by Meg McKinlay
‘You won’t need that,’ Bella said quickly.
‘Pardon?’ Mum frowned.
‘The house will stay here,’ Bella said. ‘This is where it wants to live.’
‘Really?’ Dad gave her an odd look. ‘And how on earth would you know something like that?’
‘I just do,’ said Bella.
Mum sighed. ‘Oh, Bella. You’re such a dreamer.’
‘Just wait and see,’ Bella said. ‘You won’t need movers or concrete. Or chainsaws.’
As she said the last word, the front door slammed closed, making Mum jump.
‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘It’s windy here, isn’t it? I do like a nice breeze.’
Bella smiled. ‘The house will stay,’ she repeated. ‘Just wait and see.’
Thirteen
And they did. They waited that night and the next.
They waited and they saw. And the house stayed.
That is – each night when the moon was high in the sky, it rose up on its spindly legs and walked down onto the sand. Sometimes it sat and watched the waves roll in. Sometimes it paddled in the shallows. Sometimes it walked down the beach, following the shoreline all the way to the point and back again.
And when the sky began to grow light with morning, it shook off the sand that had crusted between its toes and made its way back across the beach and the grass and up the small looping road, to where a little yard sat with a trampoline and a cubbyhouse and a sign that said, ‘SOLD!’
One of their neighbours leaned over the fence to say hello. ‘Just moved in, I see?’
Bella nodded.
‘Well, it’s nice to have you.’ He paused. ‘Bit strange to move your whole house, though. Cut it in half, did you? Put it on a truck?’
‘No,’ Bella replied. ‘We didn’t.’
On Tuesday when she told Grandad about the house, he raised his eyebrows. ‘Goodness! Still, I guess it isn’t really so strange. A boat needs the ocean, after all. Which reminds me …’ He shot a glance at his workbench. ‘I put your present in the post yesterday. You do have a letterbox, don’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Bella grinned. They didn’t have a garden yet. And Dad’s shed was still in pieces waiting to be put back together. There would be time for those things later.
For now, other things were more important.
A balcony – made of old blue wood, where they could sit and watch the sunset.
And a letterbox – tall and sturdy with a big brass number, its mouth yawning wide, waiting.
When it arrived, the parcel was smaller than she had expected. It was round and fit neatly into the slot where the newspapers went.
Strange, she thought. It had looked bigger on Grandad’s bench.
But when she unwrapped it at her birthday dinner, she smiled. Because it was small and big at the same time. She twisted the metal cylinder, lengthening it into sections – out and out until it was long and thin and she could put it to her eye and see the whole world close up.
A telescope.
She exchanged a glance with Grandad. Who could say when such a thing would come in handy?
After dinner, Bella blew out the candles on her cake and made a wish.
No one asked her what it was and she wouldn’t have told them if they had. A birthday wish was a secret. She held it quietly in her mind.
And later that night, she lay in bed, waiting.
The house was silent. Mum and Dad were asleep downstairs and Grandad was in the spare room down the hall.
The house was silent and then it wasn’t. Slowly, it began to creak and murmur. The floor rolled gently. Stars swung in the window as the house rose to its feet.
Bella threw back the covers and sprang out of bed. She hurried across the room, telescope in one hand, captain’s hat in the other.
When she reached the window, she looked out and smiled. The house had stepped carefully over the fence and was making its way toward the sand.
But she didn’t stop and climb up into the window. Not tonight. Instead, she tiptoed out of the room and down the hall.
As she opened the door to the balcony, a warm breeze tickled her face. Above, the night sky was seeded with a thousand tiny stars.
Nearby, a shadow shifted. A shape.
‘There you are,’ said a quiet voice.
‘Grandad? What are you –’
Grandad put a finger to his lips. ‘You made a wish,’ he said. ‘A girl needs the ocean.’
They were halfway across the sand. The smell of salt was sharp around them. Waves lapped the shoreline, rolling gently into themselves, whispering. Hush-hush, hush-hush.
Bella held up her hat. ‘Here.’
But Grandad shook his head and reached behind him. ‘I brought my own.’
Bella grinned. She knew this hat. It was faded and a bit dusty, but it fit him perfectly.
The house had stopped at the water’s edge. It didn’t sit down on the sand. It didn’t turn to walk along the beach. It simply stood at the shoreline, waiting.
Grandad motioned to the telescope.
‘Oh.’ Bella held it out. ‘Do you want it?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Grandad. ‘That’s yours.’ He stared out at the dark surface of the water. ‘Well, shall we?’
Bella extended the telescope and set it against one eye.
The sea was calm and still. The gentlest of waves lapped across its surface. There were no boats at anchor, no rocks or islands before them. There was nothing but open water and a starry night.
‘All clear?’ asked Grandad.
Bella took a deep breath. ‘All clear.’
As she spoke, she felt the house shift beneath them, as if it knew, as if it were waiting for just one thing.
‘All right then,’ Grandad said. ‘Straight ahead, I think.’
And with that, the house began to move. At first, it waded, lifting its legs high above the water as it plunged deeper and deeper. And then came the moment when it let go, when it lifted its feet from the bottom and began to float, to sail.
Grandad turned to Bella. He took her hand and guided it up to place her hat on her head. ‘You’ll be needing this.’
They leaned forward across the railing, feeling the old wood sigh around them.
‘Where are we going?’ Bella asked.
Grandad looked down at her. ‘Where would you like to go?’
Bella thought for a moment. ‘Let’s let the house decide.’ She paused. ‘As long as we’re back by morning.’
‘By morning,’ Grandad said firmly. And Bella had the feeling he wasn’t speaking to her at all.
The house began to pick up speed. It set itself into the waves, sending sea-spray flying. Tiny droplets of water licked and curled all the way up to where Bella and Grandad stood.
She smiled a cheek-splitting smile, and turned to see him doing the same.
‘Better hold on,’ he said. ‘I think we’re in for quite a ride.’
They curled their fingers around the railing and leaned out into the night.
And together the two of them – the three of them – set off, straight and strong across the endless, beautiful blue.
The End
Meg McKinlay lives in Fremantle, Western Australia. She can smell the ocean from her desk and wanders over the hill to visit as often as she possibly can.
First published in 2015 by
FREMANTLE PRESS
25 Quarry Street, Fremantle 6160
Western Australia
www.fremantlepress.com.au
Copyright text © Meg McKinlay, 2015
Copyright illustrations © Nicholas Schafer, 2015
The moral rights of the creators have been asserted.
This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission.
Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Cover design by tracey
gibbs.com.au
Printed by Everbest Printing Company, China.
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-publication data
McKinlay, Meg, author.
Bella and the wandering house / Meg McKinlay.
ISBN 9781925162301 (pbk)
For children.
A823.4
Publication of this title was assisted by the Commonwealth Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.
Fremantle Press is supported by the State Government through the Department of Culture and the Arts.
