although he didn’t know why. It looked very old and covered in cobwebs. “I wonder what’s in there?” he murmured.
She followed his gaze. “I don’t know.” There were so many old things lying around the place that had been there for centuries that nothing stood out as far as Fiona was concerned. But she stopped suddenly in mid-sentence. They both heard it – a sound just outside the door, the light tread of footsteps crossing the drawing room towards them. Fiona put a finger to her lips. “Shh!” she hissed. “Listen.”
They sat perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, as the footsteps came nearer.
Suddenly Samuel let out a gasp. “She mentioned it!”
“What? Sssh? Be quiet!”
But Samuel wouldn’t be silenced, in spite of whatever or whoever was waiting for them outside the door.
“She mentioned it in her journal. It’s the ebony box – it’s black like piano keys!” and he pointed up at the dusty old box sitting on the very top of the highest bookcase.
They stared at each other, speechless. Then the slow pacing stopped, and there was a terrible moment of suspense when Samuel and Fiona felt sure the intruder would open the door to the library and find them there. They kept very still, waiting for the door to open. At last, without warning, the footsteps began to recede.
They both let out a sigh.
“It was probably just Granny,” Fiona whispered.
“It didn’t sound much like her.”
Samuel rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Fiona cried, in a hoarse whisper.
“To see who it is.”
“You can’t.”
But Samuel wasn’t listening. “I’ll be all right,” he hissed, and crept towards the door. He opened it a fraction, his heart stopping. He felt sure it was just someone trying to scare them, Charles perhaps. He pushed the door gently. It swung open on its hinges with an eerie whine, and the huge drawing room lay empty before him.
There was no one else about.
He walked slowly across the length of the room towards the door at the far end, tiptoeing quietly. Just as he reached the door, it suddenly swung open in his face and he let out a short cry. There was a loud scream, and it was a momentor two before he realized that his own mother was standing before him, her face white with shock.
“Samuel, you scared the life out of me,” she gasped. “What on earth are you doing creeping about like this?”
Fiona appeared behind him looking sheepish. “We were just looking for a book I’d lost.”
Isabel Cunningham held a hand to her pounding heart and leant against the door-frame. “I’ve just been giving myself the creeps, stalking about the empty house like this. I was worried about you. Wondered where you’d got to.”
“Sorry, Mum,” Samuel said, and tried very hard not to snigger.
Downstairs in the kitchen Isabel put the kettle on the Aga for some tea. “I promised your mother I’d let the dogs out and keep an eye on you,” she said.
“I don’t need looking after. I can look after myself,” Fiona retorted.
“Even so, young lady, when we’ve had some tea, you two can take the dogs out for some exercise.”
“What are you going to do?” Samuel asked his mother.
“I’ve got work to do,” Isabel replied shortly. And he knew that meant her sculpture. She would be busy with it all afternoon, until the cold drove her from her workshop.
As they drank their tea Samuel thought of the ebony box lying in the library, almost inaccessible. He was desperate to inspect it, but Fiona warned him that her mother and the boys would be back at any time. “We don’t have time,” she said. “If she catches us …” And he knew she was right.
They retreated to Samuel’s room in the cottage instead, and carefully unearthed the remains of the journal from his desk.
He scanned the fragile papers and found the paragraph he was looking for. They read it out loud.
I’ve taken to locking up my journal in the ebony box in my room, just in case anyone
She followed his gaze. “I don’t know.” There were so many old things lying around the place that had been there for centuries that nothing stood out as far as Fiona was concerned. But she stopped suddenly in mid-sentence. They both heard it – a sound just outside the door, the light tread of footsteps crossing the drawing room towards them. Fiona put a finger to her lips. “Shh!” she hissed. “Listen.”
They sat perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, as the footsteps came nearer.
Suddenly Samuel let out a gasp. “She mentioned it!”
“What? Sssh? Be quiet!”
But Samuel wouldn’t be silenced, in spite of whatever or whoever was waiting for them outside the door.
“She mentioned it in her journal. It’s the ebony box – it’s black like piano keys!” and he pointed up at the dusty old box sitting on the very top of the highest bookcase.
They stared at each other, speechless. Then the slow pacing stopped, and there was a terrible moment of suspense when Samuel and Fiona felt sure the intruder would open the door to the library and find them there. They kept very still, waiting for the door to open. At last, without warning, the footsteps began to recede.
They both let out a sigh.
“It was probably just Granny,” Fiona whispered.
“It didn’t sound much like her.”
Samuel rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Fiona cried, in a hoarse whisper.
“To see who it is.”
“You can’t.”
But Samuel wasn’t listening. “I’ll be all right,” he hissed, and crept towards the door. He opened it a fraction, his heart stopping. He felt sure it was just someone trying to scare them, Charles perhaps. He pushed the door gently. It swung open on its hinges with an eerie whine, and the huge drawing room lay empty before him.
There was no one else about.
He walked slowly across the length of the room towards the door at the far end, tiptoeing quietly. Just as he reached the door, it suddenly swung open in his face and he let out a short cry. There was a loud scream, and it was a momentor two before he realized that his own mother was standing before him, her face white with shock.
“Samuel, you scared the life out of me,” she gasped. “What on earth are you doing creeping about like this?”
Fiona appeared behind him looking sheepish. “We were just looking for a book I’d lost.”
Isabel Cunningham held a hand to her pounding heart and leant against the door-frame. “I’ve just been giving myself the creeps, stalking about the empty house like this. I was worried about you. Wondered where you’d got to.”
“Sorry, Mum,” Samuel said, and tried very hard not to snigger.
Downstairs in the kitchen Isabel put the kettle on the Aga for some tea. “I promised your mother I’d let the dogs out and keep an eye on you,” she said.
“I don’t need looking after. I can look after myself,” Fiona retorted.
“Even so, young lady, when we’ve had some tea, you two can take the dogs out for some exercise.”
“What are you going to do?” Samuel asked his mother.
“I’ve got work to do,” Isabel replied shortly. And he knew that meant her sculpture. She would be busy with it all afternoon, until the cold drove her from her workshop.
As they drank their tea Samuel thought of the ebony box lying in the library, almost inaccessible. He was desperate to inspect it, but Fiona warned him that her mother and the boys would be back at any time. “We don’t have time,” she said. “If she catches us …” And he knew she was right.
They retreated to Samuel’s room in the cottage instead, and carefully unearthed the remains of the journal from his desk.
He scanned the fragile papers and found the paragraph he was looking for. They read it out loud.
I’ve taken to locking up my journal in the ebony box in my room, just in case anyone
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