Cave of Secrets by Morgan Llywelyn

looked older than he was. His canvas saddlebags were stuffed to bursting with books, notebooks, maps, charts, inks, pens, chalk, and a greying blackboard.
    In previous years Tom had been glad to see him. Behind Beasley’s unimpressive face was a brain packed with fascinating  facts. If Tom showed interest in a particular subject, his tutor could pour out knowledge like cream from a pitcher.
    This year was different. Lessons made an unwanted claim on Tom’s time. He had to put away his magic pony. No more visits to the bay. No more swimming. No more happy days with his friends in the narrow valley. Combined with the onset of bad weather, Mr Beasley’s appearance made Tom a virtual prisoner in Roaringwater House.
    When Herbert Fox paid a call on Elizabeth it was obvious the engagement was not going well. Even the servants commented on it. The couple had little to say to each other. Fox showed more interest in Flynn’s wine cellar than in his daughter. Elizabeth spent most of the time in her chamber. When they sat at table together she only picked at her food.
    Fox confirmed that William Flynn had booked passage on one of his ships. ‘We spoke together before he departed,’ the man told Mrs Flynn, ‘and from the ship’s captain I know he arrived safely. I have no idea where he went or what he did after that. His movements have nothing to do with me. Nothing at all,’ Fox stressed.
    He left Roaringwater House after only two days. Elizabeth ’s spirits improved at once.
    Mrs Flynn waited anxiously for a letter, or even a short note, but none came. She did not say anything about it to the children, she did not want to worry them, but she was increasingly withdrawn.
    Only Caroline noticed. One morning she intercepted Tom in the passageway. ‘I’m afraid Mother is ill,’ she said.
    ‘She’s never very well,’ he pointed out.
    ‘I know, but this is different. I tried to show her one of my gloves that had split a seam. Mother will talk about clothes no matter how poorly she feels. Yet this time she wouldn’t even answer me. And she had such an expression in her eyes … I can’t describe it, but something is wrong, Tom. Really, truly wrong.’
    ‘Did you tell Lizzie or Ginny?’
    ‘I tried but they won’t listen to me. I’m just “giddy, silly Caro” to them. I may be giddy but I’m not stupid. I notice things.’ As she spoke, Caroline was looking closely at her brother. He had grown during the summer. He was taller and leaner, with colour in his face. ‘Will you talk to Mother, Tom?’
    ‘I’ll try,’ he said.
    But Mrs Flynn had no intention of discussing her problems with her little boy, her last baby. She called him impertinent . ‘Really, Tom, I do not know what has got into you. I must ask Mr Beasley to teach you some respect.’
    ‘I agree with you, Caro,’ Tom told his sister afterwards. ‘Either Mother is ill, or she has a serious problem, but she won’t tell me.’
    ‘Then what can we do?’
    Tom squared his shoulders. ‘I’ll think of something,’ hepromised. He had no idea what that might be, though saying the words made him feel better. As if he really could do it.
    * * *
    ‘Why doesn’t Tomflynn come to see us any more?’ Maura asked Donal.
    He looked up from the rope he was plaiting. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he likes that big house of his better than he likes us.’
    The answer did not satisfy Maura. She went to her mother. ‘Does Tomflynn hate me?’
    ‘Light of my heart, who could hate you?’ the woman said with a laugh. She swept Maura into her arms and gave her a big hug.
    That was no answer either. Maura went where she always went when she needed to think. She crawled under one of the overturned currachs. For the first time in many days the sun was shining. Its heat warmed the leather shell of the boat, comforting the little girl inside.
    Tomflynn could not like his house better than he likes me, she told herself. Could he? I like him better than I like my