Duckling Days

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

Published in this ebook edition in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

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www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text copyright © Sarah Lean 2018

Illustrations copyright © Anna Currey 2018

Cover illustration © Polly Noakes 2018

Cover hand-lettering type © Anneka Sandher

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2018

Sarah Lean and Anna Currey assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator respectively of the work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008165772

Ebook Edition © 2018 ISBN: 9780008165789

Version: 2018-01-08

For Hazel and Lolly

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Chapter 1. A Room of Her Own

Chapter 2. Shells

Chapter 3. A Spark

Chapter 4. What Are Villages For?

Chapter 5. Ducklings In a Row

Chapter 6. In for a Splash

Chapter 7. In For a Soak

Chapter 8. Here to Stay

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Sarah Lean

About the Publisher

Map

It was spring, and Tiger Days was visiting her grandmother, May Days, for the school holidays. May Days used to live in Africa, and Tiger had met her for the first time a year ago when she moved back to England to live at Willowgate House. Since then, Tiger loved staying with her grandmother, exploring the great gardens and wildlife, and becoming more and more adventurous each time. Tiger had made friends with a boy called Tom and his grandfather, Grumps, who lived next door. She was disappointed to discover that this time they were away on holiday at the seaside, but she was looking forward to having May Days and Holly the cat all to herself.

While Willowgate House was being fixed up, Tiger and May Days had slept in the garden in a tent. Over winter, rather than move into one of the finished bedrooms, May Days had simply pitched the tent inside the big kitchen, and she was still sleeping there now.

Tiger, Holly and May Days spent their first day together wandering the gardens to see what wildlife they could find. Birds were in the sky, fish were in the river, squirrels leapt between budding trees and a hedgehog shuffled in the undergrowth.

Tiger and her grandmother were full of wonder, chatting about what they had seen while they grilled sausages for tea on a campfire under the willow tree. They had gone to bed full and contented, listening to an owl hooting and bats squeaking through the open kitchen window.

“Nobody would know so many things live in the garden unless they looked and listened like we do,” said Tiger.

“The garden is always full of life,” said May Days, yawning. “And your grandmother is full of tiredness. Time for sleep. Night, night.” And she turned out the lamp.

The next morning, Tiger and Holly were still snuggled into the sleeping bag – inside the tent, inside the house! – wondering what they would all do today, when May Days, who was already up and about, poked her head back into the tent.

“Come outside. There’s something I want to show you,” she said.

Tiger, still wearing her striped tiger-print pyjamas, and Holly, as always, wearing a soft white fur coat, followed May Days out on to the front porch. She pointed to where the wall joined the roof. It looked as if some roughly made clay bowls had been stuck in the corners. Under the eaves of the main roof were lots more bowl shapes and also one in the top corner of the outside toilet.

“What are they?” asked Tiger.

“Swallow nests,” said May Days, smiling. “One of my favourite birds.”

“But where are the swallows?” said Tiger, as the nests were empty.

“Swallows come here for the spring and summer,” said May Days. “They find their way back to the same place every year, tidy up their old nest, lay their eggs and then raise new chicks. Come on, I’ll show you what they look like.”

They went back to the kitchen and sat at the table to look up swallows in the wildlife book. The little birds had tails like streamers, black coats and bold white chests.

Tiger read: Small flocks of swallows gather together and prepare to migrate. They fly over 8,000 kilometres from Africa to the UK, arriving in April.

“But how can they fly so far when they’re so small?” said Tiger, amazed.

“Because they are all together to support each other,” said May Days, “and they must be very determined to raise their chicks in the best place.”

“But why don’t they just stay here all the time?”

“It’s far too cold in the winter and there’s nothing for them to eat,” said May Days, looking out of the window. “They would have left Africa about six weeks ago. I thought they’d be here by now.”

May Days had a few jobs to do around the house, so she left Tiger in the kitchen to get dressed. Tiger was thinking about the little birds who worked hard each year to restore their old homes so they could move back into them. Then she started thinking about Willowgate.

