The next morning after breakfast, I went back upstairs to my room. I heard a little tap on the door. The door nudged open and in came Aunty M. I unplugged my ipod from my ears and fluttered my eyelids showing off the eye shadow.
“Very glam I must say,’ said Aunty M fluttering back.”
“What do you think? Do I look daft or does it suit me?”
“I think you look lovely. The colour brings out the colour of your eyes and makes them look bigger. Now, I need to paint again today. I have to finish off two paintings I’m exhibiting at the Annual Arts and Crafts Show at the weekend.”
“Ok, Aunty M. I must write up my diary or mum will kill me. I have to do it every day and I didn’t do it yesterday.”
“So you’re busy too. That’s good. Now I really must get on. See you later. We’ll have coffee and some chocolate chip cookies at eleven. I’ll call you.”
“Yum. Can I have coffee too?” I asked.
“Absolutely. You have to have coffee to bring out the flavour of the cookies!”
When Aunty M had left, I plugged back into my iPod and lay on my bed. I couldn’t face writing my diary but I decided it was best to get it over and done with. I put my diary and furry rabbit pencil case on the bottom shelf in the corner of the room, and went back to the bed to lie down. Nick Delenti was singing his latest track in my ears and I found I couldn’t help wriggling my toes in time to the music. I looked up at the ceiling. It bowed down in several places. There were lots of cracks like long wrinkles across it too. The cottage must be really old. Then as I looked towards the corner where the shelves were, I noticed a square cut into the ceiling above the top shelf.
I became curious. What could it be? Why would anyone cut the ceiling? I walked over to the shelves. The bottom step was very wide and they got narrower as they went up. I realised they were a hidden stairway that led up to a hatch, which must open up to the attic.
This was exciting. A secret stairway. I wonder if mum knew about it. Yes, she must have known. Well, this was her room after all. Without thinking and without asking if I could, I made a space on the shelves as I started to climb up. There were a few dusty pots and a vase of dried flowers but they were old and faded and they looked rather sad. There were also some old books and a pile of old comics from when mum was little. They looked old fashioned and well-read. When I had cleared a space up the shelves, I stood back and looked.
I climbed up. It wasn’t easy as there were no banisters, then when I got to the top, I could see a brass ring which had been painted white like the ceiling, on the hatch. I grabbed the ring, pulled and down came a panel. I was showered with dust but I could see up inside the attic. I held on to the edge of the hole, with my legs dangling down. Then I swung my legs to give me more momentum and with all my strength, I hauled myself up.
I glanced around. The attic was full of dusty, cobwebby book shelves, trunks that looked like pirates once owned them and racks of dressing up clothes. My heart jolted as I caught sight of what looked like a huge headless doll in the corner but as my eyes got used to the dim light, I saw it was one of those dummies dress makers use. At the far end of the attic was a huge arched window. It had a stained glass pattern at the top and was very dirty and so let in very little light. The attic was gloomy and the shadows that the light made were odd and sort of spooky. I didn’t feel scared just excited really. There must be all sorts of treasures and secrets and stuff from years ago up here. I thought back to my project on the Victorians that I must get down to. Maybe I’d find pieces of Victorian junk that I could take to school. I couldn’t wait to start exploring.
It was then that I remembered the noises I had heard coming from up here. A cold sensation trickled down my spine. I glanced around suddenly feeling that there was something behind me. I turned slowly around. Nothing. “Stop being silly,” I said out loud to myself. “The wind and old houses are always spooky and creaky and make scary noises. Well, they always do in scary books and films.”
I walked down towards the window and in front of it was a red, squashy, well used sofa. I guessed that’s where Aunty M and my mum would have sat and read in the peace and quiet when they were little. There were two deep dents one either side of it.
“That’s where they must have sat,” I found myself saying aloud.
I ran my fingers across the velvety pile. The whole, battered sofa had lost its springs but there was a bit of stuffing left to make it comfortable. I’d come up and write my diary later.
By the side of the sofa was an old wooden box. It was inlaid with gold leafy patterns across the top and a key hole on the side. I tried to lift the lid but it was locked.
“I wonder where the key is?” I heard myself say aloud again. I really must stop talking to myself.
I pulled the box towards me. It was really heavy and it scraped across the floor. Behind the box I noticed a little door cut in the wall. It had a rusty old key in the lock and a piece of faded ribbon was knotted around the end. What was that door doing there? I tried to turn the key but it wouldn’t budge. I pushed the door in a bit and tried again. It reluctantly turned, hurting my fingers, but I hoped it would be worth it. The door creaked towards me. Instantly, there was a musty smell and a breath of cold air. As my eyes got used to the darkness, I could see a large black box and what looked like a photo album. I was intrigued. Who would want to hide a box and a photo album? And what was I going to find?