“Yes,” said Coraline.
I must not look at the mantelpiece, she thought.
I must not even think about
it.
“Well?” said the other mother. “Produce them. Would you like to look in the cellar again? I have
some other interesting things hidden down there, you know.”
“No,” said Coraline. “I know where my parents are.” The cat was heavy in her arms. She moved
it forward, unhooking its claws from her shoulder as she did so.
“Where?”
“It stands to reason,” said Coraline. “I’ve looked everywhere you’d hide them. They aren’t in the
house.”
The other mother stood very still, giving nothing away, lips tightly closed. She might have been
a wax statue. Even her hair had stopped moving.
“So,” Coraline continued, both hands wrapped firmly around the black cat. “I know where they
have to be. You’ve hidden them in the passageway between the houses, haven’t you? They are
behind that door.” She nodded her head toward the door in the corner.
The other mother remained statue still, but a hint of a smile crept back onto her face. “Oh, they
are, are they?”
“Why don’t you open it?” said Coraline. “They’ll be there, all right.”
It
was her only way home, she knew. But it all depended on the other mother’s needing to gloat,
needing not only to win but to show that she had won.
The other mother reached her hand slowly into her apron pocket and produced the black iron
key. The cat stirred uncomfortably in Coraline’s arms, as if it wanted to get down.
Just stay there
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