Anneli the Art Hater. Anne Fine
all over, even inside the fireplace with its pretty patterned tiles. Little bells hanging by embroidery silks were jingling softly in the breeze from the window. The floor was bright with rugs, and the bedspread a riot of patchwork.
And scattered all over, on everything, were pretty things: rings that dazzled, bangles that caught the light, earrings that sparkled; small painted jewel boxes, tiny enamelled beads, gleaming glass pots, brass dishes overflowing with strange foreign coins. The walls were bespattered with bright postcards, and a floppy straw hat with scarlet ribbons hung from the bed post.
Everywhere you looked was something you longed to try on, or touch, or stroke, or take the lid off and peep inside.
No wonder Josh was forbidden to play here.
‘Go on, then,’ Anneli teased him. ‘Show me the attic.’
To her astonishment, Josh dived under the bed and disappeared behind the hanging folds of patchwork counterpane.
She heard his muffled voice.
‘Come on.’
Catching her breath, she knelt and followed him.
Under the bed, it was quite dark and very dusty. Anneli sneezed several times. When she recovered, it was to find that Josh had stuck his purple cloth in her face.
‘There,’ he said. ‘Bless you.’
Anneli pushed the cloth away.
‘Where’s this great attic, then?’ she said a little meanly. After all, her hair was catching in the bedsprings overhead, and pulling. She was bent double. It was too dark to see a thing, and Josh’s feet were digging in her stomach.
‘There,’ Josh proclaimed.
‘Where? I can’t see a thing!’
‘There!’
Josh found one of her hands and pulled it over till it touched the wall behind the bed.
Anneli spread her fingers wide. Strange. Very strange. It didn’t feel like wall. It felt like wooden panelling.
Anneli put out her other hand. Using her fingertips, she traced on the wall the outline of a tiny door.
‘What’s behind there, then?’
‘Attic.’
‘It’s just the water tank, silly.’
‘Attic.’
‘It can’t be.’
Maybe it could, though. Anneli wasn’t certain. It was a door. Surely no one would go to all the trouble of putting it there unless there was something behind.
It might be just a water tank. But, then again, it might be an attic.
Only one way of finding out. Anneli made up her mind. There was no point in putting if off. All that would happen was that her imagination would have time to run riot about the dark or the cobwebs or all the awful things the door might hide. If she was ever going to open it and look, it must be now.
She scrambled out from under the bed. Seizing Josh by a leg, she pulled. He came out sliding on a rug.
‘You go on down. I’ll follow you.’
‘Tea time?’ asked Josh, ever hungry, ever hopeful.
‘Maybe,’ said Anneli vaguely. ‘Tell Jodie I’ll be along in a minute.’
Josh stayed cross-legged on the rug for a few moments, practising the message.
‘Anneli’ long in a minute.’
Then he got to his feet and pottered off towards the door.
Before he’d even gone, Anneli had dived beneath the bed again. This time she found the little door without any trouble. Her fingers tightened round the knob. She took the deepest breath.
‘Here goes,’ she told herself. ‘Here goes.’
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