Eldritch Manor Read Free Page B

about this house?”
    Willa shrugged helplessly. The little man’s energy seemed to drain away. He plunked himself down cross-legged on the walk with his frowning head in his hands. “No reputation at all. Simply unacceptable. Something must be done,” he muttered.
    â€œThere may be stories, I’ve just never heard them,” Willa offered, but he waved her away, lost in thought. She stepped around him and continued up the porch steps, taking a deep breath. Back to her plan. She was going to find out what was going on and do her best to help those dear old ladies. Miss Trang couldn’t keep them trapped in there. They’d be so glad that she’d come to rescue them.
    Willa paused at the front door. She could hear voices inside, arguing loudly. She rang the bell. The voices stopped abruptly. There was a moment of silence and then the door opened a crack. Baz peered out through the chain, just staring at her, not speaking. Willa cleared her throat.
    â€œHm. Hello. I’m ... I was here the other day. Selling newspapers?”
    Baz stared blankly at her. A long, uncomfortable moment passed. Willa felt it was now or never. She drew herself up to her full height and spoke in her best “Aunt Hattie voice,” surprising even herself. “I want to talk to you about a very, very important matter!”
    Baz pursed her lips and squinted. Willa squinted back. Finally Baz blinked. “Well ... hold on a sec.”
    She shut the door again and a great ruckus began inside — banging, a loud thumping up the stairs, more banging, whispered arguing. When all was quiet, Baz suddenly swung the door open, grabbed Willa by the arm, and yanked her inside, slamming the door after her.
    Willa stumbled into the dark hall, dropping her posters. She stooped to pick them up, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. The place smelled distinctly of cat. She followed Baz into the parlour, where someone was shouting.
    The room was dark, the sunshine blotted out by heavy red curtains. It was very old-fashioned and crazily cluttered, with leather armchairs and ottomans underfoot and a flowery sofa scuffed by cat claws. There was a fireplace, a piano, spidery plants on little end tables, a large dollhouse in the corner, ghostly white teacups on dark shelves, and doilies over the backs of the chairs. A large birdcage hung in one dark corner, housing some kind of bird, asleep with its head under its wing. More immediately, however, Belle and a distinguished old gentleman were shouting across the room at one another.
    â€œYou know-nothing pompous ass! ” Belle barked.
    â€œLoud-mouthed shrew!” the man hollered back, frowning behind tiny wire spectacles. Willa watched in alarm as Belle grabbed a teacup and hurled it at the man. He neatly deflected it with a throw cushion, sending it crashing into the piano. Baz didn’t seem to mind the ruckus. Grinning, she draped herself on the sofa with her hands folded beneath her chin.
    The man picked up a scone and lobbed it at Belle; she in turn grabbed another teacup.
    â€œStop! Stop!” Willa hollered. They turned, staring, and she felt herself blushing.
    Belle dropped the cup onto an ottoman. “We have a visitor. Behave yourself, Horace.”
    The man straightened his tie and jacket, looking very tweedy and professorial. He sat back down as Belle swivelled her wheelchair to peer at Willa. “Who are you and what do you want?”
    â€œI’m Willa. I was here the other day....” Blank look. “Selling newspapers?” Belle shrugged, tucking her blanket around her legs. Willa tried again. “You wanted me to take you to the ocean, remember?”
    At this Belle’s eyes lit up. Her face split into a grin. “Oh! and you’ve come to take me there. You dear, sweet, sweet girl!”
    â€œNo, I can’t do that, exactly....”
    Belle’s face fell into a scowl. “Well, what good are you then?” This