The Hidden Garden
a retelling of The Secret Garden
edited by Jane Mouttet
Chapter 15 – Wonders in the Garden
After a week of rain, the sky finally cleared, and the sun came out warm and bright. Although Mary hadn’t been able to visit the hidden garden or see Dickon during the rainy days, she didn’t mind. She had spent hours every day with Colin, talking about Rajahs, gardens, and Dickon’s cottage on the moor. They looked at picture books and read stories to each other. Colin hardly seemed like an invalid, except that his face was pale, and he still stayed on the sofa most of the time.
“You’re a sneaky one,” Mrs. Medlock told Mary one day, laughing. “Going off to find Colin like that! But honestly, it’s been a blessing for all of us. He hasn’t thrown a fit since you two became friends. His nurse was ready to give up because she was so tired of him, but now she’s happy to stay since you’ve taken over.”
Mary had to be careful when talking to Colin about the hidden garden. There were things she wanted to find out, but she had to be subtle. First, she needed to know if Colin was the kind of boy who could keep a secret. He wasn’t like Dickon, but he seemed interested in the idea of a hidden garden so he could be trusted. The second thing she wanted to figure out was if it might be possible to take him to the garden without anyone finding out. The doctor had said Colin needed fresh air, and Colin had said he wouldn’t mind getting some in a hidden garden. Maybe if he spent more time outside and saw things growing, he’d stop thinking about being sick.
Mary had noticed changes in herself lately. She no longer looked like the tired, pale child who had arrived from India. Even Martha had noticed.
“You’re looking better already,” Martha said one day. “You’re not as yellow, and your hair isn’t so flat anymore.”
“It’s because I’m getting stronger,” Mary replied, smiling.
If fresh air and gardens could help her, Mary thought, they could help Colin too. But if he hated being looked at, would he even want to meet Dickon?
“Why do you get so angry when people look at you?” Mary asked Colin one day.
“I’ve always hated it,” Colin replied. “When I was little, people would stare at me in my carriage, and ladies would talk to my nurse, saying I wouldn’t live to grow up. They’d even pat my cheek and say, ‘Poor child.’ Once, I bit a lady’s hand when she did that. She was so scared, she ran away.”
Mary didn’t seem impressed. “I bet she thought you were mad, like a dog.”
“I don’t care what she thought,” Colin said, frowning.
“Why didn’t you bite me when I came into your room?” Mary asked, smiling.
Colin thought for a moment. “I thought you were a ghost or a dream. You can’t bite a ghost or a dream.”
“Would you be mad if a boy looked at you?” Mary asked.
Colin thought again. “Maybe not. If it were Dickon—the boy who knows where the foxes live.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind him,” Mary said.
“The birds and animals like him,” Colin mused. “Maybe that’s why I wouldn’t mind. He’s a kind of animal charmer, and I’m a boy animal.”
They both laughed at the idea of Colin being a “boy animal.” After that, Mary wasn’t worried about introducing Dickon to Colin.
The first sunny morning after the rain, Mary woke up very early. The sun poured in through her window, and the air smelled fresh and sweet. The moor looked blue, and the world seemed magical. Birds were singing everywhere as if they were getting ready for a concert.
Mary ran to the window and stuck her hand out into the warm sunshine. “It’s warm!” she said happily. “It’ll make everything grow!”
Excited, she quickly dressed herself. She knew how to unbolt a small side door, so she crept downstairs in her stocking feet, put on her shoes in the hall, and slipped outside. The grass seemed greener, and the sun was bright and warm. Birds were singing from every tree and bush. Mary felt so happy she wanted to sing out loud like the birds. She ran toward the hidden garden, eager to see what had changed.
When she reached the ivy-covered door, she heard a loud sound. Looking up, she saw a big black crow sitting on the wall, watching her. She had never seen a crow up close before, and it made her a little nervous. But the bird flew off into the garden, and Mary followed, hoping it wouldn’t stay.
Inside the garden, she found the crow perched in a tree. Beneath the tree was a little red fox cub, and nearby, kneeling on the grass, was Dickon, hard at work.