“This is very silly,” Tiger said to Holly, who pricked up her ears and sat looking at Tiger with wise eyes. “Why doesn’t May Days move into the house properly now all the repairs are done?”

It didn’t make sense that they were still sleeping in a tent when there was a big empty house that seemed to be waiting for them.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Holly?” The cat tilted her head to the side as if waiting for Tiger to go on. “Maybe the house isn’t as finished as we think it is. We’d better go and find out.”

Tiger pulled on her T-shirt and Holly stood up beside her, ready to investigate.

“We’ll have to look around the house as carefully as we did in the garden yesterday, and then maybe we’ll be able to see what we’re waiting for.”

They started with the kitchen, looking up and down and around. This was the only room they had used properly right from the start, so there wasn’t much to discover here. Outside the kitchen was a tall, empty hall, with two rooms either side. One was small and empty. The other was much larger and led into the conservatory. All the walls had been plastered smooth and painted white, the cobwebs dusted away. Holly’s paws didn’t make a sound, but Tiger’s footsteps echoed off the bare floorboards, making the house sound very empty.

“Where’s all May Days’s furniture and carpets and pictures, Holly?” said Tiger.

In the conservatory, May Days grew tropical flowers in pots, tall and bushy, climbing up supports and across the glass roof. When the flowers bloomed, it was the only colourful room in the house.

“I expect all these flowers grow in Africa too,” Tiger said to Holly, thinking of how long May Days had lived in Africa and the things she must have got used to seeing.

With their eyes alert for any movement, just like they had been in the garden the previous day, they spotted a woodlouse crawling past one of the pots. Tiger crouched down and held out a finger to it. The woodlouse wiggled its antennae and then climbed on.

“It must feel like a huge jungle in here to a woodlouse,” said Tiger as the cat gave it a good sniff. Tiger let the woodlouse ripple off her finger and back on to the floor. She decided to keep it company for a while in case it felt lonely.

There was a small pile of loose bricks in the corner of the conservatory that the builders had left, and Tiger stacked them into a little house shape.

“There you are – you can move in,” said Tiger to the woodlouse, pushing dry leaves in to make a carpet. “It will be much nicer than living under a pot.”

Once the woodlouse had settled into its new home, Tiger and Holly went upstairs. There were four bedrooms and the largest had a fireplace, a sink and a huge cupboard in the wall. The bedroom opposite was the smallest, but, even so, it was much bigger than Tiger’s bedroom at home. There was no furniture up here either.

Tiger thought things over. The chimneys at Willowgate that had once been wonky were now straight, and the plumbing didn’t gurgle or thump any more. There had been mushrooms growing around the bath, but now it was scrubbed clean. The only thing that didn’t seem finished was the smallest bedroom. Floorboards were up and the electrician was coming later to finish the last bit of wiring.

“That must be what it is, Holly. When this room is done, the house will be ready,” said Tiger, pleased at what they had discovered by looking carefully.

Tiger and Holly stood in the doorway of the smallest bedroom. The window looked out over the great gardens of Willowgate. The April sunshine streamed in, and Tiger longed to have what May Days had once promised – her own bedroom inside the house.

Tiger skipped down the stairs, with Holly following, excited at the thought that they could soon move into the house properly. Her grandmother was talking on the telephone in the hall. Tiger leaned over the banister, waiting for May Days to finish before she asked if the small room could be hers. But then she heard something that filled her tummy with a horrible feeling.

“We have so much to catch up on. I’ve missed you terribly, Grace,” May Days said into the phone. “I can’t wait to see you on Sunday.”

Grace lived in Africa and was a dear friend of May Days. They had known each other for years and had worked on the wildlife reserve together. Tiger was returning home on Saturday and then …

Did this mean May Days was planning to go back to live in Africa again? Was that why she had no furniture and was in no hurry to move into the house? And was it why she’d wanted Tiger to see the swallow nests – to show her how the birds had two homes, one here, and one in Africa? Tiger’s shoulders sagged and a lump formed in her throat.

“What are we going to do?” Tiger sniffed, clinging to Holly.

