wonderful than the house in the game I play in my head. If only there was a dog called Boots, then everything would be perfect.
It wasn’t until the next day when Megan met Freya and when Freya told her about Dorothy, the black cat, that Megan realised that Buttercup House was anything but an ordinary house.
On the right-hand side of the back garden of Buttercup House was a wall made of big old stones. Megan stretched up her arm and tried to be as tall as she could, but she still
couldn’t reach the top – it was much too high. Then, she noticed a small head at the top of the wall. It made her jump.
‘Hello,’ said the head, which was a very pretty head with dark shiny hair and a tiny nose.
‘Hello,’ said Megan.
‘You won’t be able to reach the top, you know, it’s too high,’ said the girl with the shiny hair and the tiny nose.
‘How did you get up there then?’ Megan asked, curiously.
‘I have a special walkway,’ said the girl. ‘Are you the new girl?’
Megan nodded.
‘My name’s Freya,’ she said.
‘I’m Megan.’
‘I know,’ Freya said. ‘I heard your mum call you earlier. Shall I come down and meet you at the other end of the wall?’
Megan hadn’t thought about the other end of the wall. She had only just discovered this end. ‘OK,’ she said.
Freya’s head disappeared, and Megan followed the wall until it ended. Freya was already there, peering over the wooden slatted fence which replaced the wall and ran down to the trees and
the stream.
Freya was quite a lot smaller than Megan. She wore long stripy socks that stretched above her knees and a pair of long purple shorts that looked as if they were too big for her. She wore a
yellow T-shirt covered in silver stars and she had hair that reached down to her elbows. Megan thought she looked like a little elf.
‘Have you seen her?’ Freya whispered.
‘Have I seen who?’ Megan asked, whispering too, although she had no idea why she was whispering.
‘Dorothy.’
‘Who’s Dorothy?’
‘The cat,’ Freya answered. ‘She’s back! Haven’t you seen her?’
‘No,’ Megan answered, feeling a little puzzled. ‘Is she your cat?’
Freya laughed. ‘No, not my cat. She’s . . . well, she’s our cat.’
‘Our cat?’ said Megan.
Freya nodded. ‘Yours and mine. She lives here. Granny told me all about her. She used to live here years ago, then she went, but now she’s back.’
Megan had no idea what Freya meant and was beginning to think she was a bit bonkers. Then all of a sudden, Freya exclaimed, ‘There, look!’
Megan looked to where Freya pointed, to the trees that bordered the stream, and there was a black cat, dashing through the long grass.
‘I told you,’ said Freya. ‘Granny was so pleased when I told her I’d seen her. I wish we could play in your treehouse.’
‘It needs fixing,’ said Megan. ‘Everything here needs fixing. But we could play in it tomorrow, when Dad’s fixed it.’
So that was how Megan and Freya got to be friends – just like that!
Megan’s dad took planks of wood up to the treehouse and hammered and banged, and hammered and banged some more. Every now and then Megan saw a dark head appear above the
wall, and she would wave to Freya, and Freya would wave back. Then Megan saw the black cat, Dorothy, again. This time she was sitting at the end of the wall and seemed to be watching her. Why is
she doing that? thought Megan.
Megan followed her mum into the workshop at the side of the house, where she was going to be making her interesting things out of clay. At the moment, though, it was full of boxes packed full of
all their things.
‘Mum, did you know that a black cat lives here?’ Megan asked.
‘Where?’ asked her mum. ‘Here?’
‘Yes, here,’ said Megan. ‘Freya told me, and I saw her yesterday and again just now. She’s called Dorothy.’
‘Oh, she’s probably wild,’ said her mum.
That’ll be it then, thought Megan. I bet she just visits now
It wasn’t until the next day when Megan met Freya and when Freya told her about Dorothy, the black cat, that Megan realised that Buttercup House was anything but an ordinary house.
On the right-hand side of the back garden of Buttercup House was a wall made of big old stones. Megan stretched up her arm and tried to be as tall as she could, but she still
couldn’t reach the top – it was much too high. Then, she noticed a small head at the top of the wall. It made her jump.
‘Hello,’ said the head, which was a very pretty head with dark shiny hair and a tiny nose.
‘Hello,’ said Megan.
‘You won’t be able to reach the top, you know, it’s too high,’ said the girl with the shiny hair and the tiny nose.
‘How did you get up there then?’ Megan asked, curiously.
‘I have a special walkway,’ said the girl. ‘Are you the new girl?’
Megan nodded.
‘My name’s Freya,’ she said.
‘I’m Megan.’
‘I know,’ Freya said. ‘I heard your mum call you earlier. Shall I come down and meet you at the other end of the wall?’
Megan hadn’t thought about the other end of the wall. She had only just discovered this end. ‘OK,’ she said.
Freya’s head disappeared, and Megan followed the wall until it ended. Freya was already there, peering over the wooden slatted fence which replaced the wall and ran down to the trees and
the stream.
Freya was quite a lot smaller than Megan. She wore long stripy socks that stretched above her knees and a pair of long purple shorts that looked as if they were too big for her. She wore a
yellow T-shirt covered in silver stars and she had hair that reached down to her elbows. Megan thought she looked like a little elf.
‘Have you seen her?’ Freya whispered.
‘Have I seen who?’ Megan asked, whispering too, although she had no idea why she was whispering.
‘Dorothy.’
‘Who’s Dorothy?’
‘The cat,’ Freya answered. ‘She’s back! Haven’t you seen her?’
‘No,’ Megan answered, feeling a little puzzled. ‘Is she your cat?’
Freya laughed. ‘No, not my cat. She’s . . . well, she’s our cat.’
‘Our cat?’ said Megan.
Freya nodded. ‘Yours and mine. She lives here. Granny told me all about her. She used to live here years ago, then she went, but now she’s back.’
Megan had no idea what Freya meant and was beginning to think she was a bit bonkers. Then all of a sudden, Freya exclaimed, ‘There, look!’
Megan looked to where Freya pointed, to the trees that bordered the stream, and there was a black cat, dashing through the long grass.
‘I told you,’ said Freya. ‘Granny was so pleased when I told her I’d seen her. I wish we could play in your treehouse.’
‘It needs fixing,’ said Megan. ‘Everything here needs fixing. But we could play in it tomorrow, when Dad’s fixed it.’
So that was how Megan and Freya got to be friends – just like that!
Megan’s dad took planks of wood up to the treehouse and hammered and banged, and hammered and banged some more. Every now and then Megan saw a dark head appear above the
wall, and she would wave to Freya, and Freya would wave back. Then Megan saw the black cat, Dorothy, again. This time she was sitting at the end of the wall and seemed to be watching her. Why is
she doing that? thought Megan.
Megan followed her mum into the workshop at the side of the house, where she was going to be making her interesting things out of clay. At the moment, though, it was full of boxes packed full of
all their things.
‘Mum, did you know that a black cat lives here?’ Megan asked.
‘Where?’ asked her mum. ‘Here?’
‘Yes, here,’ said Megan. ‘Freya told me, and I saw her yesterday and again just now. She’s called Dorothy.’
‘Oh, she’s probably wild,’ said her mum.
That’ll be it then, thought Megan. I bet she just visits now
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