When I go to take Harry for his walk in the morning, the first time I know anything is wrong is when I’m on my bum by the garden gate with my legs in the air.
“Mum!” I yell, but she’s already opening the door. She must have heard my screaming and Harry’s barking as we slid down the garden.
“What’s wrong?” She asks worriedly. “What happened?”
“Don’t come out, it’s all slippery.” I struggle to get to my feet, holding onto the gatepost for support.
Mum stands on the doorstep and looks. “It’s all… Ice.”
I look around as I cling to the gatepost. It’s true. The whole garden is covered with ice. It’s like our very own ice rink.
“This is crazy,” I mutter.
“Stay there, I’ll put the kettle on,” Mum says.
I’m not sure how a cup of tea will help in this situation, but I stay still while she goes back into the house.
I can’t help but glance at the snowman. I swear he has a smug smirk on his face.
Mum comes back out with the kettle, and instead of making tea as I’d thought, she pours the boiling water down the steps and over the garden. The ice starts to crack and melt under the heat of the water. Mum does this three more times before it’s safe to walk on the path.
“Well, look at this,” Mum says as she comes out. Just at the corner of the house, she picks up the end of the hosepipe. There’s water trickling out. “Someone’s gone and left the hosepipe running. It’s probably been running all night. No wonder it’s frozen over.”
“Who?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Kaity. You haven’t touched it, have you?”
“Of course not,” I say indignantly.
“Maybe Pippa was playing with it. I’ll ask her.”
“Why would Pippa be playing with the hosepipe in the middle of December? It’s not exactly paddling pool weather, is it?”
Mum shrugs. “Well, it didn’t get pulled out and turned on by itself, Kait.”
“I bet Seth did it.”
“He may have washed his car, I suppose. But I’m sure he’d have had the sense to turn it off and put it back after himself. Besides, I don’t remember him washing his car last night, do you?”
I shrug. I try not to think about Seth and his whereabouts too often.
“I’m going to take Harry before I’m late for school,” I tell Mum.
“Be careful in case there’s any more ice,” she says.
I give the snowman a wide berth as I pass it. I don’t think it was Seth who left the hosepipe running last night.
I think it was the snowman.
Mum is in the living room when I get back from my walk.
“Kait, do you know who that card is from?” Mum points towards a Christmas card standing on the sideboard. “It isn’t signed.”
I walk over and pick it up. Jingle Bells plays out of it and makes me jump. Written inside is “To Isabelle, Seth, Kaity and Pippa,” and the card itself reads ‘Merry Christmas’, but there is no signature on the bottom.
It’s quite weird actually. Who would write a Christmas card to our family and include Seth? He’s only been here a few days. And he is not staying, no matter what the sender of this card thinks.
I study it, trying to work out if I recognise the handwriting, and Jingle Bells continues playing. Most musical Christmas cards stop after one round to conserve the batteries for the next unsuspecting opener.
That’s when I hear it.
It sounds like… Screaming.
And it’s coming from the card.
“Mum, do you hear that?”
“What?”
“The card. It’s screaming.”
“Don’t be so silly.”
“It is! Listen.” I hold it open towards her.
“I don’t hear anything, Kaity.”
“It’s really faint,” I say. “But I swear I can hear screaming over the Jingle Bells. Listen to it, please.”
“You’re imagining things, Kait. Leave it on the sideboard. I’ll see if Seth knows who it’s from.”
Maybe I am imagining things.
I sigh and go to put it back. Come to think of it, that reindeer on the front looks completely terrified. And the cartoon Santa in the chimney doesn’t look too happy either.