Katy Parker and the House that Cried

  Contents

  1The Crying Child

  2History Mystery

  3Date with Destiny

  4What Next?

  5Old School

  6Friend or Foe?

  7Settling In

  8The Answer

  9The Plan Unfolds

  10Reunion

  Chapter 1

  The Crying Child

  Adrenalin surged through Katy’s body as she ran towards the bike lying on the pavement. Reaching down, she picked it up and in one swift movement leapt onto the seat. Turning around, she called out urgently to an unseen companion, “Hurry up! Faster! Follow me!”

  For a moment, she faltered, feet slipping off the pedals, losing precious seconds, before righting herself, then pedalling furiously ahead. The thud of her heart filled her ears.

  “K-a-a-a-t-y!”

  A terror-filled voice howled out her name as time and space seamlessly merged. Everything began to move in slow motion and all at once a mighty whoosh of blistering heat, choking smoke and blinding white light engulfed her. Katy felt herself lifted up into the air, gliding through it, weightless, limp and out of control. Within seconds she felt herself falling down, further and further into the void below.

  Katy was braced for impact, fists tightly clenched, eyes squeezed shut, when with a sharp intake of breath, she jolted upright, suddenly awake.

  Opening her eyes, she saw with relief the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. Sunlight seeped in beneath her curtains, casting a comforting, warm glow over the room. Katy turned to look at her bedside clock. The luminous yellow figures read six o’clock. Almost time to get up.

  Sighing deeply, she sank back onto her pillow. Her body, still rigid with tension, began to relax as relief gently washed over her. It was, after all, just her dream.

  Ever since her tenth birthday she had been tormented by this recurring nightmare. It followed the same pattern every year, beginning in spring and becoming more frequent, more vivid until mid-May. Then, simply disappearing. Katy never saw who was with her or what it was she was trying to escape. Instead, she woke at precisely six o’clock every morning, just as she began to plummet into the unknown void.

  Gradually, as her heart rate slowed and her breathing relaxed, Katy’s mind began to wander away from her nightmare and she began to recall the previous afternoon’s events with Lizzie, her best friend. They had called into the local library after school to do some research. Lizzie had found an ancient, dusty reference book, too enormous to carry, called Dreams Unlocked.

  “Read this Katy, it fits your dream perfectly.”

  Katy leant over and began reading aloud, “Recurring dreams should never be ignored; they are the subconscious mind’s way of trying to communicate an important message to you.”

  “Your message must be really important if you’re having your dream so often. I wonder what it is?” said Lizzie.

  Katy read on. “Dreams in which you are running away from an unseen danger are common. You must stop yourself running, turn around and face what you fear. It is your destiny. You cannot escape it.”

  “That’s just like your dream,” said Lizzie, “We’ve just got to figure out what you’re escaping from. Are you sure you can’t see who’s with you? Or even recognise their voice?”

  Katy squeezed her eyes tightly shut, running through the vivid images in her head. “It’s hopeless,” she sighed in frustration. “I’ve no idea. They’re always just out of sight.”

  “Well, if what the book says is true, then a really important event or person is awaiting your arrival and, in the meantime, they’re desperately trying to get your attention. You’ve just got to face your fear,” reflected Lizzie, giving a self-satisfied smile, clearly pleased with her deductions.

  Easier said than done, thought Katy, huffing crossly and pummelling her pillow.

  Feeling utterly exhausted and frustrated, she pulled the covers up over her head. None of it made any sense. Last week her mum had even taken her to the doctor to see if he could help. But he had just said that she would outgrow the dream eventually and suggested a milky drink and a warm bath at bedtime, none of which seemed to make any difference. In desperation, her mum had started to sprinkle lavender water on her pillow. Apparently it was meant to promote a peaceful night’s sleep. What a joke! If anything, the dream had become more frequent and even more real. Katy knew it was impossible but she was sure she could even taste smoke at the back of her throat and smell its acrid scent lingering on her nightclothes and in her hair.

