The Brightlings

15. Songs and signs

"Oh, for goodness sake, Felix! You forgot to shut the front d-"

The words have not fully abandoned Lucy's lips when she notices the indentations and splinters along the closing edge of the wooden frame. She reaches forward to touch the flaking paint, but her hand quickly recoils as the realisation of exactly what this must mean presents itself.

Felix huffs in exasperation. "What are you trying to pin that one on me for? You were the last one out!"

As she pushes the door wide open, they all stand together in a moment of silence peering into the hallway. He can tell that she is hesitant to enter.

"I think someone else left it open..."

Cookie reaches for Lucy's hand. "Mum, have we been burglarised?"

"It's okay love...," she replies in the calmest voice that she can muster. "You go and wait over by the orchard. Perhaps you could collect the last of the apples?"

As the little man skips away, she whispers to Felix through the side of her lips. "We need to check the house, in case whoever broke the door is still inside."

His mouth is suddenly dry, and he can't detect if beer or fear is the culprit. "But should... shouldn't we call the police first?"

Lucy turns to face him and raises her eyebrows.

"I mean it, Mum..."

"Fat lot of good they'll be after the reception you gave them earlier. Now come on!"

She grabs an umbrella from the coat hooks inside the door, and looks over her shoulder to check that Cookie is where she asked him to go. On occasion, Lucy surprises Felix with her single mindedness.

"What on earth are you planning to do with that?"

"There could still be someone in there, love. Do you really think I'm going in unarmed?"

"But that's an umbrella, Mum, not a weapon. What are you going to do? Flap them to death like some kind of ninja Mary Poppins?"

Lucy raises it to face height, and Felix quickly jerks his head back, fearing the spiked metal end entering his nostril or taking out an eye. "Look, it's pointy, and it's better than nothing," she retorts in an annoyed growl.

As they cautiously enter, brolly first, it becomes apparent that the cottage has been turned over by someone in quite a hurry. Whoever it was, they must have known that the Swift family wouldn't be away for long. Perhaps they'd been watching and waiting for them to leave. The kitchen dresser drawers have all been pulled out and rummaged through, but the contents have not been emptied. A pile of bills and letters have been spread across the table. A jar of pasta has been knocked over, and righted again, the only sign being the twisty shapes scattered across the worktop and the floor in front of the cooker. The cabinet doors hang wide open revealing the distinct lack of food inside of them.

In the lounge, the cushions have been removed from the sofa, and the wooden coffee table has been flipped onto its side, causing the piles of magazines and newspapers that were stored underneath to spill onto the rug.

"Do you get the idea that whoever did this was actually trying not to break things?" Felix whispers, as he gestures towards the pictures that have been taken from the wall and placed on the floor below their hooks, like somebody was searching for a safe.

"Maybe they were worried about being overheard?"

"Well, there's nobody here now."

"I wonder what they were looking for?"

"Probably just money or valuables..." Felix discreetly taps his pocket. Could they have been looking for his Dad's notes?

"I just can't believe this. Why us?" Lucy is trying really hard not to get flustered again, as she rights the table and begins to rehang the L.S Lowry print with the weird little people that her mother loved so dearly, but it is painfully hard not to let her emotions take over. "Where the bloody hell are you, Alan?"