Mystery for Megan

by Burlingham , Abi;

  ‘Oh no, she doesn’t read them,’ Freya said, shaking her head from side to side. ‘They’re in her head. Granny tells me stories about all sorts of things. Granny used to live at Buttercup House when she was little. That’s how she first saw the mice.’

  ‘What mice?’ Megan asked, wondering how many other animals were going to suddenly appear.

  Freya looked around to make sure no one else was listening, although there was no need to as there was no one else around.

  ‘The mice who live here,’ said Freya.

  ‘What mice who live here?’ Megan asked.

  ‘Oh! You haven’t seen them yet, have you?’ Freya said, understanding Megan’s confusion. ‘I only got to see one for the first time this morning. Are you sure you haven’t seen them yet?’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ said Megan. ‘I’m not sure I like mice. Are there a lot of them?’

  Freya laughed. ‘Just a few.’

  Megan was beginning to feel a bit worried and Freya must have noticed.

  ‘Oh, it’s OK,’ she said. ‘Granny has always said they are well behaved and really helpful, and the one I saw this morning was very friendly.’

  Megan really was beginning to think Freya might be a bit bonkers.

  ‘How can mice be helpful?’ she asked, looking bemused.

  ‘You mustn’t tell anybody,’ said Freya, in a whisper, ‘but they help you to remember things, or let you know when something’s happened, all sorts of things really. I would have forgotten the biscuits if it wasn’t for the mouse reminding me earlier.’

  Megan couldn’t contain it any longer and started to laugh, and once she had started, she couldn’t stop. Freya found herself laughing too, and before they knew it, the two of them were holding their tummies and complaining that their cheeks ached because they had laughed so much.

  ‘You have got the craziest imagination ever,’ Megan said. ‘My mum’s always telling me to use my imagination, but yours is unreal.’

  ‘But it’s true,’ said Freya. ‘And there are other mysteries too. I’ll tell you about those later, but keep looking for the mice and you’ll see them.’

  So Megan did just that, and she started to see things she had never seen before.

  The next day was Monday – Megan’s first day at her new school and she woke with a jump. There was something on her arm. She was about to scream when she remembered what Freya had said about the mice. Megan sat up and looked around her. She was sure she’d seen something scuttle away.

  She rubbed at her arm. It still tickled. Then she saw it. Sitting on the far side of her bedroom was a little brown mouse. It was the sweetest thing Megan had ever seen. It had round brown ears and long whiskers, shiny dark eyes and a little nose. It stood on its back legs, with its little front legs lifted up as if it was dancing.

  ‘So it was you that woke me, little mouse,’ said Megan, remembering what Freya had told her. The mouse must have been reminding me that it’s school today, thought Megan. Perhaps Freya wasn’t so bonkers after all!

  Megan got out of bed carefully and slowly. She really didn’t want to frighten her new little friend away.

  ‘OK, little mouse,’ she said. ‘I’m up.’

  And no sooner had she said it than the little mouse scuttled away. Megan felt a bit silly talking to a mouse . . . and yet somehow she had a feeling that the mouse understood. But how could a mouse understand her? It didn’t make any sense.

  Going down to breakfast, Megan noticed something. The little brown blobs she had seen in the hallway had gone.

  ‘Mum,’ she said, as she was pouring milk on to her cereal. ‘You know those little brown blobs in the hallway?’

  ‘You mean the mouse droppings?’ Megan’s mum said.

  Oh, that’s what they were, thought Megan. ‘Yes. Have you seen any mice?’ she asked casually.

  ‘Not yet,’ her mum said. ‘They’re quite shy creatures. They don’t tend to let themselves be seen.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Megan, thinking that the mouse she had seen didn’t seem shy at all.

  ‘I wonder if Dorothy has seen them,’ Megan said to her mum.

  Megan’s mum looked at her daughter quizzically, smiling slightly, and Megan had the strangest feeling that her mum didn’t believe there was a Dorothy!

  There were lots of things Megan was pleased about on her first day at her new school:

  1) Freya was in her class

  2) Her teacher was nice

  3) She got to wear a new zip-up red cardi

  4) She had cheese and cucumber sandwiches for lunch – her favourite!

