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Hawkwood Books - Ellis Delmonte

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104 pages

English

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"Beauty has nothing to do with it," said Brigitta. "Men carry on the family name and manage the family business. Personally, I think I could do it better than most boys I know. In fact, I think girls are better than boys in lots of ways. They're cleverer, wiser and they don't fight so much. If it wasn't for men, Germany wouldn't have had this stupid war and millions of people would still be alive. I think girls should run the world." These are the words of a forgotten figure in a forgotten family, but Brigitta's voice echoes down the years as five children fight to right a distant wrong and bring to light a long hidden secret. For readers aged 12 and over.

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Publié par	Hawkwood Books
Date de parution	01 septembre 2011
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781908577108
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0000€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Table of Contents
The Secret
Credits
21. Hilltop Farm: Afternoon
20. Paris
19. Berlin 1900: The First Photograph
18. Hilltop Farm: Evening
17. Paris
16. Berlin 1912: The Second Photograph
15. Exeter
14. Paris
13. Berlin 1919: The Third Photograph
12. London
11. Paris
10. Berlin 1929: The Fourth Photograph
9. London
8. London
7. London 1955: The Final Photograph
6. Under The Channel
5. Paris
4. Gard du Nord: 1984
3. Gard du Nord: 2007
2. Paris: Police HQ
1. Hilltop Farm: Morning
Epilogue
The Secret
Ellis J. Delmonte

“Beauty has nothing to do with it,” said Brigitta. “Men carry on the family name and manage the family business. Personally, I think I could do it better than most boys I know. In fact, I think girls are better than boys in lots of ways. They’re cleverer, wiser and they don’t fight so much. If it wasn’t for men, Germany wouldn’t have had this stupid war and millions of people would still be alive. I think girls should run the world.”

These are the words of a forgotten figure in a forgotten family, but Brigitta’s voice echoes down the years as five children fight to right a distant wrong and bring to light a long hidden secret.

Suitable for ages 10 and over.
For my Aunt Marie

The Secret

Text copyright © 2008 Ellis J. Delmonte
Cover design © 2010 Ian M. Purdy
All rights reserved

First Edition 2008
Second Edition 2010
Epub Revised Edition 2013: Compiled with Jutoh
ISBN: 978-1-908577-10-8

Printed Edition ISBN: 978-0-9555096-2-9

Conditions of Sale
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any means without permission from the publisher.

