Looking for Whispering Grass

Dorothy’s house must be quite old. If there were ghosts here I would have known about it by now, but things make noises when nobody’s there. I suppose that’s what happens when we get old.

It must have been because I was tired, but last night when I went up the stairs I thought I had come out at the same place as where I started. So I went to go up the stairs again but the stairs weren’t there. All rather confusing. But for some strange reason it made me feel happy.

This morning I went into the room where Dorothy has her computer and climbed up to where she sits when she’s looking at it, but nothing was there. I asked Walter about this but he pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about. Next time I saw him he looked as though he had seen a ghost. No one else noticed so I let it pass.

Dorset is so strange. Very few cars come down the street and there is a little bridge I remember hearing when we drove over it on our way here. Jenny said it the bridge was very old and very small. So this afternoon I went down to look at it for myself. I expected there to be water under it but nothing was there, just a sort of hole with more grass growing in it. I didn’t go down here.

I expect Jenny will have told Dorothy all about the things that have been happening lately. They talk a lot together but I only catch the odd word or two and anyhow I’m not really interested in what they say. Dorothy still talks to Waler and me as though we are little human babies and I know how Jenny must feel about that, but she doesn’t let it show. They are sisters after all.

Today while I was wandering around outside, I realised I was looking for my mother. I think Walter gave up looking a long time ago. But I will probably keep looking. I’m only here for a few days and you never know.

I even thought I saw her upstairs in the house this morning; not a ghost of her but really her. Of course it couldn’t have been her but my heart went fast for a little while and I even thought I heard myself say her name, Whispering Grass. But it can’t have been me, I wouldn’t have made a mistake like that.