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re in my class,’ Megan said to Freya during first break.

  ‘I know, isn’t it great?’ Freya said.

  ‘And I think I believe you about the mice,’ said Megan.

  ‘Oh, have you seen them?’ Freya asked.

  ‘Just one,’ admitted Megan. ‘But I think it woke me up this morning.’

  ‘One woke me too!’ said Freya. ‘I wonder why they’ve come back now, though.’

  Megan was puzzled. What did she mean?

  ‘Which one woke you up?’ asked Freya.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Megan replied, wondering how on earth you could tell which one was which.

  ‘Well, what did it look like?’ asked Freya.

  ‘Little and cute and brown, with round ears, small beady eyes, long whiskers.’

  ‘That’ll be Whiskers,’ said Freya, knowingly.

  Megan looked puzzled. ‘But don’t they all look like that?’ she asked.

  ‘Probably,’ said Freya. ‘But I’ve decided they’re all called Whiskers.’

  The girls both burst out laughing, and when Alex, a boy in their class, ran up and asked them what they were laughing about, Freya gave Megan a look and held her finger to her mouth, just briefly, just long enough for Megan to see.

  When Alex had gone, Freya whispered to Megan, ‘Don’t tell anyone about the mice.’

  ‘Is it a secret?’ asked Megan.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Freya. ‘No one would believe us. Granny says it’s best to keep these things to ourselves. She has this saying: Keep the secret in the box.’

  So Megan and Freya made a plan. They would use the treehouse as their secret place and talk about their secrets there.

  ‘We’ll meet there later,’ Freya said. ‘I can tell you more about the mice and Dorothy, and there’s something else I must tell you too.’

  Megan couldn’t wait for later to arrive!

  When Megan walked through the front door, the first thing she noticed was a small brown mouse at the bottom of the stairs. And then the funniest thing happened . . . her mum walked straight past it and into the kitchen and didn’t see a thing! How can she not see it? thought Megan. Then the mouse raced across the kitchen floor and disappeared out through the open back door.

  ‘I’m going to be in the workshop for a few minutes, Megan,’ said her mum. ‘I just have something to finish off.’

  Megan hung up her school bag and went into the kitchen. She was hungry. She made herself a piece of toast, spread on some strawberry jam, put it on her favourite daisy plate and went upstairs to her room. Megan gazed out of the window at the treehouse, smiling to herself. She couldn’t wait to meet Freya there later and hear all about Dorothy and the mice and the something else. Then, just as she thought mice, something happened. Megan turned to look at the bedside cupboard beside her, and on top of it sat a little brown mouse. Then the mouse did a very funny thing. It spun around in a circle three times and darted on to the floor. Megan blinked. Was this mouse for real? The mouse spun around three more times before darting to the door, then stopped and looked at Megan.

  Megan didn’t know what to make of it.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked the little mouse, and the mouse spun around three times again.

  It’s as if it wants me to follow, Megan thought. She remembered what Freya had said about the mice letting you know when something’s happened.

  ‘Has
something happened?’ Megan asked the mouse.

  The mouse spun round three times again and Megan ran after it, down the stairs and through the kitchen. Then the mouse ran through the open back door and headed towards her mum’s workshop.

  As Megan entered the workshop, she saw what the mouse had been trying to tell her. Her mum was sitting on the floor, her hands around her ankle with a broken jug beside her.

  ‘I don’t know what happened,’ she said, wincing slightly as she moved her ankle. ‘What a clumsy thing I am.’

  Megan picked up the jug and the handle, which had come right off.

  ‘I think that needs mending,’ said Megan’s mum.

  ‘I think you need mending too,’ Megan said to her mum.

  Megan put the jug on her mum’s workbench and held her mum’s hand as she hobbled into the house. As they went, Megan was sure that she saw a little brown mouse with very long whiskers, peeping from behind the kitchen door.

  Later came, at last! Megan and Freya raced to their secret place in the treehouse and couldn’t get up the ladder quickly enough. This time, as a special treat, Megan took her cuddly bunny, Flopsy, and dressed her in her best pink scarf.

