by Amy Cross
“Hugo, no!” Maisie says firmly. “Hugo! Stop!”
I snarl louder as the girl reaches us.
“Hugo!”
Suddenly Maisie leans over me and taps my nose gently. I turn to her, but then I quickly turn back to look up t the pale girl, and I snarl again.
“You're impossible,” Maisie says with another sigh. “Fine, sit there and growl if you want. See if I care. You look stupid, though. Just so you know that, you look like you're really crazy. It's a good job no-one else is here to see you acting this way, because they'd think you're loony.”
Ignoring her, I stand my ground as the pale girl stops in front of me. Looking up at her face, I bare my teeth again, but she's simply staring down at Maisie with a strange, blank expression. She's so close now, my nose is almost touching the fabric of her dress, yet I still can't smell her. That's not right. Everything has a smell, but this girl is just standing here with no odor at all.
Why doesn't Maisie notice?
Why doesn't Maisie think that this is unnatural?
“I'm still not paying you any attention,” I hear Maisie saying, followed by another plop as she continues throwing rocks into the stream. “Not until you stop being so silly.”
I keep snarling, getting louder and louder as the pale girl remains in place, and then finally – unable to hold back any longer – I start barking at her loudly.
“Hugo!” Maisie hisses. “Will you please just stop that? You're going to give me a headache!”
I barely hear a word she's saying.
Instead, all I can think is that I have to keep her safe from this strange, odorless girl. I bark as loud as I can, determined to make the pale girl look at me, but she's acting almost as if I'm not here. I know I'm not allowed to bite – I've been taught that over and over – but I'm really struggling to hold back as I try to think of some other way to make this stranger back away. It's as if she doesn't care that I'm here, as if -
Suddenly she tilts her head down.
I bark again, as her two dark, empty eyes stare down at me. There's something wrong with her eyes, as if all the skin around their edges has begun to rot away. I've seen dead things in the city, of course. Birds, mice, other animals. That's how this girl's eyes look, except that death has its own smell and even that is missing right now. Still, the sight alone is enough to make me more convinced than ever that something about this girl is very wrong. I don't care what her problem is, I don't care what happens to her at all, but there's no way I'm going to let her get any closer to Maisie. No matter what it takes, I always protect Maisie from bad things and I'd rather die than -
“Okay,” Maisie sighs, suddenly putting her hands around me and picking me up.
She turns and starts carrying me away along the path that runs at the edge of the stream.
I struggle in her arms until I can see over her shoulder, and then I immediately start barking again as I see that the pale girl is coming after us.
“When are you gonna cut that out, Hugo?” Maisie asks. “There's nothing there. You're barking at shadows!”
We're already getting quite far ahead of the girl, which is good, but I continue to bark for a couple more minutes until we're around the next bend, at which point I can no longer see the girl at all. And since she has no odor, it's as if she suddenly doesn't exist at all.
How can anyone exist without a smell?
“That's better,” Maisie says, still carrying me as we make our way along the path. “You know, Hugo, sometimes you really freak me out. Just try to stay a little calm for the next few days, okay? I know you might not like it here, but neither do I. I don't think Mum really does, either. I hope we get to go home soon. I mean back to London. If we stay out here too long, all my friends are going to forget who I am.”
As we make our way around the next corner, I keep watching to see if the pale girl is following us. I don't see her so far, but she seems quite slow so she might still be coming. After a moment, however, Maisie carries me around the bend and then sets me down, and I realize that – for now at least – we seem to be alone. Still, I can't help watching the path to check, until I hear Maisie start running.
“Come on!” she yells as she races up a grassy verge. “Hugo! Bet you can't catch me!”
I hesitate for a moment, before turning and running after her. I'm still worried about the other girl, but she seems to have fallen a long way behind and so long as we keep running we should be okay. And running is my favorite thing ever, so I hurry and quickly catch up to Maisie, and then we race across the sunny field and I quickly forget about everything else in the whole world.
Chapter Four
“I know it's supposed to be pretty,” Linda says, running her hand across the moss that covers the entire house, “but I think I've changed my mind about all this moss. Mike, would you really be upset if I got rid of it all? Or at least, if I cut it back a little?”
She breaks a clump of moss away and reaches her hand deeper.
“It's so thick, it's like the house is being suffocated. Don't you feel that?”
She pulls some more moss away, before turning and looking over at the open shed door.
“Are you even listening to me?” she calls out.
“There's so much junk in here!” he replies, and I head over to look through the door. He's on his hands and knees, pulling some old boxes out from under a bench. “When the estate agent said the previous owners had left a few things behind, he really wasn't kidding.”
The shed really smells, and I take a moment to sniff the air.
“Who lived here before us?” Maisie asks, as she uses a stick to poke the dirt on the ground.
“Oh, the house has been empty for a long time,” Linda explains.
“But why?”
“I'm not entirely sure. The estate agent told us, but I didn't really understand. Mike, did you understand?”
“All I understood was that they wanted to sell it fast,” he replies, as he takes another box out and peers inside. “That's the only reason we could afford the place. And oh, this box contains nothing but earwigs. That's nice, isn't it?”
