Something Strange in the Cellar

by George Chedzoy

  Chapter 2: MOORLAND WALK

  The following day dawned bright and crisp. The sky was pale blue and the air fresh and chilly with a tang of autumn leaves. Jack, David and Emily had arranged to meet Lou early, at 8am at her parents’ holiday cottage. It seemed strange going round to call for her. They had not been inside before and were curious. Emily had a treat in store for Lou – bacon, sausage and eggs that their mother had given them to take round for breakfast.

  Lou’s cottage was on the side of the road leading into Abersoch village overlooking the small stretch of beach near the lifeboat station. It was easy enough to spot, since part of its roof was shaped like a cone with a pointed top and a weather vane attached. The walls were a brilliant white covered with climbing roses, some were still in flower. Lou was standing outside, looking out for them.

  ‘We’ve got you breakfast!’ shouted Jack as they pulled in to her driveway.

  ‘Bacon, eggs and sausage!’ added David, not to be outdone.

  ‘Hey, you two, it was my idea to take Lou some brekkie,’ grumbled Emily. It both irritated and amused her how her two brothers would fall over themselves to please Lou.

  Lou was wearing her seashell necklace which she often wore as a lucky charm when by the seaside. She was a pretty, striking youngster, underpinned by a steeliness and toughness that came from growing up as the only child of neglectful parents. At least she was the sort who would turn a bad start in life into something positive.

  ‘Breakfast, you say? That sounds wonderful. I must admit I was becoming a little peckish,’ said Lou, licking her lips. ‘Looks like I won’t need to go out and catch fish after all!’

  ‘We’ve got a picnic lunch as well,’ said Emily.

  Lou’s cottage, or rather, her parents’, had eccentric rounded walls, wood floors and sparse furnishings. There were no luxuries save for a television and radio. It was a proper, basic holiday home with simple watercolour paintings of the nearby coast hanging up. The sweeping view from the full-length glass doors leading from the lounge onto the patio across the bay was magnificent.

  ‘This is a wonderful place, thank goodness your parents didn’t have to sell up in the end,’ exclaimed Jack as he looked out to sea at the boats still bobbing on their moorings. Most had already been taken ashore ahead of the colder months.

  ‘I know,’ said Lou, gazing wistfully at the two islands in the bay. ‘It would have been sad. Perhaps it’s for the best that my parents haven’t come away. The money my dad makes this week will be useful income.’

  ‘What did they say about you coming here by yourself?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Nothing,’ Lou replied, turning to the others. ‘Absolutely nothing. I got a text message from my dad telling me there was about fifty pounds in a tin under the sink I could use to get some food and could I have a hunt around for the lens cap to his camera as he can’t find it and thinks he left it here. He did as well, it’s on the coffee table.’

  The others stared at the forgotten lens cap. Somehow it seemed to sum up the unbothered attitude of Lou’s parents.

  ‘Hey, don’t be too downcast!’ she chided them. ‘I have parents who couldn’t care less – so what? At least I get to stay here and do what I like and there’s money under the sink so I won’t starve and don’t really need to go catching fish, unless I feel like it! Let’s get that kettle boiling, have ourselves a cup of tea and cook up that lovely bacon and sausage.’

  It was with full stomachs that the children attempted to cycle up the hillside from Abersoch towards the village of Mynytho, 2½ miles away. Even Lou struggled with all that food inside her and first Emily, then David, then Jack were forced to dismount and walk. Lou managed, just about, to keep pedalling.

  With much panting and groaning, they made it to the picnic area at the foot of Foel Gron, the big round hill to the west of Mynytho.

  ‘I thought I was fitter than this,’ grumbled David as he chained his bike to a tree trunk. ‘I must admit I haven’t done much exercise since we went back to school.’

  ‘Now’s the time to make up for it,’ said Lou. ‘With plenty of cycling and walking you’ll be as fit as me – eventually. I’m always up and about walking through the Shropshire hills at home – that’s what keeps me so athletic. Talking of which, we’ve now got a long trek through wonderful moorland – with any luck, the purple heather will still be in bloom.’

  David looked at the hill above and pulled a face. He had forgotten how steep it was. Then he saw Jack striding purposefully up the path with Lou. Even Emily seemed ready for the challenge – and it had been his idea after all.

  ‘Come on then,’ he said, taking a deep breath.

  They needed to walk briskly to keep warm. The sun was taking a while to heave itself above the mist topping the Snowdonia mountain range to the east. When they got to the cairn of stones marking Foel’s summit, the view was breathtaking. Lou climbed onto the concrete obelisk at the peak.