Tiger didn’t want to talk to May Days about her leaving – it was too hard. She crept down the last few stairs and tiptoed along the hallway behind May Days, and out through the front door. She needed to think … She had to find a way of making her grandmother want to stay at Willowgate for good.

Tiger sat on the lawn cuddling Holly and gazing up at the house. Apart from all the animals that visited and lived in the gardens, Willowgate had been unoccupied for years and years until May Days had bought it. Over the last year, builders, plumbers and all sorts of people had come to help repair the house. But hardly anyone came now it was almost finished, and it suddenly seemed very quiet and deserted, especially with Tom and Grumps away on holiday. With its wide porch, large windows and long welcoming drive, it looked like it was inviting people in. But the house that Tiger loved now seemed as hollow as an empty shell.

“Poor old house,” Tiger whispered in Holly’s twitching ear. “It will be all by itself again soon.”

Maybe May Days was planning to spend half the time in Africa and half of it at Willowgate, like the swallows? Or worse – much, much worse – what if May Days decided she preferred living in Africa and didn’t come back? Tiger hadn’t had her grandmother around until she was nine years old, and they had grown close over the last year. Tiger couldn’t imagine her life now without May Days in it. But, back in Africa, Grace must miss May Days too. It bothered Tiger terribly that people who were so fond of each other had to live so far apart.

Tiger went back inside the house, trudged up the stairs and into the empty bedroom she wished was hers. Her heart sank as she thought that May Days might never have intended to stay for long. She curled up on the windowsill and, feeling lonely without Tom to talk to, told Holly her troubles. Holly was a good listener and particularly generous with soft, warm cuddles. But Tiger missed having her friend around. It wasn’t that Tom knew all the answers, but he always had good ideas, and it was nice to have someone to rely on and ask for help.

Tiger was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of a vehicle on the gravel drive and looked out of the window. A small blue van had arrived with the name MR SPARK painted on the side in jazzy white letters. A man got out and walked into the house. Tiger soon heard him speaking to May Days, followed by the stomp of work boots on the bare stairs.

“Hello,” said Tiger, when the electrician appeared in the doorway. “Mind the holes,” she warned, and he tiptoed carefully across the gaps in the floorboards.

“You must be Tiger,” said Mr Spark. “Your grandmother talks about you all the time.”

Tiger smiled, even though she was sad inside. One thing she had learned from May Days was that it was better to do something useful than sit around worrying.

“Can I help you?” Tiger said, kneeling carefully on the firm floorboards beside Mr Spark. “I need something to do.”

Mr Spark was happy to have an assistant to pass him things from his toolbox. Tiger concentrated on learning what some of the tools were called.

“Hammer, please,” Mr Spark said, and used it to lever out a sharp nail. “Can you hold the torch and shine it under there?”

Tiger pointed the torch under the floorboards so Mr Spark could see where to stretch his arm into the gap to reach for the wires.

“There’s something else in there,” said Tiger, peering in. “Can you get it for me?”

It was an old newspaper, and Mr Spark gave it to Tiger to have a look at while he joined up some wires. The newspaper was yellow and it crackled in Tiger’s hands. It was dated Thursday 7 May 1953.

“Did people live in the house all those years ago?” Tiger said, interested that she had found something from the past.

“Lots of people have come and gone from here. The house was built over two hundred years ago,” said Mr Spark. “Snippers, please.”

Tiger passed the snippers then looked through the newspaper while she waited for her next instruction. She turned a page and couldn’t believe her eyes. A headline read MAY DAY FAYRE and there was a photograph of lots of people standing on the lawn of Willowgate House.

“Look!” Tiger said, showing the page to Mr Spark. “Look at all the people who visited here.” She read the article out loud to him.

“More than a hundred people attended the annual May Day Fayre at Willowgate House last Saturday, hosted by Mrs Humble as she celebrated her eightieth birthday. Mrs Humble sat outside on the porch and watched the sack races and the children maypole dancing.” Tiger was amazed and looked up at Mr Spark, who was peering closely at the photo.

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