  Determined to make the most of the little time left before she had to get up, Katy resolutely pushed all thoughts of her dream aside. She slid her hand under her pillow and retrieved The Card. She had found it pushed under the door of her school locker and hadn’t told anyone but Lizzie about it. The front of the card showed The Kiss by Klimt, Katy’s favourite painting. She even had a poster of it on her bedroom wall. It showed a gilded couple, draped in a brilliant golden quilt. Opening it, she re-read the words written inside.

  To Katy,

  Meet me in room 76 tomorrow at the start of lunch. I need to talk to you. Come on your own.

  T.A xxx

  Her heart began racing again but this time with excitement. Could it really be from Tom Austin? Would he really be waiting for her at lunch? She could see him clearly – tall and athletic, with tousled, blonde hair – he looked effortlessly cool, even in his school uniform. She imagined him inviting her to see his band playing a gig at the upcoming school talent show.

  Her daydream disappeared when the all too familiar morning call from her mum interrupted her thoughts, “Katy! Time to get up. You’ll be late again if you don’t get a move on!”

  Katy groaned, reluctantly rolling out of bed. Why hadn’t she got up earlier? There was no time for a shower now. Wearily, she picked her uniform off the floor, where it lay in a messy heap, and quickly dressed. Still half asleep, she slammed her bedroom door behind her and raced down the stairs two at a time into the kitchen where her mum waited, wearing her usual harassed expression.

  “Katy, you look as though you slept in those clothes! How many times have I told you to hang them up? Get some breakfast quickly or you’ll miss the bus again.”

  Grabbing a piece of toast, Katy quickly waved goodbye to her mum and ran to catch the bus.

  Just as Katy reached the end of the road, she turned to see her annoying little brother chasing after her down the street. Patrick ruled his year with his mad practical jokes. His unusual height made him slightly awkward and his floppy blonde fringe obscured most of his face. His current obsession centred on science fiction and he would bore you for hours, given half the chance, with his theories on time travel and parallel universes.

  As Katy and Patrick got on the bus, Katy spotted Lizzie. Her hair was smooth and shiny and she even managed to look amazing in her pea-green uniform. How does she do it? thought Katy – and then quickly reminded herself that Lizzie probably hadn’t dragged herself out of bed only moments ago. Not even Lizzie could pull off the crinkled uniform look.

  * * * *

  Soon the bus pulled up outside the gates of St Hilda’s, a large Edwardian building in the gothic style, with hundreds of leaded windows and unusual turrets and gargoyles. Everything about the school breathed old-fashioned: from its out-dated science labs, to its hideous pea-green uniform complete with blazer. Until the 1990s boys and girls had been kept apart. They had separate entrances, classrooms and playgrounds, even eating in separate dining halls.

  That morning kicked off with double science. Lesson one was a practical and in lesson two they had to write up their findings.

  “Wake up, Katy, have you
put the magnesium in the test tube yet?” asked Lizzie, sounding more than a little tetchy.

  Katy rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, I’ll do it now. I’m so tired; my stupid dream woke me up at six again this morning.”

  Katy picked up a bottle and haphazardly spooned some magnesium powder into the test tube while Lizzie lit the Bunsen burner and said, “Hold it over the flame until it begins to change colour. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Yawning, Katy did as instructed. She stared mesmerised into the flame and her surroundings seemed to melt away. A loud bang sounded, as a white light flashed in front of her eyes, followed by a strong smell of burning. Katy panicked and found herself once more in the midst of her dream. The screaming voice still called her name, getting louder and louder.

  “K-a-a-a-t-y!”

  Slowly, Katy shuddered back to the present, a cold sensation seeping over her body. Looking down, she saw her shirt was soaked through and the bottom of her tie was singed.

  “W-w-hat happened?” she asked, looking around in confusion and feeling more than a little bewildered. She looked at Lizzie, who was staring back at her in astonishment. “Katy, you were on fire! Your tie was dangling in the flame – you didn’t even notice!”

  Katy shuddered. This was getting worse. Her dream no longer confined itself to her restless nights. It was now creeping into her waking hours. Katy, still startled, found her voice and whispered, “It was my dream. The white light took me right back into the middle of it. I could even smell burning.”

