The chest nobody wants

Puk’s mother had a chest. She didn’t want it in the hallway any more. Puk thought it would make a house for her potato, but the chest was far too big for that.

When she heard Vera talking about her reading spot, Puk’s mother offered it to her.

‘You can have it. I used to keep bedding in it. There are a couple of boxes of books in there too, for the jumble sale.’

Vera asked whether it could stand outside.

‘It’s spent years in the attic. Perfectly dry.’

That sounded promising. Surely a chest that could stay dry for years could look after a few cushions and books.

On Thursday, Puk’s mother brought it to school on a sack trolley. Mr Kees helped put it beside the shed. It was almost as long as the trial bench. The lid was thick wood. A metal handle stuck out at the side.

Vera lifted the edge of the lid. It barely moved.

‘Wait,’ said Kees.

He held it open for her. The hinge creaked. There were two cardboard boxes inside. Puk stuck her nose over the edge, peered into the dark corner, and said somebody lived there.

‘A spider,’ her mother said.

Puk nodded. ‘Can it stay?’

Kees used a piece of cardboard to move the spider to the hedge. Then he put the boxes on a table under the shelter. Vera took out the books on top.

They were twelve volumes of an old encyclopaedia. Each one was thick and brown. Gold letters ran along the spines. The A had partly worn away over the years. Vera traced it with her finger. It looked like an important book.

She opened it. A map showed countries she’d never heard of. A page further on, there was a photograph of a computer almost as big as their classroom. She checked the date at the front. It was older than her mum.

‘There’s a lot to read,’ said Eef, coming to look.

Vera tucked the book under her arm. It just fitted. She needed her other arm to keep it straight.

‘If you’ve got strong arms,’ said Eef.

Puk opened another volume. She looked at the tiny print, pointed to a black-and-white photograph of a bird, and closed it again.

‘My potato can’t read.’

She tipped a box onto its side and climbed in. Her mother calmly lifted her out again.

Vera put the heavy book back. The second box held gardening magazines and two puzzle books with all the answers filled in. One answer was wrong. Somebody had drawn an arrow beside it with a different pen. For a moment, Vera wanted to find out who was right.

But these weren’t the books she’d imagined beside her bench. She wanted books you could pick up at break. Stories with pictures. Things you could choose for yourself. Not a pile you needed an adult to lift first.

‘I’ve got books at home,’ said Eef. ‘If you win, you can have two of mine. Only they mustn’t get wet.’

‘They can go in the chest.’

Vera went back to the enormous wooden box. It looked even bigger without the books. She stood beside it and took out her tape measure. The handle was at hip height. Not ideal for somebody running past the bench.

Bram came out of the school shed. He’d been checking some planks for their plan. When he saw the chest, he walked round it and inspected the bottom.

‘There’s an old crack here.’

‘Can we mend it?’ Vera asked.

‘Yes. But we’d need to treat the outside too. This wood was meant to stay indoors. And that heavy lid mustn’t fall on little fingers. It would need different hinges or a proper support.’

Vera looked at the chest that had stayed dry in the attic. Puk’s mother sighed.

‘I didn’t think about rain,’ she said. ‘It only rains in the attic if something’s gone very wrong.’

‘Neither did I,’ Vera said.

Bram lowered the lid slowly. The whole chest gave a dull thump.

‘And where would you put it?’ he asked.

Vera pointed under the chestnut tree. First beside the bench. Then behind it. Then she stopped pointing. The chest would be in the way wherever it went. They’d chosen a clear path round the trial bench for a reason.

‘It doesn’t cost anything,’ she said.

‘Taking it doesn’t,’ said Bram. ‘Getting it ready for this spot does. Money, work and space.’

Vera wound in the tape measure. It clicked sharply against its case. She’d hoped the chest would make her plan easier. Now she needed a second plan: a plan for the chest.

Puk put her hands on the lid. ‘The spider has another house.’

‘It does,’ her mother said.

‘Can the chest have another house too?’

Her mother looked at Kees. He looked at the shed.

‘We could use something for the large theatre props,’ he said. ‘The children don’t take those out. If it fits inside here, I’d like to keep it for that. Unless you still need it for the bench.’

Vera looked once more at the chestnut tree. She couldn’t make the chest smaller just by wanting it. And Bram couldn’t saw light books out of an encyclopaedia.

‘It would be better for the theatre,’ she said.

Kees and Puk’s mother moved it indoors. The encyclopaedias went to the adults’ stall at the jumble sale. Puk took an empty box. After all, she had a candidate of her own to look after.

Vera stayed with Bram beside the table. He laid three old planks side by side. They came from a workbench the club had replaced. Once checked and sanded, they would be strong enough for a bench.

‘We could put a little space underneath,’ Bram said. ‘For the cushions. With a light lid and a support to hold it open. For the books, I’d use an ordinary crate. Bring it indoors every afternoon.’

‘Who brings it in?’ asked Vera.

Bram looked at her. For a moment he said nothing.

Vera took out her notes. At the bottom she wrote: DON’T FORGET: AFTER SCHOOL. There was a new line in her plan. Not a cheerful line for a poster, but one she would have to explain on Saturday.