“Dickon! How did you get here so early?” Mary cried, running toward him. “The sun has only just come up!”
Dickon stood up, laughing. “I’ve been up long before the sun,” he said, his eyes shining like bits of the sky. “The world’s alive this morning! Everything’s singing, building nests, and breathing out sweet scents. I couldn’t stay in bed! I had to come. The garden was waiting!”
“Oh, Dickon!” Mary gasped, out of breath. “I’m so happy I can hardly breathe!”
As they talked, the little fox trotted over to Dickon, and the crow—whom Dickon called Soot—flew down to sit on his shoulder.
“This is Captain,” Dickon said, patting the fox’s head. “And Soot here flew with me across the moor. They both felt as excited as I did.”
Neither the fox nor the crow seemed afraid of Mary. As they explored the garden together, Dickon showed her all the new green buds and shoots pushing up through the earth. They found clumps of crocuses blooming in purple, orange, and gold. Mary bent down and kissed the flowers.
“You don’t kiss people like that,” she said with a smile. “Flowers are different.”
Dickon chuckled. “I’ve kissed my mother that way when I came home after a day on the moor. She always looks so glad to see me.”
They spent the morning finding new wonders in the garden, quietly laughing and talking. Dickon showed her how the rose branches, which had seemed dead, were now budding with new leaves. Everywhere they looked, life was bursting out of the earth. Mary’s cheeks grew rosy, and her hair tumbled loose as she worked alongside Dickon.
Then, something magical happened. A little, red-breasted robin flew over the wall with a twig in its beak. Dickon gently placed his hand on Mary’s arm and whispered, “We mustn’t move or breathe too loudly. It’s Ben Weatherstaff’s robin. He’s building a nest.”
They sat down on the grass, staying perfectly still, watching the robin as it worked.
“We mustn’t look like we’re watching him too closely,” Dickon whispered. “He’ll get shy if he thinks we’re interfering.”
Mary wasn’t sure how to “look like grass and trees,” as Dickon suggested, but she tried her best. She observed him, thinking he could turn into a plant if he wanted to. He sat so still, barely whispering, but Mary could hear every word.
“It’s part of spring,” Dickon said. “Nest-building’s been happening every year since the world began. Birds have their ways, and it’s best not to meddle. You can lose a friend in the spring if you’re too curious.”
Mary nodded, trying hard not to stare too much at the robin. “Let’s talk about something else,” she whispered. “I have something to tell you.”
“What is it?” Dickon asked softly.
“Do you know about Colin?” Mary whispered.
Dickon turned to her. “What do you know about him?”
“I’ve been visiting him every day,” Mary said. “He wants me to come because I help him forget about being sick.”
Dickon looked relieved. “I’m glad. I didn’t like keeping a secret about him.”
“Do you mind keeping the garden a secret?” Mary asked.
“No, I don’t mind this secret,” Dickon said. “But I told my mother about it. She says I can have as many secrets as I like.”
Mary smiled, happy to hear that Dickon’s mother understood.
“How did you know about Colin?” she asked.
“Everyone around here knows about Mr. Craven’s little boy. Folks say Mr. Craven can’t bear to look at him because he reminds him of his mother.”
Mary told Dickon about how she found Colin and how he had big eyes just like his mother’s. “Do you think Mr. Craven wants him to die?” Mary asked.
“No,” Dickon said, shaking his head. “But he wishes Colin had never been born.”
“Colin is so afraid of becoming a hunchback,” Mary said. “He won’t even sit up.”
“No wonder he’s sickly, thinking things like that,” Dickon said. “If he were out here, he wouldn’t have time to worry about lumps on his back. He’d be watching the buds grow on the roses.”
“I’ve been thinking about bringing him here,” Mary said. “Maybe we could push his carriage, and no one would know. The doctor said he needs fresh air, and if he wants to come, no one can stop him.”
Dickon smiled. “That’d be good for him, I reckon. Watching a garden grow is better than any medicine.”
