The Secret of the Treasure Keepers by A.M. Howell

Author:A.M. Howell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Usborne Publishing Ltd

Dash stuck to Ruth’s side in the kitchen as she waited for Joe. Kneeling by the dog’s rug, Ruth tentatively stroked his silky head and ears. His tail thumped and he licked his lips, then her nose. She giggled, wiping her wet nose on her sleeve. Ruth thought of Mrs Drake and her fluffy white cat. Perhaps she and her mum could get a pet when they returned home. The thought that they would do new things together that her dad would miss out on made pockets of sadness bubble up inside her. He would be so interested to hear about the treasure discovery. If he had still been living at home, they could all have chatted about it over tea.

She glanced at the dresser cupboard where the treasure was hidden, suddenly wanting a longer look at the discovery so she could imprint the details on her mind and tell her dad about it herself. Taking the hessian bundle from the cupboard, Ruth sat at the kitchen table. Carefully unwrapping the empress pepper pot and two ladles, she examined them, letting her fingers roam over the bumps and folds of the ancient metal, marvelling that they could have been made over one thousand years ago.

The range pipes ticked and creaked. Dash suddenly growled, bared his teeth and ran to the hallway, his nails clicking on the floor tiles. Ruth looked up, the skin on her shoulders prickling. She had a sudden sensation of being watched. The window was a rectangle of black and wisps of fog grasped at the glass. Sitting quietly for a second or two, Ruth stilled her breathing, her fingers still clasped round the pepper pot. She shook herself mentally. There was no need to be afraid. Joe was outside and sure to return from finishing his tasks soon.

Dash snarled and Ruth heard his claws scratch and scrape at the front door. Was someone there? Her stomach dropped. Hurriedly wrapping the treasure, she returned it to the cupboard and closed the door.

Dash barked once more then sloped back into the kitchen and flopped onto his rug. He looked at Ruth and whined.

Ruth stood by the range, her arms folded round her middle, quietly listening to the creaks and ticks of the unfamiliar house, trying not to think how far the house was from the main road.

A few minutes later the scullery door slammed shut. Joe burst into the kitchen, his cheeks blotchy with cold. “I saw Uncle Gordon’s van going down the track. Did he come to the door?”

Ruth let out a long breath of relief that Joe had returned. “No, he didn’t.” She glanced at the window.

Joe looked at her for a long moment, then disappeared into the hallway. Ruth followed him, watching as he unlocked the front door and opened it. On the step sat a dish covered with a tea towel, steam curling from its sides.

Joe picked it up, lifted a corner of the tea towel and sniffed. “My uncle’s brought us an apple crumble,” he said with a small smile.

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