time to
ask about who lived there.
Sarah blew her nose again and continued. ‘We didn’t have children because he said that would kill off his creative spirit. He said that running Sarakai Books was enough of a
distraction. I would have loved to have children. Came pretty close to persuading him once, but I respected his creativity. Kai’s art comes first . . .’
The cereal turned to sawdust in my mouth. What could I say? I’d never seen an adult in this state before. My brain flapped around like a goldfish out of water until it came up with,
‘Has he got someone else?’
My dad had left us for his PA before marrying a librarian called – I kid you not – Foxy. It was difficult at first, but now Mum’s happy and Dad’s happy. We get two
dinners at Christmas. Result all round.
Sarah smiled at me. ‘It’s nothing as clichéd as that! I’m sure he’ll come back. He never misses the Netherby Festival. He’s always such a big hit
there.’
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘You’ve never heard of the Netherby Festival? What does my sister talk to you about? It’s only one of the most famous alternative festivals in the country. It takes
place on the August bank holiday in the grounds of Netherby Hall. It’s amazing. You’ll have to go.’
I grunted unenthusiastically. I wasn’t planning on sticking around that long. I was hoping to be back in London within the next couple of weeks.
Sarah sprang up and punched the air. ‘What we need is some positive action!’ she declared. ‘When do we want it? NOW!’
We spent the rest of the morning hacking away at the weeds. After about an hour I ‘casually’ asked, ‘What are the people next door like?’
‘I’ve been really lucky with my neighbours. This terrace was originally built to house farm labourers so they are quite small and close together. Mr Gordon lives on that side, but he
only uses the cottage at weekends. Evie Winthrope lives on the other side, but she’s off on another of her jaunts to Africa so she’s rented out her place to some college students for
the summer. Freddie and Charlie live there at the moment. They’re fun. The only thing they take seriously is their music. They are an anti-folk band.’
I had no idea what anti-folk was, but I just nodded my head. I wondered which one, Charlie or Freddie, I’d already seen. They might turn out to be company for the short time I was here in
this weird summer.
At around twelve the sun was really beating down on us so we stopped working.
‘Is there anything else I can do?’ I asked.
Sarah tugged at her hair and said, ‘You could go to Greater Netherby and open the shop up for me. The float is hidden in the old toffee tin under the counter and all the books are priced
up. I’ll join you later. Saturday is my busiest day.’ She handed me a large set of keys and explained which ones opened what.
Mum never let me go to the shops without a list and strict instructions to give her all the change back. Was Sarah really asking me to run her shop for the day?
I felt the weight of the keys in my hand and I didn’t say a word. At least I was being taken seriously.
Chapter Four
G reater Netherby was only a ten-minute walk from Little Netherby. It had one charity shop, a café, a
chemist’s, hairdresser’s and the bookshop, which was tucked away on the corner at the bottom of the street, with just a small, hand-carved sign that said: Sarakai Second-hand
Books. Blink and you’d miss it.
I fiddled with the keys to find the right one, trying to recall Sarah’s instructions. As I struggled with the door I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, as if a hundred pairs
of eyes were watching me. The curtain in the hairdresser’s window opposite twitched and two old ladies walked out of the charity shop to take a good long look at me before doubling back into
the shop. This was not like London, where people don’t care to know your business. Here, a stranger unlocking the
ask about who lived there.
Sarah blew her nose again and continued. ‘We didn’t have children because he said that would kill off his creative spirit. He said that running Sarakai Books was enough of a
distraction. I would have loved to have children. Came pretty close to persuading him once, but I respected his creativity. Kai’s art comes first . . .’
The cereal turned to sawdust in my mouth. What could I say? I’d never seen an adult in this state before. My brain flapped around like a goldfish out of water until it came up with,
‘Has he got someone else?’
My dad had left us for his PA before marrying a librarian called – I kid you not – Foxy. It was difficult at first, but now Mum’s happy and Dad’s happy. We get two
dinners at Christmas. Result all round.
Sarah smiled at me. ‘It’s nothing as clichéd as that! I’m sure he’ll come back. He never misses the Netherby Festival. He’s always such a big hit
there.’
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘You’ve never heard of the Netherby Festival? What does my sister talk to you about? It’s only one of the most famous alternative festivals in the country. It takes
place on the August bank holiday in the grounds of Netherby Hall. It’s amazing. You’ll have to go.’
I grunted unenthusiastically. I wasn’t planning on sticking around that long. I was hoping to be back in London within the next couple of weeks.
Sarah sprang up and punched the air. ‘What we need is some positive action!’ she declared. ‘When do we want it? NOW!’
We spent the rest of the morning hacking away at the weeds. After about an hour I ‘casually’ asked, ‘What are the people next door like?’
‘I’ve been really lucky with my neighbours. This terrace was originally built to house farm labourers so they are quite small and close together. Mr Gordon lives on that side, but he
only uses the cottage at weekends. Evie Winthrope lives on the other side, but she’s off on another of her jaunts to Africa so she’s rented out her place to some college students for
the summer. Freddie and Charlie live there at the moment. They’re fun. The only thing they take seriously is their music. They are an anti-folk band.’
I had no idea what anti-folk was, but I just nodded my head. I wondered which one, Charlie or Freddie, I’d already seen. They might turn out to be company for the short time I was here in
this weird summer.
At around twelve the sun was really beating down on us so we stopped working.
‘Is there anything else I can do?’ I asked.
Sarah tugged at her hair and said, ‘You could go to Greater Netherby and open the shop up for me. The float is hidden in the old toffee tin under the counter and all the books are priced
up. I’ll join you later. Saturday is my busiest day.’ She handed me a large set of keys and explained which ones opened what.
Mum never let me go to the shops without a list and strict instructions to give her all the change back. Was Sarah really asking me to run her shop for the day?
I felt the weight of the keys in my hand and I didn’t say a word. At least I was being taken seriously.
Chapter Four
G reater Netherby was only a ten-minute walk from Little Netherby. It had one charity shop, a café, a
chemist’s, hairdresser’s and the bookshop, which was tucked away on the corner at the bottom of the street, with just a small, hand-carved sign that said: Sarakai Second-hand
Books. Blink and you’d miss it.
I fiddled with the keys to find the right one, trying to recall Sarah’s instructions. As I struggled with the door I felt a prickly sensation on the back of my neck, as if a hundred pairs
of eyes were watching me. The curtain in the hairdresser’s window opposite twitched and two old ladies walked out of the charity shop to take a good long look at me before doubling back into
the shop. This was not like London, where people don’t care to know your business. Here, a stranger unlocking the
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