Percy

The purple texts are orientation helpers. 

* * *  separates the blog-installments - I'm not sure this is meaningful, but there they are.


Between Christmas and Summer holidays 2nd year - Back in the non-magical world.
 Just after the beginning of the new year Susan began to wonder if they actually did the right thing concerning that darned ritual. It had begun all right. The fire had done a lot for Helge, who had been cold all over, but not hurt apart from a sprained ankle. He had been on the way home, for once walking to the train station in the near by town, not wanting to hurry home for Christmas in his dreary home. He had happened to pass by the farm with the angry Sheepdog, who had chased him into the powerhouse. When he had tried to climb the discarded logs, some of them had rolled over, catching his leg and knocking him almost senseless. He had observed Torben and David meeting, but had not been able to understand a word of what they said over the buzzing in his head. Now he felt fine apart from being cold and his ankle, which Lis mended. While he was thawing Tage told him what had happened. He ate all the chocolate and declared his willingness to participate in the hunt for Torben and David. He and Heidi stayed in the old powerhouse, volunteering to do the cleaning and act as a communication centre. Susan felt like giving him a kiss, she was so happy someone else seemed to understand their misgivings about Torben and David, but she was not sure he would not misunderstood her, so she refrained.

Lis went after David, heading for the Farm. It had been easy tracking his bike in the newly fallen snow, and he had had no reason to suspect he was being followed. As she arrived at the farm she was still able to see faint tracks leading into the barn. She looked through t a window and found the place deserted. A quick search inside revealed a smallish bottle in a dustbin and Torben's cupboard with the doors wide open. She took one of the great white winter-cloaks from the apprentices' cupboard, then she said the words connecting her wand to Heidi's and said: "He is at farm. Watching!" And then she followed David's tracks to the house proper, where she found a place to look through one of the windows and follow the professors' party. She put her faith in the winter cloak's camouflaging abilities should anybody chance to look out.

Tage and Susan had had the harder job of following Torben. He was in a hurry, and his long legs and new bike ate the distances in a hurry. Only the snow, falling lightly but steadily had enabled them follow his tracks to the nearby town. There they lost him at the train station. The train for Copenhagen had left seven minutes before they arrived, and as he was nowhere to be found, they suspected that that was where he went.
Tage went to the men's room, contacted Heidi and heard Lis' message. He and Heidi agreed that they all should probably go to the farm, as they had no idea where Torben was going.
They took a bus to the stop nearest the black bridge and joined Helge and Heidi outside the powerhouse. By now they were all rather hungry and miserable. They were quite sure, that David would have done whatever he was to do before they reached the farm.

But as they arrived, Lis was there to greet them, she sent them in to get winter-cloaks as well and then they all took position around the window. They saw the teachers finishing a mouth-watering dinner, drinking mulled wine and having a good time. Then Thora began to play the concertina, and David-Torben picked up the rose-ribboned candle. As he threw it into the fireplace, a thick smoke billowed out. It hit the teachers, and one by one they dropped where they stood. It all happened very fast, and Susan doubted that anybody had even seen what happened. David had crumbled too. "Why did he poison them all - and himself as well?" Tage asked.
"Shouldn't we do something?" Susan asked.
"Let's get them out of there," Helge said and ran to the door. Susan and Heidi followed him, Tage tried to stop them, but to no avail. As Helge opened the door, the smoke hit them, and they went down as hit by a club. Tage and Lis looked at one another. They dared not go near the smoke, gas or whatever, but they had to get their sister and their friends away.

Susan awoke some time later, Tage and Lis had pulled them away from the door, dragging them along with magic, and now they sat in the little room behind the kitchen. Lis came back from the kitchen, carrying a large, steaming teapot and a handful of mugs. They drank and got their colour back. None of them felt any worse, but they did not know what to do. "How much do you remember of your adventure?" Lis asked.
Helge had lost all memory back from when Susan and Tage joined him in the old powerhouse. Susan and Heidi remembered the cold and miserable hike to the Farm, and then a blank wall. Lis filled them in with their arrival to the Farm and their stupid show of heroism.
As she reached the present Tage came in, grabbed a mug, and drank the tea in great scalding gulps. He told them that the teachers were stirring. He thought they'd better get away before they were discovered and accused of doing whatever it was that David had done.
They all agreed, they were in a bad position, should they be discovered, and with David still looking like Torben, they'd have no way of justifying their presence at the Farm. The professors would just think they had pulled yet another prank on them. Susan found a crate of cookies left on a shelf, She gave those and the bag of tea they had broken the seal on to Helge.
"Take these and get off, there's no reason for you to become involved and possibly expelled from The Unicorn Farm."
Tage handed him some money: "Susan is right, Get home in a jiffy, and take good care of yourself."
Helge gave all of them a quick hug, placed the cloak on a chair and ran out the door. He remembered to obliterate his tracks with a spell, before he jumped through the portal that would take him to back Stockholm.
Lis and Tage quickly cleaned the kitchen, while Susan hung the winter-cloaks in the cupboard.
Heidi kept a look out and as Tage put the last mug in the cupboard, she came back with a warning: "Somebody's coming," she whispered urgently.
Tage and Lis Pulled their wands and held onto Susan and Heidi's hands. Susan and Heidi had both flunked their teleportation tests in August, as had almost a quarter of their fellow apprentices. Tage and Susan quickly said the words that brought them to The Magicians' house.

