The House of Clouds

by Lisa Thompson

  I was just about to clean another area of the window when the grey sheeting caught my eye. It was moving! It rose and fell as if there was a large creature trapped underneath. My heart raced. Whatever it was under there, I really didn’t want it to see me.

  “Come on, Buster! RUN!” I said as we raced away towards the long grass.

  We ran through the weeds, past the house and down the dirt track. When we got to the end, Buster stopped and wouldn’t run any further. I looked back, expecting something to be chasing us, but there was nothing there. There was just the house surrounded by the long swaying grass. It must have been a draught or something that had made the sheet move.

  “Aren’t I silly?” I said to Buster. He looked up at me, panting. “Fancy getting scared because of the wind?”

  At the end of the track was a square wooden sign lying face down on the ground. I lifted it up and read:

  The House of Clouds

  Chapter 5

  By the time we got across the car park, Buster was tired and refused to walk any further. He sat on his bottom and wouldn’t budge.

  “Come on,” I said. “I want to get home, not hang around here with a stinky dog.” I also wanted to get away from the creepy house.

  Buster took a deep breath, then lay down, putting his head on his front paws. I sighed. There was nothing else for it. I’d have to carry him.

  “You do realise that you smell really, really badly, don’t you?” I said as I picked Buster up.

  His little tail wagged under my armpit. He was such a stupid dog. But as I walked I began to enjoy the feeling of Buster’s warm body against my chest. It was getting cold, and the strange barn had made me feel even more chilled.

  When we got to our street, the bright white rail by our door stood out more than ever. I sighed, put Buster down on the ground and used my keys to get in.

  “Is that you, Tabitha?” Grandad called out. “Is Buster OK? You’ve been gone so long.”

  “He’s fine,” I said. I unclipped Buster’s lead and he trotted to Grandad’s room.

  “Come and tell me all about it,” Grandad said. “Have they moved the beach huts yet?”

  “No, they’re still there,” I said, hovering by the door.

  Two winters ago, there had been a terrible storm. The waves had crashed in like huge claws. They’d snatched the pastel huts and pulled them out to the deep, dark sea. I imagined the colourful huts bobbing around on the murky waves, with buckets, spades and tea cups clattering around inside. From then on, the council moved all the huts back from the beach when the season began to change – into the field by the car park where the sea couldn’t reach them.

  “I remember me and your nana used to love that spot by the beach,” Grandad said. “We’d sit there for hours and plan our travels. We felt like we had all the time in the world to visit new places.”

  He looked down at the map on his lap. It was a different one this time – of Australia.

  “So, tell me,” Grandad said, clearly wanting to chat. “Where else did you go?”

  His chest rose and fell quickly. Grandad did three breaths to my one. I counted them once.

  “Down to the pier, along the front and then around the back of the car park,” I said. I didn’t mention the house, as I wasn’t sure if I should have gone there. I was itching to get to my room and check my phone. I wanted to see if Rebecca and Lily had posted any photographs from the beach. It made me feel sad when I saw them, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking.

  “And how is the House of Clouds looking these days?” said Grandad, folding his map. “I haven’t seen that place in years.”

  He shuffled forwards in his seat. Buster was lying down at Grandad’s feet, snoring already.

  I remembered the sign lying on the track to the house on the clifftop. “Who lived there?” I asked.

  “It used to belong to an artist called Ava Laurent,” Grandad said. “She was a friend of your nana’s. She was very skilled. Especially when it came to carving the cumulus cloud.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “What’s a cumulus cloud?” I asked.

  “You know those fluffy white clouds that look a bit like candy floss?” said Grandad.

  I nodded.

  “Well, those are cumulus clouds. That’s their scientific name, anyway. Ava Laurent always used to say those clouds were the best for carving. Nice and chunky, you see? Like a giant piece of foam. Perfect for her carving knives.”