Hawkwood Books 2013
21Hilltop Farm: Afternoon
“It’s a foot!” cried Pippa in wide-eyed surprise.
“We can see that,” said Dippy, alarm bells ringing in her head, “but what’s it doing here?”
When Pippa tried to get closer to see what was happening, her elder brother and sister shooed her away. Being only nine years old, she wasn’t privy to grown up things, but then neither should they be, yet here they were dealing with what seemed to be a tremendously adult thing. Pippa bit her lip and watched as Dippy and Matty crouched down by the dangling foot.
“I want to see,” said Pippa.
“There’s nothing to see,” Dippy called back. “It’s just a red shoe with a foot inside.”
“Where’s the leg, then?” Pippa asked, sensibly. “There must be a leg.”
Assuming there was a leg attached, it was well hidden. The children were all thinking the same thing, that it was weird and unsettling for this foot to be hiding away so shy and so still in the overgrown privet hedge surrounding Hilltop Farm.
The hedge enclosed a forlorn area on the top of an otherwise beautiful hill and marked the limit of Daddo’s and their influence in the world, which wasn’t very great. Hilltop Farm it had been called for two hundred years, though for the last fifty years it had been nothing at all, just a crumbling, tumbling, humbling excuse for a home in desperate need of some tender loving care. The hedge itself was normally a quiet haven for a sparrow or two but never to a foot in a red shoe.
There was truly no reason to assume a leg wasn’t attached to the foot, but the three children were obviously curious about - one, whose leg it was, two, why it was there, and three, and perhaps most important...
“Is it dead?” Pippa asked in a whisper.
“A foot can’t be dead by itself,” Dippy answered, trying to appear brave. ”I think we should look and see. Matty, you do it.”
“Why me? You do it.”
“You’re the oldest.”
“And you’re the bossiest. You always give instructions. You do it, Dorothea.”
Dippy gave Matty one of her looks. Matty rarely resorted to using Dippy’s real name, only when he was put out, angry or scared, and now he was all three. Usually, Dippy was resolute enough to prove to her older brother that she was made of sterner stuff than him, but this time she was unusually reluctant to take the initiative. There was, after all, the terribly real possibility of seeing something she really didn’t want to see.
It could, of course, be a tramp asleep under the privet hedge. Tramps sometimes wandered up to Hilltop Farm and camped for the night, or even a few nights. But, and for Dippy it was a big but, the foot did look awfully still. It lay at an odd angle and did not so much as twitch. Someone asleep would surely twitch a tiny bit, but this foot hung as if it were carved from stone, lying almost parallel with the ground, a most uncomfortable position by the looks of it and one the owner of the foot would want to change as quickly as possible, if they were able.
“I can’t get in there,” said Dippy, “it’s too thick. You do it.”
“If you can’t, I can’t,” said Matty. “I’m bigger than you.”
“Much scareder, you mean.”
“I’ll go,” said Pippa, clutching her battered red haired doll and staring intently at the mysterious foot.
“No,” said Dippy, but not with much conviction.
“I’ll look,” said Pippa. “I don’t mind.”
Matty and Dippy were both rather puzzled by their little sister just as they were puzzled by most things that had happened to them in their brief lives.
For a start, it wasn’t usual for a mother to disappear as Celeste had disappeared. They knew something had happened to make her leave them, but they didn’t know what or why, though they guessed it was something to do with Daddo. Everything had something to do with drunken Daddo. No mother would leave their children in such hands, nor separate sisters as Pippa had been separated from Zara. It was a shameful, disturbing, inexplicable event and Pippa was more touched by it than any of them, so much so that she now often appeared untouchable, as if the world had already done all it could to harm her and couldn’t do any more. The only clue to her inner thoughts was the little doll she kept with her every moment of every day and every night, as if it carried with it Zara’s soul, so Pippa looked after it extra specially carefully, no matter where they went, even under dark, corpse ridden privet hedges. She held onto it as if it were part of herself and she spoke to it and cared for it as if it were real, which in a way it was because it gave her courage and strength and bound her in a weird and wonderful way to her lost sister.
Dippy and Matty, to their shame, let Pippa crawl under the bush. They didn’t dare look at each other as Pippa lay down, gripped the Zara doll tightly in her left hand, paused a moment, then, with Dippy holding her feet, slid slowly and snakelike into the undergrowth.
After barely a few seconds, Pippa suddenly became very still.
“Pippa?”
Nothing.
“Pippa?”
“I’m alright.”
“What can you see?”
“Not much. It’s dark.”
“Can you see a leg?”
“Yes. There are two legs.”
Well, that was a relief. Each of them had wondered whether they had found a severed foot, or a single leg. But apparently there were two feet.
“And a body. It’s a lady. She’s asleep.”
“Is she snoring?”
“No.”
“Is she breathing?”
“Can’t tell.”
“Put your face close to her mouth, Pippa.”
“Yuch, no.”
“Well, touch her, then. Try and wake her.”
Pippa did what she always did when she was confronted with difficult situations and spoke silently to her doll.
“Shall I touch her, Zara?” she whispered. “Shall I? Will I catch something?”
Zara always answered Pippa’s question, except if she was in a huff for some reason, but the doll seemed as interested as Pippa and she said yes, touch her.
Pippa stared for a while at the face of the woman lying so still beside her. It was the face of an elderly woman who had used thick layers of make-up. There was something peaceful and beautiful about it but also something too still and quiet to be just sleep. Pippa had seen people asleep and this wasn’t the same. She felt a little scared and squeezed the doll’s hand for comfort.
The woman’s hair was mostly grey, but there were tiny slivers of red. Pippa leaned over and touched the woman on the cheek. It was like touching ice cream, soft and very cold. The woman didn’t stir and Pippa felt the emptiness of the body. Part of her wanted to scramble out as quickly as possible, but part of her was fascinated by what she saw and by the knowledge that she was the only one who could see it.
“Well?” The voice was Dippy’s.
“Well what?”
“Did you touch her?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She’s all cold and still.”
“Come out, Pippa. Come out!”
“It’s alright. She can’t hurt me, can she?”
“No, but come out anyway.”
Pippa crawled out backwards, and when she stood up she was quite pale.
“You alright, Pippa?” Matty asked. “You’re trembling.”
Pippa was surprised that she was so shaky; she thought she’d be fine.
“What did she look like, Pippa?” Dippy asked.
“Like a statue, but painted. She was all colourful.”
“Colourful?”
“Yes. You know, make up. She had make up on like grown ups do. Go and look. She’s quite pretty.”
Dippy looked at Matty who looked back at her, both wondering whether they could be as brave as their little sister. They seemed to agree somehow that they should go in together and this is what they did, crawling under the hedge very slowly until they could see the woman’s face. Pippa was right, she did look like a painted statue, and she’d been pretty, too.
Pippa, not wanting to be left alone, crawled in again after her brother and sister. All three stared in silence, wondering what to do.
Seeing a bright red bag by the woman’s hand, Dippy picked it up and opened it.
“Dip, no! The police will come! You know what Daddo says about the police.”
They all knew. Keep out their way, that’s what he said. And if you didn’t, Daddo would punish you.
“Just looking,” said Dippy.
Dippy opened the bag and rummaged around to see what she could find.
There was a tube of bright red lipstick, a make up set complete with a mirror and smudged powders, a bus pass, some pills, a letter, a notebook, a comb, a few pens and a large purse. She took the purse, which was ancient and wrinkled and clicked it ope