Bella and the Wandering House Read Free Page B

trying desperately not to fall off.
    Except it wasn’t the strangest soundbecause what came next was even stranger.

    SPLASH!
    Bella wormed her way between Mum and the doorframe, squeezing out onto the veranda.
    And then she froze.
    There was no path. There were no flowers. There was no yard.
    There were just trees and water and lakeweed. And in the middle of it – Dad, coughing and sputtering and soaked to the skin.

Six
    â€˜
Legs
? And it went to the lake?’
    Bella nodded. Grandad knew where she meant. He and Grandma used to take her there when she was little. She had always thought of it as a secret place. The park around it was so wild and scraggly and thick with trees you could almost forget you were in the city. Rabbits lived there, and lizards that stuck their tongue out when they saw you. In the lake, there were turtles and ducks and frogs that made a noise like a drumbeat.
    Grandad leaned back in his chair, leaving his vanilla slice untouched on the table. ‘Goodness. And what did your dad do?’
    Bella grinned. ‘Well, first he changed his clothes. Then he went home to get the car.’
    â€˜That’s quite a walk.’
    Bella shook her head. ‘He took his bike.’
    â€˜Ah.’
    Dad kept his bike in a corner of the games room. Mum was always telling him to put it outside but she had been glad of it today. While Dad pedalled off, she and Bella had walked up to the road, where they waited for him to come back and pick them up.
    It was so strange, looking down at the house on the shore of the lake. Bella couldn’t shake the feeling that as soon as they were out of sight, it would unfold its legs and stretch them out into the water, squeezing the cool mud through its toes.
    â€˜I suppose it got lost,’ she said.
    â€˜Maybe.’ Grandad looked thoughtful.
    â€˜Or maybe it just ran out of time.’ That was probably it. Maybe the house had wandered further than it meant to and couldn’t make itback before the sun came up.
    â€˜In any case,’ Grandad said, ‘it certainly is strange.’ He leaned toward her across the table. ‘Tell me … what does it feel like?’
    Bella told him about the gentle way the house moved. She held out her arms, showing how she kept her balance when she crossed the floor. ‘It’s a bit like being on your boat.’
    â€˜Is it really?’ Grandad raised his eyebrows. He stared past Bella at the photo on the wall.
    Bella turned to follow his gaze. It really had been a beautiful old boat. It was made of wood, which Grandad had painted a cheerful blue colour. Across the side, in curly green letters, he had written its name – the
Marianne
, after Grandma.
    â€˜My next boat will be named after you,’ he had joked when Bella was little. But there would be no next boat now.
    Bella sighed and Grandad did too. Then their eyes met and they smiled at each other. Only it wasn’t the big, cheek-splittingsmile they used to do when they were out on the boat, their skin tingling with salt and sea-spray. It was a small, quiet sort of smile, the kind you do when you have that funny mix of sadness and happiness muddled inside you.

    Grandad turned away from the window. He took a long drink of water from his glass.
    â€˜I’d love to see it,’ he said finally. ‘The house, I mean. I’d love to feel it. Like being on a boat …’
    â€˜You should come and sleep over,’ Bella said. ‘Like you do on my birthday.’
    It was something they did every year. Grandad came for her birthday dinner and then stayed overnight so he didn’t have to drive home late.
    â€˜I should,’ Grandad replied. ‘Actually, that reminds me – I’ve been working on your present.’ He pointed toward his workbench. It was covered in piles of odds and ends – chunks of wood and tiny metal balls, coiled springs in different sizes, small squares of glass. There were tools