Journey to the River Sea

The lady brought their muffins and the teapot in a knitted cosy. When they were alone again, Clovis said, ‘It isn’t that I don’t want it – the old man’s been very good to me and well ... there are things I could do. I’d like to bring my foster mother here to cook – she’s always wanted to work in a house like this, and the cook we’ve got is leaving. And my – your – cousins are nice. The Basher’s girls. You wouldn’t think she’d have nice children but she has. But I couldn’t take it from you for the rest of your life. For always. How could I live in a great house and take the money that’s really yours when you live in a wooden hut ... I mean, now that you’ve seen it, surely—?’

He broke off. Finn was looking very odd. Different. He reached for Clovis’ hand.

‘Clovis, do you swear that you don’t mind staying here as Master of Westwood? Do you absolutely swear it?’

‘I swear it.’

Finn, as he walked back with his friend to the station, seemed to be made of something quite different. Not muscle and bone – feathers and air ... and lightness. He did not actually intend to fly because that would have been showing off, but he could have done so if he’d wanted to.

‘You’ll never know what you’ve done for me,’ he said as they reached the gates of the level crossing. ‘If there’s anything you want—’

Clovis grinned. ‘Can I have Maia when she’s grown-up?’

Finn’s smile vanished in an instant.

‘No,’ he said.

‘Oh well ...’

Maia would probably want to go off adventuring again one day, thought Clovis, and that wouldn’t suit him. He’d settle for one of the Basher’s banshees. There was plenty of time to decide which one.

At two o’clock, Maia saw Mr Murray’s motor stop outside the school. Five minutes later, Miss Minton arrived, walking across the square.

The interview took place in Miss Banks’ private sitting room while Maia waited in the hall, and as soon as she saw Mr Murray’s face, Miss Minton knew there was no hope. She would not even be allowed to look after Maia in the holidays. She was in complete disgrace.

Miss Minton had spent the night with her sister and bought another corset because the good times were gone. She sat up very straight and before Mr Murray could begin she opened her purse and took out ten sovereigns.

‘This is Maia’s money,’ she said. ‘We sold the things we had collected on the journey, and since there were four of us it seemed proper to divide everything we earned by four.’

Mr Murray looked at the heap of coins in surprise.

‘And I have of course kept a list of expenses. Anything I bought for Maia out of her allowance, I have written down here.’

‘Yes, yes ...’ Mr Murray had no doubt about Miss Minton’s honesty. It was her sanity he was not sure about. He cleared his throat. ‘I have to tell you that before this ... escapade . . . I was considering making you joint guardian with me of Maia. I’m getting old, and a woman would be able to help her with the problems she might soon meet. But now I’m afraid I shall have to dismiss you and arrange for Maia to spend her holidays at school.’

Miss Minton bowed her head. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I was expecting that.’

Mr Murray pushed back his chair.

‘Miss Minton, what on earth made you let a young girl travel up the Amazon and spend weeks living with savages? What made you do it? The British consul thinks that you must all have been drugged.’

‘Perhaps. Yes, perhaps we were drugged. Not by the things the Xanti smoked – none of us touched them – but by ... peace ... by happiness. By a different sense of time.’

‘I don’t think you have explained why you let Maia—’

Miss Minton interrupted him. ‘I will explain. At least I will try to. You see, I have looked after some truly dreadful children in my time and it was easy not to get fond of them. After all, a governess is not a mother. But Maia ... well, I’m afraid I grew to love her. And that meant I began to think what I would do if she was my child.’

‘And you would let her—’ began Mr Murray.

But Miss Minton stopped him. ‘I would let her ... have adventures. I would let her ... choose her path. It would be hard ... it was hard ... but I would do it. Oh, not completely, of course. Some things have to go on. Cleaning one’s teeth, arithmetic. But Maia fell in love with the Amazon. It happens. The place was for her – and the people. Of course there was some danger, but there is danger everywhere. Two years ago, in this school, there was an outbreak of typhus and three girls died. Children are knocked down and killed by horses every week, here in these streets.’ She broke off, gathering her thoughts. ‘When she was travelling and exploring ... and finding her songs Maia wasn’t just happy; she was ... herself. I think something broke in Maia when her parents died, and out there it was healed. Perhaps I’m mad – and the professor too – but I think children must lead big lives ... if it is in them to do so. And it is in Maia.’

The old lawyer was silent, rolling his silver pencil over and over between his fingers.

‘You would take her back to Brazil?’

‘Yes.’