Mystery for Megan

by Burlingham , Abi;

  ‘Have you tried my shortbread?’ she asked Megan.

  ‘Yes,’ said Megan, nodding.

  ‘And what did you think?’ Granny asked.

  ‘It’s lovely and buttery,’ said Megan.

  ‘It’s my special recipe,’ Granny whispered. Then she did something funny. She looked around to see if anyone was listening, just like Freya had.

  ‘There’s a secret ingredient,’ she said to Megan. ‘Can you guess what it is?’

  Megan had no idea.

  ‘Lemon,’ Granny whispered. ‘But, shhh! Keep it in the box,’ she said, winking at Freya.

  ‘Granny,’ Freya said quietly. ‘Can we go somewhere to talk? You know, about the mice and Dorothy and Buttercup.’

  ‘Yes, of course we can,’ said Granny. ‘Let’s go and sit on the bench at the bottom of the garden.’

  As they sat down on the bench, Granny bent her head towards them and said quietly, ‘Now then, girls, what would you like to know?’

  ‘Can you tell Megan some things about Dorothy?’ asked Freya.

  ‘What like?’ asked Granny.

  ‘Well, I don’t understand how she can be so old,’ said Megan.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Granny. ‘But, as far as I can remember, she was always around.’

  ‘But where did she come from?’ asked Megan.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Granny. ‘She was just always there. I used to think she was looking after me. In fact, I named her Dorothy. I don’t think she had a name until then.’

  Megan pulled a funny face. She didn’t mean to be rude but she just couldn’t understand how a cat could be so old and she had no idea how a cat could look after a person!

  ‘Then, when I was about fifteen, she disappeared,’ said Granny. ‘The mice disappeared too. But this is the really mysterious thing – they all appeared again the day you moved into Buttercup House, Megan.’

  Megan stared at Granny. It didn’t make any sense at all.

  ‘I know, I don’t understand it either,’ said Granny, ‘but they are back. Yesterday, a piece of my shortbread went missing. I’m sure it was Dorothy who took it.’

  Megan laughed. ‘What if it’s not the same cat though?’ she asked, the thought suddenly striking her that it could be a different black cat.

  ‘Well, Freya said that she had a gold ring, like a sun, around her right eye, and a white front paw,’ said Granny.

  ‘She has,’ said Freya, nodding.

  ‘So it must be Dorothy,’ said Granny, ‘because she had those exact markings.’

  Megan tried to understand, but she was finding it all very strange.

  ‘Some things are hard to believe,’ Granny said, ‘but it doesn’t mean they’re not true.’

  Megan thought this made sense and nodded.

  ‘Tell her about Buttercup,’ Freya said excitedly.

  ‘Oh Buttercup!’ said Granny, a big smile lighting up her face. ‘I haven’t seen Buttercup for years either. In fact, he disappeared the same time as Dorothy and the mice and I haven’t seen him since. Maybe he’ll come back too. Whenever he used to be around, the buttercups would come up. So keep your eyes open for them.’ She gave the girls a wink. ‘I wouldn’t tell anyone any of this though. Keep it in the box.’

  ‘I shan’t tell anyone,’ Megan whispered.

  ‘Oh, and by the way, I don’t think grown-ups can see any of the animals,’ said Granny.

  ‘Really?’ said Megan. ‘Can’t you see them?’

  ‘Not any more,’ said Granny. ‘Freya has seen the mice and Dorothy since you moved in, Megan, but I haven’t seen a single whisker.’

  ‘Tell her the other bit, Granny,’ pleaded Freya. ‘Tell her about Dorothy keeping you company.’

  ‘I would have been about seven,’ Granny said to the girls. ‘I was feeling upset because I’d been told off for something or other and had been sent to my room. Dorothy came to find me. She’d never been inside the house before, but she came up, found my room, and she jumped on to the bed with me. She lay right next to me until I was allowed to go downstairs again.’

  ‘But how did she know where you were?’ Megan asked, her eyes wide open.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Granny. ‘She just knew. There’s something quite mysterious about Dorothy. She did things like that a lot after that day.’