  ‘What is this strange pillar thing,’ said Emily, curiously.

  ‘It’s a trig point,’ said Lou. ‘It's something to do with surveying the landscape and making maps. Isn’t that right, David?’

  David was the brain box of the four of them, although not as good at applying what he knew as Lou. ‘Something like that,’ he replied, vaguely, not really sure.

  ‘The view from here is incredible on a clear day like this,’ said Lou. ‘You can see right along the Welsh coast, to South Wales.’

  ‘Wow, let us have a turn, Lou,’ said Emily, who had to be helped onto the pillar.

  ‘Mmm, it’s breezy up here,’ added Emily, turning her face into the wind which blew her long blonde hair across her face.

  ‘You see over there.’ Lou pointed. ‘That’s Pwllheli and further on is Porthmadog where the Lleyn peninsula joins the rest of Wales. If you look further you can see past Harlech and Aberystwyth and beyond to South Wales. At night, you can see a series of lights all twinkling in a line, it’s a magical sight.’

  Jack took his turn on top of the pillar. ‘It must be stunning to come up here on a clear, dark night. I bet the stars are impressive, too. I’d love to come here one night, Lou.’

  ‘It would be great fun,’ said Lou, pleased that Jack was becoming more adventurous. ‘Now, if we walk down the hill on the other side, we can do a big circle around the moorland. Isn’t it beautiful?’

  The others turned their attention from the coastline to look north, across acres of heather and gorse. In the distance was rolling farmland and several hills and ridges. All looked good to climb, one day.

  Two grass paths led through the heather and they selected the one running alongside the dry stone wall. That was David’s suggestion. He was keen to see the ‘spooky’ tumbledown house which lay just off the path, as he called it.

  ‘I’ve often wondered what it must be like to live in such a remote spot,’ said David.

  ‘You can’t possibly have as you hardly ever come this way,’ objected Jack. Whenever mum and dad ask you to come for a walk with the dogs you always say no.’

  ‘I didn’t say I often walk this way, just that I often wonder about that old house,’ retorted David. ‘Well, I sometimes wonder about it and I’m wondering about it now, if that’s ok by you, Jack. Anyway you were puffing and panting as much as I was cycling up that hill so you can’t talk. You’re no fitter than me.’

  ‘All right, that’s enough bickering, you pair,’ said Lou. ‘For as long as you’re friends with me you’ll get plenty of exercise, and that’s a promise. And plenty of adventures.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what our parents are afraid of!’ said Emily. ‘But they love you to bits, Lou,’ she added quickly, as a worried look crossed Lou’s face. She was fond of Mr and Mrs Johnson and would hate to fall out with them.

  ‘Come on, David, show us this spooky house,’ said Lou. ‘It’s funny, I’ve often walked these moors but I’ve never given it much thought. I suppose I’m used to seeing solitary, sorry houses in remote locations in Sh
ropshire, they don’t exactly startle me when I walk past them.’

  The path narrowed and began to climb, becoming more rocky. It felt remote to the children now, as if civilisation were a long way behind them. Occasionally, a tractor could be heard rumbling along and sheep baa-ed in a field so far away they looked like dots.

  The sun slowly climbed up the mid-morning sky but its rays did not offer much warmth. No-one minded. The upland walk would have been arduous and sweaty on a hot summer’s day.

  David was beginning to wonder if the tumbledown house had disappeared when they rounded a bend and saw it on their right. It sat almost hidden in a deep natural cleft in the hillside, as if it had been hollowed out to accommodate it. It wasn’t exactly ramshackle but old and in need of repair. Several roof slates had become dislodged and the chimney pot was crooked.

  The garden swept all around it, disappearing in different directions. The flower borders had not been tended for a long while but a handful of attractive shrubs still thrived and a garden pond lay half hidden behind bushes.

  The house had strange, overhanging gables and two or three funny diamond-shaped window panes. It was built from stone, rendered in parts with a dreary pebbledash, looking a century and more old, at least. The oddly-shaped back door was in need of a fresh coat of paint, as were the peeling window frames. With a spruce up, it would look quaint and its location was certainly idyllic – although perhaps not to live in all year round.

  ‘What a bleak spot for one lonely house,’ said Emily, almost in a trance. ‘Miles from anywhere, with not a corner shop for miles. Do you suppose anyone still lives there? I wonder what stories it could tell?’

  ‘It can’t tell stories, houses can’t speak you silly child,’ suddenly came a croaking old Welsh woman’s voice, as if from nowhere.