As they sat watching the robin work, Dickon whistled softly. The bird turned to look at him, still holding its twig. “Get on with your nest,” Dickon whispered. “You’ve got no time to lose.”
Mary chuckled. “I love hearing you talk to him,” she said.
Dickon smiled and spoke to the robin again. “Don’t worry about us. We’re almost wild things ourselves.”
The robin didn’t reply—his beak was busy—but Mary could tell from the glimmer in his eye that he wouldn’t be telling anyone their secret.
Chapter 16 – Mary Stands Up Colin
That morning, Mary and Dickon were so busy in the garden that Mary completely lost track of time. She was having such a good time that she didn’t think about Colin until the last minute.
“Tell Colin I can’t come to see him yet,” she told Martha. “I’m busy working in the garden.”
Martha looked worried. “Oh, Miss Mary,” she said, “he’ll be upset if I tell him that.”
But Mary wasn’t afraid of Colin like everyone else. “I can’t stay,” she said firmly. “Dickon’s waiting for me.” And off she ran back to the garden.
The afternoon was even lovelier than the morning had been. Nearly all the weeds were cleared out, and the roses and trees had been pruned. Dickon had brought his own spade and had taught Mary how to use all her tools properly. Though the garden wouldn’t look like a neat gardener’s garden, it was going to be a wild, beautiful place full of growing things by the time spring was over.
“There’ll be apple blossoms and cherry blossoms overhead,” Dickon said as he worked. “And peach and plum trees blooming along the walls. The grass will be covered with flowers.”
The little fox and the rook were as busy as Dickon and Mary while the robin and his mate flew back and forth like streaks of lightning. The rook, named Soot, would sometimes fly up into the trees and come back, cawing as if telling Dickon about his adventures. Once, when Dickon didn’t answer him right away, Soot flew onto his shoulder and gave his ear a gentle tug with his beak.
When Mary got tired, she sat down with Dickon under a tree, and he even took out his pipe and played a soft tune. Two squirrels appeared on the garden wall to listen.
“You’re a lot stronger than when you first came,” Dickon said as Mary dug in the dirt.
“I’m getting fatter every day,” Mary said happily. “Mrs. Medlock will have to get me bigger dresses!”
By the time the sun began to set, they were ready to head home. “It’ll be nice tomorrow,” Dickon said. “I’ll be back here at sunrise.”
“So will I!” Mary said, and she ran back to the house as fast as she could.
She couldn’t wait to tell Colin about the fox cub, the rook, and all the things happening in the garden. But when she opened her door, she found Martha waiting for her, looking upset.
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked. “What did Colin say when you told him I couldn’t come?”
Martha sighed. “He wasn’t happy. He almost threw a tantrum. We’ve been trying to keep him calm all afternoon. He kept watching the clock, waiting for you.”
Mary frowned. She didn’t like being told what to do, especially not by a boy who got angry so easily. She didn’t feel bad for Colin, either. She just thought he was being unreasonable. After all, she had every right to enjoy the garden with Dickon!
When she went to Colin’s room, he wasn’t on his sofa. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and he didn’t even turn his head to look at her when she came in.
“Why didn’t you get up?” Mary asked, marching up to the bed.
“I got up this morning,” Colin said without looking at her. “But this afternoon, my back and head hurt, so I went back to bed. Why didn’t you come to see me?”
“I was working in the garden with Dickon,” Mary replied.
Colin frowned and finally turned his head to look at her. “I won’t let that boy come here if you’re going to spend time with him instead of me,” he said.
Mary instantly became angry, but she didn’t shout. Instead, she glared at him and spoke in a firm, cold voice. “If you send Dickon away, I’ll never come to your room again!” she snapped.
“You’ll have to come if I want you to,” Colin said smugly.
“I won’t!” Mary said, her voice sharp.
“I’ll make you,” Colin said. “They’ll drag you in here if I want them to.”
Mary’s face turned red with anger. “Oh, will they, Mr. Rajah?” she said fiercely. “They might drag me in, but they can’t make me talk to you! I’ll just sit here and stare at the floor!”