  The scary knives in the cabinet! I felt goosebumps tickle down my arms. But what did Grandad mean about them being knives for carving clouds? I watched him as he sat back in his chair and picked up a cup, taking a slurp of tea. I was going to ask Grandad about the knives, but then I caught sight of the ship in a bottle up on the shelf and remembered his story about the bees. I shook my head. This stuff about carving clouds must be another one of Grandad’s crazy stories. He was always saying weird stuff. Mum and Dad said to be polite to him but ignore it.

  “That’s really interesting, Grandad,” I said. “But I’d better get on.”

  I turned to leave, but he carried on talking.

  “Have I ever told you about Ava Laurent, Tabitha?” he said, leaning forwards.

  I shook my head.

  “Maybe you could tell me another time?” I said. “I’ve got homework to do and …”

  Grandad sat back in his seat again.

  “There aren’t many of them left now, you know,” he said, shaking his head.

  I stared at him.

  “Aren’t many of who left?” I said.

  “Have a seat, Tabitha,” Grandad said, smiling.

  I sighed and slowly made my way to the dining chair beside his armchair and sat down.

  “Ava Laurent was the finest cloud sculptor that this country has ever seen,” Grandad began.

  I snorted. “A cloud sculptor?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  Grandad nodded. “Yes, Tabitha. You know the shapes that you sometimes see in the clouds when they’re floating right above you? Like a lion, perhaps, or a mermaid?”

  I nodded. I’d seen one just the other week on my way to school. It had looked like a bear wearing a top hat.

  “Well, those cloud shapes aren’t accidental, you know,” Grandad said. “They are the work of a cloud sculptor.”

  He leaned forwards and rested his elbows on his knees. “Ava had this marvellous contraption attached to the side of her barn that sucked clouds down from the sky. Then Ava would tie the cloud to the ground. All they want to do is float back up to the sky, you see? But when she’d finished carving one, the roof of the barn would retract, and the cloud would gently drift back up into the sky for everyone to enjoy.”

  I frowned. I remembered seeing that weird silver funnel sticking out of the side of the barn. And there had definitely been something moving under that sheet. Could it have been a cloud? I smirked to myself. Of course not! I was being taken in by one of Grandad’s stupid stories, as if I was six years old again. When he began to talk about rubbish like this, the best thing for me to do was to make a quick exit.

  “Right, well, like I said, I’ve got homework to be getting on with and …”

  “Do you want to see some photographs of Ava’s work?” Grandad asked. He suddenly began to cough, and he patted himself on his chest a few times until it subsided. Grandad coughed a lot when he got excited about something.

  “You see that box on my wardrobe?” he said. “Pass it down and I can show you what an amazing cloud artist Ava was.”

  I glanced up to the top of the wardrobe and spotted a small grey shoebox. It looked a bit old and battered.

  “I don’t have time now, Grandad,” I said, standing up. “Sorry.”

  “Cloud sculptors won’t exist at all soon,” said Grandad sadly. “It seems that people don’t look up any more. Too busy staring down at their phones and whatnot. It’s so sad.”

  I put my hand into my pocket, and my fingers felt my phone. Rebe
cca and Lily had probably posted at least ten pictures by now.

  “Sorry, Grandad,” I said. “Maybe you can tell me about it another day?”

  Grandad looked up at me. He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment, then he smiled and nodded.

  “Of course,” he said. “You get on with what you need to do, Tabitha. I can tell you all about Ava another time.”

  I turned away and headed upstairs, looking at my phone as I went.

  Chapter 6

  Saturday passed in a blur of chores, then I spent most of Sunday in my bedroom. I read a book and checked social media to find out what Rebecca and Lily were doing. Dad popped in and asked if I’d like to go for a bike ride, but I said no.

  Rebecca and Lily had got the bus into town to do some shopping. They’d bought the same pair of earrings and matching tops from the market. Rebecca had bought the top in white and Lily in black. They’d also got milkshakes and hot dogs for lunch.

