The Finding of Freddie Perkins (8 page)

‘My dear Freddie, we are friends. We are sorting the attic together –
together
. I see how confusing it all has been and how it must have made you feel. But let me assure you I have not, nor will I in the future, play any kind of trick on you to make you feel like something more is happening than it is.

‘There are enough unexplained things in the world without us creating more, Freddie. The excitement of what is true is so much more magical than anything we could make up ourselves. I am sad that you chose to open the chest without me. But I understand that
was because you were struggling to believe that it wasn't a trick.

‘But we must believe it now, mustn't we? For we need to solve it. Someone, or something, is bringing things to our attention – we are having things found for us. And as it isn't either of us playing jokes, and it isn't your dad, the only rational explanation is that something non-rational is going on.'

Granny P paused before continuing in a firm voice, as if she needed to convince herself as well as Freddie that she really believed what she was saying.

‘Someone or something is living in the attic. Something good, because it's helping us.'

‘But that's impossible,' sniffed Freddie.

‘What other explanation can there be?'

‘Well, I don't have one. But
that
can't be what's happening. The attic has been locked all these years. No person could be living up there secretly. And no mouse or anything could know what was valuable and lift it on to the table. It's impossible that there's something in the house finding things.'

‘Irrational isn't at all the same as impossible, dear,' said Granny P, ‘you'll learn that soon, for sure. Trust me, Freddie. Something is up there, and we are going
to find out what. We must be careful though. We don't want to frighten it. I have a suspicion, in fact, and if I'm right we need to be
very
careful not to frighten it. Let me just get the right book…'

Freddie looked after her in puzzled disbelief for a moment, and then noticed that he was still holding the roses. He hadn't even needed them to convince Granny P that he was sorry. He smiled and put them down next to her plate for her to see when she returned.

But when Granny P came back into the dining room she was carrying such a large book that she couldn't see past it to notice whether there was anything new on the table.

The book smelt faintly damp and musty and its pages were soft with use and age. Granny P put it on
the table next to Freddie and opened it carefully. The title said
Creatures of Fell, Beck, Loch and Croft
in old curly writing.

‘Your grandfather was always poring over this book, Freddie! He used to tell the most amazing stories of these creatures to your father, your mother, me… in fact anyone who would listen. I think we all had different opinions about what was made up, what he might actually have seen, and what he'd simply taken from this book. But there is one that is really coming to mind for our situation.'

Granny P carefully turned to the back of the book and ran her finger down the index entries.
Badger
,
Cornish sprite
…
elf
,
fox
…
Loch Ness Monster
…
mole
… and back up until it rested on
the Fynd
.

‘That's it,' said Granny P, ‘from what I can remember, Freddie, that's it. Page 279.'

Freddie looked at her in disbelief. From a glance through the index it appeared to be a book that contained as much fantasy as fact. It was ridiculous.

Granny P turned to page 279. And there it was, an entry written in factual and scientific language about ‘the Fynd' – a creature allegedly indigenous and unique to Scotland, and very rare.

‘Very rare. Well, yes, that would make sense,' said Freddie sarcastically. ‘So rare, it lives in the head of one person who made it up, and then died hundreds of years ago by the looks of this book.'

‘Freddie,' said Granny P, ‘I have told you that this is the only rational explanation that I can think of. I agree that we shouldn't believe everything we read in books – but that also goes for serious books that act as if they know everything there is to know about the world, you know.'

Freddie pondered this for a moment. It was all like a riddle. But then, so were the mysteriously appearing items. His brain hurt a little, but with a sigh he decided he had nothing to lose from reading the entry.

* * *

Silly as the whole notion was, having read nearly seven pages on ‘the Fynd', all Freddie and Granny P could do was stare at each other in wary, silent agreement.

Freddie read the summary out loud again:

The Fynd is small, shy and generally apt to hide in cluttered places where it will not be noticed. It likes the indoors, where it is warm and dry, and where it can
surround itself with objects to sort and hide in or behind.

It likes to interact with humans, but from a distance – this interaction typically taking the form of finding and presenting objects which have been lost, or which are unknown to the humans present, but have some form of value, whether monetary or sentimental.

The Fynd's exact physical appearance is unknown since it so persistently hides itself, even when it has made its presence known to the humans it is serving. However, it is thought to have a long tail, as several partial sightings have glimpsed this sandy-coloured appendage protruding from the Fynd's hiding places.

It is thought to survive by eating small amounts of waste paper, which tend to be in plentiful supply in the places it selects as habitats.

It was discovered and named in 1601 by William Fynd.

‘Granny P?' asked Freddie. ‘Do you really think we could have a Fynd living in the attic? I mean, I can hardly believe such a thing exists. But do you honestly think they are real? Not just a silly thing someone made up?'

