Not that any of us have a clue what she means by that. Miss Marple said it’s like coffee and milk. Very different in taste and looks. When you pour it together, both change. You can still notice the ingredients, but they are not the same.
I don’t think she hit a winner with that metaphor. Lilly laughed out loud and imagined how the milk-coffee mix of her and Amadeus would look. No. I can’t say we’ve got the concept, but seeing Maddie and Elise turn towards each other instead of away, was touching and made me much more hopeful.
It must have happened because of the tree. I always took our tree house for granted, for something we were lucky enough to have, similar to finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Seeing the tree in the backyard of the house was a big shock. It took less than a second and the Tribe knew this was where our tree house had come from.
It took no more than a split second for fear to rise. “If everyone can see the tree, can they also enter our tree house? Are we still safe?”
It wasn’t easy to explain to the kids the difference between the tree in the backyard and our tree house. Not because it was difficult to explain, but because I don’t know how it happened that our house looked like the spitting image of the tree in the backyard. I told them we have a tree house and a house-house. The tree house is a place only we can see and only we can enter. That makes it the most important of all the houses. It’s our safe place.
If one of us slips into the body and interacts with the outside world, we find ourselves in the house-house, or on the streets, or in the forest. When we slip into the body people can say or do hurtful things to us. When we are in the body, our actions can cause trouble.
Like when Mikey pushed Luke aside and slipped into the body as the car drove past a sign that said Treasure Island Fun Park. Mikey wanted to look for the treasure. All hell broke loose. For starters, he doesn’t know how to drive a car and he’s too small to reach the pedals, so he couldn’t even stop. We came off the road and ended up in a paddock. Not much harm done, but Mikey never again tried to snatch the car from Luke.
My hot chocolate is getting cold and our house-house needs cleaning. I promised myself to have it done by the time the Tribe wakes up. That means, stop mulling things over and getting started. You’d think cleaning in the middle of the night, in a house without electricity, was a crazy idea? Not if you want a decent stretch of time to finish what you’ve started. During the daytime, the competition for body time is too strong. Our house would look like a pig sty in no time. Not on my watch. Anyhow, I counted at least six oil lamps throughout the room.
I get up and walk to the window. A few clouds race across the sky as if they have places to go and things to do. The rain has stopped and beams of pale moonlight stream through the windows into the room. They don’t give much light, but it’s better than nothing.
That reminds me. I have lots of things to do if I want the Tribe to wake up to a warm, welcoming home. I find the matches Luke left on the kitchen cupboard and light the lamps. It’s not the best light, but I’ve cleaned rooms under worse circumstances. With an oil-lamp in my hand showing me the way, I go on a discovery mission.
The house has no cellar, but I remember two doors at the right hiding a pantry and a laundry. The pantry holds a pleasant surprise. Rows of preserves greet me. Aunt Amanda must have hoped to live for many more years. I see pickled gherkins, lemons, apples, cherries, plums, pears, tomatoes, and two rows of jams and marmalade. I’ll check another time whether they’re still edible.
The laundry brings another surprise. Elizabeth’s aunt must have planned to come back because there were even dirty dishes in the sink. Armed with a broom, rags, dusters, brushes, and dustpan, I’m almost ready to start. All I need is a bucket with clean water. In a house with no electricity and no town water connection, this is not an easy chore.
I wish I’d thought about filling the bucket at the pump earlier in the evening. It’ll take a few days, I guess, to have new routines established. Going out of the house in the middle of the night is not my idea of fun. I pick up the empty bucket and head to the pump in the backyard.
Now, cleaning is one of the most satisfying activities I can think of. Cleaning a house that has been empty for over thirty years is the best because the difference is like night and day. There’s nothing better than a tidy room, gleaming surfaces, and the distinct smell of lemon and soap lingering in the air.
I chase several families of mice—I hope they weren’t rats because the thought of rats makes me cringe—out of the house, getting rid of spider webs and truckloads of dust. After three hours the ground floor is spotless. I even found a jar with oil I used to shine up the large table and cupboard. It smelled a little rancid, but I plucked a lemon from the tree in the front yard that still carries plenty of fruit and mixed its juice with the oil.
I unpack the bags we brought from Horace’s house and look for a new home for our things. Elise’s books end up on the now clean bookshelves. There is enough space for Elise’s
