Katy Parker and the House that Cried (6 page)

Katy glanced nervously down at the watch on her wrist. Her eyes widened in shock. This couldn't be happening . . . the watch must be wrong. She quickly tried to hide both her panic and the watch from Patrick but she wasn't fast enough.

“Show me,” he demanded.

Reluctantly, Katy turned the watch face towards him. Patrick's mouth fell wide open and he looked at Katy. His face had gone pale and his voice began to shake as he spoke. “That's impossible. I just set it to today's date. Why does it say 12
^th
April, 1942? That's the same date the radio announcer just said, isn't it? What's happening Katy?”

“I don't know. It must be some sort of joke programme, you know, like an April Fool,” Katy replied, squeezing his hand in an attempt to reassure him.

Feeling agitated, she jumped up and walked over to the window to see if she could spot Charlie making his way back over to tidy up. The scene outside looked much the same, yet Katy had a nagging feeling that something was not quite right. What could it be?

Her fears were soon confirmed by Patrick, who joined her at the window. “Look at the cars, Katy. People don't drive cars like that anymore; cars like that are kept in museums.”

Katy looked down the street at the cars. “They do look strange. What's going on? Maybe it's just an old car rally.”

“But the gardens are different too,” replied Patrick, sounding increasingly panicked. “Most of them had been paved over for parking cars, but look at them now. They look like vegetable gardens.”

“You're right. But there must some reasonable – ” began Katy nervously but Patrick cut her off.

“The street lamps are all wrong too, they look like gaslights.” Patrick began to tremble with fear and reached out, gripping Katy's arm tightly.

A sinking feeling began to build in the pit of Katy's churning stomach as she took a moment to consider Patrick's observations. It was only then that she caught sight of the calendar on the wall. The page had previously said May 15
^th
, 1942. Now it read April 12
^th
, 1942. This date was also circled boldly in red. Katy stepped towards it in order to read the writing scrawled underneath.

Evacuees Katy and Patrick Parker arrive at station at six o'clock. Pick up.

Katy opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She stared at her brother, frozen to the spot. What on earth had happened while they were asleep?

 

Chapter 4

What Next?

Katy reached out, pulling Patrick closer. She desperately wanted to leave the house but was terrified of what she might find outside. With no other option available, they both ran quickly to the front door and flung it open. Once outside, they paused for a moment to breathe, before running and stumbling down the garden path towards the front gate where they stopped once more. What would they do now? Where could they go?

Before they had time to consider any further, the garden gate swung open and through it burst a small girl, holding the hand of a breathless, fair-haired
woman. Both looked familiar to Katy. An icy shiver ran down her back as she realised they were the people she had seen in Charlie's photograph – Mrs Graham and her daughter Susie. Mrs Graham looked older than she had in the portrait on the landing but it was definitely her. What was going on? How could they be here now? Living and breathing?

“Well, there you are!” said Mrs Graham, a large welcoming smile lighting up her face.

“You must be Katy and Patrick. I've just been to the station to collect you. This is my daughter, Susie. Say hello, Susie.”

Susie smiled shyly, giving them a little wave. “I'm almost four. My birthday is next month,” she whispered before swiftly hiding behind her mum's skirt. All that could be seen of her was a pair of enormous blue eyes peeking out at them, framed by a fluffy halo of white–blonde hair.

Katy and Patrick stared in stupefied silence, unable to respond. Katy's thoughts raced. Was it possible? Had they really travelled back in time to the 1940s? Katy stared at her brother and could see he was thinking the same thing. After a long pause, Patrick cleared his throat and stepped forward, holding out his hand to Mrs Graham.

“Yes. Hello. Sorry about that. Our train arrived early so we decided to make our own way here.”

“Oh well, you're here now. As long as you're safe and sound that's all that matters. Where's your luggage?” inquired Mrs Graham.

“It's lost. We gave our bags to the porter at King's Cross and he loaded them into the luggage compartment but when we arrived at Knutsburry they'd disappeared,” Katy said, surprising herself with her quick thinking.