  ‘She’s lovely,’ Freya said when she saw her. ‘And I’ve got some things to show you too.’

  She opened her bag and pulled out two small bottles of orange juice and a container with two chocolate buns inside.

  ‘Ooh, yummy!’ said Megan.

  ‘Granny made them,’ Freya explained. ‘Granny makes the best chocolate buns ever. She used to run the baker’s shop and she made all their cakes.’

  ‘Did she?’ said Megan.

  Freya nodded. ‘Mum runs it now, but Granny still makes lots of the cakes. Dad works on a ship, you know.’

  Megan had never known anyone who worked on a ship before.

  ‘He’s a radio operator,’ said Freya.

  ‘What does one of those do?’ asked Megan.

  ‘Operates radios,’ said Freya laughing, and setting Megan off. ‘He’s gone to Australia. He’ll be back in a few weeks though.’

  Megan tried to picture Australia as she munched her bun . . . Mmmmmm! It was the best chocolate bun she had ever tasted.

  Then Megan told Freya about the very strange happening with the mouse, and how she was almost certain that the mouse had been telling her to go to her mum.

  Freya nodded knowingly. ‘Granny says that’s just the kind of thing they do. Once, when she was little, her rabbit, Smoky, hurt his leg and Whiskers came and told her. Then once, she left a tap running in the bathroom and Whiskers told her about that too.’

  ‘But how do they know?’ asked Megan.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Freya. ‘I think they’re magic mice with magic whiskers.’

  The girls laughed.

  Megan wondered whether to mention the mouse spinning around three times. She was afraid Freya might think she was silly, but her curiosity got the better of her.

  ‘Do you know if Whiskers . . . you know . . . ever kind of . . . spun around?’

  Megan was relieved to see Freya nodding frantically.

  ‘Oh yes, the spinning,’ said Freya. ‘Granny says when it’s something really important, then they spin around three times.’

  ‘Really?’ said Megan.

  Freya nodded again. ‘And sometimes, when more mice are needed, then a few Whiskerses come to help.’

  ‘Honestly?’ said Megan.

  ‘Yes, honestly,’ said Freya. ‘They helped Granny loads of times when she was little.’

  Freya then told Megan how, when Granny and her brother Jonathon were little, Jonathon had tried to climb the big tree in the garden and slipped.

  ‘One of the mice came to tell Granny,’ said Freya. ‘But she wouldn’t go so all the mice came out and spun around. Then she heard Jonathon shouting and realised that something was really wrong. They’re all very helpful,’ Freya said, as if she was talking about teachers or shop assistants and not about a lot of spinning, long-whiskered mice!

  But Megan was puzzled by something. ‘How come your granny used to live in my house when she was little and now she lives next door with you?’

  ‘Because she grew up and married Grandpa and had Mum and Uncle David. They lived somewhere else then,’ said Freya. ‘When Grandpa died, Granny moved in next door and we moved in with her.’

  Then Megan suddenly thought of something else. ‘Why did you say earlier that you wondered why the mice had come back now, and about Dorothy coming back?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, Granny used to see the mice and Dorothy when she was little. Dorothy used to live here, years and years ago. Then the mice and Dorothy just disappeared,’ replied Freya.

  Megan giggled. ‘But that would make Dorothy really old.’

  ‘She is really old,’ Freya said. ‘Granny is seventy and she has known Dorothy since she was tiny.’

  Megan’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Freya.

  ‘But then Dorothy must be nearly seventy as well!’ said Megan in amazement.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Freya.

  Megan shook her head disbelievingly. ‘She can’t be that old,’ she said. Megan didn’t know a lot about cats, but she knew that they didn’t live for that long.

  ‘Oh, you should hear about Buttercup,’ said Freya. ‘He’s really old too.’

  ‘Who’s Buttercup?’ asked Megan.

  ‘Well, remember I said there was something else I wanted to tell you? Buttercup is the something else. He’s a big golden retriever dog. I’ve never seen him, of course,’ Freya added. ‘But Granny says he’s lovely.’

  ‘He?’ said Megan. ‘Buttercup doesn’t sound like a boy dog’s name.’

