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.”