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“What about when I was going up the stairs?” Elsa pointed out. “I wasn’t asleep then. How could that weird noise have been a nightmare?”

Sara yawned and stretched.“It was probably the floorboards squeaking. Or the water pipes.”

“That’s quite likely.” Dad nodded. “The houseis a bit old and creaky.”

Elsa jabbed her fork at her scrambled eggs. Sara sounded right, but Elsa still wasn’t sure. There had beensomething, she knew it. Something watching… waiting. Creaky boards were all very well, but somebody had to walk on them to make them creak, didn’t they?

Sara glanced up suddenly, her face worried.“You don’t think it was a rat, do you?”

“It could have been.” Elsa wrinkled her nose. Maisie, her friend from school – her old school, she reminded herself – had two pet rats. They did scrabble and scratch around. She loved Maisie’s rats – they were cuddly and funny – but she wasn’t sure about the not-a-pet kind. Not living in her house.

“Dad! Rats!” Sara was looking horrified now. She really didn’t like rats or mice. Elsa had tried suggesting that rats would be good pets after she’d met Maisie’s, but Sara had flat-out refused to ever, ever, ever have them in their bedroom. Dad hadn’t been very keen either, but he’d said he’d think about guinea pigs, once they were settled.

“I’m sure if there were rats, the previous owner would have told us,” Dad said. “Don’t panic, you two. It was probably just a creaky board or the water pipes, like Sara said.”

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The kitten woke up from his nap and poked his nose out from under the old jumper, looking hopeful. Was his mother back? Was there more food? His whiskers shivered and twitched as he waited for his brothers and sisters to leap on top of him and lick him and nibble his ears. He wouldn’t mind, not this time. His ears pricked up as he listened, ready to jump out and run to his mother…

But there was no one else in the attic.

The kitten’s ears flattened slowly and he sniffed, trying to follow the fading scent of his mother and the rest of the litter. He scrabbled frantically at the old clothes, nuzzling under the layers as if he might find them at the bottom of the box. But there were only jumpers and scarves, and the box was cold.

Whatever the noise was that had woken him, it had come from downstairs. The kitten wriggled out of the clothes again and stumbled over the side of the box on to the floor, padding over to the doorway.

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Whenever he’d tried to go through the door before, his mother had always shooed him back. Sometimes she’d even picked him up in her mouth, dragging him to the safety of the box nest. But his mother had been gone for so long this time, he was starting to think she wasn’t coming back.

The kitten stood there, listening and sniffing the air. He could hear footsteps and voices coming from somewhere. Would there be food too? He was now so hungry that his stomach hurt. He was sure he could smell food. He edged forward a little and looked out on to the tiny landing at the top of the attic stairs. The smell was even stronger out here. There was definitely food down there.

Determinedly, the kitten padded across the landing to the top step and eyed the mountain of stairs below.

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Elsa went back upstairs after breakfast to finish her unpacking– it was better than helping Dad get all the kitchen plates and mugs out of their bubble wrap.

She stood by the window for a few minutes, looking into the garden and wondering if she might see the children from next door. But it was a bit cold to be out on the trampoline, she supposed.

She’d started arranging the pinboard from her old room yesterday, pinning on photos of her old friends. The board was on the floor with photos scattered all over it, as well as cards and notes from Maisie and Lara and the others. She sat down in front of the board and picked up the little box of pins – Maisie had given her some cute ones as part of a goodbye present, with stars and flowers and hearts on the top.

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Elsa sniffed. She missed everyone so much already. Even if the trampoline did mean there were children living next door, it wasn’t ever going to be the same as her and Maisie and Lara. They’d been friends since nursery.

Then she frowned down at the board– it looked different. The photo of her and Maisie and Lara that she’d had in the middle was pushed off to the side, and the card from her teacher was on the floor under her desk.

For a minute Elsa thought it must have been Sara, but her sister wouldn’t do that. Sara knew how upset she’d been about moving schools – Sara was sad about leaving her own friends too. She and her sister argued loads, but they were never mean to each other.