The party following these dramatic events had been a just a bore, nothing dramatic happened. Susan's parents and Linda, her younger sister, had been less of a problem than they thought. Heidi's father could be real charming, and he did his very best while Sandra served delicious tidbits for everybody. The children were ravenous and ate a lot of everything, but luckily Sandra was of the kind that saw clean plates as a compliment to the chef. Heidi and Susan tried to talk about the afternoon's happenings, but they were disturbed every time they began. Tage and Lis withdrew early under the pretence of packing. Susan hoped they went back to the farm to check out what had happened.
During the long drive home as the humming car ate mile after mile she began worrying about Thora. The spunky and resourceful Icelandic witch was to Susan like the grandmother she never had, and even though Thora was miles away in snowbound Iceland and all of 88 years old, she was close to Susan's heart.

On the first day of the new school year she found a letter on her bed. It was from Heidi, Tage and Lis.

***

With trembling fingers Susan opened the letter.
Inside she found a note in Lis' easy handwriting and a photo. The photo was blurry, and when Susan looked closer at it, it was two photos on top of one another. She looked even closer. It was a train station with a road superimposed. The only person to be seen clearly, was a young woman with her back turned toward the camera.

Susan began reading.

"We went back to the farm. There was nobody to be seen, and nothing either. The place was cleaned and everything put back. We found not a single trace of the evening's happenings.

The very next day we went back to the train station, we spoke to the ticket vendor, the janitor and all and sundry. But even with Tage's exceptional persuasive skills we found no trace of Torben there either. In the end we got the station-master to show us the security videos from that evening. Torben must have suspected something like this, they were garbled, double and triple exposures with postcards and movies thrown in for good measure. The only still we could get, looking remotely useful was this one. Could you try studying it, and send your observations back to us? Heidi has some very intriguing observations. We won't tell, so as not to bias you."

She went downstairs in the quiet house and took her mother's magnifying glass from the sewing basket, but the quality was not good. The train station did not look normal until it dawned on Susan that it was a mirror image. After this she was able to tell, that the people on the photo were indeed waiting for the train for Copenhagen. She tried to ignore the modernistic cars, they seemed to come from an American movie. The lady meant nothing either, she was sure. Then her heart started beating wildly. The man half hidden behind a lamp post ... that was her father! ... Or was it? It was impossible to be sure with this blurry image. She wrote down her thoughts and misgivings and put them in a new envelope.

Her letter had not arrived via normal mail, she was sure. But how did you send a letter with the aid of magic? She was sure either Martine or Birgitta had mentioned something during their first school year. She gave the battle up as lost as her memory just would not give, but added a questioning note to her letter. On her way to school, she dropped the letter in a mailbox.

***

January was unusually wet and dreary, school was bad, even worse than usual, Susan thought. Her classmates had never been very nice to her, but after an epic fight in 4th form they had mostly left her alone. Now the teachers seemed to be after her as well, or maybe she had just begun to imagine things after experiencing how learning could be at The Unicorn Farm.
She made her homework dutifully each day, in a hurry to be able to pour over her magic books. She had now learned to send letters with magic, for Heidi's next letter had told her to read the note at page 114 in Spells and Cantrippes for Daily Use. The old anonymous tome had lain unopened in the bottom of her carpet bag, but it was actually quite a handy book. Susan was slowly beginning to rely more on her own powers and on her magic when faced with a problem. This earned her strange looks from her parents and sister, and only the fact that she DID NOT bring her wand to school had saved her from trouble there.
Actually the "DO NOT bring your wand into that other world"-rule was one the apprentices got hammered into their brain on The Farm.
But her growing confidence and new problem solving techniques; skills she had no idea of possessing, was what caused her problems.

This Tuesday was just as dreary as the rest of the month had been. After hurrying through her history lessons, Susan grabbed her wand and a few other things, bent on trying out a few cantrips somewhere outdoor. Even with rain coming and going "her place" would be fairly dry.
That place was not of that other world, at least not as Susan understood tit. It was an abandoned lumber yard with a humongous walnut tree and some decrepit, red buildings. It was also the place where Susan, Heidi, Lis and Tage had installed the portal in one of the hottest summers ever.

