day outside the shop. And how he’d lied about the brass button.
My sense about him had been right. He was up to something. And it seemed he had a peculiar interest in us. The question was why .
Footsteps came up the hill towards me. The voices sounded suddenly very near. I shrank even further into the shadows and held my breath.
Three, maybe four people passed by so close I smelt the leather of their boots. There was another odourtoo – sharp and chemical like the varnish Da used. When they’d gone a safe distance, I breathed again.
Then.
Someone came back towards me. A light was thrust in my face. I recoiled.
‘Don’t you ever give up?’ Mr Walton hissed in my ear. There was no ‘Miss Appleby’ this time, no cool charm.
‘I’m … I’m …’ Lifting my chin, I found the words. ‘I’m looking for my geese. And there aren’t any laws that say I can’t.’
‘Forget your wretched geese. What of our conversation did you hear just now?’
‘Nothing,’ I lied.
‘Did you see anything?’
‘No! Of course not!’ I was amazed he’d even ask.
Further up the street, the woman called to him.
‘Oh do keep up, Mr Walton! Or are you hoping to deprive me of all my sleep tonight?’
He went to go, then turned back again.
‘A word of warning,’ he said. ‘If this gets out I’ll know it was you, and you’ll be sorry.’
I smelled something else, then. It was fear, coming off him like fumes.
15
By the time I got the chance to tell Da what had happened, it was already too late. Very early the next morning I was awakened by a sound I couldn’t place. Groggy with sleep, I rolled over. The noise – feeble and cat-like – was coming from Peg’s side of the bed.
‘Oh no,’ I groaned, remembering what Mr Walton had said last night about Peg’s fondness for animals. ‘Tell me that’s not a kitten you’ve got there.’
‘I had to, Lizzie,’ said Peg, wide awake and excited-sounding. ‘Before Da and me went to Eden Court the other day, we were in the village and Mrs Pringle was at the shop with her kittens again and …’
‘… you talked her into letting you have one,’ I finished. ‘So you’ve had it for nearly two days and not told anyone?’
Peg made a ‘hmmm’ sound in her throat.
‘And you’ve hidden it away? How?’
But she didn’t really need to answer: Peg had beenhiding little animals about the place for years. She was very good at it.
Without warning, a tiny furry bundle was pressed against my cheek.
‘Give him a stroke,’ said Peg. ‘He’s called Spider because he’s eaten two already.’
I couldn’t stay cross. Not when Spider the kitten was as soft as a gosling. No wonder Peg couldn’t resist him; after all we’d been through, she deserved a proper pet to love.
‘So he’s the ginger kitten you liked, is he?’ I asked, stroking between his ears.
‘No, he’s black with white paws. Mrs Pringle had a few like him, so I didn’t think she’d notice that he was missing.’
I stopped stroking. ‘You took him without asking ?’
‘Mrs Pringle wouldn’t let me have one without checking with Da, but he was in the post office at the time. And I am going to speak to him …’
‘But you haven’t yet.’
‘I will,’ Peg insisted. ‘Anyway, I waited for ages for Mrs Pringle to finish talking about those missing hens. But she went on and on, so in the end I helped myself.’
‘You stole Spider, you mean.’
‘No I didn’t,’ said Peg, grumpily. ‘She wanted rid of her kittens. I’ve done her a favour, really.’
‘That’s not how Mrs Pringle will see things.’ It was bound to set tongues wagging too. After what Mr Walton said yesterday, I didn’t suppose this would help.
Before I could say more, there was a knock at our back door. It was barely even light, and I’d an uneasy sense that whoever was out there hadn’t come with good news. Da got there first. I scrambled out of bed to hover at the top of the stairs.
‘What brings you here
My sense about him had been right. He was up to something. And it seemed he had a peculiar interest in us. The question was why .
Footsteps came up the hill towards me. The voices sounded suddenly very near. I shrank even further into the shadows and held my breath.
Three, maybe four people passed by so close I smelt the leather of their boots. There was another odourtoo – sharp and chemical like the varnish Da used. When they’d gone a safe distance, I breathed again.
Then.
Someone came back towards me. A light was thrust in my face. I recoiled.
‘Don’t you ever give up?’ Mr Walton hissed in my ear. There was no ‘Miss Appleby’ this time, no cool charm.
‘I’m … I’m …’ Lifting my chin, I found the words. ‘I’m looking for my geese. And there aren’t any laws that say I can’t.’
‘Forget your wretched geese. What of our conversation did you hear just now?’
‘Nothing,’ I lied.
‘Did you see anything?’
‘No! Of course not!’ I was amazed he’d even ask.
Further up the street, the woman called to him.
‘Oh do keep up, Mr Walton! Or are you hoping to deprive me of all my sleep tonight?’
He went to go, then turned back again.
‘A word of warning,’ he said. ‘If this gets out I’ll know it was you, and you’ll be sorry.’
I smelled something else, then. It was fear, coming off him like fumes.
15
By the time I got the chance to tell Da what had happened, it was already too late. Very early the next morning I was awakened by a sound I couldn’t place. Groggy with sleep, I rolled over. The noise – feeble and cat-like – was coming from Peg’s side of the bed.
‘Oh no,’ I groaned, remembering what Mr Walton had said last night about Peg’s fondness for animals. ‘Tell me that’s not a kitten you’ve got there.’
‘I had to, Lizzie,’ said Peg, wide awake and excited-sounding. ‘Before Da and me went to Eden Court the other day, we were in the village and Mrs Pringle was at the shop with her kittens again and …’
‘… you talked her into letting you have one,’ I finished. ‘So you’ve had it for nearly two days and not told anyone?’
Peg made a ‘hmmm’ sound in her throat.
‘And you’ve hidden it away? How?’
But she didn’t really need to answer: Peg had beenhiding little animals about the place for years. She was very good at it.
Without warning, a tiny furry bundle was pressed against my cheek.
‘Give him a stroke,’ said Peg. ‘He’s called Spider because he’s eaten two already.’
I couldn’t stay cross. Not when Spider the kitten was as soft as a gosling. No wonder Peg couldn’t resist him; after all we’d been through, she deserved a proper pet to love.
‘So he’s the ginger kitten you liked, is he?’ I asked, stroking between his ears.
‘No, he’s black with white paws. Mrs Pringle had a few like him, so I didn’t think she’d notice that he was missing.’
I stopped stroking. ‘You took him without asking ?’
‘Mrs Pringle wouldn’t let me have one without checking with Da, but he was in the post office at the time. And I am going to speak to him …’
‘But you haven’t yet.’
‘I will,’ Peg insisted. ‘Anyway, I waited for ages for Mrs Pringle to finish talking about those missing hens. But she went on and on, so in the end I helped myself.’
‘You stole Spider, you mean.’
‘No I didn’t,’ said Peg, grumpily. ‘She wanted rid of her kittens. I’ve done her a favour, really.’
‘That’s not how Mrs Pringle will see things.’ It was bound to set tongues wagging too. After what Mr Walton said yesterday, I didn’t suppose this would help.
Before I could say more, there was a knock at our back door. It was barely even light, and I’d an uneasy sense that whoever was out there hadn’t come with good news. Da got there first. I scrambled out of bed to hover at the top of the stairs.
‘What brings you here
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