She took out the sandwiches, and she and Dickon ate in a companionable silence as the grass rustled in the breeze and the sunlight sparkled on the stream.

13

The Hidden Room

That night, Mary returned to Colin’s room, wondering what mood she would find him in. To her relief, he seemed happy to see her. “Sit,” he said rather grandly, pointing to the end of his bed. “Now I want to know more about this magic garden.”

Mary didn’t need any more encouragement. She had explored some more with Dickon that afternoon, and she had so much she wanted to tell Colin. “I will, but then you must spit and promise not to breathe a word to anyone. It really is the most wonderful place!” Her eyes shone.

“There are hundreds of trees and plants, the moss glows and there are strange plants that look like giant umbrellas.” Her words came faster as she tried to convey the magic of the garden.

“There’s an ancient temple that looks as if it’s grown up out of the ground, with a lake inside, and a path lined with statues, and a stream that can heal wounds. There are animals there too, most sleeping under the ground still until spring comes, and there are birds. A robin who reveals secrets and a dog who is master of it all!”

“That last bit sounds like rot, but is there really a lake in a temple?” Colin asked eagerly.

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t call it a lake,” Mary said. “More a pond. But there is a stream and I believe it can heal. Now you promised to spit,” she reminded him.

Colin shifted in his bed. He spoke awkwardly as if he didn’t like admitting he didn’t know something. “Mary, you . . . you may need to educate me in how to spit.”

Mary laughed and spat on her hand and held it out.

“Oh,” Colin said, blinking. “Surprisingly simple.” He copied her, and they shook hands.

“Now we have spat and shaken, we can never break the promise,” she told him earnestly.

“I won’t tell a soul,” said Colin. “You have my word. Now I want to know more about this dog. Maybe you will be able to train it,” he said. “I have a book on dog training in my bookcase.” He pointed across the room. “Fetch it.”

Mary laughed. “I most certainly shan’t if you talk to me like that.” She sat down in the wheelchair instead. “When was the last time you used this chair?”

“Fetch me my book!” Colin said crankily.

She ignored him. “I don’t believe your back is half as painful as you make out.”

“And I know you didn’t kill your mother like you said,” retorted Colin. “So who’s the bigger liar?”

Mary was shocked. “How do you know that?”