  ‘Like when she sat with you at the picnic?’ asked Freya.

  ‘Yes, that’s it,’ said Granny. ‘And sometimes she’d let me know if there were any hidden dangers, things that a child wouldn’t notice. She always appeared at exactly the right moments. I didn’t tell anyone though, and it’s probably best that you don’t either.’

  ‘What I still don’t understand,’ said Megan, feeling more puzzled than ever, ‘is why she’s come back now, and why the mice are back too.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Granny, ‘unless . . .Oh no, that’s just silly.’

  ‘What’s silly?’ asked Freya.

  ‘Well, maybe it has something to do with whether a child is living in Buttercup House,’ said Granny.

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Megan, her eyes getting even wider.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Granny. ‘The animals disappeared once I started growing up. Then, I left home when I met Grandpa. My mum and dad carried on living there for many years, then another couple lived there some time after, but there were no children, just a grandson who used to visit. That’s who the treehouse was made for. Then the house was empty for a while before you moved in, Megan. Now you’re here, Dorothy and the mice seem to have come back.’

  Suddenly, Freya put her hand to her mouth. ‘I’ve just thought of something,’ said Freya. ‘Do you think Dorothy might know if we’re lonely too and tell us things, like when there are hidden dangers?’

  ‘She might,’ said Granny, smiling. ‘I guess you’ll have to wait and see.’

  The girls looked at each other. Megan suddenly felt butterflies doing backflips in her tummy.

  ‘Talking of Dorothy,’ said Granny, ‘I ought to put some shortbread aside for her – she seems to have taken a fancy to it. I hope you’ve left some.’

  ‘Oops!’ said Freya. ‘I think we might have eaten it all.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Granny said, laughing. ‘Why don’t we make some more, especially for Dorothy, and we can make a batch for the shop too.’

  ‘Ooh, yes please!’ said Freya.

  They walked back up to the house together, the two girls each holding one of Granny’s hands, while Granny told them the best way to make shortbread, and then they spent the rest of the evening getting buttery and floury and messy.

  Well, thought Megan later, as she lay in bed. I never thought I’d end up baking shortbread for a mysterious cat!

  The next day at school, Megan’s teacher, Miss Roberts, asked them all to write a story.

  ‘I want your story to have a character that’s really interesting,’ she said.

  Megan thought about Dorothy and Buttercup. They were the most interesting characters she could think of. I know, thought Megan. I’ll make up a story about Dorothy and draw a picture too.

  Megan pulled out her special notebook with the gold cover. She turned to the first page and drew a picture of Dorothy. She even drew the gold ring around her eye and her little white front paw that Granny and Freya had talked about. Then she wrote her story.

  The Story of the Mysterious Cat

  There once was a cat who was very mysterious. She was the oldest cat who had ever lived, and she had a gold ring around one eye and a white paw. She was as black as soot and was very big and fluffy. She loved to chase after butterflies and bounce on her front paws. Sometimes she got special treats of shortbread, and then she purred and had to brush the sugar off her whiskers.

  Miss Roberts had said they should use some describing words. Megan was especially pleased with black as soot.

  ‘What did you write about?’ Megan asked Freya at lunchtime.

  ‘I made up a creature called a Pungle,’ sa
id Freya.

  Megan laughed. ‘A Pungle!’ she squealed. ‘That’s the funniest name I ever heard.’

  ‘It’s a Pungle with a very long nose,’ said Freya, laughing too. ‘And very long toes so it has to wear sandals all the time.’

  ‘What did you write about?’ Freya asked Megan, once they’d stopped laughing.

  Megan looked around before she spoke, then realised that she was getting to be just like Freya and Granny!

  ‘I wrote about a mysterious cat,’ she said, nudging Freya under the table.

  ‘Oh, how imaginative,’ said Freya, laughing.

  ‘Well, not everyone can invent a big-nosed big-toed Pungle, can they?’ said Megan.

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Freya.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Megan. ‘This cat bounces.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Freya, curiously.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Megan, bursting out laughing again.