She sighed with relief; all those old wartime films she'd watched with her mum would prove useful. At least she had
some
idea what life was like in the olden days.

Mrs Graham gave a long sigh and tutted. “It's not the first time. Don't worry; I've got plenty of spare clothes you can borrow until yours turn up. I expect you'll want to see your new room and settle in. Out you come, Susie,” she said, pulling the small figure out from behind her skirts.

“Take Katy and Patrick up to their room. They can freshen up and get ready for tea. The twins will be back from cricket soon.”

Staring at them curiously, Susie led Katy and Patrick into the hall and up the stairs. Everything
looked exactly the same, except newer. The air was filled with the sweet perfume of roses, which stood in jugs and vases on every available surface. The slightly stale smell had disappeared. Susie led them to the back bedroom which overlooked the garden – the same one they had dressed up in earlier that afternoon. Once she had shown them their room, Susie retreated, smiling shyly before running back downstairs to her mum. Katy shut the bedroom door firmly and sank down onto the nearest bed, speaking to Patrick in an urgent whisper.

“What's going on? This is crazy. It's impossible! I just can't believe it. What are we going to do?”

Patrick lay comfortably on the next bed with a huge grin on his face. He was no longer scared and was looking as if he was starting to enjoy every minute.

“This is awesome, Katy! We've gone back in time! I mean, I've read about this sort of thing happening in my science fiction magazines – they call it a rip in time. The idea is that you pass through it either into the future or the past but I didn't think it could happen in real life. Brilliant!”

Katy looked at him in total disbelief. “What do you mean ‘brilliant'? We're stuck in the past! Mum will be worried sick! How on earth will we get back?”

Patrick sat up and rested his head in his hands, staring silently into space, clearly giving the matter some serious consideration. Finally he spoke up. “We've just got to go along with it, play our parts as evacuees until we can work out how to reverse whatever's happened. It'll be exciting! There's a war on after all. I bet you'll get an excellent mark for your project when you hand it in with all this first-hand knowledge you're getting.”

Katy was speechless. She stared at her brother in complete disbelief. Further conversation was cut short by the voice of Mrs Graham calling up the stairs to them.
“Katy! Patrick! Come downstairs. The twins are home – tea is on the table.”

Taking a deep breath, Katy pulled open the bedroom door and slowly walked downstairs. Patrick followed behind, whistling chirpily.

In the centre of the kitchen stood a large pine table, which had been covered with a white cloth and set for tea. At the table sat two twin boys who were about twelve years old. Both had thick, wavy, blonde hair, tanned faces smothered with freckles and small, round glasses. They wore white, hand-knitted V-necked cricket jumpers with shirts underneath. They both waved as Katy and Patrick entered the
kitchen, introducing themselves as Frank and Harry.

Mrs Graham sat at one end of the table, pouring out cups of tea. At the other end sat Susie on a high stool, singing
Humpty Dumpty
loudly, happily entertaining the others. Frank, obligingly tumbling dramatically off his stool at the appropriate moment, made everyone burst into fits of laughter.

“That's enough silliness, Frank. Susie, please be quiet. What will Katy and Patrick think of us? It's like a zoo in here,” said Mrs Graham.

Susie stopped singing and sat sulkily, her bottom lip jutting out. Frank picked himself up off the floor, brushed himself down and sat back up at the table, grinning.

“There's space here next to Susie for you, Katy. Patrick, you're next to Harry,” instructed Mrs Graham, as she cut thick slices from a loaf of homemade brown bread.

“We're having eggs from our chickens,” said Susie excitedly, picking up an egg and almost dropping it.

“Poppy laid this one. She's my favourite. Mummy's cutting soldiers for me to dip into my yoke. Do you want them too?”

Frank interrupted, “Mum has even got out the fruit cake in your honour. She's been saving it for weeks.”

Katy looked at the table and her heart sank. This wasn't the sort of food she was used to eating and she didn't think she was going to like it.
I'm going to starve here
, she thought to herself as she looked at the brown bread and fruitcake.

