Catherine Ferguson - Love Among the Treetops - A feel good holiday read for summer 2018

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

AVON

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London

SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright © Catherine Ferguson 2018

Catherine Ferguson asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008215750

Version: 2018-01-08

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Catherine Ferguson A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. AVON A division of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk Copyright © Catherine Ferguson 2018 Catherine Ferguson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © March 2018 ISBN: 9780008215750 Version: 2018-01-08

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

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Also by Catherine Ferguson

About the Author

About the Publisher

T hey’re catching up with me.

I’m trying to run faster but my heart is banging so hard it hurts, and I can’t get my breath. And now Lucy’s shouting at me to stop or else. She always makes her voice go deeper when she wants to really scare me.

Got to run faster!

The back of my leg stings where one of Lucy’s stones just hit me. I can hear her laughing with her big friend, Sophie, that she’s going to trip me up and send me flying, then they’re going to pull my hair and pinch my arms until I beg them to stop.

Joanna should have been at the school gates. She’s my cousin and she’s twelve and goes to big school, and sometimes Mum asks her to bring me home. But I waited and Joanna didn’t come so I started walking home myself. Mum will be cross if I tell her Joanna wasn’t there, so I’m not going to tell her. I don’t want Joanna to get into trouble.

Nearly home now!

If Mum’s at the kitchen window, peeling the potatoes for dinner or doing the dishes, Lucy and Sophie will slow down and act like they haven’t even noticed me. I’ll tell Mum that Joanna left me at the end of our street because she’s going to her friend Amy’s house for tea. Then Mum won’t be cross with her.

But Mum’s not at the window today and I feel sick. What if she’s got the hoover on and doesn’t hear me ringing the doorbell?

If I dodge round the corner and take the short cut to the back of my house, I might get there before they catch me. They’d never dare come after me into the garden. I’ll be safe there. I can see my treehouse now, sitting high above the fence. A few more steps and I’ll be through the garden gate and safe.

But the back gate always sticks. Please let it open for me today.

I close my eyes and push myself against it.

Yes!

I run in and slam the gate shut behind me.

Made it!

The ladder up to my treehouse is a little bit wobbly and scary sometimes but Dad says it’s perfectly safe. He knows because he made the treehouse for me himself and he’s really clever at stuff like that. He does woodwork when he has time off from selling things to farm people in our shop at the bottom of the garden.

I’m so hot. As I climb up into the sky, the whole treehouse seems to sway, the bright green summer leaves sort of shivering as I move.

I’m crouched down on the wooden floorboards now, hidden among the branches, breathing in the lovely cool leafy smells coming in through the slightly open window. I can tell it’s been raining because the woody scent seems much sharper and tickles my nose. Dad built the treehouse for me when I was just six. That’s a whole year ago now. I’ll stay here for a bit so my face isn’t red and sweaty when Mum sees me – otherwise she might guess that something bad has happened.

Slowly, I stand up and peep through the big square window, getting ready to duck down if Lucy and Sophie are there. But they’re not.

They must have gone!

My eyes are suddenly wet with tears. Lucy Slater is in my class at school and she hates me. She told everyone I smelled like a dustbin and all her friends laughed, so now they call me Stinker Wilson instead of Twilight Wilson, which is my real name.

I feel better now, although my heart is still beating fast and my legs feel funny, like they probably won’t work properly if I try to climb back down the ladder. I’ll just stay here a bit longer to make sure they’ve really gone. I could put the kettle on and have a pretend tea party for my dolls. Mum always says a cuppa makes things better.

If Lucy Slater knew I had my dolls up here, she’d think it was really funny and she’d tell everyone in my class. Like the time she told one of her fibs and said I’d had a wee in my pants in the middle of the shopping centre. It wasn’t true, but it made my face really hot when everyone pointed at me and laughed.