  Megan and Freya both had spellings to do for homework and they both moaned and groaned about it. Then Megan had an idea.

  ‘Let’s do them in the treehouse,’ she suggested. ‘We can help each other out.’

  ‘That’s a great idea,’ said Freya, who wasn’t too keen on spellings. So they arranged to meet later by the fence.

  When Megan got home, she changed out of her uniform into her jeans, had macaroni cheese – her favourite – for dinner, then she grabbed her spelling book and went to meet Freya at the end of the fence. Freya arrived just as Megan did and squeezed through the gap in the fence.

  ‘Dorothy’s down there, look,’ Freya said excitedly, spotting Dorothy near the stream.

  ‘I wonder if we’ll see Buttercup too,’ said Megan. ‘I wish Dorothy would come closer so I could see her properly. I want to see the gold ring around her eye.’

  The girls went to the treehouse and worked really hard on their spellings. Megan tested Freya, and Freya tested Megan. Freya kept getting Europe wrong and forgetting the second e.

  ‘Just remember it’s got a rope on the end,’ said Megan. ‘Like our treehouse.’

  ‘Oh yes!’ said Freya, and the next time she got it right.

  Suddenly, Freya looked up. She was staring out of the window towards the trees.

  ‘Megan. It’s him,’ she said, in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

  Megan followed Freya’s eyes. Out beyond the trees she saw the most beautiful golden dog.

  ‘Oh my goodness!’ said Megan. ‘Is that really him? Is that really Buttercup?’

  ‘It must be,’ said Freya. Then she looked at Megan. ‘What if Granny’s right? What if he’s come back because you’re living at Buttercup House?’

  Megan stared at Freya. She just couldn’t believe that the animals coming back had anything to do with her.

  The girls both watched Buttercup as he watched them through the trees. Somehow, having him there made them both feel incredibly happy, as if he was looking after them. Then he turned and padded away.

  ‘The buttercups,’ Freya said suddenly. ‘There should be buttercups.’

  The girls peeped through the door, and all around the bottom of the tree were lots and lots of bright yellow buttercups! It was just like Granny had told them.

  The girls stood under the treehouse and stared at the buttercups, trying to make sense of everything that was happening. A movement at the bottom of the garden caught Freya’s eye.

  ‘Look, it’s Dorothy,’ she exclaimed, as the black cat appeared from behind a tree.

  Megan couldn’t contain her excitement a moment longer. She ran down the garden towards Dorothy, and just before she reached the line of trees, Dorothy turned and ran towards her, stopping by her legs. It was the first time Megan had seen Dorothy close up and she thought she was the most beautiful cat she had ever seen. Straight away she noticed the white paw and the gold ring around her eye, just like Granny and Freya had said. Then something incredible happened.

  Megan stood very still, watching Dorothy, who was looking up intently at her. Then Megan looked towards the stream, then at Freya.

  ‘What is it?’ said Freya, who had caught up with them.

  ‘I think some of the bridge over the stream needs mending,’ said Megan.

  ‘Where?’ said Freya.

  ‘Over there, I think,’ said Megan. ‘Dorothy told me, kind of.’

  Even as she said it, she knew how strange it sounded. How could a cat tell her anything?

  The girls walked carefully towards the stream. Dorothy went ahead a little and then suddenly stopped and looked back at them.

  ‘Look,’ said Freya. ‘You’re right, Megan, the wood has come away a bit. It’s a good job Dorothy warned us.’

  The girls looked at each other in amazement.

  ‘Did that really just happen?’ asked Megan.

  Freya smiled and nodded. ‘Granny did say that Dorothy seemed to know things and warned her about hidden dangers, didn’t she?’

  ‘And now she’s warning us too,’ said Megan.

  ‘I bet Granny’s right about the other thing as well,’ said Freya. ‘I bet they’ve come back because you’ve come to Buttercup House, Megan!’

  Megan didn’t know what to say. She suddenly felt incredibly special.

  ‘I can’t believe what’s happening,’ said Megan, as the girls walked back up the garden. ‘And I especially can’t believe we saw Buttercup!’

