‘Look out!’ cried Mum as Dad braked to miss a large white duck waddling across the driveway.

I pressed my face to the window. I knew staying with Aunt Evie would be different, but I hadn’t expected an old sandstone cottage almost ready to collapse. Nor was I prepared for the raggle-taggle gypsy striding towards us. I swallowed hard. Tall and thin, with her dark curly hair tied up in a red scarf, Aunt Evie didn’t look anything like Dad. Plus, she wore socks with her sandals. Dad never wore sandals.

‘Honestly!’ she scolded as Dad opened his door. ‘Pumpkin’s my pet duck, not a speed bump.’ Her brown eyes twinkled as she peered into the back seat. ‘Now, where’s that long-lost niece of mine? Minnie Matheson? Is that you? Goodness, don’t look so scared. I don’t bite.’

The cool air was fresh on my face as I slid nervously from the car. Aunt Evie had lived near us years ago, but I hadn’t seen her since I was a toddler so I didn’t remember her. She’d left Brisbane to work in Melbourne and had only recently moved to South Australia.

‘Hi,’ I squeaked, dodging Pumpkin as he flapped at my feet. I took a breath and held out a shaky hand. ‘Nice to meet—’

My carefully practised introduction was drowned by Aunt Evie’s suffocating hug. Her knitted jumper, scratchy on my cheeks, smelt like wool wash mixed with sunshine.

‘Thanks a mill for your help, sis,’ said Dad, stealing a hug and a kiss from Aunt Evie before glancing into the car. ‘We couldn’t have done this without you.’

Easing from the front seat, Mum reached hastily into her pocket for another tissue. Her mum, my nanna, had died unexpectedly in Ireland, and now Mum and Dad were flying there to sort out Nanna’s affairs.

Aunt Evie gave Mum an extra big hug. ‘So sorry for your loss,’ she said kindly. ‘Never nice losing a loved one. Especially one so far away.’

‘Thanks,’ Mum murmured. ‘It has been quite a shock.’ She reached out to pull me to her side. ‘Thanks so much for looking after our precious girl.’

I chewed the inside of my cheek. It wasn’t that I minded staying with Aunt Evie. She was Dad’s sister after all. And from the stories Dad told me about them growing up, she did sound kind of fun. It was just … six weeks without Mum and Dad? I’d never done anything without them before.

‘If only,’ Dad had said when I’d begged them to take me. ‘Sorry, hon, you know we would if we could. But it’ll be no fun for you over there – all black suits and serious faces. Besides, some country air and a bit of freedom will do you good.’

‘But I’ll miss you!’ I’d pleaded. ‘Who’ll talk to my teacher if something goes wrong? Who’ll help me with my homework and make sure I’m okay?’

‘Like I said, we’ll email and Skype,’ Dad promised, ‘and, if you’re lucky, we might even send a few postcards. Come on, Mouse, Mum and I need you to be brave about this. Don’t you think it’s time you did stuff for yourself?’

And that was that. Mum and Dad bought two plane tickets for Ireland, and I packed for six weeks of winter – in freezing cold South Australia.

‘You head off,’ Aunt Evie instructed Mum and Dad once my bags had been unloaded. ‘I mean, I’d love for you to stay and chat, but I’m worried you’ll miss your flight.’

Dad checked his watch. ‘Oh, goodness! It’s already after one, and we still have to return the hire car. You’ll be okay, won’t you, Mouse?’ he said, turning towards me.

I stood beside my brand-new suitcase, gripping the spongy strap. Pumpkin the duck pulled hungrily at my yellow shoelaces. ‘Hope so,’ I said, blinking back tears. ‘One last hug?’ I’d given them a thousand hugs before we’d left Brisbane, but one more wouldn’t hurt.

The trail of dust from Mum and Dad’s car had hardly settled before Aunt Evie was bundling me inside out of the cold. A windmill beside the cottage creaked a rusty welcome as she opened up the door. ‘We’re going to have a lot of fun,’ she said, nodding so enthusiastically that her curly hair bounced. ‘Wait till you’re all unpacked and have set out a few things of your own. You’ll feel a hundred times better. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.’

Dad had told me Aunt Evie was renting from a local sheep farmer in a place called Truro. Although the cottage was over an hour from Adelaide, it was, according to Dad, the perfect location for Aunt Evie’s work. Aunt Evie visited farmers and helped them feed their cows. Since most of her clients lived near Truro, she wasn’t too far away.

Once inside the cottage, I decided, with a shiver, that South Australian buildings weren’t like the homes back in Brisbane, which were full of light and space and airiness. Instead, Aunt Evie’s cottage was dark and solid, its thick windows and heavy frames blocking out the light.

Even worse, the wooden floors were badly scratched and the skirting boards were gouged, like they’d been chewed. I wondered if Aunt Evie had a dog.

