Page 136 of Heartless

‘Your future is written on stone, but not in it.’

Catherine spun around. Elsie the Raccoon stood arm’s reach away, the expressionless mask and hollow eyes peering up at her. Cath hadn’t heard her approach.

‘It’s only an idle warning, then?’

‘It is a truth,’ said the Raccoon. ‘But one of many.’

‘Many, many muchness,’ said Tillie the Owl, her voice like a sad trill. ‘Eeenie meenie miney mo.’

‘Choose a door, any door,’ Elsie continued. ‘They all lead to this truth. It is a fate, and fate is inevitable.’

Catherine shook her head. ‘If they all lead to this, then how can we avoid it?’

Tillie tittered. ‘Time cannot follow you here, so he cannot follow you out. To put it most simply, you mustn’t go through a door.’

The Sisters all started to laugh, the sound shrill and bubbling. Cath hated the sound.

‘Fine, we won’t go through any doors,’ said Hatta. ‘May we go?’

‘Patience, patience,’ said Elsie.

‘Don’t lose your head,’ said Tillie.

They turned their heads together and snickered.

‘We drew your grandmother too, a long, long time ago,’ said Elsie the Raccoon, drawing closer to Cath’s voluminous skirt. ‘The first Marchioness of Mock Turtles. Do you wish to see her?’

‘You mean the Marchioness of Rock Turtle Cove,’ said Cath, and though she shook her head, she still followed to where Lacie was pointing and saw a drawing of a beautiful girl surrounded by turtles and lobsters. Her many-greats-grandmother, recognizable from a portrait that hung in her father’s library.

How old were these girls? How long had they been here, drawing the future in the key of M?

‘We have one minute still,’ said Tillie. Her sisters came to join her, all surrounding Cath and staring up at her. ‘Won’t you tell us a story?’

She gulped. ‘I’m not a good storyteller like my father, or grandmother, or . . . I’m sorry. You’ll be disappointed.’

‘Then we will tell it,’ said Tillie.

Elsie curtsied. ‘A gift to take with you through the Looking Glass.’

‘Another truth we’ve seen,’ added Lacie.

They began to recite in a haunting voice, like synchronized puppets:

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,

Had a wife but couldn’t keep her;

He put her in a pumpkin shell

And there he kept her very well.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,

Had a pet and couldn’t feed her;

Caught a maid who had meant well –

What became of her, no one can tell.

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