Sarah's Legacy. Valerie Sherrard

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ store?” He motioned at a Petro Canada station. “I’ll swing by at three and if you’re here I’ll take you back to Newcastle. Now, whereabouts were you needing to go on Wellington?”

      Mom recited the address.

      “Just up the road a bit.” For a few seconds there was silence as Stan looked at house numbers. Then he pulled the car over, announcing, “Here we are.”

      “Thank you so very much.”

      “Don’t mention it.” He was squinting at the house we were in front of. “Say, that’s old Sarah Wentworth’s house, isn’t it?”

      “Yes, it is.” Mom stepped out of the car quickly, clearly wanting to avoid any more questions. “Thank you again.”

      “No trouble.” Stan smiled and waved as he drove away. It was only after he’d gone that we turned to really look at the house.

      A moment passed, then another. Both of our mouths had fallen open, but neither of us spoke right off. The place was enormous! Pillars stood on either side of the cement steps leading up to the door. The entrance was set back in the centre between two sections, each graced by a large bay window. Four more windows looked out from the upstairs and beyond that two smaller ones peeked out from what must have been a third floor or an attic.

      I found my voice first.

      “Are you sure this is the right place?”

      “It has to be.” Mom sounded as unconvinced as I felt. “The address is right and the man who drove us here even knew it had belonged to Aunt Sarah.”

      When I could move, I walked to the side, where a driveway led to another door on the right of the house. Beyond that entrance, there was what appeared to be another small house attached to the main one. It too had its own door.

      A sudden movement in one of the windows startled me. I jumped, thinking someone was inside and that they’d wonder what we were doing, gawking at the place. A nervous giggle escaped when I saw a furry face peering out.

      “Just a dumb old cat,” I said aloud. Then I realized that this was our cat now and I felt a bit guilty for calling it dumb. Mom wandered off around the back of the place as I stood watching the cat lick its paw and rub the side of its face.

      “Hey!” shouted a voice, tearing my attention away from the cat. “What are you doing here?”

      When I turned, I saw a boy who looked to be a few years older than me. He was staring at me in a way that suggested he thought I was some kind of criminal planning to rob the place. His tone had been so harsh that I couldn’t find my voice right away. Before I could answer, he spoke again.

      “You can’t hang around here.”

      “Says who?”

      “Says me.” He took a step forward. “I’m taking care of the place.”

      “Yeah? Well, my mother and I are the new owners,” I announced haughtily.

      “No kidding? Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” He smiled then. “I guess I sort of scared you, huh?”

      “You did not,” I denied, even though it was true he’d frightened me for a moment.

      “Anyway, I’m David Murray. We live a couple of houses down.” His head jerked to the left. I assumed that meant he lived in that direction.

      “I’m Sarah Gilmore.” Seeing Mom coming back, I added, “And this is my mother.”

      Mom put her hand out and he shook it awkwardly, introducing himself again.

      “I’ve been taking care of Sarah’s animals and checking on the place and stuff. I just came over to put out food and walk the dogs. Have you been inside yet?”

      We told him we hadn’t. He produced a key.

      “I guess you’d like to have a look around, then.” We followed him eagerly, totally unprepared for what we were about to see!

      CHAPTER FIVE

      As soon as the door swung closed behind us and David flicked on the light, three cats and a small dog appeared at his side, jumping, rubbing against his legs, and starting up a chorus of mews and barks. David went immediately into a room off the large kitchen we’d entered and started getting out cans and boxes of food.

      “Four animals,” I observed, watching as he leaned down to fill bowls that were out of my view. “No, five,” I added as a larger dog hurried by.

      “More,” Mom’s voice was barely a whisper. Her mouth was hanging open.

      She was right. Another cat ran past, then a pair of dogs followed by a final cat.

      “There can’t be nine pets,” I said finally.

      “Nine pets,” Mom echoed hollowly.

      “There are eleven, actually,” David called from the next room. “There’s a parrot — an African grey that talks named Stoolie. And, uh, there’s Rosie. She’s a skunk.”

      “A skunk,” Mom said faintly. She looked as though she might have gone into shock.

      “Yeah, Rosie is pretty much nocturnal so you don’t see her around much in the daytime. There are special instructions for her diet and stuff in a notebook here.” He opened a drawer near the sink and drew out a small coil book with a picture of a skunk pasted on the cover.

      “A skunk,” Mom said. “Eleven animals!” She repeated both things several times and then sank onto a nearby chair and stared straight ahead. I couldn’t help wondering what she thought of her great-aunt at that moment.

      “A few of them are pretty old,” David said helpfully.

      I walked to the doorway to see if, as I suspected, he was smiling. He was.

      “They’re all personalized,” he said, waving his hand toward the gobbling creatures in the room.

      “What, the cats and dogs?” I was confused.

      “No, their dishes. They each have two. One for food and one for water.” He leaned down and picked up a bowl to show me. On the side of it the word “Inky” appeared between black paw prints.

      “Don’t worry about trying to make them eat from their own dishes, though.” His smile was growing. “I just let them go to the nearest bowl.”

      I frowned. His amusement was not contagious.

      “Wait till you see downstairs.” He was actually laughing by this time. “The cats’ litter boxes are personalized too. And the skunk’s. And I might as well tell you right now that hers has to be in the same place all the time. Skunks pick out a favourite place to ‘go’ and that’s that. Hard to believe, huh?”

      He was wrong. I’d have believed just about anything right then. But for Mom, the mention of six litter boxes was too much. A gasp, followed by a short, strangled cry came out of her. It seemed to restore her, СКАЧАТЬ