[adapted]

by Saki

The children were going to be taken, as a special treat, to the sandy beach at Jagborough. But Nicholas was not allowed to go with them. He was being punished. That very morning, he had refused to eat his healthy bread and milk. His reason? He said there was a frog in it. The older, wiser, and supposedly better people told him that there could not possibly be a frog in his bowl and that he should not talk nonsense. But Nicholas kept insisting and described in great detail the color and markings of the so-called frog. The most surprising part of the story was that there really was a frog in Nicholas’ bowl of bread and milk. He had put it there himself, so he knew for sure what it looked like. The grown-ups went on and on about how wrong it was to take a frog from the garden and put it into a bowl of perfectly good food. But to Nicholas, the most important part of the whole situation was this: The older, wiser, and better people had been completely wrong about something they were so sure about.

“You said there couldn’t possibly be a frog in my bread and milk. But there was a frog in my bread and milk,” he kept repeating, like a clever person who knows they have a winning argument and refuses to back down.

So, his boy cousin, girl cousin, and boring younger brother were allowed to go to Jagborough Sands that afternoon, while he had to stay home. His cousins’ aunt—who, for some unfair reason, insisted on calling herself his aunt too—had quickly come up with the idea of the trip to Jagborough just to make Nicholas feel jealous. She wanted him to see all the fun he was missing out on because of his bad behavior at breakfast. She always did this. Whenever one of the children misbehaved, she would suddenly come up with a fun trip or event that the naughty child would be banned from attending. If all the children misbehaved at the same time, she would tell them about a circus happening in a nearby town—a circus better than any other, with huge crowds and more elephants than they could count. And, of course, she would tell them that if only they had behaved better, they would have been taken there that very day.

A few sad tears were expected from Nicholas when the time came for the others to leave for their fun trip. However, it was not Nicholas who cried. Instead, his girl cousin was the one in tears—she had scraped her knee quite badly on the step of the carriage while trying to climb in. “She really screamed,” said Nicholas cheerfully as the group drove off, without any of the excitement and joy that should have come with such a trip.

“She’ll forget about it soon,” said the so-called aunt. “It’s going to be a wonderful afternoon for running around on the beautiful sandy beach. They are going to have such a great time!”

“Bobby won’t have a great time, and he won’t be doing much running either,” Nicholas said with a mischievous laugh. “His boots are too tight. They’re hurting him.”

“Why didn’t he tell me they were hurting?” the aunt asked in an annoyed tone.

“He told you twice, but you weren’t listening. You often don’t listen when we tell you important things.”

The aunt ignored his comment and suddenly changed the subject.

“You are not allowed to go into the gooseberry garden.”

“Why not?” Nicholas asked.

“Because you are being punished,” the aunt said in a proud and superior tone.

Nicholas did not agree with his aunt’s reasoning. He saw no reason why he couldn’t be both in trouble and in the gooseberry garden at the same time. His face took on a stubborn expression. It was clear to his aunt that he was determined to go into the gooseberry garden—only, as she told herself, “because I told him not to.”

Now, the gooseberry garden had two doors that led inside. Once a small child like Nicholas managed to slip in, he could easily disappear among the tall plants—artichokes, raspberry bushes, and fruit trees. The aunt had many other things to do that afternoon, but she still spent an hour or two doing small gardening tasks in the flower beds and bushes, making sure she could keep an eye on the two doors leading to the forbidden paradise. She was a woman with few ideas, but with an incredible ability to focus.

Nicholas made one or two attempts to go into the front garden, moving sneakily towards one of the doors. But each time, his aunt’s sharp eyes followed him. In reality, he had no intention of going into the gooseberry garden at all. But it was very useful for him that his aunt believed he wanted to. He knew this belief would keep her busy watching the garden for most of the afternoon. Once Nicholas was sure she was fully distracted, he quickly went back into the house and put his real plan into action—a plan he had been thinking about for a long time.

By standing on a chair in the library, he could reach a big, important-looking key on a high shelf. This key was just as important as it looked. It was the key that kept the secrets of the lumber-room safe from anyone who was not allowed inside. Only aunts and other privileged people had the right to open that door. Nicholas had not practiced much with locks and keys, but for the past few days, he had been training himself with the schoolroom key. He did not believe in relying on luck. The key was stiff in the lock, but it turned. The door opened, and Nicholas stepped into an unknown world. Compared to this, the gooseberry garden was nothing special—just an ordinary place, a simple pleasure.

Many times, Nicholas had imagined what the lumber-room might look like. It was a place that was always locked, carefully hidden from children’s eyes, and no one ever answered questions about it. Now, seeing it for himself, he was not disappointed. First of all, it was big and dimly lit. Its only source of light was a tall window that faced the forbidden garden. Second, it was full of amazing treasures—things Nicholas had never even imagined. The so-called aunt was the type of person who believed that things get ruined when used, so she locked them away in dust and dampness instead of letting people enjoy them. Most of the house—at least the parts Nicholas knew—was plain and dull. But in this room, there were so many wonderful things to look at.