The twins were used to the endless round of evacuees coming to stay and asked a hundred and one questions, some of which were tricky for Katy and Patrick to answer on the spot.

“What's your story then?” asked Frank. “Every evacuee has one.”

Katy looked at Patrick, unsure of what to say. Katy was shocked to see Patrick winking back at her. He quickly threw himself into the role of 1940s schoolboy. Katy noticed that he'd even picked up the old-fashioned style of speech, saying things like, “Gosh! This cake is super!” and, “This homemade bread is spiffing!” At this point Katy almost choked on her food and needed thumping on the back several times by Harry.

Patrick didn't seem stuck for something to say, as he launched into a fantastical tale of their recent past. “Our Dad is an admiral in the Royal Navy.
Frightfully important. Involved in some hush-hush, top-secret operation. Mum disappeared rather mysteriously. She speaks several languages, including French and German. We think she's working as an undercover spy and has been parachuted behind enemy lines to make contact with some important agents.”

Katy couldn't help giggling at the thought of her librarian mum as a daring spy. She shot Patrick a warning look and gave him a swift kick under the table in an attempt to shut him up. Unstoppable, he launched into another tale, describing in elaborate detail his own daring escape from Paris, just before it fell to the Nazis and how he fled to freedom by crossing the channel in a rowing boat, whilst being pursued by the enemy. Katy caught the twins exchanging incredulous looks, so decided now was the time to butt in.

“Ignore Patrick, he's got an over-active imagination. He's well known for exaggeration. Our real story is not nearly so exciting. Our mum and dad are involved in some boring routine war work and thought it would be safer to have us out of the way for a while. So here we are.”

Luckily a knock at the back door stopped the twins from asking anymore tricky questions.

“Come in,” called out Mrs Graham, and in walked another young boy who was slightly older, aged around fourteen. He was tall, with jet-black hair and large, bright blue eyes. He was dressed in cricket whites like the twins and carrying a bat under his arm. He smiled at the group and leant over to tickle Susie, who, judging by her giggles and smiles, clearly adored him. Both Katy and Patrick instantly felt that they had seen him before – those twinkling, bright blue eyes were so familiar. Puzzled, they stared at him, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.

It all became clear when Mrs Graham said, “Sit down Charlie. Help yourself to some bread. Meet Katy and Patrick, our latest evacuees.” She turned to Katy with a smile on her face, “Charlie usually turns up just as I'm putting food on the table.”

Charlie laughed good-naturedly and pulled up a chair next to Susie, whilst helping himself to bread. “Hello, you two. You've landed on your feet at Willow Dene with Mrs Graham. She always puts on a good spread at teatime, even with rationing making things so difficult.”

“That's enough, Charlie. We're just lucky to have all this space. It means we can grow our own veg and keep a few animals. Most aren't so fortunate.”

“Don't forget the bees,” said Frank.

“Mum has got two hives at the bottom of the garden. The honey comes in very handy as there's never enough sugar.”

“Like I said, you've landed on your feet here,” said Charlie.

As everyone helped themselves to more tea, the conversation around the table turned to the War and the whereabouts of Dr Graham.

“Read Daddy's letter again, Mummy. Please,” pleaded Susie.

Mrs Graham sighed as she reached across to the mantelpiece above the fire, taking down what looked like a well-read and much-loved letter. She began to read it aloud, with the children joining in with their favourite bits.

“Love to all my precious children, be good and help your mother. Your loving father.”

“Right, you heard him,” said Mrs Graham, a sadness flitting momentarily across her face, before disappearing behind a brave smile. “Harry, you're
washing up. Katy and Patrick, you can dry. Everyone does their bit here.”

“Come on, Susie. I'll read you a story,” said Charlie, picking up Susie and swinging her round and round till she squealed for him to stop.

* * * *

At half past seven that evening, Mrs Graham put down her knitting. “Come on, Charlie, off you go, anyone would think you haven't got a home to go to. Tomorrow is a big day for Katy and Patrick; they'll both be starting at their new schools.”

Patrick sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “I am rather tired you know. Train journeys always have that effect on me,” he said, with a sly glance at Katy.