Dont go out, kids
Where did you run off to? her mother asks, surprised as Katie returns from a walk.
Katie looks into the mirror; a strand of spiderweb clings to her hair. She pulls off her jeans, and an acorn falls from a pocket. She picks it up, hurries to her room, and slips the acorn under her pillow.
Off to wash up, dearyour dads coming home soon and well have dinner, her mother says.
Katie darts into the bathroom, appetite gone. Im glued to my phonebad. Im out walkingbad again, she mutters gloomily.
Her mother, hearing the thought, calls from the kitchen, When you stroll nicely, you dont get tangled in webs!
Katie fills the tub, pours on some foam. She thinks her mothers right, but wandering alone down the street isnt exciting. She especially feels restless after overhearing two older ladies in the shop queue.
Mrs. Davenport, something spookys been in that house again! one whispers, the word that drawn out with a conspiratorial tone. Katie cant catch the other womans reply; shes distracted by the cashier.
The cashier scans Katies groceries, hands her a receipt, and leans toward the woman behind her. We should call the police!
Katie realises the cashier knows the local gossip. What police? What can they do to a ghost? someone behind Katie exclaims.
She packs her bags and leaves the shop. On the porch she sees the women gesturing wildly, still arguing about the spooky thing. Katie rolls her eyesstill the 21st century, after all and tries to forget the conversation.
That evening she steps out onto the balcony of the newly built flat. The nearby fivestorey blocks, a couple of hundred metres away, are about thirty years old, with a corner shop where the gossipladen ladies live. Katies building is still undergoing landscaping, but her windows overlook a row of tall trees, and the rumble of construction on the neighbouring tower is barely audible.
The land once slated for a park was rezoned; some trees were felled for houses, including the tower where Katies parents bought a flat. A few mature poplars remain, separating the new development from older, heritagelisted buildings that are now surrounded by a high fence.
From the balcony Katie spots the rooftops of those historic houses. Maybe it was an estate from before the war, she muses, recalling the shop talk. Probably some ghost lives therewont settle in a highrise.
She imagines a classic English spirit, perhaps a banshee, perched on a roof and lets out a mischievous chuckle.
Katie, dinners ready! her mother calls.
Katie eats, watches a film, chats with her father, then argues about school. Her parents want to move her to the nearest secondary school to avoid a long bus ride. Katie prefers her old schoolfriends, familiar faces, not wandering alone all summer.
The new school will have friends too, and youll get more sleep, her mother argues, but Katie whines until they finally send her to bed, promising to think it over.
Before sleeping she returns to the balcony, looks up at the dark canopy, and thinks she sees brief glints among the treesone, two, three flashes where shed seen the old roofs. Something seems to be signalling.
She squints, but the darkness swallows the lights again.
Katie, time for bed! her mother says.
Im going, Katie replies, lingering a few minutes longer, but sees nothing.
The next morning Katie wakes to an empty house; her parents have left for work. She sighsanother long day. She could visit her friends, but none are in townsome are at the seaside, some staying with grandparents. This year she has no one to see; moving has left her isolated.
After breakfast she steps onto the balcony again, wondering what to do. The nearby blocks no longer interest her; the wellkept streets feel far away.
She remembers the shop gossipspookyand thinks of the old house. Maybe Ill check it out, she decides, pulling on her jeans and digging out an old pair of sneakers. She slides down from the twentieth floor, the lift out of order, but she doesnt mind.
She darts around the building and heads toward the trees.
Where are you off to, love? a voice asks.
She turns. Standing behind her is a crone, her hair wild, eyes bright. Katie freezes, then shakes her head. The woman seems to grow younger in an instant.
Listen to the ladies at the shop a bit less, Katie thinks.
Where are you going? the crone repeats.
Just for a walk, Katie snaps, Is that a crime?
She rarely talks to strangers; her parents warn her about being taken, but Katie is only ten, not a child. Still, shes uneasy.
Yes, yes, just dont get lost, the woman says, looking oddly at her.
Whats love supposed to mean? Katie wonders.
I wont get lost, Katie replies, stepping onto the narrow path.
The crone watches her go, smiling.
Katie walks five metres and looks backno one is there. She pushes the thought aside and continues.
The trees close in on all sides. She looks left, then right. Earlier, from the balcony, shed seen a regular, orderly planting, but now the rows are gone. The path ahead seems to melt into the underbrush, as if the woods are swallowing her.