Her mother called her as she was leaving the house: " Susan! Are you leaving now?" Susan nodded, and her mother continued: "It's going to rain today. Again! If you have to go chasing storms, then at least dress for it. Umbrellas are no good in this weather. You've turned too many of them inside out lately."
"Sorry, Mom," Susan said. "I'm going to pull on my rain gear. I'll be home for dinner. Promise." Susan gave her mother a hug before she disappeared into her study again.

Susan locked her bike and quickly ran up to her place in the old lumber yard. Nobody could see her here, nobody ever came all the way here, except for late September when the walnuts were ripe. This was Susan's secret place. The portal was over in the far corner, invisible to all but fellow magicians. That made her feel safe and even more at home here. It was a charmed place in her rather miserable life. She sat down with her back to the long, red building. It was fairly dry here, the drops were pattering on the roof over her head and running thorough the old drain pipes, making rivulets meandering from the house. The thunder rolled now and then, but she was not cold. Magic could help in so many small ways.
She pulled some letters out of her deepest pocket. Heidi's newest letter had arrived only this morning, and she intended to study every word before it became too dark.

    "Dear Susan!
    We have looked more closely at the photo from the train station, and now we do not think it really is your father in the photo, even though I agree that it looks a lot like him. We suspect that Torben used the other half of the potion to look unsuspicious for a long journey, since we now know - or at least have a strong suspicion of - where he went. As you guessed, he used the trains to go to Copenhagen -  all the way to the airport even.
    He went to the airport to pick up somebody. Who that somebody is, we do not know, but we got a glimpse of them in the news, as some foreign head of state came by that same plane.
    Do watch he news in the coming days. We are all afraid what will happen next.
    We sent you a newspaper cutting of the meeting in the airport. You can just see Torben and that other man to the left.
    Take care of yourself and your family.
    Your friend Heidi"

Susan sat for some time studying the newspaper clipping in the murky daylight. The quality was not much better than the one from the security camera at the station. Susan got up and ran to her bike. She had an idea. The local library had all the newspapers for way back. Maybe some of the other ones had a better photo. She could always say it was for some homework.

***

At the library Susan went straight to the newspaper section. She vaguely remembered, maybe from some guided learn how to use the library-tour from years ago, that the old newspapers were kept handy. And yes, underneath each paper from today, which were laid out on sloping tables, were a set of shelves, four for each paper, each holding a week's worth of newspapers. A whole month of news lay there for the taking. Susan found another paper than the one with Lis' clippings and searched the relevant shelf for Saturday's paper. There was a mentioning of the arrival of the head of state, no pictures, and nothing new compared to Lis' paper. Susan folded it neatly and put it back. The next five were no better, either they did not mention it at all, brought the same photo, or some with the President seeing sights in Copenhagen. And they all wrote almost the same words. But finally, in the local paper, the one Susan had left out, she found a rather long reportage from the airport and some photos.
Susan looked closely, yes it was Torben. And that photo there, it showed the foreigner quite clearly. She checked with the big watch on the wall; only a quarter to four. If she hurried, she could make it the the newspaper's office before closing time. She might be able to buy - or even have for free - the original photo or one like it. First she went to the librarian and had a copy made of the relevant pages. It cost her 50 øre, but Susan had been given some money for Christmas, so she was quite rich for the nonce.

It was turning dark outside and the people still in the street were hurrying home, the rain still fell in heavy showers and thunder could be heard now closer, now further away. It was just one of the things that came from living in a coastal town. The rain clouds just stayed around the town until they had dropped their very last drop and spent every ounce of energy unsuccessfully battering the towers of the two churches with their thunderbolts. Susan biked almost all the way to the newspaper, only pushing the bike through the narrow one way streets near the centre. The traffic was still sparse, and she made it to the office in time without any incidents.
As she reached the door, it was opened rather forcefully from the inside. A large man with a black beard stood in front of her.

"Hello Susan, what are you doing here?" he asked.
"Oh, hi Stellan!" she answered. "I am looking for a photo from last Saturday's paper, did you make them?" Stellan was a friend of her parents', he was a journalist, and Susan had met him a couple of times before. He was a nice and easy fellow, from somewhere else, Susan had momentarily forgotten where, and he spoke with an accent. Normally he was all smiles, but Susan thought he looked sad.
"Which photos? I made some from Copenhagen, as I was there, visiting a friend of mine."
"From the airport?" Susan asked eagerly, Stellan nodded, and Susan said: "Yes, those are the ones I'm looking for."
"Ah," Stellan nodded "social studies?" Susan nodded agreement, happy that he himself had uttered the words. She hated lying, and just saying yes was only half so bad.
"You know what," Stellan said. "I have all of them at home, and I have to hurry home and eat before leaving for Copenhagen again. My friend is very ill, you see. If you could water my plants and take care of my canaries for me, you could have two or three of the photos."
"I'd be happy to," Susan said and strode after the long legged man through the dark streets of the city.

