Seven for a Secret Never to be Told

Mia was trying to think of a way to ask Miss Jaggers how Tommy Bassett had died but she knew if she brought it up Miss Jaggers would know she had read the rest of the email.

She went upstairs to put on her bed clothes. Downstairs she could hear everyone arriving. Mr and Mrs Jones, Sam and John, Mr Gregory and Mrs Hewitt who investigated people’s family trees. Even Robin, the history student from college put in an appearance. Mia was sitting on the top step when her Nan called her to come down to clean her teeth.

She felt embarrassed in her bright pink onesie and scuttled through the history group throng into the kitchen and to the little bathroom beyond. The sun was going down and the room with its small window was shadowy but she didn’t turn on the light. She reached for the toothpaste where she knew it would be and squeezed some onto her toothbrush. She turned on the tap then looked in the mirror.

Her own face stared back at her but something was wrong. Mia heard a sound she couldn’t identify and then she realised what it was. It was the crackle of frost forming on the mirror filling it bit by bit with spectacular swirls of ice. She wondered at the beautiful patterns whilst being gripped with fear at not understanding what was happening. The sudden drop in temperature turned her skin to goose bumps.

She was suddenly aware of icy breath on the back of her neck and the white vapour of that breath unravelled in the air around her. Her heart raced, thudding against her ribs. And then it happened.

As she looked into the frosty patterns on the mirror she saw that letters were being scratched through the ice and words were being formed before her eyes.

‘Ask.’ That was the first word. Then ‘Mrs Jones.’ That was it. ‘Ask Mrs Jones.’ Mia screwed her eyes shut as tightly as possible, then slowly, very slowly opened them again. The words were gone. She could no longer feel breath on the back of her neck. Stunned and not knowing what to do she attempted to brush her teeth but her hand shook so much she dropped her toothbrush.

Mia looked into the sink. The small pool of water in the bottom of the bowl had turned to ice. She took a big breath and said out loud.

’I’ll ask her. I will ask her about you Tommy Bassett.’

Mia sat on the edge of the bath and noticed how quickly the temperature went back to normal and how the frost on the mirror seemed to mist over and disappear. She didn’t know what to think. Mia was still shaky and put all her effort into trying to calm down. She had to ask Mrs Jones something. What did she have to ask her? What would Mrs Jones know? And then she remembered back to the last history group meeting.

What was it that Mrs Jones had said when everyone was talking about the field at the back of the cottage? It was just before her Nan had caught her sitting at the top of the stairs eavesdropping. Mia tried really hard to remember and then like an electric light going on in her head it suddenly came to her.

When Mia came out of the bathroom Mrs Jones was sorting through a box file of documents on the kitchen counter with Mrs Hewitt. Mia saw her opportunity.

‘Mrs Jones, can I ask you something?’

‘What is it Mia?’ Mrs Jones replied kindly.

‘Something you said at the last meeting...about a boy?’

‘Oh, I can’t remember that far back. What exactly did I say?’ By now Mrs Hewitt was also listening to Mia’s question.

‘Well when everyone was talking about the field at the back and someone said it was a lake and it had been used as a dump, you said something about a boy…’

‘Did I?’ She thought for a minute. ‘Oh yes. There was a boy...He died in the bather.’

‘Did he drown?’ asked Mia.

‘He did. But it was worse than that,’ said Mrs Jones.

‘How can it be worse than that?’ exclaimed Mia.

‘Well poor boy went through the ice. Out there on the bather all by himself. Terrible tragedy.’ Mia felt weak, her stomach turned over.

‘Are you alright Mia?’

‘Yes,’ she lied, ‘do you know anything else?’

‘Um, didn’t you do some family history on the boy who died in the bather Sylvie?’ She turned to Mrs Hewitt.

‘Oh, you mean the Bassett boy? Yes. There was a dreadful accident.’ She paused as she gathered her thoughts. ’It was Christmas Eve 1950. It was a very cold winter. It snowed for most of December and the snow was a metre deep in places. Everything was frozen, including the bather in the field behind your cottage Mia.

‘The poor little lad that died was called Tommy Bassett. He was out on the bather by himself, out on the ice. Goodness knows what possessed him. One minute I suppose he was having fun messing about on the ice the next the ice must have cracked and given way and down he went into the frozen water. Must have been terrifying.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘No one knew he was missing till that evening and some of his friends said they’d last seen him at the bather. It was dark by then and although they looked for him, he wasn’t found.’

‘Next morning they went back to look again. It was Christmas day and a group of men from the village came out to the bather. They tied a rope to his dad Stanley and secured it to one of the old willows and he slowly made his way out onto the ice. The men held the rope ready to pull him back if the ice cracked.’ She fell silent. In fact there was a hush amongst the whole history group. Everyone was listening to Mrs Hewitt.

‘What happened next?’ asked Mia.

‘He wasn’t very steady on his feet, but he was desperate to find his boy. He must have been hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find anything out there in the ice. He carefully set out across the solid water, slippery step by slippery step. About a quarter way across he saw it. A line in the ice, like an ancient scar that looked like it had been broken and frozen over again. He knelt down and wiped the film of frost from the icy surface…and that’s when he saw him. The face of his boy, his son, staring up through the frozen water, deathly white and motionless. An awful moment caught in time beneath the ice.’ Her voice was met by silence.

‘I think we need some more shortbread,’ said Robin lightening the mood. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and carry on doing whatever it was they’d been doing before Mrs Hewitt began speaking.

‘What happened next?’ Mia asked.

‘Well they broke the ice and got him out. Poor lad. Christmas day as well,’ she sighed.

‘Thanks Mrs Hewitt,’ said Mia turning to go.

‘There’s something else you might find interesting Mia,’ said Mrs Hewitt. Mia waited for her to continue. ’Tommy Bassett had a twin brother called Bobby and about ten years ago Bobby’s daughter, bearing in mind she’s half Canadian, wanted me to research the ‘English’ side of her family tree. It so happens I showed her this little lane of cottages because this is where the Bassett twins grew up.’

‘They lived along here?’ asked Mia. She held her breath.

‘Down at Bluebell Cottage, by the old plum tree.’ Mia let out a sigh of relief. She was glad they hadn’t lived in her Nan’s cottage. She wanted her Nan’s cottage to be filled with happy memories and good times.

‘You’ll give her nightmares Sylvie,’ said Mia’s Nan finding the custard creams and adding them to the shortbread. ‘Bedtime now Mia, I’ll pop up in a minute and tuck you in.’ Mia turned to go upstairs and caught Miss Jaggers looking at her. She had been listening to the story Mrs Hewitt had told Mia about Tommy Bassett. Had she guessed that Mia had read the end of her brother’s email and his regrets about Tommy Bassett’s death?

Mia suddenly remembered that she’d promised to contact Safi.

‘Can Safi come over after school tomorrow Nan?’ she asked quickly.

‘Yes sure, but bed now Mia.’

‘Can I just borrow your mobile and ring him, just so his mum knows.’ Mia’s Nan frowned.

‘Alright then, it’s in my handbag on my bed.’ As Mia walked to the stairs Miss Jaggers grabbed her by the arm.

‘Some things are better left alone Mia Page,’ she said quietly. Mia’s stomach turned. She liked Miss Jaggers but now she felt as if there was something dangerous about finding out about the Magpie Club’s secret. She didn’t reply, just gently pulled her arm away and went quickly upstairs.