Unbelievable

• Chloe Paleologos, Grade 3
• Short Story
• 2017

Unbelievable

I am lured to it. Past the fountain, splishing and splashing, past the horses, grazing and graceful, past the rose garden, sweet scented and secretive, I stumble. I barely notice the tear-stained clouds floating through the wrought iron gate and up the meandering oak-lined driveway. Like a sheep in a flock, I know not to where I am being led: Rosedale Mansion, the ancestral home of the Hetheringtons.

The house seems awake. The sun slips through the cracked window to cast an enigmatic glow on the cedar floorboards of the grand entrance hall. I lean against the wall to clear my fogged thoughts. A peculiar notion perhaps, but are the bones of the house creaking? Despite my overwhelming tension, it is easy to imagine a time gone by as I proceed; the polite chit chat of afternoon tea and gossiping ladies in the parlour; the polishing of gleaming silver and etiquette in the pantry; the squeaking of newly-oiled hinges and outdoor adventures through the back door. A girl’s smile flits in and out of my mind. Then I hear it. Although distinct it is unbelievable.

Splisssh-splasssh…splisssh-splasssh…splisssh-splasssh. I glance across at the grandfather clock, its swaying pendulum rocking left to right, left to right, left to right. A few seconds until two in the afternoon. But, no, the enchanting sound is not the ticking of the clock. Then I hear it again. Splisssh-splasssh…splisssh-splasssh… splisssh-splasssh. Then I see it: a minute fishhook. I stoop to examine it.

Immediately, I feel different: I am unsteady yet steady, distant yet close, weak-willed yet determined. And now I hear a different sound. From the lake – a desperate yelp, a desperate urgent yelp. Realisation dawns on me like the rising sun. Was a child fishing there? Did the boat capsize? Courage conquers panic. With the spirit of a warrior, I forge ahead and slip slap across to meet a swirling whirlpool of bubbles.

“I feel nauseous,” splutters Florence Hetherington.
Haul – splish – splash – bubble – gurgle – wheeze – grab – gasp – shiver – carry. Then incredibly in a flurry of shaking, coughing and water-spitting, a young girl comes back to life. She gazes up at me through her trusting eyes and nods knowingly.
“You’ll be fine now,” I reassure gently before tip-toeing towards the path.

As I saunter back down the walkway, I hear the grandfather clock striking two o’clock precisely. It is serene now. I may never understand the reason why but what I do know is that this day, I have saved the life of Florence Hetherington, the heir to the great Hetherington legacy.