He staggered to his feet and ran at the door with all his weight. It splintered and gave way, and they fell through into a servants’ staircase. It was free from fire. They stumbled down it and came out through a door onto the main staircase of the hall. Flames were licking at the stairs. The figures of her mother and Grace appeared in front of them, running down toward the hall. Mary grabbed her uncle’s hand and followed them. As they neared the bottom, smoke billowed up from the stairwell. Mr. Craven lost his footing and fell, dragging Mary with him. Together they crashed to the bottom, landing in a heap on the tiled floor of the entrance hall.

For a moment, Mary was too dazed to move. She looked up woozily and saw her mother bending over her. “Mother?” She wasn’t sure if she thought it or spoke it out loud, but her mother smiled.

“Oh, Mother, I’ve ruined everything,” Mary said, tears filling her eyes. “And I just wanted to make things better.”

Her mother reached out and stroked her cheek.

Mary’s heart stopped still. “Please stay,” she begged.

Her mother gave a sad shake of her head and kissed Mary’s hair. At the ghostly touch of her lips, Mary felt the deep surge of her mother’s love. Their eyes met one last time, then Mary’s mother smiled tenderly and was gone.

“Mary!” she heard Dickon yell, and he and Martha came charging through the smoke, coughing. “Mary, are you—”

“Get my uncle!” she screamed. “Take him first!”

Martha and Dickon lifted Mr. Craven up by the arms. Dickon looked around to help Mary too, but she was already struggling to her feet. As she reached the door, she glanced back and saw the smiling figures of her mother and Grace standing at the foot of the grand staircase. Their faces were happy and peaceful. Taking hold of each other’s hands, they walked upstairs into the flames, reclaiming their home and vanishing from sight.

Goodbye, Mary thought.

Coughing and gasping for breath, she staggered out of the door and into the fresh air.

22

Believe in Magic

Martha and Dickon pulled Mary away from the house. She collapsed next to her uncle, drawing in deep breaths. Her uncle’s clothes and face were covered in soot and ash, and she knew she looked no better.

“Room! Give them room!” cried Mrs. Medlock, flapping around them as the sound of sirens and the fire brigade arrived.

“What were you thinking, girl? That was very, very stupid of you,” Mrs. Pitcher scolded Mary, not looking like she knew whether to laugh or cry.

“And very brave,” said Martha, helping Mary to sit up.

Mary met Dickon’s worried eyes and felt a rush of relief. She’d done it. She’d saved her uncle.