The Finding of Freddie Perkins (4 page)

He could almost imagine her now as a little girl, her blue eyes full of the same kind of wonder that they were full of now.

And it made him understand why his mum had gravitated towards her, happy to simply sit and listen, on those rare occasions when Granny P had visited Westgate Square Gardens.

It figured. Freddie's mum had loved stories too, and pictures, and anything that made you imagine things in your mind.

And though it made Freddie sad to remember his mum, it felt strangely safe to do so in the stillness of his heart as they sat there in the attic – which itself was a place where memories went to live.

* * *

When they got round to beginning the actual sorting it was about half past four, but it was amazing what they found in just a couple of hours.

Freddie made Granny P laugh when he tapped her on the shoulder to model how he looked in a slightly too-large-for-him top hat, and Granny P pretended to be a posh lady when she found a fox scarf and a lacy fan. They found vases, bowls, and old ugly ornaments that Granny P said might be valuable, so they put them aside to ask Dad to take them to Edinburgh to be valued.

There was even a small leather case full of old money, carefully sorted into different categories, which Granny P said straight away was the sort of collection they should keep in the family, and that she could think of no one better to look after it than him.

Freddie felt strangely proud.

They found old wooden toys, including a beautiful old rocking horse which Granny P said was hers when she was a child, and Freddie experienced a twinge of regret that he was too grown up for it. But then he laughed, because she said exactly what he was thinking, and the thought of today's Granny P sitting on the rocking horse was just so funny.

It was strangely comforting that they had thought the same thing about something they had found. They agreed it would be nice to have the rocking horse in the drawing room in place of a cabinet full of ornaments that Freddie now discovered Granny P thought were ugly too.

* * *

About an hour into the actual sorting, Freddie was sat cross-legged looking at a pile of illustrated atlases and travel books, when a muffled cry from Granny P, whose head, shoulders and arms were all buried in a huge wooden packing crate, interrupted him.

‘What did you say, Granny P?'

Granny P giggled as she emerged. ‘Sorry, Freddie. I said there's something at the bottom here that I just can't reach. It's so dark in here, I can't even see what it is.'

Freddie smiled at her. ‘Let's see if I can get it,' he said.

Together they managed somehow to lay the tall crate down, and then Freddie was able to crawl in on his hands and knees, edging forward one elbow at a time. When he'd got as far in as he could, he switched
on the torch, and blinked against the brightness it created in the small enclosed space. There was something wedged right into the corner, but even with the torch he couldn't see what it was, because it was wrapped in some kind of fabric.

Freddie felt a bit like a champion potholer, or a miner exploring for diamonds, or maybe even an archaeologist on a dig in some ancient, tomb-like passage.

It was fun being so close to getting it, but it was no good, he couldn't quite reach it…

He was beginning to edge back the way he'd come, when Granny P's voice again interrupted him.

‘Try this, Freddie. I used to play for the school, you know.' And she slid a lacrosse stick gently into the space next to him.

Freddie grasped the lacrosse stick, and edged forward once more, being careful not to bang his head on the top of the crate. He slid it out in front of him, breathless and hot by this point, and hooked it into the corner and around whatever it was that was trapped there.

‘I've got it! I've got it!' he cried, hugging it to him excitedly, and jerkily crawling back out of the cave-like
space with his treasure – the lacrosse stick left behind and forgotten.

Freddie flopped into one of the chairs and started to unwrap layer after layer of fabric, the object feeling harder and spikier in his hands as he did so, until with a flourish he uncovered it, and Granny P gasped.

‘Oh Freddie, it's beautiful!'

The teapot in his hands was heavy and ornate, and covered with a raised thistle design. On its spout were trailing leaves which they couldn't quite identify, and a small but stately bird which Granny P said was a miniature golden eagle was perched on its handle. Freddie could see from just the first glance that it must be valuable, and when Granny P showed him how to check the bottom for a hallmark, they discovered it was solid silver.

‘Wow, Granny P!' said Freddie. ‘This is amazing. It's like a genie lamp!'

‘Oh, you're right, Freddie. You'd better polish it carefully in case something magical happens.'

Of course nothing did happen when Freddie polished it, but it was fun to pretend it might, and as he sat and rubbed it clean with the silver cloth, he took to imagining what three wishes he would choose
to make, but it was so hard to choose. Well, all except one, of course.

* * *

Granny P disappeared into a dream world of her own when she found some old photographs of their family. She wanted to point out everyone she could make out to Freddie. By then, though, he was too distracted by a locked, battered chest he had found in a corner when he was looking for somewhere to temporarily display the genie teapot. But even when he finally managed to prise Granny P away from the faded brown pictures, and her colourful memories of the people in them, they couldn't get the heavy wooden lid to open. There was no key anywhere obvious, and neither of them was strong enough to force it open.

Granny P said they would ask Dad to force open the chest – that she didn't mind if it got a bit more battered in the process. They simply
had
to know what was in it.

In fact, both of them were so distracted by the mystery of the locked chest that they couldn't concentrate much more after that. They did manage to move enough stuff out of the way to clear and
bring forward a large dining table, which Granny P said would make the sorting so much easier when it was fully folded out. Tomorrow they would be all set, as they could put boxes and bags on it, and then organise things into piles in front of them.