"Here are the photos," Stellan said, as they entered the living room and he pulled out a big, yellow envelope. "Remember the upstairs plans as well, and now come and say hello to the canaries while I eat!" They went into the small kitchen. Stellan quickly fried eggs and ham and ate and smoked cigarettes, making Susan's eye water and itch.
She chatted with the birds, caressed them, fed them, gave them fresh water, even cleaning the dirty water tubs, and changed the newspapers at the bottom of the cage. She then looked for the watering can, and found it in the window sill.

"You're a dear, Susan" Stellan said, "Just put out the lights and close the door when you're done."
"Thank you, Stellan," Susan said. "You are a big help."
Stellan tousled Susan's hair and left in a hurry. Susan opened the window and carefully watered all the plants. Some of them seemed more than half dead; no wonder as they had been trying to live off too much smoke and too little water and care; and she could not resist the temptation to give them a little boost with her magic.
Stellan's house was small, but full of wonders. Lush carpets, musical instruments and colourful spreads and trinkets gave it a semblance of Aladdin's cave. It spoke of his foreign background and his many travels. She loved it, but she was very careful not to disturb anything. She only ran her hands caressingly over the violin. It had not seen as much use as his banjo, but it was much prettier. Susan could not play either, only simple tunes on the piano, but she loved listening to other people playing.
After having completed the chores and emptied some of the ashtrays for good measure, she sat down on the blue sofa and opened the envelope. A zillion photos from the presidential visit to Copenhagen spilled over the table. Susan sorted them and looked through those from the airport. She found some where the stranger and Torben were in plain view. Most of them featured the president as well. She chose three, put the rest back into the envelope and left the cosy house behind.

As she closed the door she remembered having left behind her bike at the newspaper. She did not want to leave it there overnight. The office lay in a part of own with many pubs and bars, peaceful enough in the daytime, but her bike would most probably be stolen if she left it where it was. It was a detour, but then she still had time to spare. Sheltering the precious photos inside her jacket with a bit of additional magic she went out into the rain.

* * *

Susan sent one of the photos and the original newspaper clipping to Heidi and the twins via magical mail. The other two she kept with the copy of the local paper in a folder under her bed. She had cast one of those practical "don't mind me"-spells on the folder, so that her parents or even worse, her sister would not notice it.

Tomorrow was Saturday, the first in this school semester. And it was Linda's 13th birthday. Susan was sure the whole family would get together, Linda would look like a dream in her new dress. They would all eat pink cake, drink lots of cocoa with too much sugar in it, Linda loved over-sweet things. All her wishes would be granted her - within limits of course. She would not get a palomino horse this year either.
Susan had always found such occasions more of a nightmare than a joyride. But now that she knew the reason - her being a witch, at least an apprentice witch - set her apart from her family and society at large; she was able to face these ordeals with equanimity.

Next morning Susan rose early. Breakfast was a quiet affair as Linda slept late.
She had to promise her mother to behave, to pull on a dress, and generally be a normal girl during the celebrations. "Don't you go and spoil Linda's party with your sulks," her mother said.
Susan managed to take a bath and get to her room before Linda arose. She studied herself in the mirror. If she has a wishing well she would throw in two coins and have dark, curly hair instead of the medium brownish haystack she had now. Linda had wonderful golden hair and let no chance pass to mock Susan's common-coloured hair. And she would like to be a bit taller and slimmer. Her body was rather square and boyish, she used to be proud of her strength, well she still was, but she so wanted to look just a little bit like those other girls. And then again, she thought, her plain looks let her blend in. People did not notice her, and she could go on minding her own business without being disturbed.

Susan opened her cupboard to find her pretty dress. As she did so, she saw the ghost of a former inhabitant glide past in the mirror.
"Take it easy, Persephone (that was the name of the ghost). I'll bring you some flowers later today. And do come down and watch the party later, you'll love to see all those pretty ladies and stiff gentlemen."
"And you'd love to see their reaction to me?" Persephone chided.
"Oh, no, Percy. Please don't. Please stay invisible. Mom's gonna kill me if anything goes wrong. Somehow I'm always to blame when something goes wrong."
"I promise, the ghost said. Only do not forget the flowers!"
"I won't!" Susan said, leaving her room.

