Charles Wallace looked troubled. ‘I don’t think it’s that. It’s being able to understand a sort of language, like sometimes if I concentrate very hard I can understand the wind talking with the trees. You tell me, you see, sort of inad — inadvertently. That’s a good word, isn’t it? I got mother to look it up in the dictionary for me this morning.’
Ahead of them Fortinbras started barking loudly, the warning bay that usually told them that a car was coming up the road or that someone was at the door.
‘Somebody’s here,’ Charles Wallace said sharply. ‘Somebody’s hanging around the house. Come on.’ He started to run, his short legs straining. At the edge of the woods Fortinbras stood in front of a boy, barking furiously.
As they came panting up the boy said, ‘For heaven’s sake, call off your dog.’
‘Who is he?’ Charles Wallace asked Meg.
‘Calvin O’Keefe. He’s older than I am. He’s a big bug.’
‘It’s all right, fella. I’m not going to hurt you,’ the boy said to Fortinbras.
‘Sit, Fort,’ Charles Wallace commanded, and Fortinbras dropped to his haunches in front of the boy, a low growl still pulsing in his dark throat.
‘Okay.’ Charles Wallace put his hands on his hips. ‘Now tell us what you’re doing here.’
‘I might ask the same of you,’ the boy said with some indignation. ‘Aren’t you two of the Murry kids? This isn’t your property, is it?’ He started to move, but Fortinbras’s growl grew louder and he stopped.
‘Tell me about him, Meg,’ Charles Wallace demanded.
‘What would I know about him?’ Meg asked. ‘He’s a couple of grades above me, and he’s on the basketball team.’
‘Just because I’m tall.’ Calvin sounded a little embarrassed. Tall he certainly was, and skinny. His bony wrists stuck out of the sleeves of his blue sweater; his worn corduroy trousers were three inches too short. He had orange hair that needed cutting and the appropriate freckles to go with it. His eyes were an oddly bright blue.
‘Tell us what you’re doing here,’ Charles Wallace said.
‘What is this? The third degree? Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be the moron?’
Meg flushed with rage, but Charles Wallace answered placidly, ‘That’s right. If you want me to call my dog off you’d better give.’
‘Most peculiar moron I’ve ever met,’ Calvin said. ‘I just came to get away from my family’
Charles Wallace nodded. ‘What kind of family?’
‘They all have runny noses. I’m third from the top of eleven kids. I’m a sport.’
At that Charles Wallace grinned widely. ‘So ’m I.’
‘I don’t mean like in baseball,’ Calvin said.
‘Neither do I.’
‘I mean like in biology,’ Calvin said suspiciously.
‘ A change in gene,’ Charles Wallace quoted, ‘resulting in the appearance in the offspring of a character which is not present in the parents but which is potentially transmissible to its offspring.’
‘What gives around here?’ Calvin asked. ‘I was told you couldn’t talk.’
‘Thinking I’m a moron gives people something to feel smug about,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘Why should I disillusion them? How old are you, Cal?’
‘Fourteen. And I’m bright. Listen, did anybody ask you to come here this afternoon?’
Charles Wallace, holding Fort by the collar, looked at Calvin suspiciously. ‘What do you mean, ask?’
Calvin shrugged. ‘You still don’t trust me, do you?’
‘I don’t distrust you,’ Charles Wallace said.
‘Do you want to tell me why you’re here, then?’
‘Fort and Meg and I decided to go for a walk. We often do in the afternoon.’
Calvin dug his hands down in his pockets. ‘You’re holding out on me.’
‘So’re you,’ Charles Wallace said.
‘Okay, old sport,’ Calvin said, ‘I’ll tell you this much. Sometimes I get a feeling about things. You might call it a compulsion. Do you know what compulsion means?’
‘Constraint. Obligation. Not a very good definition, but it’s the Concise Oxford.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Calvin sighed. ‘I must remember I’m preconditioned in my concept of your mentality.’
Meg sat down on the coarse grass at the edge of the woods. Fort gently twisted his collar out of Charles Wallace’s hands and came over to Meg, lying down beside her and putting his head in her lap.
Calvin tried now politely to direct his words towards Meg as well as Charles Wallace. ‘When I get this feeling, this compulsion, I always do what it tells me. I can’t explain where it comes from or how I get it, and it doesn’t happen very often. But I obey it. And this afternoon I had a feeling that I must come over to the haunted house. That’s all I know, kid. I’m not holding anything back. Maybe it’s because I’m supposed to meet you. You tell me.’
Charles Wallace looked at Calvin probingly for a moment; then an almost glazed look came into his eyes, and he seemed to be thinking at him. Calvin stood very still, and waited.
At last Charles Wallace said, ‘Okay. I believe you. But I can’t tell you. I think I’d like to trust you. Maybe you’d better come home with us and have dinner.’
‘Well, sure, but — what would your mother say to that?’ Calvin asked.
‘She’d be delighted. Mother’s all right. She’s not one of us. But she’s all right.’
‘What about Meg?’
‘Meg has it tough,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘She’s not really one thing or the other.’
‘What do you mean, one of us?’ Meg demanded. ‘What do you mean I’m not one thing or the other?’
‘Not now, Meg,’ Charles Wallace said. ‘Slowly. I’ll tell you about it later.’ He looked at Calvin, then seemed to make a quick decision. ‘Okay, let’s take him to meet Mrs Whatsit. If he’s not okay she’ll know.’ He started off on his short legs towards the dilapidated old house.
The haunted house was half in the shadows of the clump of elms in which it stood. The elms were almost bare now, and the ground around the house was yellow with damp leaves. The late afternoon light had a greenish cast which the blank windows reflected in a sinister way. An unhinged shutter thumped. Something else creaked. Meg did not wonder that the house had a reputation for being haunted.
A board was nailed across the front door, but Charles Wallace led the way round to the back. The door there appeared to be nailed shut, too, but Charles Wallace knocked, and the door swung slowly outwards, creaking on rusty hinges. Up in one of the elms an old black crow gave its raucous cry, and a woodpecker went into a wild ratatat-tat. A large grey rat scuttled around the corner of the house and Meg let out a stifled shriek.
‘They get a lot of fun out of using all the typical props,’ Charles Wallace said in a reassuring voice. ‘Come on. Follow me.’
Calvin put a strong hand to Meg’s elbow, and Fort pressed against her leg. Happiness at their concern was so strong in her that her panic fled, and she followed Charles Wallace into the dark recesses of the house without fear.
They went into a sort of kitchen. There was a huge fireplace with a big black pot hanging over a merry fire. Why had there been no smoke visible from the chimney? Something in the pot was bubbling, and it smelled more like one of Mrs Murry’s chemical messes than something to eat. In a dilapidated rocking chair sat a plump little woman. She wasn’t Mrs Whatsit, so she must, Meg decided, be one of Mrs Whatsit’s two friends. She wore enormous spectacles, twice as thick and twice as large as Meg’s, and she was sewing busily, with rapid jabbing stitches, on a sheet. Several other sheets lay on the dusty floor.
Charles Wallace went up to her, ‘I really don’t think you ought to have taken Mrs Buncombe’s sheets without consulting me,’ he said, as cross and bossy as only a very small boy can be. ‘What on earth do you want them for?’
The plump little woman beamed at him. ‘Why, Charlsie, my pet! Le cœr a ses raisons que la raison ne connait point. French. Pascal. The heart has its reasons, whereof reason knows nothing.’