  Lizzie giggled, “But that’s because your tie was burning, silly. You definitely need some sleep.”

  “Katy Parker! Stay behind when the bell goes,” an icy voice cut through the crowd. Katy looked up to see Miss Harrison glaring at her.

  “I can’t stay behind,” whispered Katy desperately to Lizzie, “I’ve got to meet Tom!”

  “Please Miss,” said Lizzie putting up her hand, “It wasn’t Katy’s fault, it was mine. I must have put too much magnesium in by accident.”

  Miss Harrison stared at Lizzie in clear disbelief before replying, “Very well, Lizzie. Write out the lab safety rules fifty times and hand them in to me in the morning.”

  Phew! That was close – Lizzie to the rescue again. Lizzie and Katy had met on their first day at nursery and had immediately become best friends when Lizzie heroically rescued Katy from Thomas Brown, a horrible, snotty little boy, who had been terrorising her with his dinosaur in the book corner. Lots of people commented on the unlikely pairing. Lizzie: neat and very studious. Katy, the complete opposite: always scruffy, with something ripped or in need of a wash and constantly daydreaming. But somehow they had clicked and had been inseparable ever since.

  As they left the science lab, Lizzie hugged Katy. “Good luck. Meet me outside the lunch hall at one. Don’t be late – I’m desperate to know what’s going on!”

  Katy took a deep breath to calm herself and hurried excitedly to room 76 as instructed in The Card. She still couldn’t believe it. Could Tom Austin really want to meet her? Trembling all over and with butterflies swirling in her tummy, she took a deep breath, crossed her fingers for luck and entered the room.

  He wasn’t there. Disappointment and relief flooded over her. Checking her watch she saw she was a few minutes early so she dropped her bag on the ground and sat down on a desk in nervous anticipation, legs swinging, waiting to see what would happen next.

  The room was ominously quiet. Not a sound could be heard except for the slow steady ticking of the clock on the classroom wall. Katy had just decided to give up and leave, when she heard a noise coming from the stock room. The door was slightly ajar and it definitely sounded as if something was scuffling around inside. Then, she heard an unmistakeable snort of muffled laughter. Silently sliding down from the table, Katy tiptoed over to the door and flung it open.

  To her horror, she found Patrick and his group of cronies doubled over in fits of laughter, enjoying her obvious embarrassment.

  “Katy loves Tom!” sang Patrick in a silly voice. “Waiting for someone important were you?” he asked, an expression of pure malice on his face.

  Katy tried to hide The Card, quickly slipping it into her pocket, but too late – Patrick had seen.

  “Did you really think someone like Tom Austin would be interested in you?” he jeered.

  Consumed by humiliation and fury, Katy picked up her school bag and swung it at Patrick, hitting him hard in the stomach.

  “I hate you!” she shouted, as Patrick winced, obviously winded, but trying to appear unhurt.

  Turning to leave, she saw in dismay that a group of onlookers had gathered at the classroom door to witness her shame.

  “You’ll be sorry. I’ll get you back! Just wait and see,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  Aware of the tears welling up in her eyes, Katy began frantically pushing her way through the crowd, desperate not to be seen crying. She ran for the safety of the girls’ toilets, locked herself in a cubicle and then promptly burst into tears. She remembered a time when Patrick had been her partner in crime, before he’d turned into a monster whose greatest pleasure in life seemed to be annoying her.

  Moments later, the door to the toilets opened and Katy heard Lizzie’s voice call, “Come out, Katy. I heard what happened.”

  Reluctantly, Katy slid back the bolt and opened the door. “I hate him. I knew he was planning something because I got him grounded. But how could he be so mean?”

  Lizzie passed Katy a tissue and squeezed her arm. “Try and forget about it. Don’t let him see he’s upset you.”

  “OK,” sniffed Katy, wiping her tear-stained face, “but you’ve got to help me get my own back. He’ll live to regret this.”

  Lizzie sighed. “Alright. Let’s see what we can plot in History.”

