Love Notes from Vinegar House by Karen Tayleur

Author:Karen Tayleur [Tayleur, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-925126-18-1
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2014-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The attic had always been out of bounds to the grandchildren. Dad told me there was nothing up there anyway, just some old stuff that nobody had bothered to throw away. But Isabella and I had spent hours imagining all kinds of things: ancient treasure maps and toys, wedding dresses and telephones with dial-up numbers. We’d even asked once or twice if we could just look and not touch anything, but Grandma Vinegar insisted that it was no place for nosey children and we’d probably just get ourselves injured or incredibly dirty. I got the feeling that the idea of dirt was the thing that affected her the most.

There were other rooms in Vinegar House locked against prying eyes, but they never held the same appeal as the attic. Mrs Skelton was the keeper of the keys. She wore them on a crocheted chain around her neck, along with another chain that held her reading glasses. This meant she had access to any of the locked doors at Vinegar House whenever she wished. Some days I’d catch a glimpse of a normally locked up room through a half-opened door as Mrs Skelton ran her duster over unused furniture or opened a window to let air into the room. Grandma Vinegar was very big on fresh air. She was always telling us to go outside and get some air into our lungs, as if the house didn’t have enough oxygen to spare.

And then one day I had my chance. It was the day after the washing line incident, as I had labelled it in my head. As I left my bedroom to go downstairs for lunch, I noticed a shaft of light at the end of the corridor where there shouldn’t have been one. I wondered if the blackbirds had made their way through to the ceiling. Mrs Skelton had been complaining that the birds had made a nest in the eaves, and that Mr Chilvers needed to find out where they were getting in and board it up. But of course, because Mrs Skelton was complaining about it, Mr Chilvers was taking his time getting around to fixing the problem.

I hurried past the bathroom door. As I walked past Rumer’s bedroom there was the faint sound of a keyboard being tapped. Further down the hall I realised that the shaft of light was spilling down the tiny flight of stairs which were usually out of bounds. The door to the attic was open. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and listened, but there were no sounds from above. Mrs Skelton must have left the door open accidentally. She was probably on her way back right now to close it. Even as I was thinking this, I climbed the stairs, the sun shaft like a beckoning finger that I couldn’t resist. The stairs were quite steep, the boards narrow as if made for tiny feet. At the top there was a small landing and the half-opened door. I pushed it fully open and walked into the forbidden space.

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