* * *

Flash backs are indented and purple for ease of reading.
The last day of January was as rainy and dreary as the rest of the month had been. Susan was despondent. Her teacher had berated her for not knowing the meaning of the word 'zealot', and now, walking homeward in the never ceasing rain, all she had to look forward to, was to listen to Linda's bragging over her good notes in maths. Maths was the only subject in school, Susan never really excelled in, she was always in the lover half of the class in maths, not bad, she just could not get herself to spend more time than necessary on numbers and fractions.
Much to her parents' chagrin she was way better than Linda or even them at languages.
"Give me languages," she thought, "or history, or even that dang-blasted Social studies, but maths ...Why can't Mom and Dad ever acknowledge all my good notes in English, German or even Latin. When Linda for once has scored an 11 all the world has to know. It's just not fair!"
She hung her wet coat on its peg and went straight to her room. She was the first person to be home. Dad was of course still at work, Mom was too - or maybe shopping, Susan couldn't remember if today was one of her short days or not. Alternating Thursdays she had to stay long hours to cash up after paying the workers at the shipyard. Where Linda was, was an open question. Only she herself knew, but their parents did not care very much, as long as they were home for dinner - or gave due notice, and were home at eight o'clock. As long as they did not get into trouble, they were free to spend their days as they liked. Susan liked the freedom it gave her to visit the library, to read up on her magic, to roam the nearby woods in summer, to go by bike to nearby cities as fancy took her, or just spend the whole day in her room, reading and eating candy. But today the house felt strangely abandoned.
Susan was restless, there was no new letter on the pillow. The last she had heard from Heidi was last Sunday. There was really nothing new. Neither Torben nor David had been back at the Farm as far as the twins had been able to find out. Actually nobody was at The Farm at all. Either Tage or Lis went there at least twice a week to check for signs of life.
Things were at a standstill. None of the siblings were able to recognise the foreigner from the airport, even though Stellan's photos were excellent. They did not want to bring their parents into it.
The only consolation to be had was what her granny's Dutch friend always said when someone was worrying: "Slecht nieuws heeft vlugge voetjes" (Bad news has quick feet - no news is good news).

Susan opened Spells and Cantrippes for Daily Use, but she did not read, slowly she realized she was reading the same two sentences over and over.
She was thinking of Percy the ghost girl, even though she was not around. Susan had remembered to put fresh flowers in the little room in the attic. Mom called it their guest room, but to Susan, and to Linda when she was in the mood, it was the door to another space and time.

Susan vividly remembered the summer's day when she had discovered the hinges behind the tapestry.
She, Mom and Linda had been cleaning the room after dad no longer needed it for a darkroom.  Mom said they should make it into a guest room for when Granny came visiting. Susan and Linda had wanted to make a playroom up there. The room was eminently suited for both purposes, On the right hand  side of the room, as you entered the door there was a window, now uncovered and sparkling clean, letting in lots of light. Between the door and the window a small shell formed wash basin gleamed. Susan had spent long time scrubbing all the chemical stains from dad's developing of films from it. The tap even worked and Mom had screwed up a hanger and had sewn towels matching the light yellow paint. Susan was dusting and cleaning the tapestry on the wall opposite the door, as she found the hinges. The top one was level with her nosetip.
"O look, here's a secret door!" Susan had exclaimed. "Let's open it."
"I'm sure you're wrong," her mother had said, "it is probably some old holders for photographs of your father's."
"No," Susan persisted, "there's one more down here, and I can just feel a crack between them. I'll go and get a knife." She went down into the basement, where her father was cutting wood for some mysterious project of his, he was clever with his hands, and made improvements in the home now and again. Susan borrowed his Stanley knife after promising only to cut away from herself and not let Linda play with it.
Susan carefully cut through the tapestry following the crack firs between the hinges, then from the lower hinge down to the floor, the from the upper hinge up, turning to the right she could just reach the top, and finally down even further right. She even asked Linda if she wanted to cut a little bit, surely that was not playing. Finally the door was free, but it was locked! "Well," Mom said, the tapestry on the door has to go." "Oh, no!" Linda and Susan said as one, "then the door is not a secret door any more."
"Come, let's see if we can find the keyhole." In the end Mom found it. She cut a neat hole in the tapestry just uncovering the keyhole. Underneath the tapestry was an old newspaper. Susan read the words 'midnight', 'paintings' and 'exhibits' on the consecutive layers. Then the keyhole was uncovered. Susan took the knife back to the basement and returned with a bundle of old keys. One of them just had to fit.  And one of them did, the most ordinary one, one of the not rusty ones. The one used for drawers cupboards and so on. Susan silently swore to dismantle and reassemble the lock so that one of the other, less common keys would fit.
The inside of the door was glued over with old newspapers, Mom looked at them. "Look, she said, They're all from 1942 or '43. It was those cold winters during the war." The owners must have isolated the room by glueing those papers on the inside." "I remember that." Susan said. Mom looked at her. "I mean ... of course I do not remember the winters, I was not born then, but Granma Mary once showed us photos of her walking to Sweden on the thick ice, patting the ferries that lay stuck and frozen in the middle of Øresund."
"Yes, I saw those as well. Impressing." Mom said."
"But what's in there?" Linda said.
"How did he get to the inside of the door?" Susan asked simultaneously.
"Linda go fetch my bike lanterns in the basket," Mom said.
"He came in from the other end, Susan," Mom said. "When we put up the fireplace in the big room, we covered the other end of this room up."
"So you knew it was there?"
"Yes and no," Mom said. "I never really thought about it, I thought it was just a small niche, not a real room that it reached all the way in behind this one. But obviously it does"
Linda returned with the bike lights, they were not too bright, but they all looked into the triangular space beneath the roof.
"There's something over there!" Linda said.
"Go and get it," Mom said. Linda got in with Mom holding the light aloof.
"Eww!" Linda said, "it's just an old bag filled with cobwebs and bottles."
"Oh, the milk bottles," Mom said. "That's where they went. I always wondered where I put them. When milk no longer came in bottles, I put our stash away instead of cashing it. I liked them and thought they would make nice vases. Bring them out here."
"But they're filled with cobwebs," Linda protested.
"I'll get the vacuum cleaner," Susan said and ran down the steep stairs.

