STACY REEVE, 16

Our house was an 18th century cottage with original wood beams and flooring, those small doorways you always associate with a quaint cottage, a wood burning fire in the living room and an renovated Aga in the kitchen. Quite the sweet little countryside cottage however it wasn’t in a remote village where the air was fresh as the rolling pastures nearby…no our cottage was in the heart of London. It seemed our cute little cottage was in the wrong location but that didn’t stop Mum buying it. She cooed and ooh-ed over the house when the estate agent man showed us round.
“It’s perfect!” she squealed.
You see she always had this secret fantasy, of settling down in the countryside with a bunch of kids, a loving husband and a wonderfully peaceful life. Yet this wasn’t the countryside, she didn’t have a bunch of kids (only me) and that loving husband? Well, he ran away with our old next door neighbour when I was younger. Mum is a person of difference; she likes to do things her own way. That’s why she made an offer on Honeysuckle Cottage (yeah quaint name to accompany it too) and the cottage was ours. We had inhabited this place for a month now and Mum had crazy ideas to turn it into perfection.
“The living room needs to be painted beige…or maybe terracotta. Yes, something warm, that sound good Jack?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t really have many creative ideas on whether a room should be painted beige or terracotta; to be frank I didn’t care.
“I’m also thinking about an extension…the loft could be made into a wonderful room, it’s just a waste of space at the moment really.”
“Have you even been up into the loft Mum?” I questioned.
“Well, no. But the previous owners say it’s lovely and spacious and has potential.”
“Right.” I didn’t really understand how a loft space could have ‘potential’.
“How about if we check it out now?” I was beginning to feel a bit curious; it was my house too after all.
“Okay. Let’s go!” She had enthusiasm in her voice; she liked it when I had the incentive to get involved, especially in ideas that concerned the cottage.

She carefully placed the ladder on edge of the loft, grabbed the torch and began to climb up the ladder. When she reached the top she gently pushed on the lid of the loft to reveal a dark, cavernous hole. She switched on the torch.

The phone rang.

“Jack please can you get that?”
I picked up the phone.
“Mum its Aunty Nicola.”
Mum scrambled down from the ladder.
“Ahh Nicola, how are you?”
She walked into her bedroom and began chatting away.
I sighed; she was going to be a long time on the phone. She was always on the phone for a long time.
I sat there for 15 minutes, got bored and decided that I would venture into the loft myself.
Climbing up the ladder, I held the torch between my teeth until I reached the top, switched it on and peered into the hole. It was a big area, Mum was right; they could make it into a decent room. Tibbles our cat had found his way to the bottom of the ladder and was purring excitedly as if he too wanted to explore. I turned and grinned at the cat and was just about to climb further into the loft when…
Someone grabbed my arm from inside the loft, hoisting me into the darkness.
I blinked. It was still dark; I had dropped his torch in the madness of it all. There was no light whatsoever. Then, a flame lit up the room and I looked towards the light source to see a man sitting staring at him. He was unshaven and rough looking. I moved towards the loft door to escape; my mouth was dry and hoarse.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the man asked.
I could feel the colour draining from my face.
“Mum!” I yelled, feeling faint.
The man had pounced on me and was using his hand to cover his mouth, muffling my please for help.
“Shh. Be quiet Jack.”
How did he know my name?
“If I take my hand away you will be quiet won’t you. Otherwise other people will pay for your actions.”
I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I presumed he meant he would hurt someone else – my Mum.
I nodded. I was shaking, and I was scared.
Where was my Mum?
As if the man knew what he was thinking he said:
“Your Mums gone out, I called her from my mobile, said something I knew she wouldn’t resist…”
He removed his hand from over my mouth.
“What? Who are you?”
“That’s not important, Jack.”
“Well how did you get here?”
“I moved in just before you moved in. Made myself at home in this loft. I’ve been sneaking around for food when you’re both out. It’s been hard timing it right. Nearly got caught yesterday…”
I thought back to the previous evening, I had heard footsteps along the landing but had put it down to my imagination, imagining things in this old cottage.
A door slammed downstairs. Someone was walking up the stairs.
There were footsteps on the ladder.
Then someone was pushing at the loft door.
Then a voice.
“Jack! Answer me, are you in here?”
It was his Mum.
I frantically scrambled free from the man and tried to crawl towards her.
“Yes I’m here…”
The man had grabbed my leg hard, his grubby fingernails digging into my flesh.
“Shhhh.” He whispered.
“Joe?” Mum sounded confused.
“Joe is that you?”
Mum put on the torch.
“What the…”
“What Mum, what?”
“Jack it’s your father.” She was as pale as a ghost.
I turned to face the man, who I did not recognise as I had not seen him in 14 years.
“Hello son.” He smirked.

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