She remembers the shop comment, What a nuisance. She laughs at the notion of a ghost and presses on into deeper thicket. The trail thins to a barelyvisible track, as if no one has walked here for years.
A massive fallen tree blocks her waya gigantic, ancient oak. She cant climb over, and dense shrubs hug the trail on either side, making it impossible to squeeze through.
Where did these huge trees come from? Turn back? a voice seems to echo in her mind.
She decides, No, Im not scared of any ghost, day or night.
Kneeling, she crawls under a low branch, then scrambles out, shaking leaves from her jacket.
A deep, gruff voice calls, Persistent little thing The tone is amused.
She looks up. The crone stands before her, a huge black cat looming at her side.
Hello, Katie stammers, blinking.
The cat eyes her disapprovingly.
Persistent, it says.
Katie rubs her eyes; neither the woman nor the cat vanish.
Um hi, she says, nervous.
The cat hisses softly, then asks, Scary? Katie shakes her head.
The cat seems disappointed she isnt frightened, glances at the woman, and asks, What now?
The pair chat in odd snarls; the cat leaps at a tree, clawing furiously. Katie senses its anger.
She talks to the cat, Fine, be angry if you like, Im going.
The cat pauses, looks at her sideways, and asks, Really not scared?
She replies with the most cheeky tone she can muster, Not a drop.
The cat sighs, then, surprisingly, rubs its head against her. Katie strokes its huge neck.
Lets go, the cat declares, nudging her forward.
A low fence of fivemetretall timber logs blocks the way, their tops pointed like a forts battlements.
Are we on a film set? Katie jokes.
The cat snorts, Brrr, onward, and leads her along the fence.
At a gap, a few logs disappear as if melting. Katie gasps; the cat darts through, and she follows. Once through, the logs reappear, solid as before. She touches one; its a thick, ancient tree trunk. Near its base lies another acorn. She slips it into her pocket, wondering how to get back.
She asks the cat, Can you show me the way out?
The cat looks bewildered, Hmm maybe not right now.
She decides to press on, curiosity outweighing fear. The yard they cross grows dim, as if twilight has settled early, but Katie doesnt pause.
The cat brings her to a tall porch and pushes open a door. A flood of light pours out. Katie steps after it, tripping briefly, then steadies herself. The doorway is a single massive plank of oak, carved with intricate patterns.
She steps through into a spacious room lit by dozens of candles, their flames dancing on the walls. Wooden benches and a long table dominate the space, all richly carved.
Do you like it, love? a small, bearded old man asks from a corner.
Its lovely! Katie exclaims.
The cat mews, Not lying.
The old man nods, smiling. No lies here.
Katie sits at the table; plates of unfamiliar pastries appear. She places a slice of cake before her, while the cat swallows a whole pastry in a single gulp. The cake tastes of strange berries, sweet and fragrant; she washes it down with a tall goblet of warm drink, feeling completely satisfied.
The more, the better, the cat suggests, but Katie shakes her head. Thanks, Im full.
The old man chuckles, Generous. Anything you wish for?
Katie thinks of the kitten shed been promised once their new flat is ready. Id like a kitten, she says, sighing.
Just a kitten? No jewels, no exotic gowns? the old man teases.
She laughs. Just the kitten, please.
He nods. Very well, a kitten for you. He gestures to the cat, who, after finishing a bite, leaps onto the doorway, pushing it open.
Katie steps through, feeling the cold night air. She finds herself on a path illuminated by moonlight. Beyond a line of trees, her house appears. She turns, but the cat and the old man have vanished.
She rubs her lips, tasting the lingering berry drink, and feels the acorn in her pocket. She sighes and walks home.
Later, a doorbell rings. She rushes from the bathtub, thrilled. Dads home! she cries, wrapping a towel around herself and slipping into a fluffy robe.
Sweetie, look what Ive got for you, her father says, holding out a ginger kitten with bright eyes.
Ill call him Buster! Katie declares, cradling the tiny cat.
She spends the evening playing with Buster, who behaves as if hes always lived in the flatexploring rooms, sipping milk, curling up on her pillow. When bedtime comes, Buster hops onto the pillow, purring loudly.
Good night, Katie, he seems to say.
Good night, Mum, Katie whispers as the bedroom door clicks shut. Buster continues to purr.
She drifts off, hearing a soft voice in her dream: Dont lose the acorn