There had been no more treasures hidden in the small triangular space, but now one of the milk bottles stood on the table in the guest room and Susan was careful to fill it at least once a week

***

Susan is still thinking back on the chain of events leading to her first encounter with Persephone, the ghost girl in the attic. 
About half a year has passed in the past Susan is thinking of. The hot summer, where Susan, Linda and her mother discovered the small room behind a secret door lies behind her. It is late winter, February or maybe March. 
This Winter is the Winter before the Summer where Susan arrives at the Unicorn Farm for the first time (I've not written about that in WfW, but I have several chapters written in Danish in my files).

Susan was disappointed. The visit had sounded nice from the start. She and Linda had gone with their parents to a friend's place. But the afternoon had turned into a wicked surprise. The landscape looked like something out of a commercial for winter holidays. Flowing, snowbound fields and even a decrepit castle in the background. The house was old, with thatched roofs and blue doors and window frames; sure it was idyllic. But the wonderful landscape and the gently falling snow was not making up for Susan's disappointment. They were supposedly going out there to see some horses, or because the man had some horses. Linda thought of learning to ride in the coming summer and this man was somehow connected to a riding school. Susan had been thinking of her latest homework. She had not been very attentive. This was so not what she had expected. Thy were sat at makeshift tables in one end of a repurposed barn, there were lot of other people and they were most assuredly not going to look at any horses. Linda and many of the other children were playing some sort of hide and seek in the dark in the other end of the building. Only Susan of the older ones sat with a couple of toddlers and a few young ones feeling too mature to play.

The men were frying sausages, using a contraption her father, the friend, and one of the other men had built. It consisted of a wooden frame with two rows of spikes, connected to live wires. Sausages were then put on the spikes, and when the switch was flipped, the current ran from spike to spike through the sausages, making them steam and sizzle, emitting tantalizing smells. But Susan did not like it. The current did not like to be used in this way.
The grown ups drank a lot of beer. For once there was no lack of coke and other soft drinks for the children, but Susan did not like the way the grown ups -- her parents included -- changed when they drank beer.

As they ate the sausages, Linda tried to find out more about the horses, but Dad kept away, frying more sausages, and Mom were no wiser.
"Bugger," her Mom said, a bit too loud. "I forgot to buy sugar as I went shopping. There's no sugar for your porridge and our tea tomorrow, Linda."
"Oh, Mom, how could you!" Linda screamed. 
That was Susan's chance. "Mom! I can go and buy some sugar. I'm sure I can make it to the supermarkets over at the new blocks before they close, and from there I can go home by bus. I've done that many times , you know that Hanna, my classmate moved over there last year, I know that ride."
"Are you sure, and won't you be cold. It's snowing quite a lot, you know."
"I know," Susan answered, "but I thought we were going out visiting a farm, and looking at horses in the snow, so I brought my sweater, anorak, warm sheepskin mittens, muffler, extra snow leggings and my long boots. I am dressed for a mile long walk through a minor blizzard. Just hand me some money for the sugar, and I'll be all right."
"OK." Susan's mother smiled foolishly. "I hate Linda's tempers. Here you are. Buy yourself some sweets while you're at it."

Susan dressed in her winter outfit and walked out in the falling snow. The weather had actually turned into a minor blizzard. The winds blew from all directions, the snow hurt her cheeks and nose, and she could hardly see the road. She stomped down the middle of the road, aiming for the lights of the main road up ahead.
The snow and the cold crept in between Susan's clothing, the wind pulled strands of hair from underneath her muffler and whipped them brutally into her eyes and over the bridge of her nose. Even though she went at a good pace, her hands and feet were slowly turning numb with the cold. She felt as if she had been walking forever in an infinite snowstorm, the lights seemed just as far away as when she set out, and the storm was relentless. She was never going to reach the new blocks alive, far less go shopping for sugar.
"Goodbye, cruel world," Susan thought. She had read that sentence somewhere, and it fit her mood.