“But if the house is so nice,” Maisie continues, “then why would someone sell it?”
“I'm sure they had their reasons,” Michael replies.
“But -”
“I think that's enough questions for now,” he adds. “I don't know the answers, Maisie. Sorry.”
“The house has so much potential,” Linda continues, still working away at the moss. “It's going to make a lovely weekend retreat. I know it's out of the way, but people are willing to pay for a B&B that's a little off the beaten track. Plus, we're not that far from town, so it's a nice base to -”
“Disgusting!” Michael gasps, as the bottom of the next box falls away and several snails and bugs drops onto his trousers. He quickly swats them away. “I'm starting to think that maybe I should just burn this shed down with all the stuff still inside.” He pulls some old blue rope out and examines it for a moment, before setting it aside. “And then salt the ground to make sure all the bugs are gone.”
Spotting movement, I turn and look back across the yard, just in time to see that the pale girl has returned. This time, however, she doesn't seem to be coming toward us. Instead, she's stopped in the shade of a twisted old tree that leans heavily at the yard's far end. I watch the girl, and she in turn seems to be watching us, but I suppose there's no need to growl so long as she doesn't come any closer.
A gentle breeze is blowing this way, however, and I sniff the air just to check whether maybe I can pick up the pale girl's scent.
Nothing.
I don't like that.
Everything – every living thing, and every dead thing too – has a scent. Having a scent is just a part of existing, yet the pale girl doesn't smell of anything. No matter which way the wind blows, no matter how close she gets, no matter how I wet my nose and concentrate...
Nothing.
“Why's that tree like that?�
� Maisie asks suddenly, and I turn to see that she's shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks toward the tree.
“I don't know, honey,” Linda says, busy chipping away more moss with her fingers. “Don't play on it, though. Not until your father's checked that it's safe.”
“Why wouldn't it be safe?”
“Well, for one thing the branches might be rotten. And then if you tried to climb up, a branch might snap under you and you'd hurtle to the ground. You wouldn't want to break an arm or a leg, would you?”
“No.”
“So stay away until your father's checked it.”
Maisie continues to watch the tree. After a moment she furrows her brow, and I turn to see that the pale girl is still over there. Even though she's a couple of hundred feet from us, I'm feeling increasingly uncomfortable and I'm starting to wonder why the others don't seem to mind. I thought this was supposed to be our home now, so why do Michael and Linda not care that someone else is here? I suppose if they're not worried, there's no need for me to be worried either, but I'm still finding it difficult to relax.
“It's a funny-looking house,” Maisie says, turning and staring up at all that moss that's growing on the walls behind us. “I wonder who lived here before us. It looks very old. I bet there were lots of people.”
“Why don't you go and take a look inside?” Linda asks. “Have you even been into the new house yet?”
“It's probably dark and smelly,” Maisie mutters.
“Why not be a little optimistic, honey?” Linda replies. “Seriously, you might be surprised. Go on inside and see what you think. I bet you'll like it!”
***
“It smells in here,” Maisie says, stepping across the hallway and looking up toward the top of the stairs. “I can smell that horrible moss, even inside.”
As I walk after her, I can't help noticing the incredible mix of scents that's filling this place. I don't smell people, or at least not any people other than Maisie and Michael and Linda. Their scents are slowly spreading around the place, but the house doesn't smell like home. Not yet. It does, however, smell like it's alive. The moss on the outside walls is inside too, even if I can't actually see it just yet. There are spores blowing through the open door, bringing a kind of pungent dampness into the house, but after a moment I notice a particularly strong scent over at the foot of the stairs.
I head closer and take an extra sniff.
I was right.
There's a small patch of that green moss stuff growing in the crack between the cracked white tiles and the first wooden step. As I lean even closer, I can smell spores drifting from the moss, and finally I sneeze and take a step back.
“Bless you,” Maisie says, before stepping around me and starting to make her way up the stairs.
I instantly bark. I don't even know why, but something about the sight of her going up toward the landing makes me feel...
I don't know why, but I'm nervous.
“What's wrong?” she asks, turning and looking down at me. “Oh Hugo, why do you look so sad?”
I wag my tail gently, hoping to make her come back to the hallway.
“Is there something here you don't like?” she continues. “Come on, it's just a house. I know it's stinky and it's out in the middle of nowhere, but we should at least take a look around.”
She taps the side of her leg, which is her sign for me to go with her.
“Come on!” she yells, before turning and running up to the top of the stairs. “Hugo! Let's take a look around!”
I immediately bark again.
“I can't hear you!” she shouts, as she disappears around the corner and vanishes from view. “Hugo! Come!”
I don't want to go up there, but I can't disobey Maisie and – besides – she's my master and it's my duty to stick with her. Despite my reticence, then, I start walking up the stairs, even though with each step I feel increasingly as if something's wrong in this house. In fact, as I get to the top, I finally understand what's worrying me, and I stop to look along the landing.
Someone's watching us.
I can hear Linda and Michael outside, and Maisie's in one of the bedrooms, but someone else is here. I look around again, confused by the sensation. I know someone's here, yet at the same time I can't see anyone. That's never happened before, not in London, but here it's a very strong feeling. I look around, expecting to see or hear something that's out of place, but the house is actually very bare.
