a bundle of home-made torches. Ralph took a shaky sip of water. Flies? They’d be half the size of Tom.
‘You’re free to sleep where you like,’ Tom said, ‘but so far we’ve all stayed together for support. As you can see, the bedding’s not ideal. If you have trouble sleeping, there are one or two tasselled cushions lying about. They’re as old and dusty as the house itself, but a little more comfortable than the cotton wool bud-tips Jack expects us to lay our weary heads on.’
Penny forced her fingers through her curly brown hair, clipping it back above the level of her ears. ‘Why’s he doing this? Why is Jack keeping you here?’
‘We’re his workforce,’ said Neville.
‘His miniones,’ said Ralph.
‘He must have bragged to you about his inventions?’ said Wally, rubbing at the smoke burns on his face. Ralph wondered with a gulp just how ‘bad’ Wally had tobe at his job. Judging by the spikes in his short, blond hair he’d suffered an electrical shock or two. He offered Penny a piece of sugar bead.
She smiled and shook her head. ‘He said something about this house being his ‘prize exhibit’.’
‘It’s the feature of his seaside show,’ said Tom. ‘It’s the house we talked about that morning in your kitchen, the one that went missing from the Yorkshire Dales. He didn’t take it apart; he shrank it down so he could put it on display on the end of a pier.’
Penny shook her head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. When people see it they’ll recognise it, won’t they?’
‘Not if their minds can’t believe it,’ said Tom. ‘He wants Wally to wire up a sign above the door: MINIVILLE: THE TINY HOUSE OF HORROR.’
Penny shuddered and clutched at her arms.
Tom reached forward and boldly touched her hand. Ralph watched his mum’s thumb curl over the plumber’s work-hardened fingers and was glad she had someone strong to protect her. ‘Before he miniaturised me,’ Tom said quietly, ‘he told me how Miniville’s supposed to work. When we’ve finished building, he plans to set the house inside a sealed glass dome, a bit like a giant snow-shaker.’
‘And shake us up and down?’ Ralph reeled in terror.He didn’t fancy being a squash ball against these ceilings.
‘Rafe, shut up and listen,’ Kyle snarled, whittling away at the end of a spear.
Tom went on, ‘In the glass around the dome, he’s going to install a number of prisms. The idea’s pretty basic: when you put your eye to one, you’ll see a distorted view of the house – the corner of a room, a seat-cushion, the bath. There’ll be hearing points, too. And smelling holes, we think.’
‘To what end?’ asked Penny, looping her hair.
Neville stepped forward, puffing at a pipe. ‘Greed, Mrs Perfect: Jack reckons folks’ll pay a pretty penny to watch th’antics of t’Miniville ghosts.’
On cue in the distance, the crazed voice shouted, ‘Help the teacher!’ (or something like that). Miriam wailed an angry response. The resulting blast of air blew out Neville’s pipe and bounced the door right back against the wall, springing a screw from its straining hinges.
Penny and Ralph both yelped in shock. But as the door knob dropped off and rolled down the landing, Tom merely said, ‘You’ve done well there, Nev.’
‘Aye,’ Neville said, relighting his pipe. ‘Just a matter of adjusting tension in t’hinges.’
‘Done well?’ Ralph queried. The door was hanging like a broken wing.
Tom laughed, a welcome relief in the gloom. ‘You haven’t quite got it yet, have you, Ralph? Jack’s not using us to do the house up; it’s the opposite he wants: for us to do the house down . He’s using expert craftsmen – and women – to make stairs creak and have lights flicker—’
‘And curtains billow,’ Mrs Spink chipped in, going past with a length of neatly-ripped voile.
‘—he wants the place to look and sound as spooky as possible. We’re creating—’
‘ Noah’s Ark, ’ muttered
‘You’re free to sleep where you like,’ Tom said, ‘but so far we’ve all stayed together for support. As you can see, the bedding’s not ideal. If you have trouble sleeping, there are one or two tasselled cushions lying about. They’re as old and dusty as the house itself, but a little more comfortable than the cotton wool bud-tips Jack expects us to lay our weary heads on.’
Penny forced her fingers through her curly brown hair, clipping it back above the level of her ears. ‘Why’s he doing this? Why is Jack keeping you here?’
‘We’re his workforce,’ said Neville.
‘His miniones,’ said Ralph.
‘He must have bragged to you about his inventions?’ said Wally, rubbing at the smoke burns on his face. Ralph wondered with a gulp just how ‘bad’ Wally had tobe at his job. Judging by the spikes in his short, blond hair he’d suffered an electrical shock or two. He offered Penny a piece of sugar bead.
She smiled and shook her head. ‘He said something about this house being his ‘prize exhibit’.’
‘It’s the feature of his seaside show,’ said Tom. ‘It’s the house we talked about that morning in your kitchen, the one that went missing from the Yorkshire Dales. He didn’t take it apart; he shrank it down so he could put it on display on the end of a pier.’
Penny shook her head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. When people see it they’ll recognise it, won’t they?’
‘Not if their minds can’t believe it,’ said Tom. ‘He wants Wally to wire up a sign above the door: MINIVILLE: THE TINY HOUSE OF HORROR.’
Penny shuddered and clutched at her arms.
Tom reached forward and boldly touched her hand. Ralph watched his mum’s thumb curl over the plumber’s work-hardened fingers and was glad she had someone strong to protect her. ‘Before he miniaturised me,’ Tom said quietly, ‘he told me how Miniville’s supposed to work. When we’ve finished building, he plans to set the house inside a sealed glass dome, a bit like a giant snow-shaker.’
‘And shake us up and down?’ Ralph reeled in terror.He didn’t fancy being a squash ball against these ceilings.
‘Rafe, shut up and listen,’ Kyle snarled, whittling away at the end of a spear.
Tom went on, ‘In the glass around the dome, he’s going to install a number of prisms. The idea’s pretty basic: when you put your eye to one, you’ll see a distorted view of the house – the corner of a room, a seat-cushion, the bath. There’ll be hearing points, too. And smelling holes, we think.’
‘To what end?’ asked Penny, looping her hair.
Neville stepped forward, puffing at a pipe. ‘Greed, Mrs Perfect: Jack reckons folks’ll pay a pretty penny to watch th’antics of t’Miniville ghosts.’
On cue in the distance, the crazed voice shouted, ‘Help the teacher!’ (or something like that). Miriam wailed an angry response. The resulting blast of air blew out Neville’s pipe and bounced the door right back against the wall, springing a screw from its straining hinges.
Penny and Ralph both yelped in shock. But as the door knob dropped off and rolled down the landing, Tom merely said, ‘You’ve done well there, Nev.’
‘Aye,’ Neville said, relighting his pipe. ‘Just a matter of adjusting tension in t’hinges.’
‘Done well?’ Ralph queried. The door was hanging like a broken wing.
Tom laughed, a welcome relief in the gloom. ‘You haven’t quite got it yet, have you, Ralph? Jack’s not using us to do the house up; it’s the opposite he wants: for us to do the house down . He’s using expert craftsmen – and women – to make stairs creak and have lights flicker—’
‘And curtains billow,’ Mrs Spink chipped in, going past with a length of neatly-ripped voile.
‘—he wants the place to look and sound as spooky as possible. We’re creating—’
‘ Noah’s Ark, ’ muttered
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