Then she hit her shin against something hard. "Ouch!" she exclaimed. It was the guardrail on the main road, She had not even been able to see the lights through the falling snow, and had been heading for the old castle, where bright lights shone from the spires. Now she could follow the main road and with renewed energy she hurried along.
Just a few minutes before closing time Susan opened the door to the mini-market and blew in in a gust of snow and wind. The shopkeeper sold her a bag of sugar and a peppermint chocolate bar, Susan's favourite.  There were still money left, so Susan bought a bag of rock candies and some milk. The shopkeeper told her that the buses were still in service, although delays were inevitable. Susan thanked him, re-wound the muffler around her head and headed for the bus-stop.

***

As she finally returned home Susan felt frozen solid. She wanted one thing only. A roaring fire. She did not turn on any lights, she just crept up the stairs, opened the door to the attic and went into the big room. There she lit a fire in the open fireplace and plopped down in front of it. She had a stack of back issues of Readers Digest laying up there. The mailman living around the corner subscribed, and when he and his wife had read them, Susan got the old issues. She also sometimes got other books from them. This one was a book called Kitchen physics, Household chemistry or something like it. She was reading about the physical properties of honey, two forces, adherence and coherence played specific roles in the way honey behaved. Susan tried to make the strange words sound right and stick to their meaning, but she was tired after her long march through the snowstorm, and the fire was warm and cosy.

She was just beginning to drift off as a tiny voice reached her ears: "What have you done to my bottles?"
"Your bottles?" Susan answered, not yet quite awake. "What bottles are you talking about!" She sat up. Who was talking? Susan was all alone in the house.
"My bottles, they were so shiny and pretty. You took them away. Just as your mother took all the pretty things from my room and then they tore down my room." Susan saw a foggy, white figure floating next to the fireplace.
Susan shook her head violently: "Pretty thing? Your room? Sorry. Who are you, and what are you talking about?" Susan slowly realized she was all alone in the house, speaking with a ghost.
"Do you remember the attic when you were very little? There was one more room back then, between the chimney and the small room you made pretty the other day? In that room were pretty things. My pretty things!"
"Oh, now I remember. Yes the very narrow room with the shelves. I best remember the smell, a musty, not unpleasant attic smell; it always reminded me about adventures, travels and far away places. There was shelves, as I said, and a big cupboard, wonder where that went. There were some corals, big sea shells, things like that. My father once told me they were from when he sailed the seven seas." Susan looked at the wavering shape and added in a distrustful voice: "Was that your room?"
"Yes," the girl-ghost said and began crying. "And now you've taken away even the shiny bottles." Susan's pile of books began shaking and the topmost ones fell to the floor.

"No!" Susan said, "please don't cry. My Mother only took the bottles away to clean them, they were dusty, full of old cobwebs. I'll put them back tomorrow, when I find them, and hang pretty things in the smallish room. Promise."
"Can I move in there?" the girl-ghost asked. "I like it very much in there, and you've taken all my pretty things away." She began crying once more, and this time the pool cues came to life, and began shaking in their holders.
"Stop that!" Susan said sharply.
"Stop what?" the transparent girl asked. She stopped crying and looked questioning at Susan who was kneeling on the floor holding on to the cues for dear life.
"Every time you start crying, you break something." Susan said. If you promise to stop, I'll put all the pretty things I can find, into that little room tomorrow. Then you can move in there ...Only not when Granny comes visiting, I don't think she likes company, but she only comes two or three times a year for some days. And I'll come as well, I like the small room. It's so neat, and Linda don't often come here any more."
 "Irritating sisters, I understand. By the way, I'm Persephone, you can call me Percy if you like."
Susan got up and smiled. "Hello Percy, nice to meet you!" she said.

A loud noise from downstairs made Susan jump. When she opened her eyes once again, Percy was gone and she heard her mother's voice calling from downstairs.
Susan quickly threw mattress and blankets away from the fireplace and ran downstairs.

Susan returned to the here and now and realized that her legs were cramped from sitting for too long in  the same position. She stretched, and felt an almost irresistible urge to go and sit in front of the fireplace in the attic again.
"Well why not!" she thought, "even if I'm not as cold as I was then, a fire would maybe take my mind off this dripping rain. She slowly gathered her books, hiding all the magic things. You newer knew just when Linda returned and started nosing around, or Mom wanted to tidy. And the Do not disturb spells were not very strong, Susan dared not make them so for fear of misplacing her own things. She would take no risks with the magic books or worse, her wand. When the needles and pins had left her legs, she unlocked the door to the attic - not that anything secret was up there, but the door was old, and the latch worn. It was an unpleasant task to get up in the middle of the night to stop it from banging.