  I knew all this because they were constantly posting photographs. At three o’clock I threw my phone across the room and tried to read a book. My eyes followed the lines of words, but I just couldn’t concentrate. I was so jealous of Rebecca and Lily I felt sick.

  Mum called up to me, asking if I’d unload the dishwasher, so I trudged downstairs. I could feel Mum watching me while I was doing it.

  “Is everything OK, Tabby?” she said. “You’re really quiet today. We’ve hardly seen you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, avoiding Mum’s eyes. “I’m just tired.” I threw the cutlery into the drawer. Grandad called for Mum, so she headed to his room and I avoided any more questions.

  A couple of hours later, I was lying on my bed watching some videos on my phone when I heard something going on downstairs. I went out onto the landing and saw Mum letting in two women wearing green uniforms. They looked like paramedics.

  “Mum? What’s going on?” I called.

  Dad appeared as Mum ushered the paramedics into Grandad’s room.

  “Grandad’s had a bit of a funny turn,” Dad said.

  “Is he going to be OK?” I said.

  Dad pressed his lips together. “I’m sure he’ll be better when we get him to hospital. Let’s see what the paramedics say, shall we?”

  Then Dad disappeared into Grandad’s room.

  I sat down at the top of the stairs for a while and listened, and then I went back to my room to see if I could hear anything through the floor. After a while, Dad came in.

  “We’re off to the hospital now,” Dad said. “I’m going to drive, and your mum has gone in the ambulance with Grandad.”

  I could tell by Dad’s eyes that he was worried.

  “What’s wrong with Grandad?” I said. “Is it serious?”

  “We don’t know yet,” said Dad. “Don’t worry. I’ll text you and let you know what’s going on. Can you feed Buster, please, love?”

  Dad turned and I followed him out to the landing. As the front door closed behind him, the house went silent. I walked downstairs. Grandad had a lot of health problems, and he took lots of tablets each day, but I was sure he was going to be OK.

  Buster appeared and sniffed at the gap below the front door. He then sat down and began to whine.

  “It’s OK, Buster,” I said. “Grandad is just getting checked out. Shall we give you your dinner?”

  When Buster heard the word “dinner”, he licked his lips and followed me out to the kitchen.

  I leaned against the sink and watched as Buster ate. It was quite cute how his nose pressed on his bowl as he tried to dig out the pieces from the sides. When Buster had finished, he sat down and stared at me as if to say, “And now what?”

  I went upstairs and got my phone, but there were no messages. I knew that there could be a lot of waiting around in the hospital. I might not hear anything for hours yet.

  I typed a text to Rebecca:

  Hiya. You OK? My grandad has just gone to hospital. Do you fancy coming over for a bit? We could make some cookies? Tabby x

  I put my phone in my pocket and went back downstairs. There were a few mugs in the sink, so I decided to do a bit of washing up while I waited for news. Buster came over and sat down by my feet, leaning against my leg. I gently nudged him away. When I’d finished the washing up, I dried my hands and checked my phone. There was a message from Rebecca:

  Tabby! That’s awful! I really hope your grandad is OK. Can’t come over I’m afraid. At the ice rink now. R x

  I opened the social media site that Rebecca used all the time. The first photo that appeared was of Rebecca and Lily holding on to each other and laughing as they took a selfie on the ice.

  I felt Buster’s wiry fur against my legs again.

  “Would you get away from me?” I said to Buster. “You’re Grandad’s dog, not mine, OK?”

  I moved away and Buster slumped a bit, then he sat back up and watched me.

  I made myself a cheese sandwich, then went to the lounge. I didn’t fancy watching TV, but I put it on anyway. Buster followed and lay down by the sofa. He kept one eye open, watching me.

  It began to get dark, and I put the lamp on and drew the curtains. I didn’t like being on my own when it was dark, so I was grateful I had Buster for company, even if he did smell.