  ‘I can’t either,’ said Freya. ‘I never thought I’d actually get to see him.’

  But Megan still didn’t understand how the fact that she was living at Buttercup House had made the animals come back. It was very mysterious and no matter how much Megan thought about it, she just couldn’t make sense of it.

  The next day, Megan could still hardly believe any of it. She thought about her old friends, Emily and Beth, and how she’d love to tell them all about it. Emily adored dogs and had always wanted one. She would love Buttercup. Of course, there was no way she could tell them – she’d promised to keep it a secret – but she wished she could!

  ‘I told Granny about seeing Buttercup and the buttercups coming out,’ Freya said, when they met in their secret place that evening.

  ‘Did you tell her about Dorothy warning us too?’ Megan asked. She couldn’t wait to hear what Granny thought of it all.

  ‘Yes. She was really excited,’ whispered Freya. ‘Granny thinks that because Dorothy told you, she’s probably trying to look after you, like she used to look after her.’

  This house and everything around it are full of mystery, thought Megan. She still didn’t understand how Dorothy and Buttercup could be so old, and she felt she would never understand how she had been able to read Dorothy’s thoughts. That made no sense at all. And why had they felt so safe and happy when Buttercup appeared?

  Megan puzzled over it all evening, and at bedtime she just couldn’t go to sleep. In the end, she sat up in bed, got out her special gold-covered notebook and wrote a poem about it all.

  There once was a cat who came to me

  and spoke to me in my head.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it

  and lay awake in bed.

  And when we were playing

  and the buttercups came up,

  we felt so safe and happy

  because of Buttercup.

  Megan felt a bit better after writing her poem, even though she knew she couldn’t show it to anyone – not to Emily or Beth, not to Miss Roberts, not even to her mum and dad. But at least she could show Freya. She could share anything with Freya.

  When Megan woke up the next morning and pulled back the curtains, she couldn’t believe what she saw. The whole garden was alight with golden buttercups. They weren’t just under the tree, they were everywhere! Buttercup must be here, thought Megan. How wonderful!

  Then she remembered it was Saturday. She and Freya could play among the buttercups. They could make buttercup chains instead of daisy chains. She could make Freya one, and one for her mum. They could even make one for Dorothy and
one for Buttercup.

  Megan leaped out of bed, pulled on her shorts and a red and white striped T-shirt and raced down the stairs and into the garden of golden buttercups!

  Freya was peering over the wall. ‘Wow!’ she squealed, her eyes lighting up as she saw the buttercups. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’

  Freya’s head disappeared and the next moment she was running towards Megan, looking at the buttercups with a beaming smile on her face.

  ‘I’ve never seen so many,’ said Freya. ‘Buttercup must be here. Come on.’ She grabbed Megan’s hand and the girls raced through the never-ending sea of buttercups, towards the trees at the bottom of the garden in search of the golden dog.

  They were careful not to go over the bridge, so stood a couple of metres away from it, looking out across the stream and towards the wood. Then, suddenly, Freya gasped. ‘Look, it’s Buttercup!’ she said.

  Buttercup stepped out of the wood, his coat shining and glimmering in the sunlight.

  ‘Oh, how wonderful!’ said Megan, squeezing Freya’s hand and feeling remarkably calm all of a sudden. She felt so happy again, just like the last time they had seen him.

  Then, as they watched, Buttercup turned and disappeared among the trees.

  ‘Oh! I wonder where he’s gone,’ said Megan, feeling disappointed. She was searching for him when, out of nowhere, Dorothy appeared. She sat right next to Megan, leaning against her legs. How lovely, Megan thought. It was almost as if Dorothy knew she was disappointed and needed comforting.

  Dorothy looked up at Megan, and then at Freya.

  ‘I have a feeling we’ll see Buttercup again,’ said Freya. ‘I think that’s what Dorothy’s trying to tell us.’

  ‘How does she do it?’ asked Megan.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ said Freya. ‘Granny said that it all happened in her head. She said it was as if she could hear Dorothy’s thoughts.’