And,” added Trixie, “the place where he was found after he escaped from jail.”

“In the well?” asked Honey, perplexed.

“Yes,” cried Trixie exultantly, “in the well. What was he doing there if he wasn’t looking for his hidden loot? There’s no shelter in those ruins and nowhere for a man to hide.”

“But what does that mean?” asked Honey. “He can’t have hidden it in the well.”

“No, but the hiding place must be very close by and I’m going to find it,” said Trixie determinedly.

The two girls hitched their horses in the yard and walked towards the ruins. Trixie started her search near the well, which had been secured with a metal cover. Soon she found what she was looking for. A low structure stood a few feet from the well, almost completely covered in vines and bushes. Its top only rose as high as Trixie’s knees.

Trixie examined the structure carefully, looking for its opening.

“What is it, Trixie?” asked Honey.

“I think it’s an oven,” she replied. “Either that or a very small ice house. Help me find the door.”

Together the girls pulled at the vines until a small door was revealed. Trixie held her breath as she tried to open it. After a moment, the door flew open.

Inside the little structure was a wooden packing crate. Trixie pulled hard. For several moments the crate did not move, then it scraped slowly out into the sunshine.

“What’s inside?” asked Honey in a whisper.

Trixie tried the lid and found that it was only resting on the top of the crate. Inside, packed in shredded newspaper were two metal goblets and four bottles of wine. Trixie picked up one of the goblets.

“It’s so heavy,” she gasped, handing it to Honey. She smiled and continued, “This is the answer.”

“I don’t understand,” said Honey.

“You will,” Trixie answered. “I’ll explain everything, just wait and see. I just need to look up one or two more things.”

No matter what Honey said, Trixie would not tell her any more.

They half-dragged, half-carried the box back to the cottage and after Trixie had unlocked the door with the spare key they put it in the laundry. A new cupboard had been installed there for Celia to store the cleaning products in and Trixie took the keys with her after the box had been securely locked inside.

As the two girls returned to the stables they were greeted by Jim.

“Miss Trask is looking for you,” he said to Honey. “I’ll groom your horse.”

“Thanks Jim,” she replied.

Trixie unsaddled Susie and prepared to groom her.

“Will you do something for me?” asked Jim.

“Sure,” said Trixie, looking up curiously.

“There’s somewhere I want to go tomorrow and I don’t want to go alone. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” said Trixie.

The two had just finished making arrangements when Honey returned.

“You’ll never guess what has happened,” she said.

“A wild bear is after you,” guessed Trixie, hiding behind Susie.

“No, silly,” said Honey, laughing, “The staff have had a big mix-up over a dinner party Mother is holding and now there are mountains of extra food we don’t need. Miss Trask thought we could throw our own dinner party at the cottage.”

“That sounds great,” said Trixie enthusiastically. “Each of us can do something to prepare, like cooking or setting the table or arranging some after dinner games. Oh, by the way, when will we hold it?”

“Tonight or tomorrow night,” said Honey, “otherwise some of the food will go off.”

“It will have to be tomorrow,” said Trixie, “or we Beldens won’t be able to come. Dad’s been complaining that he hasn’t seen all of us together since he got back from Iowa.”

“Tomorrow it is, then,” said Honey.

“Well, it sounds like you two have it under control,” said Jim. “I’ll leave you to it.” He led Strawberry off to his stall.

The next day dawned bright and clear. Trixie rose early to do her chores so the rest of the day would be free. Shortly after breakfast, Jim arrived to pick her up. His face was solemn and he spoke little as he led her out to the car.

“Where are we going?” Trixie asked as they travelled away from Sleepyside.

“A little cemetery not far from here, where the family plot is,” said Jim quietly. “My dad and his parents are buried there, Uncle James is as well.”

They soon turned in to the small parking lot. Jim picked up a newspaper parcel he had brought and led Trixie into the cemetery.

Jim walked slowly along the path, watching carefully for the right graves. The cemetery was quiet and peaceful, dotted with large shady trees. Jim paused at a grave marked ‘Jacob Andrew Frayne 1823 - 1907’.

Trixie looked along the row of graves. There were at least ten more ‘Frayne’ graves which could be seen from her position. As they walked along the row, Trixie recognised many of the names from her research into Jim’s family. Right at the end, they came to the graves they had come to visit.

A large headstone marked the final resting place of Thomas and Ruth Frayne. On either side of them were their two sons, Winthrop on the right and Harlan on the left. Next to Winthrop was James Winthrop Frayne.

“My deepest regret,” said Jim, “is that my mother’s grave is so far from here. I feel as if my parents should be buried together, even if my mother did remarry. Jonesy, of course, wouldn’t let her be buried here.”

Trixie looked at the empty space on Jim’s father’s headstone.

“One day,” he continued, “I might have a memorial carved there for her.”

Jim unwrapped the newspaper package and laid the roses it contained on the graves. The two friends turned and left.