Sarah Lean - Duckling Days

“We’ll have to look around the house as carefully as we did in the garden yesterday, and then maybe we’ll be able to see what we’re waiting for.”

They started with the kitchen, looking up and down and around. This was the only room they had used properly right from the start, so there wasn’t much to discover here. Outside the kitchen was a tall, empty hall, with two rooms either side. One was small and empty. The other was much larger and led into the conservatory. All the walls had been plastered smooth and painted white, the cobwebs dusted away. Holly’s paws didn’t make a sound, but Tiger’s footsteps echoed off the bare floorboards, making the house sound very empty.

“Where’s all May Days’s furniture and carpets and pictures, Holly?” said Tiger.

In the conservatory, May Days grew tropical flowers in pots, tall and bushy, climbing up supports and across the glass roof. When the flowers bloomed, it was the only colourful room in the house.

“I expect all these flowers grow in Africa too,” Tiger said to Holly, thinking of how long May Days had lived in Africa and the things she must have got used to seeing.

With their eyes alert for any movement, just like they had been in the garden the previous day, they spotted a woodlouse crawling past one of the pots. Tiger crouched down and held out a finger to it. The woodlouse wiggled its antennae and then climbed on.

“It must feel like a huge jungle in here to a woodlouse,” said Tiger as the cat gave it a good sniff. Tiger let the woodlouse ripple off her finger and back on to the floor. She decided to keep it company for a while in case it felt lonely.

There was a small pile of loose bricks in the corner of the conservatory that the builders had left, and Tiger stacked them into a little house shape.

“There you are – you can move in,” said Tiger to the woodlouse, pushing dry leaves in to make a carpet. “It will be much nicer than living under a pot.”

Once the woodlouse had settled into its new home, Tiger and Holly went upstairs. There were four bedrooms and the largest had a fireplace, a sink and a huge cupboard in the wall. The bedroom opposite was the smallest, but, even so, it was much bigger than Tiger’s bedroom at home. There was no furniture up here either.

Tiger thought things over. The chimneys at Willowgate that had once been wonky were now straight, and the plumbing didn’t gurgle or thump any more. There had been mushrooms growing around the bath, but now it was scrubbed clean. The only thing that didn’t seem finished was the smallest bedroom. Floorboards were up and the electrician was coming later to finish the last bit of wiring.

“That must be what it is, Holly. When this room is done, the house will be ready,” said Tiger, pleased at what they had discovered by looking carefully.

Tiger and Holly stood in the doorway of the smallest bedroom. The window looked out over the great gardens of Willowgate. The April sunshine streamed in, and Tiger longed to have what May Days had once promised – her own bedroom inside the house.

Tiger skipped down the stairs, with Holly following, excited at the thought that they could soon move into the house properly. Her grandmother was talking on the telephone in the hall. Tiger leaned over the banister, waiting for May Days to finish before she asked if the small room could be hers. But then she heard something that filled her tummy with a horrible feeling.

“We have so much to catch up on. I’ve missed you terribly, Grace,” May Days said into the phone. “I can’t wait to see you on Sunday.”

Grace lived in Africa and was a dear friend of May Days. They had known each other for years and had worked on the wildlife reserve together. Tiger was returning home on Saturday and then …

Did this mean May Days was planning to go back to live in Africa again? Was that why she had no furniture and was in no hurry to move into the house? And was it why she’d wanted Tiger to see the swallow nests – to show her how the birds had two homes, one here, and one in Africa? Tiger’s shoulders sagged and a lump formed in her throat.

“What are we going to do?” Tiger sniffed, clinging to Holly.

Tiger didn’t want to talk to May Days about her leaving – it was too hard. She crept down the last few stairs and tiptoed along the hallway behind May Days, and out through the front door. She needed to think … She had to find a way of making her grandmother want to stay at Willowgate for good.

Tiger sat on the lawn cuddling Holly and gazing up at the house. Apart from all the animals that visited and lived in the gardens, Willowgate had been unoccupied for years and years until May Days had bought it. Over the last year, builders, plumbers and all sorts of people had come to help repair the house. But hardly anyone came now it was almost finished, and it suddenly seemed very quiet and deserted, especially with Tom and Grumps away on holiday. With its wide porch, large windows and long welcoming drive, it looked like it was inviting people in. But the house that Tiger loved now seemed as hollow as an empty shell.

“Poor old house,” Tiger whispered in Holly’s twitching ear. “It will be all by itself again soon.”

Maybe May Days was planning to spend half the time in Africa and half of it at Willowgate, like the swallows? Or worse – much, much worse – what if May Days decided she preferred living in Africa and didn’t come back? Tiger hadn’t had her grandmother around until she was nine years old, and they had grown close over the last year. Tiger couldn’t imagine her life now without May Days in it. But, back in Africa, Grace must miss May Days too. It bothered Tiger terribly that people who were so fond of each other had to live so far apart.

Tiger went back inside the house, trudged up the stairs and into the empty bedroom she wished was hers. Her heart sank as she thought that May Days might never have intended to stay for long. She curled up on the windowsill and, feeling lonely without Tom to talk to, told Holly her troubles. Holly was a good listener and particularly generous with soft, warm cuddles. But Tiger missed having her friend around. It wasn’t that Tom knew all the answers, but he always had good ideas, and it was nice to have someone to rely on and ask for help.

Tiger was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of a vehicle on the gravel drive and looked out of the window. A small blue van had arrived with the name MR SPARK painted on the side in jazzy white letters. A man got out and walked into the house. Tiger soon heard him speaking to May Days, followed by the stomp of work boots on the bare stairs.

“Hello,” said Tiger, when the electrician appeared in the doorway. “Mind the holes,” she warned, and he tiptoed carefully across the gaps in the floorboards.

“You must be Tiger,” said Mr Spark. “Your grandmother talks about you all the time.”

Tiger smiled, even though she was sad inside. One thing she had learned from May Days was that it was better to do something useful than sit around worrying.

“Can I help you?” Tiger said, kneeling carefully on the firm floorboards beside Mr Spark. “I need something to do.”

Mr Spark was happy to have an assistant to pass him things from his toolbox. Tiger concentrated on learning what some of the tools were called.