***
Chapter 21 - (February 6, 2019)
Susan brought Cantrippes for every day use, blankets and pillows with her to the attic. She took the key from the door and hung it on the nail right next to the ovoid hole in the wall. Then she was sure no one came and disturbed her, without knocking. That way she could study Cantrippes ... - now bound in the most boring wrapping paper, she could find - and have time to put it into the stack and pick a regular school book before letting somebody in. No one bothered with old school books.

She looked around in the attic. It was really a boring room after her father's makeover. Well, the fireplace was of course a good thing, but the old, worn out pool table? Then there were some chairs and small tables standing around. Between the rafters were raw plates and big, top-hung windows. How did it look earlier? Susan closed her eyes and thought back. Small windows with a round upper part, the raw underside of red, roof tiles between the rafters, mortar seeping through here and there like icing on a cake, and a naked chimney with an old cleaning hatch. Percy's small, narrow room she could only just remember. It had to be torn down earlier than the rest had been renovated. Maybe when the roof tiles were relaid? The wall at the end towards the neighbour had been raw, red bricks. She remembered her father's pride at the fun waves and curls he had made in the plaster, they were fun to look at, yes; but they were very scratchy if you came up too close. The floor had been weathered boards, differing in length, width and colour, and almost covered in dust. The room had seemed much bigger, home to weird things and stuff, old crates, a dress form, an old cupboard, swings and sleds and skis, and it was only lit by candles.
It was the smell she remembered best. A special attic smell, a smell of adventure, treasures, alien lands and explorations. Now all the treasures Susan had been able to find around the house stood inside the little room. The corals, all the milk bottles, shiny and sorted after size, Susan's own large sea shell, old pearl necklaces, and bright glass ones too, hung on hooks, and small, almost translucent mocha cups stood on the table. Susan didn't go into the little room, she went left to the fireplace. Methodically, she tore the birch bark off the wood pieces, built up a small bonfire with bark and kindling and put on larger and larger pieces until three pieces of firewood burned with gentle, even flames.
She pulled forth Cantrippes ... Much to her consternation a tourist folder had attached to the book.  She laid it aside, it did look brand new, fresh from the press. She wondered how it had gotten there, It was a very specific folder, and Susan was sure she had never seen it before. "Oh, well, memory is unpredictable,"  she thought to herself as she placed the folder underneath the photo of Torben and the stranger on top of her normal schoolbooks.

She was reading about the use of onions in healing spells. Absorbed she just moved closer to the fire for light and warmth as the sun set.
Suddenly she felt like someone watched her. A cold breeze chilled her, and she pulled the blankets closer.
"Why are you having a photo of that evil man?" Percy - of course, she was a ghost, she would make her feel cold and watched.
"Which evil man do you mean, Percy?" Susan asked carefully.
"Him!"
"Him?"
"Oh!" Percy exclaimed, "I forgot how immaterial I have become. That's one of the advantages of being a ghost. Or do I mean disadvantages? I can not point any more. Mama always told me it was very impolite to point."
"I see," Susan said, even if she did not. "But if you cannot point, how can you tell me which man, you mean?"
"I can draw," Percy said. Susan's pencil rose from the floor and drew a nice circle around Torben's guest in the photo.
"Him!" Susan exclaimed, "but who is he?" The man shaking his hand, is one of my teachers, but I don't know who he is. It's a friend of mine that took this picture."
"He is bad," Percy said in a quiet voice, "a very bad man. Mama hated him, he did bad things. I always wanted to know what he did, but no amount of asking ever got me anywhere."
"Do you remember his name?" Susan asked, then maybe I could find out something about him.
"No!" Percy said. "I don't remember. "He was French, or maybe Belgian, he had a funny name, but I can't remember it."
"Can you tell me anything at all about him," Susan asked.
"He makes me think of surfing, sea spray suntan, rubber ducks and a reef," Percy said.

"Ouch!" Susan exclaimed, busying herself with putting out one corner of the blankets, that had caught fire.
"Oh, the joys of living," Percy remarked in an acetic voice before disappearing again. "I'll write you a note, if I remember more. Just take care not to burn it."

Susan went downstairs again. She put the books in place, and looked once again at the tourist folder. It was trying to make the onlooker go to some tourist resort, featuring surfing, fake shark lagunas and reefs, She opened it, and inside were reefs with sun tanned surfers riding waves with lots of artificial looking spray. I  was not a place, Susan would ever like to go, she loved the real stuff way too much. She looked at the address, then she looked once more. It was from a place in Belgium, Fontein der Jeugd/Fontaine de Jouvence, almost at the French border. Did Percy see this folder, did she put it there or was it mere coincidence. Susan did not believe in coincidence. She sat down at her table to write a letter to Heidi and her family.

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