  I watched a film. An hour after it had finished, I got a text:

  We’re on our way home now. Hope you’re OK. See you soon. Dad x

  As soon as I heard the key in the door, I went out into the hall.

  “Dad? What’s going on?” I said. Mum was behind him. She’d clearly been crying.

  “Mum? What’s happened? Where’s Grandad?” I said.

  Dad was frowning as he closed the door. He looked exhausted.

  “I’m so sorry, Tabby,” he said. “Your grandad …” He paused as something caught in his throat. “Your grandad has passed away.”

  I heard what he’d said, but the words jumbled up in my head.

  “What?” I said, looking between Mum and Dad.

  Mum came forwards and put her arms around me.

  “Grandad died, honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry. He had a massive stroke while we were in the hospital. There was nothing they could do.”

  “But … but you were just getting him checked over?” I said. “I thought he was going to be OK!”

  I could hear my voice getting louder. How was this possible?

  “He was very unwell, Tabby,” said Dad. “I’m so sorry. I know it’s a shock.”

  We stood in the hallway, all of us completely stunned. Dad pulled me and Mum into a big hug, and we stood there, holding each other. I heard Buster’s claws tip tapping as he came up to us. He sat down and leaned against my leg. This time I didn’t push him away.

  Chapter 7

  The next day I woke in a panic. I checked my clock and realised I was late for school. My heart pounded and I was just about to jump out of bed, and then I remembered that I didn’t have to go in.

  Grandad had died.

  The shock of remembering what had happened was like a punch in the stomach. I couldn’t believe it. Grandad was gone, and I would never see him again.

  I went downstairs. Mum and Dad were busy making phone calls and letting people know what had happened. There was an old file on the kitchen table that must have been full of Grandad’s paperwork.

  “Are you OK, Tabby?” said Mum.

  I nodded, and she gave me a quick hug.

  “Can you check on Buster?” Mum asked. “He’s not eaten anything this morning, and he keeps wandering around. I think he’s trying to find Grandad.”

  I was grateful to have something to do, but it felt weird going back into Grandad’s room. Mum had stripped his bed, and his slippers were still down by his armchair. On the table next to the chair were Grandad’s pile of maps and his notebook with all the places he’d never get to visit. Buster was lying in his usual spot. He wagged his tail and got up to greet me.

  “Hello, Stink,” I said. “You don’t know what’s going on,
do you? Poor thing.”

  Buster sat down and sighed. I walked over to the shelf where the ship in a bottle stood. I peered inside the bottle at the tiny wooden ship that Grandad said had been made by specially trained bumble bees. Although his made up story used to annoy me, I wished he was here now to tell me it all over again.

  I looked up at the cardboard shoebox on top of the wardrobe. Grandad had said it was full of photographs. He’d said they had something to do with the strange house on the cliff, the House of Clouds. At the time I’d been too eager to get away and back to my phone to look. I wished I’d taken more time to listen to him.

  I got a chair, stood on the seat and reached up for the box. It was covered with a thin layer of dust. I got down and decided to look inside the box in my room. It felt strange being in Grandad’s room when he wasn’t there.

  Buster followed me to the stairs.

  “You stay there, Buster,” I said as the little dog sat down by the bottom step. “I won’t be long.”

  I put the shoebox on my bed and slowly removed the lid. At first I thought the pictures were ones that had gone wrong. It looked as if the photographer had dropped their camera and accidentally taken pictures of the sky. I picked up a small handful.

  “Weird,” I said as I turned a square photograph around in my hand. It was of a bright blue sky and some white fluffy clouds.

  I picked up another photo and another, but they were all just the same: random photographs of white clouds. I was about to pile them all back into the box when I spotted something. One of the photographs was of the seafront, with the pier on one side. In the sky was a great grey and white cloud that looked exactly like a dragon. It had a long, pointed tail that swept upwards as if to escape the waves and a hooded eye that stared back at the viewer.