There's no-one here on the landing, yet I can still tell that I'm being watched.
“Okay,” Maisie says as she comes out from one of the bedrooms, “it's not as bad as I thought. It's worse. There's nothing here and the smell won't go away.”
She hurries to the stairs and, as she passes, she reaches down and pats me on the back of the neck.
“I get why you're feeling sad, Hugo,” she says. “I don't like it here either.”
Chapter Five
“Okay, but this is slightly cool,” Maisie says as the basement light flickers to life. “It stinks, though.”
She steps out across the cracked concrete floor, while I stay on the bottom step of the rickety wooden staircase that leads down here. This whole room, underneath the rest of the house, smells strongly of moss and damp and rot, and I don't understand why Maisie would ever want to come down here.
I let out a faint whimper, hoping that she'll agree to go back up.
Ignoring me, she walks over to a set of old wooden shelves that are decked with abandoned paint tins and old, dusty glass bottles.
“Ugh!” she says suddenly, stepping back. “Spiders! I don't like spiders, Hugo.”
As she says that, a big spider crawls across the floor and disappears into a crack in the concrete. I can hear a faint clicking sound coming from another crack, and a moment later a fat little beetle wriggles out. I watch as the beetle scurries under another set of shelves, and then I turn to see that Maisie is approaching the largest part of the crack in the floor, where several broken sections converge to leave a muddy patch in the middle of the room. The basement is almost like being outside again, except that it's so dark. The only light comes from a small, rectangular window at the top of the far wall.
“Gross,” Maisie says, crouching down to get a closer look. “Hugo, come and see this! It's like the bottom of the whole house is open!”
She reaches over to a shelf and grabs a snapped length of wood, and then she uses the end of the wood to poke the patch of mud. A few bubbles immediately pop up to the surface, bringing an extra whiff of the bad stench.
“It's deep,” she continues, pushing the wood down until most of it has disappeared into the crack. “I hope Mum and Dad fix this soon, 'cause it's disgusting. It smells like -”
Before she can finish, the piece of wood slips from her hand and sinks into the mud, quickly disappearing and leaving no trace behind.
“Gross!” Maisie says, as I cautiously step toward the crack.
The smell is like nothing I've ever encountered before. Just pure rotten foulness, worse than any sewer grate or exposed waste pipe in London. I've sniffed dead birds that smell healthier and more normal than this disgusting basement, and after a moment I instinctively start edging back from the crack while growling quietly.
“You don't like it either, huh?” Maisie asks, getting to her feet. “Well, Dad'll have to fix it, 'cause otherwise Mum'll be really mad at him. And he's in trouble already, so he really needs to keep on her good side. I bet he'll have this fixed in no time. If he doesn't, he'll be in the dog house.”
She turns to me.
“Sorry, Hugo,” she adds. “I didn't mean to imply that dog houses are bad. But, well... I know you like sleeping on my bed.”
“Maisie!” Linda shouts upstairs. “Maisie, honey! Where are you?”
Maisie pauses, not answering immediately.
“Maisie!” Linda shouts again. “Don't make me come and find you!”
“I suppose we should go up,” Maisie tells me, not
sounding very enthusiastic. “They've probably uncovered something even grosser to show us.”
Stepping past me, she heads toward the wooden stairs, and then she starts making her way up to the door at the top.
“Come on, Hugo,” she calls back to me, “let's go somewhere that's not quite so stinky.”
I hurry after her, and it's a relief when we emerge in the hallway and Maisie swings the wooden door shut.
“There you are,” Linda says from one of the rooms. “Maisie, come and sit with us for a few minutes.”
“Ugh, why?” Maisie mutters under her breath, as she leads me through to the room where Linda and Michael have started unpacking. “I'm already bored enough.”
A lot of our stuff from London is here already. I suppose somehow it got to the house before us, and now it has to be taken out of boxes. It's strange to see items from the flat suddenly appearing in this completely different place, but I'm somewhat reassured by the scent of familiar chairs and tables. In fact, as Maisie goes over and sits on the green sofa with her parents, I take a moment to sniff an old table that used to be next to the flat's front door.
“We just wanted to tell you that this is a new start for all of us,” Linda tells Maisie, as I continue to sniff things on the floor. “That everything's going to be better from now on.”
“It really is,” Michael adds. “Maisie, I know things weren't easy in London, and I'm accepting a lot of the blame for that.” He reaches out and tousles the hair on top of her head. “Mummy and Daddy have learned from their mistakes, and we're going to start all over again here. That's exciting, if you think about it. It means we can do anything. We can look to the future, and most importantly you can grow up in a clean, safe environment with no smog and none of the bad things that are in cities. Isn't that good?”
As they continue talking to Maisie, taking it in turns to say things, I keep sniffing the various items in the room. As I do so, however, I notice two things. The first thing I notice is that the stench from the basement is wafting up between the floorboards, subtly but persistently. And the other thing I notice is that in a couple of places at the edge of the room, small patches of green moss are growing in cracks in the wall.
