Post-Xmas Snow: We Didn’t Go Back to School
--was the name of a post I did some years back on Arthur Ransome’s Winter Holiday (a take, d’you see, on another series book We didn’t mean to go to Sea). There has been a lot of snow in the UK over the past few days, so it's obviously time for this (even more) weird (than usual) entry in the Barney or 'R' mysteries. I covered the rest of this series on the blog in 2024.
The Rat-a-Tat Mystery by Enid Blyton
published 1956
Things are getting desperate in the Lynton household –
Christmas is over, and the parents can’t believe that they still have to spend
time with their children Roger and Diana, and visiting orphan Snubby, until the
schools go back. (which, notoriously with Brit private boarding schools, will
be well into January). It’s a tense situation. If only it would snow: “Then you
can go out the whole day long, and snowball and toboggan and
skate—and I shall be rid of you for a little while!”
But luckily a complete stranger, someone they’ve never met,
offers a free holiday to the children in an old house by a lake. Mr and Mrs
Lynton can’t accept fast enough.
To be fair, the offer comes from Barney’s newly-discovered
grandmother, but still…
And even better:
They ran to the window and
looked out. Yes, big snowflakes were falling steadily down. Diana
looked up at the sky, but the snowflakes were already so thick that
they hid it completely.
And the lake at the house is frozen so there will be
skating. Those transporting them rush their journeys to make sure children are
dumped there with no danger of their relations being stuck there too. The
children will end up snowed in, out of contact with the rest of the world and
with the phone lines down. Mr and Mrs Lynton must be delighted – perhaps the
children can stay there till they are grown-up.
They are in the charge of the cook’s sister (changed to
‘the help’s sister’ in more modern editions), who can produce magic meals from
the store cupboard – she knew they would be snowed in, so brought extra
supplies. (No other responsible grown up seems bothered.)
The house is – no surprises – old, and mysterious. It has a
lot of panelling, and it has secrets. It also has a wonderful door knocker.
It was magnificent. It was in
the shape of a great lion’s head. Diana and the others marvelled at it. They
had never seen such a knocker in their lives - no wonder it made so
much noise!
This has legends attached to it, and the rat a tat sound
gives the house its name.
The snow keeps the loving parents away, but not so the
villains. There is evidence that people are creeping round, getting in and out
of the house, there is a bang on the knocker, and the worst of the children
(Snubby) disappears – where can he be? (spoiler: locked in the cellar. Best
place for him and his blooming dog)
All I can remember of the criminal plot is this
spoileresque sentence near the end:
The inspector and the
sergeant, with the box of guns, took off in their helicopter after lunch. The
children were sorry to see them go - everything had been so very exciting! They
waved till the helicopter was a speck in the sky and then went indoors.
Which is followed by this:
“Jolly good! I wonder if we'll still be
here when those men come to get their guns from the lake. I do hope so.”
Yes indeed, the holiday isn’t over, they are going to stay
on and have fun and the criminals haven’t been caught yet, and will be
returning to put everyone in danger. It seems an extraordinary ending – perhaps
Blyton was intending a two-part story, and it just trailed off.
Snowballs on a sled from the Museums of History of NSW
Outdoor skating picture from the Provincial
Archives of Alberta.
Children snowballing from a more modern source.
Door knocker is at the cathedral in Konstanz in Germany,
picture from Wikimedia
Commons.
Hilarious! I likely have this somewhere but I don't remember it - also I preferred the Adventure series, plus St. Clare's and Malory Towers. I especially like the door knocker which reminds me of a university paper on the Council of Constance. The local news is full of people drowning on thin ice in the winter but in books no one worries if the ice is thick enough or it provides dramatic rescue opportunities! Alas, must head to work where the drama is plentiful but quite different...
ReplyDeleteThe things that people don't worry about in Enid Blyton would make quite the list! There are some very casual parents.
DeleteIn Little Women Amy falls through the ice...
I have a problem with Enid Blyton because I never liked her, even as a child. Perhaps we could rewrite this for the modern age, with the children falling through the ice and drowning, and the adults being sent to prison for negligence. And maybe the police helicopter could crash - or is that too harsh?
ReplyDeleteI like the idea of updating them this way. And there is always the possibility of an Uprising by all the put-upon servants and housekeepers and cooks, they could teach the litle blighters a lesson.
DeleteThere are a series of updated "Five" books for adults - "Five on Brexit Island", "Five Go Parenting", "Five at the Office Christmas Party"...- a good idea that probably soon outwears its time.
DeleteOn the other hand, just at the beginning of the Covid lockdown I came across "The Ladybird Book of the Zombie Apocalypse" in Ladybirds for Grown-Ups which foresaw what was in store for us with frightening accuracy.
"Only duffers drown! Better drowned than duffers!"
ReplyDelete- the response of the father in Swallows and Amazons(?) when mother tells the children to get his permission to go out on boats.
bellaramatv
ReplyDeleteYou have to wonder why these parents had children at all (unless it was out of sheer carelessness).
ReplyDeleteNot much choice. In Cold Comfort Farm (it rereads just as well!) the unmarried Flora gives Meriam advice on contraception, which was probably a shock in the 1930s.
ReplyDeleteReading obituaries of David Lodge I was reminded of the 1960s joke: "What do you call people who use the rhythm method of birth control?"
"Parents."