They glared at each other like two stubborn children about to have a fight. If they had been two boys on the street, they probably would have thrown punches. Instead, they used words to fight.
“You’re so selfish!” Colin shouted.
“So are you!” Mary retorted. “Selfish people always think others are selfish. You’re the most selfish boy I’ve ever met!”
“I’m not!” Colin yelled. “I’m not as selfish as your precious Dickon! He keeps you playing in the dirt when he knows I’m all alone. He’s the selfish one!”
Mary’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s nicer than any boy in the world!” she shouted. “He’s like an angel!”
“An angel?” Colin sneered. “He’s just a common cottage boy!”
“He’s better than a spoiled Rajah like you!” Mary fired back. “A thousand times better!”
Colin didn’t know how to handle someone fighting back like this. No one had ever stood up to him before, and though he didn’t realize it, the argument was actually good for him. But right now, all he could feel was anger. He turned away from Mary, shut his eyes, and a big tear rolled down his cheek. He began to feel sorry for himself, thinking about how sick he was.
“I’m not selfish!” Colin said, his voice shaking. “I’m ill. And I’m sure a lump is growing on my back. I’m going to die.”
“You’re not going to die!” Mary said, annoyed.
Colin opened his eyes wide. No one had ever told him that before. He was angry, but at the same time, a small part of him felt strangely pleased.
“I’m not? You don’t believe me? Everyone says I am!” he shouted.
“I don’t believe it!” Mary said firmly. “You just say that to make people feel sorry for you. I think you’re proud of it!”
Colin sat up in bed, his face red with anger. “Get out of here!” he screamed, grabbing his pillow and throwing it at her. But he was too weak to throw it far, and it landed at her feet.
“I’m going!” Mary said. “And I’m not coming back!” She stomped to the door and turned around. “I was going to tell you all about Dickon’s fox cub and the rook, but now I won’t tell you anything!”
She slammed the door behind her, only to find Colin’s nurse standing outside, laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” Mary asked, surprised.
“You two!” the nurse said, giggling. “It’s about time someone stood up to him. If he’d had a sister like you, it would’ve done him a world of good.”
“Is Colin going to die?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” the nurse replied, still chuckling. “Most of his problems are tantrums and hysteria.”
“What’s hysteria?” Mary asked, puzzled.
“You’ll find out if you keep arguing with him,” the nurse said, wiping her eyes from laughing so hard.
Mary went back to her room, feeling cross and disappointed. She had been excited to tell Colin about her day and had even considered sharing the hidden garden with him. But now, she decided she would never tell him. If he wanted to stay in bed and be miserable, then that was fine. Let him stay there forever. She was too angry to feel sorry for him.
As she sat in her room, Martha came in, looking curious. She had brought a wooden box with her. “Mr. Craven sent this for you,” she said.
Mary opened the box and found several beautiful books, some games, and a lovely little writing set with a gold pen.
Her anger began to fade as she looked at her gifts. She hadn’t expected Mr. Craven to send her anything, and now she felt a little warmth in her heart. “I can write better than I can print,” she said. “The first thing I’ll do is write Mr. Craven a thank-you note.”
If she had still been friends with Colin, she would have run to show him her presents. They could have looked at the books together and played one of the games. He might have forgotten all about being sick, and they could have had a good time. But instead, he was lying in his bed, probably thinking about the lump he was afraid would grow on his back. Mary knew this fear was what caused most of his tantrums, but right now, she didn’t care.
“I said I wouldn’t go back to him,” Mary thought, frowning. But after a moment, she softened a little. “Maybe I’ll go in the morning,” she decided. “He might try to throw another pillow at me, but… I think I’ll go.”
Miss previous chapters of The Hidden Garden? You can read them here.
Come back next week for the next chapters in The Hidden Garden.
Check out my lists on Benable
Do you enjoy this story? Click on the like button to help others find this story.
Want to help support this blog? You can leave a tip here. Or make any purchase on Amazon with my link.