Philippa Pearce
illustrated by Susan Einzig 1992
I absolutely LOVED this book. Published in 1958, somehow it was unknown to me until Charlotte picked up a copy at the thrift store. The cover was cheesy but the title intrigued her and you just never know what delights you might discover (L.M Boston was found this way!).
The writing and plot does, in fact, remind me a bit of Boston's Greene Knowe. Because of his brother's measles, Tom has to spend weeks with his aunt and uncle in their very boring apartment. But it turns out that the apartment house used to be a grand country manor and the most extraordinary thing occurs when the old grandfather clock in the lobby strikes thirteen!
"Thirteen? Tom's mind gave a jerk: had it really struck thirteen? Even mad old clocks never struck that. He must have imagined it. Had he not been falling asleep, or already sleeping? But no, awake or dozing, he had counted up to thirteen. He was sure of it.
He was uneasy in the knowledge that this happening made some difference to him: he could feel that in his bones. The stillness had become an expectant one; the house seemed to hold its breath; the darkness pressed up to him, pressing him with a question: Come on, Tom, the clock has struck thirteen- what are you going to do about it?"
What Tom finds blends magic and mystery and all the glorious adventures of childhood. Philippa Pearce has written a story that conjures up fantasy and ghosts and that peculiar fascination with Time that always draws me in.
"Tom was thinking about the Past, that Time made so far away. Time had taken this Present of Hatty's and turned it into his Past. Yet even so, here and now, for a little while, this was somehow made his Present too- his and Hatty's. Then he remembered the grandfather clock, that measured out both his time and Hatty's, and he remembered the picture on the face."
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