THE WARDROBE

                A short story by Jean Childs

Fiona watched from the bedroom window as the squirrel scampered
along the garden path and up the tree. As a small child she had
watched the squirrels in her Gran's garden. Vermin her Gran had
called them. "Don't you go touching them." Not that she ever tried
to get close enough to one. She just sat on a stool by the back
door and watched them playing. She loved staying at her Gran's
house, and now it was hers. The voice in her head again reminded
her that she hadn't seen her grandmother for quite a long time
before she died. Always some excuse, always too busy. She shut the
voice away. Gran had understood.

She turned away from the window and crossed the room, her fingers
running across the old quilt on the bed. She stopped and looked at
the old-fashioned bed. "Sorry Gran" she said aloud, "but like the
dressing table, it has to go". She'd already sold the huge
dressing-table that had stood in the recess. The man from the
second-hand furniture shop in the village had promised to come
back next Saturday for the bed, and the new one was to be
delivered the same day. Tomorrow she was having a fitted wardrobe
built into the recess. She felt quite excited about all the
changes she was making to the old house, and quickly dismissed any
thought about how fast she was getting through the money that Gran
had left her. The fitted wardrobe was the most expensive
improvement, and it was to be far more modern than the old one in
the front bedroom. Suddenly old memories came flooding back. The
wardrobe in the front bedroom, her old bedroom.

As a child she used to sleep in the front bedroom when she stayed
at her Gran's. She used to have dreams about the wardrobe. In her
dreams she would open the wardrobe and, parting the clothes that
hung inside, she would find the magic door. The door that led to a
secret paradise. Rooms that held all the toys that she had ever
wanted and her parents couldn't afford.  There was a room full of
paints where she could even paint on the wall without being told
off. Another room full of porcelain dolls sitting at little tables
with miniature china cups and saucers. Even her own little kitchen
with a miniature cooker that really worked, and where she could
make dainty cakes and decorate them. The room she liked best was
full of building bricks like her brother had owned and had never
let her play with.

At the time she didn't realise that she was dreaming. She believed
that the door was magic and only appeared during the night. One
day, when it was too wet to play outside, she had climbed into the
wardrobe believing that if she wished hard enough the door would
be there. Suddenly her Gran walked into the bedroom and pushed the
wardrobe door shut. She was engulfed in darkness except for the
shaft of light that entered through the gap at the right hand side
where the door fitted badly. She pushed against the door but
nothing happened. "Gran" she shouted. "Let me out!" The door
opened and the light flooded in.

"What are you doing in there?" asked her Gran. "Come out before
you crease those clothes."

She stepped out of the wardrobe and immediately put her arms
around her Gran's waist. "Don't you go in there Gran, when I'm not
here. The wind might shut the door and there would be nobody here
to let you out."

"That's all right" her Gran had said, lifting her up in her arms.
"There's a catch on the inside of the other door. If you drop the
catch and push, both doors will open. See?" Her Gran showed her
the catch at the top of the door.

"Can I try?" she asked. "Please Gran?" Her Gran had usually given
away to her whims and fancies and, placing a chair inside the
wardrobe, she helped her to climb onto it.

"Are you sure you want me to shut you in?" Gran had asked.  Fiona
had nodded and her Gran carefully closed the door.  Standing on
her toes and reaching the top of the doors, Fiona felt for the
catch and released it. She pushed the doors and they flew open,
almost over-balancing her from the chair.

"That's clever" she said jumping off the chair. "Can I do it
again?"

"Not now" answered her Gran, taking the chair from the wardrobe
and straightening the clothes. "It's time for tea."

From that day on Fiona's dreams had always started with her
putting a chair inside the wardrobe.

Then she remembered the night of the big storm. She'd run into her
Gran's bedroom and climbed into her bed. Lightning lit up the room
and she saw that her Gran had covered up the mirror on the big,
old dressing-table. Gran always did that when there was a storm,
which unsettled her slightly. Yet her Gran always told her that
the thunder was God moving his furniture around.

"Gran" she asked "why is there a hole in your bedroom?"

"A hole dear, where?"

"Where you keep your dressing-table. Why isn't the wall straight?"

Her Gran explained that it was called a recess and that she had
one in her bedroom, where the built-in wardrobe was.

"So what's that wall?" she asked, not really wanting to know the
answer.

"That's the back of your wardrobe, you silly-billy."

Fiona had climbed out of the bed and in the darkness she ran her
hand across the wall. The lightning flashed, but all she saw was a
blank wall. Disappointed she climbed back into her Gran's bed and
quietly went to sleep. The dreams never came any more, and she
accepted that they were only dreams.

The chiming of the grandfather clock down in the hall brought
Fiona back to the present. It was eleven o'clock and there was a
lot to do today. She had to clear the old wardrobe as the men who
were fitting the new one tomorrow were also taking out the old
one. She had already left the spare front door key with her
neighbour, who was to let the workmen in as Fiona would be at
work. She went into the front bedroom and looked about her. This
was going to be her study now. Once the old wardrobe had gone she
would have shelves fitted into the recess for her books, and a
desk under the window. This room was much lighter than the back
bedroom. She stood for a while imagining how the room would look,
then shook herself into getting some work done. She opened one of
the big, cardboard boxes that she'd brought up earlier and rolled
up her sleeves. She was about to open the wardrobe when she
noticed that the catch was broken. After pulling both doors wide
open, she lifted out some of the clothes that were hanging on the
rail. She immediately dropped the clothes onto the floor as she
staggered backwards almost falling.

There was the magic door. Fiona stood transfixed for a couple of
moments and then gingerly opened the door. The next moment she was
in the magical passageway with all the doors leading off, and
decided that she must have fallen asleep and was dreaming.  Which
door should she choose first? She hesitated for only a second
before entering her favourite room of building bricks. In that
split second she had recalled the bright colours and multitudinal
shapes of the wooden bricks and wasn't prepared for the rotted,
colourless mess that she found. She ran from room to room,
glancing only briefly at the distorted porcelain faces and the
broken cups and saucers. As she entered the tiny kitchen, smoke
started to billow from the little cooker and she ran out and
headed for the magic door.

Once inside the wardrobe, the magic door slammed behind her and
she reached for the catch to release the now closed wardrobe
doors. There was no catch. In a state of panic Fiona beat on the
doors with her fists and shouted for her Gran. Darkness surrounded
her, even the gap at the right hand side was no longer there. For
a long time Fiona banged on the doors, scraped at the doors,
screamed, shouted and then collapsed in a heap on the floor. Her
fingers were bleeding, her throat was choking on her tears,
choking on the smoke, choking on the darkness. Then just as
consciousness was about to leave her, the doors opened and light
flooded in.

"What are you doing in there?" asked her Gran. "Come out before
you crease those clothes."

The next day the whole village was horrified to hear how the men
had arrived to take out the old fitted wardrobe and had found the
lifeless body of a young woman. The doctors were unable to find
any cause of death other than the fact that the look on Fiona's
face had suggested that she had died of fright. But why had she
died of fright? There was nothing else in the wardrobe other than
a few clothes hanging on the rail. She wasn't locked in as the
catch was broken and appeared to have been broken for some time.
It was suggested that she had died elsewhere and the body had been
put in the wardrobe, but by whom and why? There was no sign of
forced entry anywhere in the house. Why she had died was a
mystery.



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