  * * * *

  Katy enjoyed History. She loved being transported back in time and often imagined herself as a heroine in different historical settings. Her current favourite was being a spy sent behind enemy lines during the Second World War to foil some evil Nazi plot.

  Katy sat with Lizzie as they listened to Mr Oakley outline their work. “Your project this half term is to investigate the Home Front during the Second World War.” The usual moans and groans followed the announcement that they were getting work to do during half term. Ignoring this, Mr Oakley continued, “Try and find out what life was really like for people living in Knutsburry at the time. You can research it on the web and use the local library but it’d be really good if you could interview any locals who might have lived through the time and record their memories. There’s a prize for the best project.”

  “Let’s try and find out about Willow Dene,” said Katy. “It’s been abandoned since the Second World War.”

  “Isn’t it meant to be haunted?” asked Lizzie.

  “Yeah, on Halloween everyone dares each other to knock on the door. Last year the door is meant to have swung open on the third knock and they could hear a small child crying and calling out for its mummy.”

  “That’s horrible,” breathed Lizzie. “Do you think it’s true?”

  “My mum says it’s just a rumour that’s been going around for years, ever since she was little. The owners probably started it to scare kids and stop them trespassing.”

  “If we interview locals about the war someone is bound to know what happened at Willow Dene and if it’s really haunted. Let’s start interviewing on Saturday,” said Lizzie.

  Katy squealed with excitement, “I’ve got it! The perfect revenge! Let’s go to Willow Dene on Saturday and take Patrick with us. We can trick him into thinking the ghost is real!”

  “But how?” asked Lizzie. “He’ll never believe that.”

  Leaning closer, Katy began to whisper her plan. “Dad is away this weekend and Mum is working on Saturday so I’m stuck with Patrick. I’ll suggest we go and investigate. He won’t be able to resist, especially if I make out he’s too scared.”

  “But how will we get inside?”
said Lizzie.

  “I’ve heard that the side door is unlocked. We could give that a try.”

  “I’m not sure,” Lizzie hesitated. “I don’t want to get into trouble.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s been empty for years. No one lives there and it’s not as if we’re going to cause any damage,” said Katy, persuasively.

  “But I still don’t see how we can make him think there’s a ghost.”

  Katy stared into space concentrating hard, then smiled slyly as an idea began to take shape. “We’ll download the sound of a crying child onto your phone. You slip into a room ahead of us, leaving it timed to come on a few minutes later. We’ll send Patrick into the room on his own, just before the crying starts. He’ll be terrified!” said Katy, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

  “Oh you are nasty Katy Parker! That’s a great plan. Right, let’s make a start on the front cover of our project,” said Lizzie reaching up and getting a piece of coloured paper. “What shall we call it?”

  “How about, The House That Cried,” said Katy dramatically, already beginning to draw large jagged capital letters and colouring them in blood red.

  The bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. “I’ve got to go and get some stuff from my locker. See you on the bus,” said Katy.

  “OK. I’ll try and save you a seat but be quick,” said Lizzie, heading for the door.

  Climbing on to the bus a few minutes later, Katy looked around for Lizzie and spotted her sandwiched in on the back seat, with no room near her. Scanning the bus for a spare seat, Katy saw to her dismay that the only remaining seat was next to her horrible little brother, who was using it for his precious guitar. With a hard stare on her face, Katy walked over to him. “Move it,” she demanded, pointing at the guitar. Realising Katy was in no mood to be messed with, Patrick pulled the guitar onto his lap. Desperate to avoid eye contact, they both sat in stony silence. Katy stared out of the window, waiting to see the old abandoned house.

  Willow Dene was a large detached house, painted butter yellow with a deep crimson front door. It reminded Katy of a doll’s house. It sat back from the road – a forbidding, high, yew hedge hid both house and garden from clear view – but from her vantage point on the bus Katy was able to peer over the hedge. The front garden looked like it might once have been an ornate rose garden. In a far corner, in the shade of a large weeping willow, stood a long abandoned swing and slide. Wrought iron gates stood imposingly at the entrance to the garden but Katy had never seen anyone going through them.