shirley couglin Chapter one The young boy watched from the attic window as the car came up the driveway; he had been waiting a very long time. He smiled happily; there were children in the car, someone to play with… at last. Sally and James craned their necks from the back seat of the car to see their new house as they were driven up the long driveway. It was drizzling and the slight misty rain softened the chocolate box affect of the roses scrambling up the walls on either side of the dark blue front door, presenting a charming romantic affect. The house was built in the early part of the nineteenth century, of soft cream brick with tall Georgian windows, and right at the top, underneath the gable was a small attic window. This was the first time the children had seen the house as they had been busy at school when their parents decided their current house was too small and needed to buy something larger. “It’s like a house out of a storybook,” said Sally excitedly. “I can’t wait to explore,” James stared up at the house. “Oh look Mum,” he said, winding down the window and poking his head out, “there’s someone up there at the window.” “Who is it?” asked Sally. The children were the first to spot the movement of the lace curtains in the tiny window right at the top of the house. Their mother Vicky tried to see past her husband’s broad shoulders but couldn’t. “I’m sorry sweetheart, my neck hasn’t quite reached giraffe length yet, I can’t see past your father.” The children both giggled. Their father, Bruce, stopped the car next to the small portico entrance that sheltered the front door, and everyone piled out. The children ran around to the front of the car and looked up. “See,” said James pointing. “There’s someone looking out of that tiny window near the roof.” Sally whispered. “He’s watching us,” she reached out and took hold her brother’s hand; they both stared up at the window in silence. Their father looked to see what the children were staring at. “Unless my eye sight is failing, I can’t see a thing.” “Neither can I, there is no-one there,” Vicky agreed. The children looked at each other, then back at the small white face of a child 13
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Harvey
staring down at them. A strangled meow sounded from the large cat basket sitting on the back seat of the car. James ran back and attempted to lift it out. “Where can we put Junket so he won’t run away?” Another loud squawk sounded from within the basket which shook violently as Junket moved around. “You’re so heavy Junket,” said James as he struggled to lift the large basket containing the rather oversized cat from out of the car. “Here, let me son, we don’t want to lose him now do we,” said Bruce, taking hold of the handle and carrying the large cat basket into the house. Junket was deposited into the utility/laundry room. Sleeping basket and litter tray accompanied him, and a large dish of cat biscuits was also provided. “How long will he have to stay in the laundry Daddy?” asked Sally, stroking Junket’s big furry head “Just a few days and then he can have the run of the house, but he won’t be allowed outside for at least two weeks, we don’t want him to run away and get lost now, do we.” Junket was busy wandering around the laundry checking out every nook and cranny, he was a rich creamy colour with a white chest and matching paws, he also sported a white snip down his nose and the most startling blue eyes. Junket was aptly named. He had a slightly flat face and thick soft fur, not quite long but neither short, no doubt suspected Bruce, as a result of Persian and Siamese genes in the cat’s ancestry. What they didn’t expect was how big Junket would grow after they adopted him as a kitten from the animal shelter. Vicky would often joke how he ate more than the two children put together. Junket was an important part of the family. The kids adored him and he in turn followed them everywhere, so he wasn’t at all impressed at being shut in a strange room in a strange house away from his family. Cries of protest echoed loudly as they closed the door leaving Junket to his own devises. The children went upstairs to check out their bedrooms. The furniture had all been delivered the previous day but still had to be sorted into exactly the right place in each room. Sally busily placed her books onto the bookshelf while she waited for her mother to finish making up the beds. Later that evening after the children were asleep, high in the attic, the lid of a rather
large and very old cabin trunk lifted slightly, and then higher, until it was completely open. A young boy looked carefully around the room before climbing out. He went across to the small dormer window and looked out across the moonlit garden, and then he began to cry, heartrending sobs that echoed around the empty room. Sally sat up abruptly, moonlight shone through a slit in the heavy brocade curtains; she listened carefully, what was that? A shiver went through her body, but it was nothing to do with being cold. She climbed out of bed, placing her feet firmly into warm fluffy slippers and slipping on a thick wool dressing gown before going quietly across the room to open the bedroom door. Sally peeked out; all was quiet, the strange noise which woke her up had stopped. The door in the next room silently opened and James stuck his head out. “You heard it too?” he asked, Sally nodded. “It sounded like crying to me, but from where?” said James, straining his ears, but hearing nothing. “Me too,” said Sally nervously, looking towards the end of the passage to the door that opened onto the attic stairs. “It has to be the attic,” James whispered, also staring in the same direction, “but, it seems to have stopped now, we’ll go and look in the morning, let’s go back to bed.” Sally did as her brother suggested and went back into her own room, snuggling down under the covers, after she had opened the curtains wide enough to let the moonlight stream in. An owl hooted in the tree outside her window, nothing to be scared of, thought Sally nervously, owls live in the country, but still, she pulled the covers up over her head before finally drifting off into a restless sleep. A few days later Junket was allowed out of the laundry, the door was left open so he could access his litter tray. He rubbed happily around the children before going off to investigate his new home. Wandering around the large old house before finally settling upon Sally’s bed and making it quite clear that was where he would be sleeping from now on, purring contentedly, not to mention loudly, Junket soon wrapped himself into a ball and went to sleep.