‘Hmmmm. That was good,’ I say to Bozy as I put down my copy of a book called Agatha Christie: An Autobiography. She was an incredible woman. I must read some of her books sometime. I don’t really read too much fiction these days, but I’d love to read some of hers.
Some of the words in her autobiography were a bit difficult for me. But I managed to read it all and thought it was really good. I just wish I could write as many books as her.
I climb down off my bed and sit against the wall and pick up my copybook. I flick it open to where my pen is – right at the start of chapter 21. Chapter 20 was all about me seeing out of Dod’s window for the first time. Chapter 21 was supposed to be about the stories of the people I see when I look out the window. But I was thinking last night that I should begin to write about the newspaper articles I find up in Dod’s bedroom instead.
I look up at the crack beneath the door at the top of the steps and when I am sure that Dod is nowhere near, I go over to my shelf, pick up my Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone book and open it. Then I pull out the newspaper article I took from Dod’s room two nights ago. I read it again. It’s an article about how a detective called Ray De Brun has been under pressure to find me. At the top of the newspaper page it says the date was sixth of September, 2006. I went missing in January 2002 according to another article. This isn’t the best one I’ve read. And it doesn’t have any pictures of me either. It’s just a small bit of writing down the side of the page with a headline that says: De Brun Feeling the Heat.
It is weird when I see pictures of myself in the newspaper pages. I never think they look like me. But I guess it is difficult for me to remember what I looked like when I was four years old. It always seems to be the same picture; me with a little smile on my face wearing a navy jumper. I don’t remember that jumper at all. I don’t remember much about who I was or what I did before Dod took me. I just know that he took me and that there is a big detective out there looking for me. I really want to read all of the newspaper pages Dod has in his room. But it is not often that he leaves me alone up there. When he does, I open that drawer under his wardrobe, take one of the newspaper articles out and shove it down my pants. This is the fourth newspaper article I’ve taken and I think I found them for the first time nearly a year ago. I like reading them, even though they scare me a little bit. They also make me hate Dod a little bit because he took me from Mummy and Daddy. But then he will just walk into my basement and hand me a brand new book. And suddenly I don’t hate him anymore.
He can be so good. And yet he is so bad. I guess that’s why there is a good Dod and an angry Dod.
I hear the key turn in the door and then it swings open. Oh no. I put the newspaper article inside the Harry Potter book and snap it closed really quickly. This is the first time Dod’s come down to the basement without me having a newspaper article I’ve stolen from him hidden safely. I hear my heart thump louder than it normally does. I stay silent, don’t even look up at Dod when he comes down the steps. I don’t know where to look or what to do.
‘Hey – what’s wrong with you, moody pants?’ he says. I finally look up at him and then shrug my shoulders. He probably has a little present for me. I should be feeling excited about it. But I don’t. I feel really scared. I stare down at the Harry Potter book, then back up at him.
‘I’ve got you a little something,’ he says.
I get to my feet, walk over towards him.
‘Close your eyes, put out your hands.’
I do.
‘No peeking.’
And then he puts something into my hands. It feels a little cold. Hard and cold.
‘Okay, and open.’
A Kindle. A Kindle!
‘Is this for me?’ I ask.
He laughs.
‘You betcha.’
I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him really hard.
‘Thank you so much, Dod.’
He laughs again, tosses my hair with his hands.
I look up into his eyes and smile a really, really big smile.
‘Well, I figured we wouldn’t have much room for many more books down here.’
He turns around and points at my shelves.
‘How many do you have now?’
‘A hundred and thirty-three,’ I say.
‘Well a hundred and thirty-three in this,’ he says, touching the Kindle I have snuggled into my chest, ‘won’t take up a whole wall of your basement, huh?’
I laugh.
‘Ah… and this one still is one of your favourites out of all one hundred and thirty-three, isn’t it?’ he says.
‘Huh?’
My heart thumps when I look to him.
He bends down and picks up my Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
‘Y’know – I know I’m an old man at this stage, but I really should try these out.’
He smiles, looks at me. Then his smile goes away.
‘What’s wrong with you, Betsy? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.’
I hug my Kindle, step back a few steps and just nod my head. My heart sounds like a train. Ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk.
‘Betsy. Betsy.’
He calls out my name as he takes a step towards me. I try not to look at the Harry Potter book in his hands. But I can’t help it. He holds a hand to my forehead.
‘Your temperature seems fine. Why don’t you just hop into bed? Take some rest today. Maybe you can read your Kindle. I have two books loaded up on it for you. I can teach you how to download newer ones too. I’ve set up an account for you.’
I sit on the edge of my bed. Dod then lifts my feet, turns me into the bed and pulls the sheet up over me.
‘Do you not like the Kindle?’ he says. ‘Hold on – you just want books, huh? You prefer paper.’
I don’t say anything. I just stare straight ahead.
‘What’s wrong, Betsy? Why have you gone really quiet?’
I’m not quiet. My heart is being really loud. Really, really loud. Ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk.
‘You’d rather read a paper one like this, huh?’ he says wiggling my Harry Potter book.
Then I see it fall out. The newspaper article floating slowly from my Harry Potter book, and sailing in the air until it finally reaches the ground. I stay still.
Dod crouches down, picks it up and opens it. Then he stares right at me. As if he wants to kill me.