Freddie then spotted a couple of chairs that matched the old table behind a wardrobe, and so with one final effort, they managed to squeeze them round it. With the chairs now in front of the table, they had created a proper sorting station to continue their work tomorrow.

Exhausted, they descended for supper, Granny P with the photos to pore over by the fire, and Freddie with the genie teapot tucked under his arm to put on his bedside table on the way downstairs. Granny P had said he ought to keep rubbing it every now and then just in case, and although Freddie knew that the glint in her eye was just for his benefit, he decided to go along with it. After all, it meant he could keep the teapot in his room, and somehow it did feel a little bit magical to have something like that next to your bed – even just for pretend.

After that afternoon, the routine at Willow Beck changed. Not gradually. Not with any discussion or planning. Suddenly, and dramatically. And it started with dinner that evening.

Freddie and Granny P couldn't stop talking to each other – laughing about what they had found,
and coming up with weirder and weirder ideas about what might be in the locked chest with no key.

It was slow going at first because every time Freddie said something, he had to repeat it three or four times until he was practically shouting – just so Granny P could hear it at her end of the table.

But halfway through his stew, Freddie put down his knife and fork and stood up. He moved his chair to Granny P's end of the table so they were sat close enough to talk normally and then he said, ‘Granny P, I'd like to sit here for all my meals now.'

Granny P didn't say anything. She just smiled – such a smile, it looked like it was too big for her small, wrinkled face.

And breakfast the next morning was the same. They took a long time over it because they were chatting and laughing away to each other.

Freddie couldn't understand why Granny P seemed so different all of a sudden, and so easy to talk to. Had she changed? Was she just excited about the attic? Or had she always been like this, but he had never really noticed before? It was a mystery.

But not as much of a mystery as that locked chest. Granny P said that she too had taken ages to get to
sleep last night wondering what on earth was in it. Dad had got home from work very late last night – long after Freddie had finally fallen asleep – and so they hadn't been able to get him to open the chest then.

But today was Wednesday. Dad had a day off after all his late nights and so he would be able to do it – they would know what was in the chest! Freddie was all for waking Dad straight away and marching him up to the attic immediately, in his pyjamas if necessary, so they could open the chest. And he said so. But Granny P insisted they let Dad have a lie-in after such a tiring week.

‘Freddie, here's a plan. You go up first and begin with some of those boxes of newspapers we saw in the far left gable. I need to sort a few things down here first, so you start without me. I'll let your father sleep a bit longer, take him his breakfast in bed, and then when he's feeling rested – and grateful! – bring him up to tackle the chest.'

Freddie jumped straight up. Yesterday afternoon had been amazing. And the new Granny P was super improved and really quite fun. But the idea of going up to the attic by himself was
irresistible
.

He was very practical about it. He had no notions of finding something properly magical up there – that kind of thing only happened in stories. But he might be the one who found something truly valuable. It was absolutely, practically possible – likely even – that there could be something incredible up there, given how old some of the stuff was. And if there was, he
so
wanted to be the one to find it.

Freddie heard Granny P chuckling as he sprinted out of the dining room and up to the attic. It was almost like she knew, like she'd planned it this way and found some things to do so he would have the thrill of going up alone – just like she had longed to do when she was younger. And that made Freddie laugh too.

This time the ascent to the attic was much quicker. He took every flight of stairs – even the spiral one up to the attic – two steps at a time, and by the time he reached the door into the attic, his heart was pounding from the effort and excitement of it all. Granny P had left the key in the lock, and the torch next to the door, so in no time at all he was in. He switched on the lights, surveyed the marvellous scene, and shut the door behind him.

He let out a long, happy sigh. He felt so different up here that it was like being in another world, a world where there was a possibility of good things happening again.

He puffed his chest out and tried to do his best hale and hearty pirate impression.

‘Longbeard – aargh – shiver me timbers but there's a good lot of treasure here.'

Not bad
, he thought. A bit rusty. But then, he hadn't done it for a while.

He was swaggering over to the corner to find the boxes Granny P had mentioned when suddenly a glint on the sorting table caught his eye.

He walked back towards it, suddenly reverting to the role of Freddie Perkins.

‘No way! Absolutely no way! Awesome!'

For there on the table was a key.

And something inside him simply knew it had to be
the
key. He rushed over to the chest and tried it in the lock. A perfect fit! And though it was a bit stiff from being closed for so long, the key turned. Now he could finally see what was inside.

His heart pounding, Freddie was about to open the chest when suddenly he remembered Granny P.
It wouldn't be fair to open the chest without her. He desperately wanted to look right now, but something in him was strong enough to resist. He didn't want to be unfair to his new friend – after all it was her attic, her chest, and the sorting had all been her idea.

But of course it was now impossible for him to wait until Granny P and Dad came up to the attic in their own good time. That would be unthinkable. He held the key tightly in his hand, put his clenched fist into his pocket – just to be sure there was no chance of losing the precious object – and ran all the way back down the stairs to find Granny P.

But in the hall, another thought struck him. In all that excitement he had not considered how the key had got there. Yesterday they didn't find any keys at all. Today there was a key on the table. Exactly the right key. Just there on the table. Waiting for them. Or, waiting for him, because of course he had gone up alone.

He had been
sent
up alone.

Freddie figured it out in a flash.