by Peter Wilson
“Jack?”
“Huh?” Jack mumbled sitting up and turning to his cousins.
“I asked if you wanted to play a board game,” said Rosie.
“I don’t feel like it,” he replied, just as he noticed a book sitting on the coffee table in front of him. “Is this the book you were talking about earlier? The one about the house?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Jack picked it up, feeling the weight in his hands. It was a big book, thick with 100’s of pages and a dark brown leather cover. “The Gregson Estate” was written on it in fancy silver script and as Rosie had said before there was no mention of an author. He placed the book on his lap and opened it to the contents page. There was a chapter on every room in the house. Not only that, there were chapters for each of the gardens and one called Secret Passageways. He noted the page number for the library they were sitting in, flipped open to that chapter and started reading:
The library is one of the original rooms of Gregson Manor. Designed to hold thousands of books, it was built with shelves from floor to ceiling. The designer was adamant that there be no bare walls in the room, just shelves and shelves of books surrounding the reading desks and chairs. All the wood to build the bookcases was imported….
Jack flipped the page, skipping paragraphs about the design of each and every bookcase.
There are three leather couches in the Library, imported from Italy. The larger lounge can seat two people while the other two are single pieces. The single chairs are identical, except that one has a really bad drawing of a dog on the back of it, drawn by David Gregson when he was seven years old.
“What!” exclaimed Jack, jumping up from his seat. He walked around to the back of the chair he’d been sitting on and examined it.
“What is it?” asked Rosie.
Jack didn’t reply but moved over to the other chair where David was sitting, scanning the back of the seat.
“There!” he yelled excitedly. ”A crap picture of a dog!”
“What are you talking about?” Rosie wondered, standing up.
“The book. I was reading about the library and it mentions this bad picture David drew when he was seven. And look,” he said pointing.
“That’s not possible, the book’s really old. David’s only thirteen. It must mean something else,” Rosie replied.
David stood and walked around to inspect the back of the chair. “What do they mean bad? It’s Twiggy. I even remember drawing it,” he said referring to the crude outline of their family pet.
“Give me a look,” Rosie said, grabbing the book out of Jacks hands. As she read, she kept glancing from the chair back to the book.
“You can see the ears and the nose. And that’s the tail,” continued David pointing at the chair.
“David, it’s truly awful. How anyone could look at that and see a dog is beyond me,” replied Rosie. “But how is it written in this old book? It must have been printed recently and made to look old.”
“The funny thing is, I didn’t think anyone knew about the drawing,” David said. “I figured I’d get in trouble, so I never told anyone.”
Rosie flipped through the book and came to the last page of the Library chapter. Printed there was an old black and white photograph of the room. It looked like the layout hadn’t been changed at all since the photo had been taken. All the books, tables, chairs, and rugs were arranged exactly as they were now. There was even a vase of flowers in exactly the same position on the antique table by the door. They were the same type of flowers too, in the same vase.
“No,” whispered Rosie under her breath. She dropped the book on the seat and ran over to the table, picking up the vase.
“What are you doing?” asked Jack.
Rosie carried the vase over to the writing desk and then ran back to the book. She looked at the photo, the vase was no longer on the table by the door, but rather sitting on the writing desk, exactly where she’d put it.
“Eep!” Rosie yelped, throwing the book onto the ground.
David bent over and grabbed the book and scanned through until he found the photograph.
“The flowers moved!”
“Moved?” asked Jack, confused.
“Here, hold this.” David said, shoving the book into Jacks arms. He then turned and grabbed one of the single chairs and turned it around so it was facing one of the bookcases. He walked back to Jack and pointed at the photo. “Look.”
“That’s impossible,” Jack said quietly as he looked at the photograph. The chair was now turned around facing the other way. “What the heck is going on?”
“Where did you say you found this book?” David asked as he took it back from Jack.
Rosie, who was still in shock, slowly turned her head to the boys. “It was just on the coffee table, although it wasn’t there the day before.” After a moments pause, she continued, “Maybe Alice found it when cleaning the room. I did notice she had done some dusting in here the day I found it.”
“I’ve heard the same stories you have about the door, but never about a book that keeps an up-to-date description of the house,” said Jack to Rosie.
“Me neither. You’d think something like that would be part of the great Gregson family secret.”
“Surely there’s a logical reason for all of this. I mean could the book really be magic?” Jack wondered. “Should we ask Great Uncle?”
“He’ll be down in the Gardens by now with the rest of them, and if we’re caught there we’ll never be allowed out again,” replied Rosie clearly frustrated. “I wish there was a room with a window overlooking the gardens, I bet they’re having a great time.”
“Maybe we can see them from the attic,” David called out. While Jack and Rosie had been talking, he had returned to the lounge and was laying back, the book in his lap.
“Gregson Manor doesn’t have an attic, you know that,” Rosie replied shortly.
“I’ve lived here my whole life, I know it like the back of my hand, and there’s no attic” Jack said.
“Chapter Three: The Attic” David said dramatically as he sat up and turned the open book to face them. ”Who wants to take a look?”
