Anne Fine - Anneli the Art Hater

Anneli spread her fingers wide. Strange. Very strange. It didn’t feel like wall. It felt like wooden panelling.

Anneli put out her other hand. Using her fingertips, she traced on the wall the outline of a tiny door.

‘What’s behind there, then?’

‘Attic.’

‘It’s just the water tank, silly.’

‘Attic.’

‘It can’t be.’

Maybe it could, though. Anneli wasn’t certain. It was a door. Surely no one would go to all the trouble of putting it there unless there was something behind.

It might be just a water tank. But, then again, it might be an attic.

Only one way of finding out. Anneli made up her mind. There was no point in putting if off. All that would happen was that her imagination would have time to run riot about the dark or the cobwebs or all the awful things the door might hide. If she was ever going to open it and look, it must be now.

She scrambled out from under the bed. Seizing Josh by a leg, she pulled. He came out sliding on a rug.

‘You go on down. I’ll follow you.’

‘Tea time?’ asked Josh, ever hungry, ever hopeful.

‘Maybe,’ said Anneli vaguely. ‘Tell Jodie I’ll be along in a minute.’

Josh stayed cross-legged on the rug for a few moments, practising the message.

‘Anneli’ long in a minute.’

Then he got to his feet and pottered off towards the door.

Before he’d even gone, Anneli had dived beneath the bed again. This time she found the little door without any trouble. Her fingers tightened round the knob. She took the deepest breath.

‘Here goes,’ she told herself. ‘Here goes.’

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