To order your copy of The House Called Hadlows see our online shop, visit our Edinburgh bookshop or one of our Stockists.

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SOMEWHERE deep in the heart of the English countryside, about the turn of the century, a small thrush broke his flight and came to rest on the damp earth. Then he held his head on one side and listened to the rattle of a coach as it rumbled its way down the lane between high hedges thick with dog-roses.

If it had been able to understand human speech, it would have distinguished from the murmurings inside the carriage a conversation which ran something like this:

‘Well, I think it’s rotten of Mother and Father to choose the summer holidays to go away.’

‘Oh, Sebastian, don’t be silly. It was the only time they could go. And you know how sorry Father was about it. Do try and cheer up. You’re making me feel jolly gloomy going on like that.’

The girl who had just spoken, sighed and leaned back in her seat with the air of one less than content. She was thirteen years old, tall and quite grown-up looking for her age. This was accentuated by the sober green of her travelling cloak and the fact that her hair, which usually fell about her face in untidy brown curls, was now tied neatly in a pleat at the back of her neck. Her green eyes looked miserable.

‘Well, who are Uncle Bertram and Aunt Augusta anyway?’ continued her companion. ‘They might be really awful and we’ve got to spend three whole months with them. Oh, why did Uncle Jim’s cook have to get measles? We could have had a ripping time with them.’

‘Well, Uncle Bertram is Mother’s brother you know,’ she replied, ‘so he can’t be that bad.’

‘But she hasn’t seen him for years. And he’s much older than she is. They might be positively decrepit. We’ll have to be painfully polite all the time and wear clean clothes every day.’ His face paled at the thought of this most exquisite torture, inflicted upon nephews by their aged and simple aunts. ‘And she’ll have some repulsive lap-dog to be brushed and combed twice a day.’

Melissa couldn’t help laughing at this picture of gloom.

‘I’m sure it won’t be as bad as that. I wish you wouldn’t keep nudging me with your elbow all the time. It’s very irritating.’

‘It’s this wretched collar. It’s digging into my neck and I can hardly breathe.’

‘Oh, poor Sebastian. I knew there must be something wrong to make you so disagreeable. Let me undo the button for you. We can fasten it just before we get to the house. It might be another hour yet.’

Sebastian leaned forward and his sister unclipped the stud. Then he sat back with a sigh of relief and rubbed his aching neck.

‘Phew! Thanks, Melissa. That’s much better. I wonder why all parents have the thing about relations being much fussier about appearances than they are. Still I won’t moan any more. I don’t feel nearly so cross now that collar’s gone. Perhaps it won’t be so bad after all. And it is the country.’

‘Oh yes, look, there’s a hare!’ cried Melissa.

And both children leaned out of the carriage window to watch the elegant creature lope into the hedgerow with a flick of its black-tipped ears.

At that moment the carriage turned a sudden bend in the road and came to a standstill.

‘Oh look, Sebastian, we must be here. I say, it looks quite different from what I imagined.’

A pair of tall gates rose up before them. They were old, and rather rusty. From two stone posts on either side ran a high wall as far as the eye could see. Seated on either post was a rampant lion. Underneath the one on the left was carved the word ‘Hadlows’ and beneath the one on the right, ‘House’.

‘Hadlows House,’ murmured Melissa to herself. ‘Yes, I rather like that.’

The coachman opened the gates with some difficulty, they were obviously little used, and then the carriage passed through.

‘Good heavens! It’s enormous,’ cried Sebastian, looking at the endless acres of park and woodland which stretched to the horizon. ‘Uncle Bertram must be jolly rich. It’s funny Mother never mentioned it.’

‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Melissa. ‘It’s very overgrown, isn’t it? I mean, look how long the grass is. And those trees over there, some of them look quite dead, and yet no one has cut them down.’

They looked at the confusion of fallen tree trunks, overgrown with tendrils of ivy and grey moss, the tall thick grass, feathered and choked with daisies. Wisps of mist floated and clung to the branches of the trees.

‘I rather like it like this, though,’ said Sebastian. ‘It’s more beautiful than a cultivated garden.’

The carriage rolled on down the drive, the overhanging trees scraping the roof as they passed beneath.

‘Oh look, Melissa. A lake!’

‘Where? I can’t see it.’

‘Neither can I, now. It must be behind those trees. Good gracious, is this the house?’

The carriage drew to a standstill on a sweep of gravel and there, rising above them, was the house called Hadlows.

The children looked in silence at the mass of decaying, grey stone. And it was as if a veil was drawn away from their eyes and they passed back through time to a different age. A thousand windows looked down at them, dark, whispering of secrets. Chimneys and towers, worn by centuries of wind and rain, jostled for position on the skyline. The smooth, stone walls were patched with black ivy which grew up to the battlements. A broad flight of steps ran up to the front door which stood slightly ajar.

‘Well,’ said Sebastian, ‘I suppose we’d better go and ring the bell. There doesn’t seem to be anyone about.’

So the children climbed out of the carriage and helped the coachman to unload their luggage. Then the coachman touched his cap and drove off.

A long chain with a rusty old handle hung by the open door. Sebastian gave it a tug. Then a muffled bell began to toll deep inside the house, and a great clamour began overhead. The children craned their necks and saw a great bell swinging in the top of the tower. Then a large clock set into the wall below the battlements started to chime loudly and solemnly, and the children began to feel quite embarrassed by the noise they were causing. Quite suddenly the noise ceased and a deep hush fell over the garden. It was shattered a few seconds later by a harsh, inhuman cry.

Melissa grabbed Sebastian’s arm and Sebastian jumped.

‘Don’t clutch me like that,’ he said rather crossly. He was feeling somewhat unnerved.

‘Oh Sebastian, what was that?’ whispered Melissa, ‘it sounded dreadful.’

‘Come on, Melissa. Pull yourself together. We must look like a pair of idiots gaping on the doorstep. Someone must come now.’

And just as he said that, the door swung wide. The children hesitated for a moment and then stepped inside.

They found themselves in a large hall. It was rather dark, the only light coming from a small, round window, high up in the wall, the panes of which were stained yellow and red. A circle of gold and crimson light fell at the head of a broad flight of stone stairs, which split into two half way up, both ends vanishing into darkness. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture, but the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with dark paintings. From each one a pale, still face stared down at the children as they stood waiting in the hall which, apart from themselves, was quite empty.

‘Sebastian,’ said Melissa with an attempt at a whisper, which was difficult for the word was snatched from her lips and flung echoingly against the walls. ‘Who opened the door?’

‘Perhaps it was the wind,’ said Sebastian quietly. And his voice made a windy, rushing sound.

‘I feel quite frightened. Why hasn’t anybody come. There’s something strange about this house. It’s almost as if —’

And here she broke off, for a soft voice came whispering through the air somewhere to the left of them. ‘Welcome Sebastian and Melissa. You are wellcome.’

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To order your copy of The House Called Hadlows see our online shop, visit our Edinburgh bookshop or one of our Stockists.