Chapter One
The Strange Swimming Pool
That day was not a happy one
for Ben Silverstone.
For his parents Jackie and
Steven, buying an old, crumbling little cottage on the edge of
Hulstead Village, in South East London, was a dream they had been
talking about for years, and for which he knew they had worked
extremely hard in their jobs as accountants for a company whose
name was a collection of four letters he could never remember. Not
only that, but moving from their small flat in Fulham would save
them lots of money as it had been far more expensive. He had
watched them at the dining table sometimes, while he quietly
pretended to watch television nearby, as they talked with worried
frowns about the bills, and was at least pleased that they seemed
to be in a safer financial position now. He could see a weight had
lifted from their shoulders, and hadn’t seen them stop smiling
since they had bought the house four months ago, even in spite of
all the mountain of paperwork he had seen them working through.
For his little brother Toby,
the house would be a treasure trove to explore and play in,
especially the little patch of garden at the back of the property,
sandwiched between the enormous castle-like properties on either
side of them. Once it had some grass in it that was. Right now it
needed all the rubbish cleaned away, and probably also to have an
exterminator come to get rid of any rats likely to be hiding in it,
Ben thought. But Toby was more amused by all the brown cardboard
packing boxes than anything else at the moment anyway.
As for Paddy, Ben’s grey and
white whippet, he sat directly in front of Ben, head tilting to one
side, and then to the other, as if looking at Ben from a different
angle would enable him to find a smile somewhere within his gloomy
expression. That was his default pose for trying to cheer Ben up,
and usually worked wonders. They had found Paddy in Battersea Dogs
Home when Ben had been about Toby’s age, and Paddy had been
attached to Ben ever since. The staff had said he’d been found in
the river at night by a police boat, somehow managing to keep his
head above water long enough for them to drag him out and dry him
off. Ben could understand his dislike of being washed in water. He
obliged him with a scratch behind the ear and watched the skinny
little dog tremble with delight.
For Ben though, there was a lot
of change happening all at the same time. Not only had he just
moved from where he’d spent almost all of his eleven years of life
so far in to a dilapidated old house, he was starting at the even
older secondary school in the village in a few weeks time. His
parents had reassured him things would be absolutely fine once he
had settled in, but he was used to the way things had been back in
Fulham, and quite comfortable there, and also much preferred modern
things anyway. He liked things that were clean, and worked reliably
and easily. He didn’t know very much about oddly shaped,
disintegrating things with dark holes and strange smells, and they
made him a bit uncomfortable. As he stared blankly at Paddy he felt
a dull ache in his chest forming, which he thought must have been
all of the feelings he had about these changes compressed tightly
into one spot. Maybe he was just hungry.
His mother called him for
dinner. They ate fish fingers and peas from the local supermarket
that Ben’s mother had cooked on a camping stove, on a table of
boxes, by candlelight.
“We’ll get the electricity and
gas turned on tomorrow hopefully,” his father said, as he walked in
from what was going to be their bedroom, putting his phone down on
another of the boxes. The truck his parents had hired to move was
still half full outside, and Ben wondered if there was enough room
in the tiny house for all their contents or whether they might end
up having to just pile up all of the things they didn’t have space
for into one of the rooms all the way to the ceiling, and squeeze
the door closed
The Strange Swimming Pool
That day was not a happy one
for Ben Silverstone.
For his parents Jackie and
Steven, buying an old, crumbling little cottage on the edge of
Hulstead Village, in South East London, was a dream they had been
talking about for years, and for which he knew they had worked
extremely hard in their jobs as accountants for a company whose
name was a collection of four letters he could never remember. Not
only that, but moving from their small flat in Fulham would save
them lots of money as it had been far more expensive. He had
watched them at the dining table sometimes, while he quietly
pretended to watch television nearby, as they talked with worried
frowns about the bills, and was at least pleased that they seemed
to be in a safer financial position now. He could see a weight had
lifted from their shoulders, and hadn’t seen them stop smiling
since they had bought the house four months ago, even in spite of
all the mountain of paperwork he had seen them working through.
For his little brother Toby,
the house would be a treasure trove to explore and play in,
especially the little patch of garden at the back of the property,
sandwiched between the enormous castle-like properties on either
side of them. Once it had some grass in it that was. Right now it
needed all the rubbish cleaned away, and probably also to have an
exterminator come to get rid of any rats likely to be hiding in it,
Ben thought. But Toby was more amused by all the brown cardboard
packing boxes than anything else at the moment anyway.
As for Paddy, Ben’s grey and
white whippet, he sat directly in front of Ben, head tilting to one
side, and then to the other, as if looking at Ben from a different
angle would enable him to find a smile somewhere within his gloomy
expression. That was his default pose for trying to cheer Ben up,
and usually worked wonders. They had found Paddy in Battersea Dogs
Home when Ben had been about Toby’s age, and Paddy had been
attached to Ben ever since. The staff had said he’d been found in
the river at night by a police boat, somehow managing to keep his
head above water long enough for them to drag him out and dry him
off. Ben could understand his dislike of being washed in water. He
obliged him with a scratch behind the ear and watched the skinny
little dog tremble with delight.
For Ben though, there was a lot
of change happening all at the same time. Not only had he just
moved from where he’d spent almost all of his eleven years of life
so far in to a dilapidated old house, he was starting at the even
older secondary school in the village in a few weeks time. His
parents had reassured him things would be absolutely fine once he
had settled in, but he was used to the way things had been back in
Fulham, and quite comfortable there, and also much preferred modern
things anyway. He liked things that were clean, and worked reliably
and easily. He didn’t know very much about oddly shaped,
disintegrating things with dark holes and strange smells, and they
made him a bit uncomfortable. As he stared blankly at Paddy he felt
a dull ache in his chest forming, which he thought must have been
all of the feelings he had about these changes compressed tightly
into one spot. Maybe he was just hungry.
His mother called him for
dinner. They ate fish fingers and peas from the local supermarket
that Ben’s mother had cooked on a camping stove, on a table of
boxes, by candlelight.
“We’ll get the electricity and
gas turned on tomorrow hopefully,” his father said, as he walked in
from what was going to be their bedroom, putting his phone down on
another of the boxes. The truck his parents had hired to move was
still half full outside, and Ben wondered if there was enough room
in the tiny house for all their contents or whether they might end
up having to just pile up all of the things they didn’t have space
for into one of the rooms all the way to the ceiling, and squeeze
the door closed
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