My wrist can get sore from writing. I twist it round and round in circles until the pain goes away. Then I lift up my pen again and keep going.
I think my spelling is getting better. I am writing words a little bit quicker. I’ve been nearly a whole year writing Betsy’s Basement and I am on chapter five. This morning I’ve been writing about the time I screamed when I was in the toilet upstairs. That was silly of me.
I wanted to die that day because I thought I would go to see Mummy and Daddy in heaven. Whatever heaven is. A lot of the books I read don’t mention heaven. Maybe it’s not even real. It makes me sad to think that I will never see Mummy and Daddy again. But I can’t talk about it with Dod. Talking about Mummy or Daddy is one way to make sure Dod definitely turns into angry Dod. So instead of talking about it, I write about it in my story. Chapter one was all about me being taken by Dod. Chapter two is about how I used to keep really quiet in the basement when all of the people used to come visit Dod’s house. Not so many people visit anymore. Chapter three is about me and Bozy and how we became best friends. Chapter four is about Dod letting me go upstairs for the first time. And now chapter five is about how I got beaten up by Dod for screaming when I was upstairs. I think my back is still not the same since that beating. It’s sore when I wake up every morning. But even though all of my chapters are about me being here, in the basement, they always have a bit of Mummy and Daddy in them. Not that I can remember much about that time. But writing helps me remember. Or what it does is make sure I don’t forget.
I can’t wait to write the chapters about how me and Dod became really good friends again though. About him buying me lots and lots of books. About him letting me go upstairs to watch TV. And about him letting me look out the window from his bedroom. When I get to those chapters, I’m going to have lots of stories. Lots of stories about all of the different characters I see when I look out the window. There is a woman who lives across the street, in the house with the red door. I call her Mrs Witchety and she is a secret witch. She has fifteen cats and twelve brooms in her house. She is really funny. But scary too. I have so much fun when I am looking out the window and making characters up.
When Dod opens the door, I rest my pen down inside my book, then fold it over. I walk up the steps and hope Dod will let me look out the window today and not watch TV.
‘Whatcha wanna do?’ he asks when I get to the top of the steps.
I just look up at him.
‘You wanna go upstairs, huh?’ He makes a funny shape with his mouth and then nods his head towards the stairs. ‘Okay, c’mon.’
We both walk up and as soon as I am outside his bedroom, I get down on my hands and knees and crawl around his bed until I am at the window ledge, Then I place my hands on the ledge and bring myself up so I can see out the window. I look straight away to Mrs Witchety’s house but she’s not outside, not today. Then I look up and down the street. Nobody’s walking. This happens sometimes. Sometimes I can spend a long time looking out the window and not see anybody. Maybe today is going to be one of those days.
I look around Dod’s bedroom again. There isn’t much in it. A big bed and two really big wardrobes. I often wonder what’s in the wardrobes. But I have never asked.
‘Dod.’ I say his name really slowly.
‘Yes, Betsy?’
‘Do you not have lots of books in your room like I do in my basement? Are they in these wardrobes?’
He laughs a little. That makes me feel good. I was worried he might turn into angry Dod for asking him about his wardrobes. He walks over to the far side of his bed and then opens a drawer.
‘Here are all my books,’ he says.
I’m not sure what he is showing me. It looks like just one book, but it’s grey and skinny. When he brings it closer I notice that it isn’t a book at all. There are no pages. I make a funny face at him and he laughs again.
‘It’s called a Kindle,’ he says.
I keep the funny look on my face.
‘I have over a hundred books on here. He presses at a button. A light comes on and makes it look like a really small TV. He turns it around so I can watch. ‘See all these,’ he says, ‘they are all the books I have on here and I can choose to read one anytime I want.’
I’m a bit confused. But when I point my finger at one of the books, it opens. Chapter one appears on the screen.
‘That’s magic,’ I say.
But I’m still confused.
‘I buy books and they just download on to here.’
I give him my funny face again.
‘Tell you what, you take a look at this. The books I read are a little old for you, but take a look through the Kindle. I’ve a tiny bit of work to do. So I’m going to go downstairs. I’ll give you twenty minutes up here, okay? Keep your head down, Betsy.’
I look up at him and then nod my head slowly.
‘Okay, Dod.’
He’s never left me up here on my own. I think he thinks that I’m becoming a big girl now. A bit like a grown up. I’ll be fourteen next month. I smile to myself when he leaves the room. I feel really happy that he thinks I can be left alone up here.
I take the Kindle from him and begin to press at the screen. Into one book called War and Peace and then another one called Anna Karenina. There are lots of big words in these books. Dod is right. I don’t think I’d be able to read these. But this is so much fun. I can’t believe all of his books are in here. Mine take up so much room in my basement.
I crawl back towards Dod’s wardrobe so I can sit with my back leaned up against it and continue to play with his Kindle. I would love one of these. Except I think I would miss the smell of the paper from books. One of the first things I do when I get a new book is to flick the pages under my nose and breathe in the smell. I bring the Kindle to my nose, try to smell it. Nothing. It smells like nothing.
I stare over at the drawer Dod took the Kindle from. Wonder what other magical things he has in there. But I shouldn’t look. I’d get myself into so much trouble. If I don’t keep my head down, Dod will definitely turn into angry Dod. And that’s the last thing I want. I look towards the window, then towards the drawer again. Then the window. Then the drawer.
I place the Kindle on top of Dod’s bed and then crawl. I do it really, really slowly. When I reach his drawer I pull it open and then place my hand on his bed so I can pull myself up a little bit. I look inside. There are some pills that look like sweets and an old watch. I hold up the watch and stare at it. The hands aren’t moving. It must be broken. I put it back inside, then close the drawer really slowly, making sure there is no noise. Then I crawl back over to the wardrobe I’d been sitting against. My heart thumps a little bit. That was naughty. I probably shouldn’t have done that. But I can’t help myself. I pull open his wardrobe. See lots and lots of clothes. There are lots of shoes in the bottom of it, lots of shirts hanging at the top. Then I pull open the drawer at the bottom of his wardrobe. Lots of papers. I flick through them to see what they are all about. But there’s too many of them. I lift the top one off and then sit with my back to the wardrobe and begin to read it.
In big black writing at the top, it says “DNA confirms Betsy Blake is Dead”.