The Mulberry Tree by Allison Rushby

Author:Allison Rushby [Rushby, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781536211870
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2020-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

When the pair entered the small library, Riley immediately pointed out a woman behind the returns desk.

“That’s Mrs. Marsh,” he said.

Immy saw that she was busy talking to a man with a pile of books.

“We’ll catch up with her later. Come over here,” Riley said, beckoning her to follow.

He walked past a couple of large desks and then past an area with some armchairs to the other side of the library.

“These are the photos I was telling you about.”

“Wow.” Immy looked over the large wall, which was covered with framed black-and-white photographs. Up on the top, painted on the wall, were the words st. isles historical SOCIETY. Immy stepped forward and began to inspect the photographs more closely. There was a group of three young women with long, straight skirts, high collars, and their hair piled loosely on top of their heads, which read TEACHERS, ST. ISLES INFANT’S SCHOOL, 1907. Next was another group, this time of men: returned soldiers of St. Isles celebrating Peace Day, 1919. Immy noticed that one of the men in the front row had only one arm. Next was a happier photo of a group of laughing women who looked like they were throwing small hoops over glass bottles. It read ST. ISLES CARNIVAL, 1926. Immy stared at the photographs in wonder. It was strange to think that these were once real people. People who’d wondered what clothes to wear that day, made plans with their friends, decided what to have for lunch at the carnival . . . all those everyday sorts of things.

The next photograph was a busy one. It was of a street filled with tables and bunting and flags instead of cars — a street party. “Oh, look!” Immy said when she read the label on the photograph. “It’s VE Day in St. Isles — to celebrate the end of the war in Europe. That’s the day that Elizabeth disappeared,” she told Riley as he came over.

He took a look. “I’ve found something, too,” he said. “Over here.”

Immy followed him over to inspect another photograph. “It’s our street,” he said. “And look — there’s your place.” He pointed to a house at the end of the street. “You can even see a bit of the tree.”

Immy stepped in as close as possible to the grainy photograph. Riley was right. There was the village green, and up the street was Lavender Cottage and the black tip of the tree threatening the thatched roof.

They both stared at it.

“That tree could really do with some therapy,” Riley finally said.

“Ah, here you are, Riley!” A voice came from behind them, making them both jump. “You must be Immy.” The woman stuck her hand out. “I’m Susan Marsh.”

Immy shook her hand and introduced herself.

“How interesting that you’re living in Lavender Cottage. It has a long history, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I know a bit about it,” Immy said. “I’d like to know more. People don’t want to talk about it much.”

Mrs. Marsh nodded. “Yes, well, it doesn’t surprise me.

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