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CHAPTER ONE

It was Cassandra who first heard it, a sort of scuffling sound, much like the patter of tiny feet coming from up there in the attic. It woke her, which surprised her somewhat, for it wasn't the sort of noise that would normally disturb one's sleep. She turned in her bed to read the time by the little illuminated clock on the bedside cabinet: 1:05 a.m. On the other side of the cabinet, in the darkened room, her younger brother slept soundly, his soft, rhythmic breathing clearly audible. There it was again, that noise, like scampering-mice! Could it be mice, she thought? Hardly. The house was spotless like a hospital; Cecilia, her mother, made doubly sure of that, working the servants Annie and Sarah off their feet, harassing them at every opportunity and, she suspected, enjoying it.

"I don't want to see a speck of dust in the rooms, especially under the beds, do you understand?" was one of her favourite sayings. "And that applies to the vacant rooms as well-no dust. I won't stand for it, do I make myself clear? And I won't stand for laziness or disobedience either-no!"

No she wouldn't stand for it, and neither would Annie. Unable to take it any more, she stormed out only yesterday, leaving Sarah to carry the load. She had liked Annie, so did Andrew, and now that she was gone, with little chance of ever seeing her again, it was anyone's guess just how long poor Sarah would hold out. The noise continued. Cassandra lay still staring up into the dark, penetrating the high ceiling with her mind's eye, visualizing the attic, where she had never ventured, and all the while the scuffling noise continued. Whatever could it be? And then from nowhere, a sudden horror enveloped her when the full realization of what it was struck home-rats! It must be rats! But how, why? What possible food could they find up there, and anyway, Cecilia knew everything and anything about this house-there were no secrets from her; so if there were rats running around in the attic, she'd know about it, wouldn't she? Maybe it's mice? This thought eased her fears a little, until she heard a loud bump, as if something had just been dropped. It was enough to make her reach out and turn on the bedside lamp, and as she did it caused her brother to stir from his sleep.
     "What's wrong, Cass?" he asked, squinting, his face contorted with sleep.
     "Shush."
     "What…what's wrong?" He sat up, almost at once, and asked again, "What's wrong, Cass, what's wrong?" That was when he noticed his teddy in the dim light, lying on the polished floorboards between the two beds. He reached down and managed to pick it up. "What is it?" he asked again, as he placed his teddy inside the blankets.
     "Will you be quiet, Andrew." She whispered the words back at him; he sensed immediately that all was not right, that something unseen was happening, and it frightened him.
     "Is Aunt Martha still here?" There was a whingeing concern in his voice, bordering on fear, and Cassandra knew that if she showed that she was just as concerned, then he would start to cry, and probably not stop until Aunt Martha came up the stairs wanting to know what all the fuss was about. But unknown to them their Aunt Martha was not home. She had waited until they were safely tucked into bed before slipping out to meet her fiancé, which meant they were all alone.

"Is Aunt Martha still here, Cass?" he whimpered.
     "Of course she is, silly!" she whispered. "And if you don't shut up she'll come up and be very cross with you…so there!"
     A distinct sound, a thump, reverberated from the ceiling. Cassandra looked upwards.
     "Rabbits!" cried Andrew, suddenly. He jumped in the air like a jack-in-the-box. "Rabbits up there, rabbits up there!" He pointed at the ceiling, continuing to spring up and down in the bed. "Rabbits, Cass, rabbits. Hurrah!"
     She looked across at him, tossing himself about, his blue pyjamas falling off him, clapping his hands, free from fear and alarm. Cecilia once told her children were like that; one minute crying, the next happy; and Andrew was no different. Of course she was different, almost grown up, and almost sixteen now, and for as long as she could remember a surrogate mother to Andrew. He was scared of the dark, like any normal small boy, so she didn't mind him sharing her bedroom, in fact she welcomed it. Naturally she didn't tell him that, or anyone else for that matter, because the truth was she also was scared of the dark. It was this house, the rooms with its high long ceilings, the spooky corridors silent like a graveyard, the cold empty atmosphere; and something else, something her young mind could not fathom-a presence of some sort. Since moving into the house about a year ago, in one of the best residential streets in Bristol, with its graceful line of Georgian terrace houses complete with black iron railings, she had felt nothing but unhappiness. This was partly due to her parents, who seemed to be continually at each other's throat. Cecilia seemed to thrive on the confrontations, always getting the better of her spouse in that screeching voice of hers, and smiling in smug satisfaction when he backed down. Three months ago, in one almighty row, he walked out and had since never returned. Cecilia refused to have his name mentioned in the house, and when Andrew innocently asked one morning during breakfast when was Dad coming home, she turned on him, scolding him for ever bringing his name up in her presence. Poor Andrew. At least she found refuge at school, but Andrew, not quite five, had to endure the loneliness of the day in this cold bleak house with only Cecilia for company.

