2006 - Wildcat Moon by Babs Horton Page B

know that?”
    “I’ve seen swimming certificates from his school—he can swim a mile,” she said, stepping closer to Archie.
    Archie gulped.
    “There are loads of his things in a secret trunk Up in the attic.”
    The girl smelled of roses, of cinnamon and freshly washed cotton.
    “Did he used to live here then?”
    “Of course he did, he was a Greswode. Greswodes have always lived here.”
    “It says on the gravestone thing that he was born in a place called Santa Caterina in Italy.”
    Romilly looked closely at the boy.
    Archie looked away and glanced across at Killivray House.
    “It’s a nice house,” he said, trying to change the subject.
    “No it’s not. It’s horrid and haunted and I hate it.”
    “H…how do you mean it’s haunted?”
    She moved closer to Archie and dropped her voice to almost a whisper.
    “At night the creatures come alive.”
    Archie swallowed hard and crossed his fingers behind his back for luck.
    “What sort of creatures?” he asked anxiously.
    “The girl eyed him steadily. Tigers mostly and sometimes bears.”
    She was crackers. Loop the loop.
    He couldn’t think of anything to say and looked down at his feet.
    “Why did you come here?”
    “S…someone w…was chasing me and I escaped into the woods.”
    “Was it a madman after you with a hatchet?”
    “Ah, no, just some kids who don’t like me. I think I’d best be going now.”
    “Where do you live?”
    “In Bag End.”
    She wrinkled her nose and then smiled.
    She had a nice smile.
    “That’s a funny name. Where is your house?”
    “Over there in the Skallies.” He pointed towards the woods.
    She opened her mouth in surprise and said breathlessly, “Is it true that all the people who live there are mad?”
    “No. Well, some of them are. Have you never been there?”
    She shook her head.
    “I could take you there one day if you wanted,” he said, and then wished that he hadn’t.
    “I’m not allowed.”
    “Why?”
    “Papa thinks the world isn’t a good place for a child to roam in.”
    “It sounds funny you saying’Papa’like that.”
    “Why?”
    “Kind of old-fashioned and posh.”
    “What do you call your papa?”
    “Father, mostly,” Archie said, “and something else besides.”
    “What?”
    Archie lowered his voice, “The big, fat, stinking, hairy porker.”
    Romilly slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. She’d never heard anything so rude or so funny.
    “Say it again.”
    “The big, fat stinking, hairy porker.”
    “Quick, come into the summerhouse. If Nanny Bea hears me out here then shell kill me. I’m not supposed to be out in the garden alone.”
    Blimey, this girl was more of a prisoner than he was.
    He followed her obediently but reluctantly into the summerhouse.
    “Tell me, did you see a man coming out of here?”
    “Where?” Archie looked round fearfully.
    “From the summerhouse? I mean he’s gone now, but he came in here and I hid behind that smelly sofa over there. It’s very peculiar because no one ever comes to Killivray, ever.”
    “I didn’t see anyone at all.”
    Archie looked around the summerhouse in wonder. It was a dump of a place all right but a very interesting dump.
    “This is a great place,” he said. “Imagine if you could make it into a den, you could play here for hours.”
    Romilly stared at Archie. “That’s what I was just thinking before you came but I wouldn’t be allowed.”
    “Why? Wouldn’t your mammy and daddy be glad for you to be out from under their feet?”
    “I’m not allowed out on my own. I shouldn’t be here now.”
    “What do you do all day?”
    “I read. Have boring lessons with my governess. Play with my toys.”
    “Do you have many toys?”
    “Hundreds,” she said quite simply.
    It was Archie’s turn to stare now. She must be very rich.
    “I’ll have to go in a minute,” Romilly said, “but would you promise to come back here again one day?”
    Her voice was eager, her eyes very bright in the