Chapter Three
The Attic
Jack and his cousins ran up the stairs to the third floor of the house. The library was located on the first level, so by the time they reached the top they were out of breath.
“Now where?” asked Jack panting. He knew every inch of the house yet he had no idea where the entrance to an attic he’d never heard of would be.
Rosie, who had brought the Gregson Manor book with her, opened it and began reading:
“The attic first appeared in Gregson Manor when Greg Gregson took residence of the house after his late father Richard Gregson.”
First appeared? Jack wondered what that could mean.
Rosie continued, “The attic made the entrance to its walls secret, and only appears when it’s needed or wants to look out upon the gardens.” She scanned the page she was on and flipped to the next one, skipping over strange passages about the Attics fondness for water lilies and ponds. “The attic, who was also very fond of Richard Gregson, decided to make the entrance to her walls behind the great portrait of Richard himself, in the hallway on level three.”
Jack ran down the hall, knowing the painting the book was referring to. As he came to it, he stopped and looked up at the large portrait on the wall. A very serious man looked back down at him. The painting of Richard Gregson, wearing a smart suit and a stern look had always given Jack the creeps. Growing up, he had always wondered if the man had ever smiled when he was alive, or if he had always been an angry man, without any friends. At least someone had liked him, he thought. Well not someone, an attic.
“What now?” Jack asked impatiently as Rosie and David caught up to him.
“I never liked this painting,” David declared. “He looks like a real grouch. Plus he named his son Greg. Greg Gregson. Are we going to talk about that?”
> Ignoring David, Rosie once again looked to the book for answers. After reading over the pages she looked at Jack, “it doesn’t say.”
Jack paced around the painting, peering behind it and looking for clues for what triggered the secret entrance. The painting wouldn’t budge when he pulled on it, and there appeared to be no cracks or any indication that a passageway lay behind it.
“There must be something here,” Jack said as he continued to stare at the picture on the wall. The portrait of Richard Gregson was of him standing in the library beside one of the writing desks. A pile of books was stacked on the desk, along with what looked like an iguana curled up beside them.
“That painting isn’t there anymore,” David said as he walked up to stand beside Jack.
“Which painting? The one of the pond?” replied Jack as he spied it hanging on the wall behind Richard in the portrait.
“Pond?” Asked Rosie looking up from the book.
“Yeah the pond with all the plants in it,” replied David.
“Lilies,” said Jack.
“Yeah, lilies. Anyway that painting isn’t in the library. It’s in the guest room Rosie and I are staying in.”
“I don’t think it was ever in the library,” Jack replied with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“It could have been moved to our room. It’s a very old portrait,” David argued.
“It’s hanging on a white wall. What’s one thing the library doesn’t have?” Jack asked.
“Walls!” Rosie said. “Then why is the painting there?”
“There must be a reason,” David replied.
“The book does mention the Attic has a fondness for ponds and lilies…” Rosie said, slightly embarrassed for saying the ridiculous words out loud.
“Did you hear what you just said?” David asked.
“Yes, yes. I know it sounds crazy.” Rosie looked from the portrait and around the hallway. She noticed that directly opposite the portrait was a white wall. A picture hook was driven into it at head height and there was a faint outline showing that a painting had once hung there.
“Jack, come help me,” Rosie called as she ran down the hallway towards the guest bedrooms. Jack followed, not sure what he was supposed to help her with. He turned into a bedroom to find her wrestling a painting off the wall. “It’s heavy,” she grunted as she tried to lift it. It was the painting of the pond that was in the portrait.
Jack rushed over and helped her lift it up and over the hook. “You really think this’ll work? It all sounds a bit mad don’t you reckon?”
“The whole days been a bit mad,” Rosie replied as she turned to Jack. “We both know the stories of this place. But maybe there are some we don’t know. You heard Great Uncle Peter this morning, talking about the house like it was…alive.”
Rosie shrugged it off, “Now the painting, I don’t know if it will work. The book says that the attic enjoys looking at ponds, and if the portrait is the door to the attic, why don’t we just hang this on the opposite wall and see what happens? It can’t do any harm.”
Jack shrugged, lifted his end of the painting and helped Rosie carry it back into the hallway. They reached the wall, lined the painting up so the hook was centred and lifted it. As soon as the painting was attached to the wall a slight breeze touched their backs.
“What the,” David said as he spun around. The portrait had disappeared, replaced by a flight of wooden stairs leading upwards. At the top, light could be seen. “How’d that happen?
“It must be magic,” Jack whispered as he started towards the steps, staring at the doorway that had appeared from nowhere.
“Stop!” Rosie said, grabbing his shoulder. “What if the passageway closes and we’re trapped up there?”
Jack paused, but David rushed past him and took the stairs two at a time. “Come on Rosie, it’ll be fine,” he called back.
Jack smiled, looked at Rosie and shrugged before running up the steps after his cousin. He reached the top and ran into David who stood in stunned silence. “Move out of the….” Jack said, his jaw dropping before he could finish his sentence.
“What’s going on up there?” Rosie called from the bottom of the stairs.