The noise continued again, like someone or something moving along the length of the attic. Andrew shrieked with delight.
     "Ra-bbits…ra-bbits…ra-bbits!" he sang out in a chant, as he continued to bounce up and down, his bed a veritable trampoline.
     She smiled. She knew why he thought there were rabbits up there. It was because of their previous house, and the people who lived two doors down. They had found rabbits in the attic, that is, the children of the house had found rabbits-two of them, and their parents did not like it. Truth was they had bought the rabbits from a pet shop, and kept them in the attic until they were discovered. Cecilia used the story as a reminder that pets of any description would not be tolerated in the household.
     "I won't stand for it, you understand? Won't have animal fur or whatever else they leave behind in my house. I have enough on my hands cleaning up after you lot without being at the beck and call of some wretched vermin-ridden creature."

Andrew stopped jumping. "We can have one each Cass, you and me-one each," he said, excitedly. "But don't tell Cecilia, ‘cause she'll throw them away."
     Cassandra didn't have the heart to tell him that there weren't any rabbits up there. He probably wouldn't have believed her if she did. She was sure it was rats, or mice, or perhaps even a squirrel for that matter. Another bumping sound echoed down. She got out of bed and stood in her baggy yellow pyjamas, her yellow hair heavily ringleted, staring silently up at the high long ceiling. Andrew joined her, landing with a resounding thump on the carpet.
     "Aunt Martha will hear you for sure," she warned. And in her heart of hearts she hoped she did.
     "Why don't you go up there and get them?" he asked.
     She shot a look at him, all wide-eyed and innocent. "Me?" She had no intention whatsoever of going ‘up there' for his sake.
     "Don't worry I'll come with you, Cass."
     Defeated by his casual demeanour, she quickly thought of a plan. She couldn't let Andrew know she was scared, but what if she made some sort of an attempt to go ‘up there' for his sake, and made enough noise in the process, surely then Aunt Martha would show herself, wouldn't she? She turned to Andrew.
     "All right, but don't start crying."
     "I won't."
     They walked to the bedroom door; Cassandra gingerly opened it. The silence of the landing cloaked in darkness greeted her. Somewhere out there at the far end of the landing was a side table, and to the right against the wall two high antique chairs, but she could barely pick them out, so suffocating was the dark.
     "Turn on the bedroom light, Cass," said Andrew, and without waiting for a reply, jumped up and hit the light switch, and at once the dark retreated. She could now see the table and chairs and, up on the ceiling, the trapdoor that led to the attic.

"Are you scared, Cass? Are you scared?"
     "Course not!" she snapped back. And to show that she wasn't, she walked boldly out onto the landing to the light switch and flicked it on, vanquishing the dark instantly.
     "See?" she scolded.
     Directly above her head was the trapdoor, which she now gazed up at.
     Andrew came out of the bedroom to stand beside her.
     "There's no noise now," she said, turning to him, hoping that he might forget all about the supposed rabbits. "They're gone. You must have frightened them with all that jumping up and down you were doing." She shrugged her shoulders to indicate it wasn't worth the effort, and as a softener added: "If you like we can have a look in the morning."
     "But Cecilia comes back in the morning, you said so, and then she'll know, and then she'll be angry with the rabbits, and then she'll kill them or something." He wailed out the words, fidgeting with his hands, distressed to the point of tears.
     She hated to see him like this, not knowing what to say, rendered helpless by her own immaturity, and compounded by frustrated anger, because she knew the only outcome was victory to him. He kept whingeing about what Cecilia would do if she found the rabbits, until finally she shouted: "All right! All right! I'll go up and get the stupid rabbits, but you'll see, there isn't any-not even one."
     "There is too," he shouted back. "I heard them, and so did you. That's why they're running around; they've got no food, and they're not stupid-rabbits are not stupid."
     Ignoring his outburst, she dragged one of the heavy high chairs into position above the trapdoor, deliberately making as much noise as possible-if that didn't wake up Aunt Martha, nothing would, she thought. She knew before she even climbed onto the chair that she would be well out of reach of grabbing the latch to bring down the door, but she had to show Andrew that her intentions were honest, that all efforts were being made for his benefit.
     "Stand back," she ordered, before mounting the chair, but first for good measure she noisily moved it about on the bare floor.
     "You'll wake Aunt Martha, so you will."
     "Shut up."
     It was now clear to Andrew, watching his sister stretch longingly towards the latch that she would never reach it.