The first and most interesting thing was a framed tapestry, which seemed to be made as a fire screen. To Nicholas, however, it was a living, breathing story. He sat down on a roll of Indian fabric, which was full of bright, glowing colors but covered in a layer of dust, and started studying the tapestry picture. It showed a man dressed in an old hunting outfit. He had just shot an arrow into a stag, which stood only a step or two away from him. Nicholas thought the shot must have been easy—in the thick vegetation shown in the picture, it wouldn’t have been difficult to sneak up on a deer that was eating. Two spotted hunting dogs were leaping forward, ready to chase the deer. Nicholas could tell they had been trained well, because they had stayed still until the hunter shot his arrow. That part of the picture was simple but interesting.

But then Nicholas noticed something that the huntsman in the picture did not see. Four wolves were running toward him through the trees. Were there more wolves hiding behind the trees? Even with just four, could the man and his dogs fight them off if they attacked? The hunter had only two arrows left in his quiver—and what if he missed both shots? The only thing Nicholas knew about the hunter’s shooting skills was that he could hit a large deer from a very short distance. For many golden minutes, Nicholas sat thinking about the different possibilities in the scene.

He was quite sure that there were more than four wolves, and that the hunter and his dogs were in big trouble. But there were many other fascinating objects in the lumber-room that immediately caught his attention. There were strangely shaped candlesticks, twisted into the shape of snakes. There was a teapot made to look like a china duck, with its open beak designed for pouring tea. Compared to that, the plain and boring teapot in the nursery seemed completely uninteresting!

There was also a carved sandalwood box, packed tightly with sweet-smelling cotton wool. Between the layers of soft cotton, there were small brass figures—hump-necked bulls, peacocks, and goblins—each one delightful to look at and even more exciting to hold in his hands.

One item looked less interesting at first. It was a large square book with plain black covers. But when Nicholas peeked inside, he discovered it was full of colorful pictures of birds! And what birds they were!

When Nicholas was outside in the garden or walking in the lanes, he only ever saw a few birds—the biggest ones being the occasional magpie or wood pigeon. But this book was filled with herons, bustards, kites, toucans, tiger-bitterns, brush turkeys, ibises, golden pheasants—a whole collection of incredible birds he had never even imagined before.

As he admired the bright colors of the mandarin duck, he started imagining its life story — When suddenly, his aunt’s loud, high-pitched voice shouted his name from the gooseberry garden outside. She had started to suspect something because Nicholas had been gone for too long. She assumed that he had climbed over the wall behind the lilac bushes and was now hiding somewhere inside the garden. She was now searching for him among the artichokes and raspberry bushes, calling his name with growing frustration.

“Nicholas! Nicholas!” she screamed. “Come out of there at once! You can’t hide—I can see you the whole time!”

It was probably the first time in twenty years that anyone had smiled inside the lumber-room.

After a while, the angry shouting of Nicholas’ name suddenly changed into a loud scream and a desperate cry for help.

Nicholas calmly closed the book, carefully put it back in the corner where he had found it, and then shook some dust from a nearby pile of newspapers over it. Then, he quietly crept out of the room, locked the door, and put the key back exactly where he had found it. His aunt was still calling his name when he casually walked into the front garden.

“Who’s calling?” he asked, pretending to be surprised.

“Me,” came the voice from the other side of the wall. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been looking for you in the gooseberry garden, and I fell into the rainwater tank. Luckily, there’s no water in it, but the sides are too slippery, and I can’t climb out. Go and get the small ladder from under the cherry tree—”

“I was told I wasn’t allowed to go into the gooseberry garden,” Nicholas said firmly.

“I told you not to,” the voice snapped, “but now I am telling you that you can.”

Nicholas hesitated.

“Your voice doesn’t sound like Aunt’s,” he said. “You might be the Evil One trying to trick me into disobeying. Aunt always tells me that the Evil One tempts me, and that I always give in. But this time, I’m not going to give in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the trapped woman. “Just go and fetch the ladder!”

“Will there be strawberry jam for tea?” Nicholas asked innocently.

“Of course there will be,” said the aunt, secretly deciding that Nicholas would not get any.

“Now I know for sure that you are the Evil One and not my aunt!” Nicholas shouted with delight. “Yesterday, when we asked Aunt for strawberry jam, she said there wasn’t any. But I know there are four jars in the store cupboard because I checked! Of course, you know they’re there, but she doesn’t, because she said there was none. Oh, Devil, you have exposed yourself!”

There was something wonderfully exciting about being able to speak to an aunt as if she were the Devil himself. But Nicholas was smart enough to know that this kind of fun should not be overused. He walked away loudly, making sure she could hear him leaving.

In the end, it was the kitchen maid, who had come outside looking for parsley, who finally rescued the aunt from the rainwater tank. That evening, tea was eaten in complete silence.

The children’s trip to Jagborough had been a complete failure. When they arrived at Jagborough Cove, the tide was too high, so there was no sand to play on—something the aunt had forgotten to check in her hurry to punish Nicholas. Bobby’s tight boots had made him grumpy and bad-tempered the entire afternoon. In the end, none of the children had a good time.

The aunt sat at the table in cold, stiff silence, still angry and embarrassed from being stuck in a rainwater tank for thirty-five minutes. Nicholas was also silent, but for a different reason. He was deep in thought—still imagining the scene from the tapestry in the lumber-room. Maybe, he thought, the huntsman would escape with his hounds, while the wolves feasted on the wounded stag.