Neither boy replied as they stared in awe of the attic. It was one massive room, bigger than all the rooms combined on the third level of the house. Its walls and ceiling were made of glass, meaning you could see out over every garden of the manor. The ceiling was so high, Jack almost felt like he was outdoors. But what made this room truly amazing to Jack wasn’t the beautiful view of the manor grounds or the slow moving clouds gliding through the blue sky above him. It was all the stuff in it!
Hundreds of artefacts were laid out before him. Most were things Jack recognised like bikes, swords and garden pots. Other items were completely foreign to him, and then some things were normal yet amazing just for the fact they were in an attic on the forth floor of a house! Jack shook his head in wonder as he spotted at a full-sized horse carriage made of gold, which was sitting next to an underground swimming pool complete with a large slide. To the right of him a large globe of the Earth sat on a pedestal, and beyond that was an even larger globe of a planet Jack had never seen before. Everywhere he looked, another fantastic item caught his eye.
“Holy Crap!” Rosie swore from the top of the stairs. “It’s huge!”
“I know, it’s amazing,” replied Jack as he walked over to the globe of the foreign planet. It was nearly twice as large as Earth with a lot more water, he thought as he made it slowly rotate.
There were four main landmasses. The biggest one was oval in shape, completely separated from the others by a wide expanse of ocean, while a thin strip of land linked the other three as they sprawled across the planet like a rope with large roundish knots. ‘Bowlandose’ was written across the globe in large black lettering, which Jack assumed was the name of the planet.
The other major differences between Bowlandose and Earth were the colours. Where our waters were a beautiful blue, these ones were darker, colder. Also where our forests and jungles were green, these ones looked a dark shade of red. Jack wondered if people lived there and what they were like.
“That planet isn’t from the our solar system, is it?” David said excitedly from behind Jack.
“Nope, definitely not,” replied Jack.
“Awesome. Do you think it’s a real place?”
“Not sure.” Jack said as he left the globe to explore one of the many tables of artefacts. “Looking at all this other stuff, it wouldn’t surprise me,”
“Is that a swimming pool?” Rosie asked as she started walking to the other side of the room.
David laughed, “Yep! We should go get our swimmers later.”
The three of them walked in separate directions around the Attic, each exploring different areas that caught their eye. Rosie had found rows and rows of clothing, each from different periods of time. Skirts and dresses from the 1920’s were hanging next to styles she had only seen in movies set hundreds of years in the past.
Beside these racks were tables of jewellery to accompany the different eras of clothing as well as even more tables of shoes, belts and ties. Massive full-length mirrors stood at the end of each rack for anyone to view how they looked once dressed.
Meanwhile David strolled around until coming across an assortment of weapons and armour. Items were laid out on felted tables, all polished and looking like new. Great battle-axes he could barely lift sat next to small daggers in sheaths. Some were plain and silver, while others were gold with handles covered in precious green, red and blue stones.
Jack walked along the Western side of the room. He glanced out at the garden and could indeed see the rest of the family seated at the table, enjoying a massive feast of roast meat and vegetables.
He watched as they filled their plates with chicken, beef, potatoes and gravy. His tummy rumbled as he realised he hadn’t eaten all day and he found himself caught between exploring the Attic more and his nee
d to eat.
He turned around and was about to suggest they do a run to the kitchen when a table caught his eye. Unlike the others, this one was smaller and set apart from the long rows of artefacts in the room.
As he approached, he could see that unlike the others it only had one item on it, a brown leather glove. Amazing, he thought as he picked it up. In a room filled with treasures beyond his wildest dreams, a glove was definitely one of the more boring items, however he seemed drawn to it, as if it were inviting him over.
A sudden thought came to him, I should put it on. It seemed like the right thing to do, yet Jack still felt strange, like the thoughts he was having weren’t his own. Get a grip - it’s just a glove. Looks like my size too.
He shrugged and said allowed, “Just a glove” and slipped it on to his right hand.
Nothing happened. Jack smiled as he flexed his fingers in the glove. It was his size and fit well. He thought it was shame there wasn’t a second one, as he needed a new pair now that winter was on its way.
Shrugging, he began to pull it off when a voice behind him said, “You don’t suppose you could leave that on for a time?”
Jack spun around at the unfamiliar voice to see a young woman, around twenty years of age sitting in a seat before him. His jaw dropped in shock by the sudden appearance of someone he’d never seen before.
“There you go, that’s better. It’s actually more effort to take it off that it would be to leave it on don’t you think?” the woman continued as she stood and stretched.
Jack didn’t answer as he continued to stare. She was possibly the shortest woman he’d ever met, a full head shorter than him, and that included the red high heels she wore as well as her fire red hair, which was bunched up into a tower on top of her head. Her face was round with huge green eyes like pools of water. She was dressed in a very smart suit, made strange for the fact that it too was bright red.
“This one doesn’t appear to speak,” she began while walking towards Jack. “Oh dear, I must have picked the wrong one. Perhaps the fat one over there.” She leaned in close to Jack and said in a slow loud voice, “Can you please take the glove off and give it to the fat one?”