"Well…that's that then," she said, turning to look down on him. "Can't reach it-sorry."
     "Why don't you use the stick? I know where it is-under my bed." He raced off to the bedroom to come back dragging behind him a long wooden pole with a hook at one end of it. "I saw Cecilia use this once, and she never used a chair too."
     Cassandra still standing on the chair snapped the pole from him, seething with anger, and confused why Aunt Martha had not yet shown herself. She raised the pole above her head until it rested on the latch. All she had to do now was pull and it would release. She paused.
     "Why don't you open it, Cass? Can't you open it?"
     "Shut up, will you? I'm thinking."
     "About what?"
     "None of your business."
     She was thinking, of that there was no doubt, and it was rats, rats running about the loft. Big black dirty rats with beady red eyes. She had never seen a rat before, so she imagined them to be big, big as a cat, fierce looking things ready to attack anyone they came into contact with, just like in the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Andrew noticing her reluctance to open the trapdoor, decided to help with some encouraging words.
     "Don't be scared, Cass, don't be scared. They're only rabbits, you know, only rabbits. Rabbits won't harm you."
     She turned full of anger to reply: "I'm not, silly."
     "You are too."
     "You're such a baby!" she screamed. "Just you wait I'm going to tell Cecilia all about you when she gets back. Then you'll get it. Just you wait, just you wait."
     And in the midst of yelling down at Andrew, she yanked on the pole, which caused the trapdoor to creak open; and out slid a pair of metal stepladders scraping to a halt in mid-space in front of her. For a moment she froze, staring up at the black hole, which looked like a piece of night sky devoid of stars.
     "Hurrah, hurrah!" clapped Andrew. "Now we can go up and get them."

 

Staring fearfully up at the darkness, she unhooked the steps, releasing the bottom half, sending it sliding away with a clanking thud against the bare floorboards. Where was Aunt Martha? She thought. Surely she must have heard all that. She got down from the chair, and dragged it away to one side.
     "Go up and get the rabbits, Cass! Go up and get the rabbits!"
     Andrew! It was times like this when mere words were not enough to express her unbridled anger.
     "If you don't shut up, I'll hit you with this!" she screamed. And she turned and waved the pole menacingly at him. Andrew at once back stepped away from her, rubbing the back of his hand across his nose, while pulling up his pyjama bottoms with the other. She trembled, put one foot on the bottom rung and started her climb, the pole clasped in her hand; she could use it if any rat should happen to show itself. When she was near the top, she instinctively stopped. Andrew, who was on the bottom step, sensed her fear, but thought better than to say anything. She looked up into the dark interior; it felt cold, soulless, and blacker than anything she had ever seen.
     "It's only rabbits, Cass…only rabbits," Andrew called up, encouragingly.
     She climbed higher, her nostrils filled with a musky staleness, her heart beating like a hammer against her rib cage, and her hand shaking so much she feared she might drop the pole altogether. Somewhere to the left or was it to the right was a light switch. She knew that, because she had once seen Cecilia put some old toys up here. But just where it was located she wasn't sure. She placed her hand through the dark, paralysed with fear, groping frantically around, praying that no rat came shrieking out at her, until finally she felt the familiar plastic cover of the switch, and all at once the whole attic was lit up like day. And there, but a few feet away was a sight that shook her so much that in that instant her mind could not fully comprehend its presence.

 

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