‘This way,’ she encouraged, dragging my suitcase behind her. We passed a couch with split cushions spewing yellow stuffing everywhere and a pot-belly stove oozing warmth into the lounge.

The floorboards were just as scratched in the hallway, where it smelt musty, like old mulching straw from the garden.

‘That’s my room,’ said Aunt Evie, pointing to a closed door, ‘and then the bathroom, and your room, right here at the end. You’re my first official guest, Minnie. I hope you like it.’

‘Mouse,’ I whispered.

Aunt Evie stopped short. ‘Sorry? What did you say? A mouse?’

My face felt hot. I wished Mum and Dad had explained my name to Aunt Evie before they’d left. But they hadn’t, and now they were gone.

‘No, not a mouse …’ I mumbled, taking a shaky breath.

‘What did you see?’

‘Um, well, nothing, just with my name …’

Aunt Evie scratched the top of her head. ‘You mean Minnie? After your ancient aunt Winifred Robinson? I always thought Minnie was a nice compromise. In fact, I think you have a lovely name.’

‘Well, um, at home, Mum and Dad, they …’

Aunt Evie smiled reassuringly as my words froze on my tongue. ‘Ah, yes. I imagine there are lots of things I need to know about Mum and Dad.’ She paused, her hand on the door knob. ‘But one thing I do know is I’m not telepathic and, like I said, I won’t bite. If you and I are going to get along, you’re going to have to speak up. Besides, you’re nine, now, and old enough to say what you want.’

I managed a nod, but then lowered my head to hide my wobbling lip. I wasn’t used to being told to speak up.

‘Okay, good. Then we have a deal. Now, what were you saying? At home, Mum and Dad …?’

‘Call me Mouse,’ I said.

Aunt Evie looked relieved. ‘Oh! Like Minnie Mouse? Well, Mouse it is then,’ she said, turning and opening the door. ‘Okay, Mouse, what do you think of your new nest? I washed the curtains yesterday. And that’s a new rug, just for you.’

The curtains were bright yellow and a chirpy blue rug lay on the floor. The single bed under the window had been made up with a flowery doona and a smiley face cushion sat jauntily against the pillows.

It was perfect.

Aunt Evie pulled my suitcase over to the bed. ‘I’ll leave you to settle in while I make some tea, but come through to the kitchen when you’re done and we’ll rustle up something nice for lunch. Do you like haloumi cheese?’

Once Aunt Evie’s footsteps had disappeared down the hall, I plopped on the bed. The mattress was firm but soft. Just how I liked it. I sighed. The room was pretty cheerful. And Aunt Evie did seem kind. Maybe it would be okay?

I unzipped my suitcase and pulled out my new art pad and pencils – consolation gifts from Mum and Dad for not taking me to Ireland. Then, instead of unpacking the rest of my things, I sat crossed-legged on the doona, flicking through my sketches.

The first one was of Cheeky, my Quaker parrot, who we’d left behind with our neighbour. I squinted sideways at the sketch. I’d tried drawing myself beside Cheeky, but something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t my wispy hair, or my half-smile. They were pretty standard for me. It wasn’t even my skinny arms, or the way my left eye was a teensy bit greener than my right. No, it was something to do with Cheeky. Perhaps I hadn’t quite got the angle of his beak—

Thud!

My heart skipped. I craned my neck to peer down the hallway. What was that?

Thud! Thump!

I returned to my sketch, determined not to panic. It was only a bit of noise. Perhaps the roof creaking? Or a possum trying to sneak in through the eaves? I thought of the chewed skirting boards. Perhaps Aunt Evie really did have a dog. A very large, noisy dog. I wished I’d asked.

Thud! Thump! Crash!

I dropped my pencil. The noises were too loud for a possum and too heavy for a dog. It sounded like a demolition team out there.

‘Aunt Evie?’

I held my breath, listening for her response. But there was nothing except the sound of blood rushing in my ears. Where was Aunt Evie? I wanted to run down the hallway to find her, but my legs had turned to wood.

CRASH!

I leapt from the bed. That was too loud to be normal. Maybe Aunt Evie had dropped the kettle, scalding herself with boiling water? Or maybe she was being attacked? I couldn’t just sit here if she was seriously injured. I had to be brave and find her.

I ran down the hallway and skidded to a halt outside Aunt Evie’s bedroom door as there was another thump against the wall. A hoarse cough came from inside.

My heart raced.

‘Aunt Evie?’ I whispered, pushing down the handle. ‘Are you okay?’

The door wouldn’t budge. I listened, my palms sweaty, as a low growl rumbled from behind the door.

‘Aunt Evie?’ I said more strongly, giving the door another shove. But something solid blocked the other side.

I pushed as the growling grew louder. Then, after another huge shove, I managed to make a gap between the door and the frame.

I poked my head in and screamed as a dark shape leapt towards me.