‘Well, I don't know, Freddie. It seems implausible. But it's the best explanation we have. How do you suppose we could find out?'

Freddie shook his head. ‘I don't know. But for now, let's not tell Dad. I'm not saying I believe it, but he
definitely
won't. So we should wait for some proper proof before we mention it to him.'

‘Good idea, Freddie,' said Granny P. ‘We mustn't jump to conclusions without evidence to back them up. After all, that's got us all into trouble recently, hasn't it?'

Granny P and Freddie sat in silence for some ten minutes, before Freddie had the idea. ‘I think we should put out some paper for it,' he said, and he grinned at Granny P.

Granny P smiled too. ‘Yes, that's a good idea. We'll put some paper out on the table in the attic and see if it disappears.'

So that was what they did.

At the end of that day's work in the attic, they left some paper out on the table. Freddie worked especially hard to choose different types of paper, and to tear them up into tiny pieces that he imagined might be more manageable for a small creature.

* * *

But first thing the next morning, when they checked before breakfast, the paper was still there. Freddie found himself oddly disappointed, and glancing across at Granny P he could tell she was feeling the same.

Then suddenly it hit him. ‘Granny P, Granny P!' he shouted in excitement, jumping up and down. ‘Of course there's no Fynd in the attic any more – it's in the
house
!'

There was a few seconds delay as Granny P caught up with that thought and put everything together…

Things in the main part of the house had started showing up the day before yesterday – the day after Freddie had left the attic door open.

‘Yes Freddie, of course! You're right,' she giggled excitedly. ‘When you left the attic door open, the Fynd must have got so excited at the chance to investigate
the rest of the house – maybe it had even found all the most valuable things up there, and knew there would be things we had lost that really mattered to us in the house. It must have come out of the attic, locked the door behind it, returned the key and then got to work. So the question is, where in the house should we try leaving the paper?'

‘Where else?' grinned Freddie. ‘The dining room!'

Freddie and Granny P were so excited that they completely forgot their own breakfast, laying out a feast of paper scraps in place of their porridge, and then creeping out and closing the door behind them.

‘How long should we leave it?' asked Freddie.

‘Well, I think it wants to be friends,' said Granny P. ‘So it might be confident to come and eat what it wants quite quickly… let's give it an hour.'

Neither Freddie nor Granny P was much good at being patient with a mystery. First one, then the other crept up to the dining room to listen against the door with a glass from the drinks cabinet in the drawing room. But they couldn't hear anything. And they certainly couldn't get on with anything else meanwhile. It was just impossible.

Freddie was getting so desperate after just twenty-five minutes that he was all for going outside, walking round the house, and peering in the dining room window, but Granny said they mustn't. They must have resolve, and a spirit of endurance.

And so, after what seemed like weeks, an hour had finally gone by and together they approached the door to the dining room. Having spent the last hour frantically wishing time forward, they were strangely hesitant at the threshold.

Granny P took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

There was just one piece of paper left on the table. A piece of newspaper carefully bitten around to leave just two words in print – ‘thank' and ‘you'.

And next to it, as if to underline its sentiment, was another key.

Granny P and Freddie looked at each other, wide-eyed and amazed.

Here it was. On the table in front of them. Proof. They had a Fynd
in their house
!

It was too wonderful to be real, but somehow it must be.

For a few moments they just kept looking at each
other, and then Granny P started to gently shake her head and say ‘No, it can't be.'

But of course it
was
.

And as the truth settled into their minds it pushed out any remaining doubts that such a thing was not possible, and first Freddie, and then Granny P, began to giggle and clap, and laugh and dance. Well, Freddie danced; Granny P sort of bobbed and smiled, but her whole body seemed lit up with delight and excitement nevertheless.

When they had got past the initial burst of excitement, they both flopped down onto the dining room chairs and marvelled again at the note, and passed the key backwards and forwards between them, imagining what it might be for. Because of course, neither of them knew. They decided to keep it safe because it looked very old, and they wondered whether perhaps it was for another chest or trunk in the attic which the Fynd wanted to make sure they could get into.

Most of the rest of that warm July day was taken up with the wonder of what or who had been discovered at Willow Beck.

Freddie and Granny P read the Fynd's entry in Grandpa P's book so many times that Freddie began to remember whole sentences from it in his head.
And just before lunch he decided it would be a good idea to make a sort of booklet of the most important points so that Granny P and he could remember them, and keep them easily to hand in one of the sideboard drawers.

Freddie was very scientific in his approach.

Now he was convinced the Fynd was real, he wanted to study it and learn as much about its habits and nature as possible. He was also secretly hoping that if he found out a lot about the Fynd, he would be able to care for it very well… and it might become friends with him, and perhaps even let him catch a glimpse of it.

Then he, Freddie Perkins – the latest in a long line of explorers – would be the first person to ever see the Fynd properly.