  ‘It’s because of the buttercups and Buttercup House,’ said Freya. ‘I don’t know his real name. Granny can tell you all about him, if you like.’

  Megan really wanted to know more about Buttercup, so they made a plan for Megan to go for tea and meet Granny the following afternoon.

  That night in bed, Megan snuggled up to Flopsy. She wondered what Emily and Beth would make of all this. She could just imagine their faces and Emily shaking her head and saying, ‘A cat who’s nearly seventy? No way!’ She was sure they wouldn’t believe her. Then, the more she thought about meeting Freya’s granny, the more excited she got, so that in the end she had to count to at least two hundred and fifty before she finally fell asleep. When she did fall asleep she dreamed only about magic mice and fluffy old cats and a dog called Buttercup!

  The next day at school went on forever. Megan was excited all day. Everything Freya had told her seemed very mysterious and Megan wasn’t used to mystery. She had been used to a normal life in a normal house in a normal street. But none of what had happened over the last few days was anything like normal.

  Megan tried really hard not to ask Freya questions at school during lessons.

  ‘Is Dorothy really that old?’ Megan whispered at lunch, unable to contain herself any longer. ‘And is Buttercup even older?’

  Freya nodded. ‘They are both ancient,’ she whispered. Then she held her finger up to her lips and repeated her granny’s words, ‘Remember, keep the secret in the box.’

  By the time Megan got home from school, she felt quite sick with excitement and went straight upstairs to change out of her uniform. She didn’t see any mice on the way up, or in her room, and when she looked out of the window into the garden there was no sign of Dorothy. It was almost as if the mice and the cat had never existed.

  It was a warm, sunny day, so Megan put on her favourite white T-shirt with flowers and sequins on the front. Freya was waiting by the fence when Megan arrived, just as they had planned.

  ‘Come on,’ said Freya excitedly, holding Megan’s hand as she climbed through the gap in the fence into Freya’s garden. ‘You should see all the food Mum and Granny have prepared. Come on.’

  The girls ran across the garden and Freya led Megan down the special walkway she’d mentioned
. It was made from tree stumps which stretched alongside the wall like steps.

  ‘Cover your eyes,’ Freya said, as she led Megan into the kitchen. ‘Now, open!’

  Megan gasped. ‘Wow!’ she said.

  Anyone would have thought half the class was coming for tea! There were chunks of warm bread, straight from the oven, a pot of raspberry jam, a bowl of grapes and a small dish of crinkly crisps. There were carrot sticks and cucumber sticks and sausages on sticks. Then, Freya’s mum put one last plate on the table, a plate of Granny’s home-made shortbread. It looked delicious!

  Freya’s mum was small, just like Freya, with short dark hair and the same elfish look. ‘Would you like to eat in the garden?’ she suggested. ‘It seems a shame to be inside on a day like this.’

  ‘Ooh, yes please,’ the girls said at exactly the same time, then said, ‘Jinx!’ and linked their little fingers.

  They loaded their plates full of yummy things and sat in the sun enjoying their food. It was their first picnic of the year.

  ‘I love picnics,’ Megan said.

  ‘Me too,’ said Freya. ‘And Dorothy.’

  Megan stared at Freya. ‘How do you know she likes picnics?’ she asked.

  ‘Granny told me,’ said Freya. ‘When Granny was a little girl, she was having a picnic with her doll and teddy and Dorothy came and sat next to her and wouldn’t move until she’d finished the picnic. Granny was feeling lonely at the time too, so she thinks Dorothy came to keep her company.’

  ‘But how would Dorothy know that Granny was feeling lonely?’ Megan asked.

  ‘Granny said she could just tell that Dorothy knew how she was feeling,’ Freya said, matter of factly.

  Megan pulled a face at Freya, and nudged her with her elbow. ‘You are funny, Freya,’ said Megan, not really believing a word of what Freya had just said.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Freya. ‘You wait and see. You can ask Granny later.’

  They were just about to finish their picnic when Granny came into the garden. She was tall and willowy and not at all like Megan had imagined. She had expected her to be tiny, like Freya and her mum. She seemed floaty somehow, her shoulder-length white hair floating like a cloud around her face. She also had Freya’s tiny nose and a lovely big smile.