Draw the Veil

II. Treasure Hunt

My parents and I went on holiday to France the summer of my eighth birthday. It was the first time I had ever been outside England, and I was bouncing off the walls for weeks before we left, glad to be going somewhere, anywhere, besides the cold British seaside.

The first couple of weeks had been so much fun_we saw the sights, ate lots of pastries, and visited the French wizard shops. I learned a little French (magicien, charme, baguette magique...please do not ask me to remember more). My parents were able to put aside their adult worries for a brief while, and I saw my father as if he were a young lad all over again, trying on berets and putting on a false French accent.

The trip ended in disaster.

Mum and Dad hired a small bungalow in the French countryside so we could spend a few days hiking through the hills and visiting the wineries. I spent the days picking flowers, wading in the streams, and flying my child's broomstick when I was sure no muggles were around.

The only thing that would have made the time more enjoyable was siblings to share it with, but my parents had never had any more children.

On our second day there, I discovered a group of small caves in the hillside. Immediately, I set to exploring the dark and the damp so many feet below the earth, feeling like a tiny explorer about to discover King Tut's tomb or pirate's gold.

I didn't tell my parents about my find; it was going to be my precious little secret, my hiding place, and I was determined to find the treasure that I knew lay within that darkness. I envisioned myself returning home one afternoon laden with gold doubloons or diamonds. I pictured my mother's face as she came out to see all those sparkling jewels and my father beaming at the prospect of lifelong financial security. Even just a few rubies or something, I thought, and maybe he won't have to work so many hours anymore.

I wolfed down a quick dinner that evening, anxious to explore the caves some more.

'Mum, can I go back out? Please?' I asked.

'You've been out all day!' she protested.

'Just for a little while? Please?'

She sighed. 'Be back by 8, and be careful. Do you have your wand?'

'Yes,' I said, rolling my eyes and patting my pocket. I had been given a child's wand a year before, one capable of performing simple, harmless spells.

My mother gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and I dashed outside. She stood in the doorway, watching me run across the field into the setting sun.

Bollocks, I don't have very long, I thought as I ran. Only an hour and a half to get there and get back. Bollocks. I ran faster, the brambles tearing my trousers.

I arrived at my destination. 'Light the way!' I said to the wand, and its tip began to glow. Satisfied, I ducked as I entered the low mouth of the cave and headed immediately towards the right, where I thought there might be secret passages as yet undiscovered.

I tramped through the small puddles, feeling the cold and damp seeping into my bones the deeper I went, wondering if I should have brought some bags to carry back all my finds or even just a woolly jumper to keep out the chill.

My little magical light bounced off the cave walls, making the embedded quartz sparkle and casting sinister shadows all around me. I hugged myself, but it was not just from the cold. Whoever knew a dark cave could be so scary?

Somewhere...I know I saw an opening here somewhere, I thought desperately as I walked, my shoes getting wetter and wetter and my spirits sinking lower and lower.

So intent was I on my search for pirate's gold that I had failed to realise the time. I glanced at my watch. 'Oh, bollocks!' I exclaimed, and my voice echoed endlessly off the cavern walls. I had been gone for over an hour and had quite a bit of countryside to traverse on the way back. On top of that, I was not sure where I was.

I walked back the way I had come and reached a fork. Was it right or left? I moved to the right and came face to face with a cave-in. I turned and walked the other direction. I experienced several more minutes of wrong turns and desperation before I found myself in a more familiar place, the room with the particularly obscene-looking stalagmite. But this time, I did not giggle at the sight of it. All I could think of was my mother waiting on the front steps, her arms folded across her chest. I hated disappointing her.