Petronella & the Trogot by Cheryl Bentley Page B

asked.
    â€œIt’s that big black tree behind the house. You can see it from this window. I leaned out last night to see if it was still there. As I did so, it attacked me. I think it nearly killed me.”
    Percy looked out. He could see trees, but only green ones. “No, there be no big black tree out there, far as myn eyes can seeth.”
    â€œIt moves,” said Petronella, “sometimes it’s there and at other times it isn’t. What else can I say?”
    Percy knew that Petronella was starting to have the same problems his mother had had. Though he was very small, he could still remember that his mother was terrified by the black tree she said she could see from the same bedroom window. And she was too frightened to go to bed at night. Darkness was her enemy. Percy remembered his father telling her to stop being silly. That she wasn’t to worry. Now Petronella had this fixed idea as well.
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Percy? What are you thinking about?” Petronella asked.
    â€œIt be nothing,” Percy answered. “Nothing, Petronella.”
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Chapter 19
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    For Percy’s sake, Petronella got up and was determined to go about her housework as usual. She had to act normally, though she really did not feel well.
    She noticed The Metal Disc The Hooded Horseman had given her the night before. It was still lying on the table.
    â€œNow where shall I put this,” she said to herself. “Got to keep it in a safe place. Yes, I’ll put it in the larder. On the top shelf, at the back, under the mushroom basket. For as long as I am not holding The Metal Disc, it won’t work, so I needn’t worry too much about it.”
    The next day Petronella put on her camouflage army boots, got The Metal Disc from the larder and slid it into her apron pocket. She was about to set off for the village to find out what Strincas were around. She headed off to the local supermarket first to see what she could find out. Down one of the aisles Mrs Bellamy was nattering away to another gossip. Petronella picked up a packet of biscuits and pretended to read about the contents on its box. But, of course, she was listening hard to what they were saying instead.
    â€œ... and all of a sudden there he was sitting on MY sofa. With a double-headed axe in his hand, I tell you. As real as I’m standing here. And he won’t budge, will he? Oh, no. He even had the nerve to tell me that it was his house and nothing I can do will make him leave. Yes, he says it’s HIS house. The cheek of it. Can you believe that?”
    The other woman, a Mrs Riches from number 9 Myrtle Close, shook her head in disbelief. “Well I never. What’s the world coming to if you are not even master of your own home. I mean, is he a squatter? Is that what you’re saying? Yes, I reckon he’s just a weird squatter in fancy-dress. Can’t your husband throw him out?”
    â€œNo, he can’t because no way can you get hold of him. When my husband tries to grab him, his hands just go through this axeman. Strange because he LOOKS like he’s there in the flesh, but when you try to touch him, he’s not solid. He spent all night on the sofa and is always in my way.”
    Mrs Riches was stepping backwards away from Mrs Bellamy now. She thought there must be something wrong with Mrs Bellamy. What was she talking about? It didn’t make sense.
    Petronella, who, of course, had heard everything, ran up behind Mrs Bellamy and said:
    â€œGood morning, Mrs Bellamy, I couldn’t help overhearing you and Mrs Riches...”
    â€œGo away, you ugly hag. How dare you speak to me AND listen to my conversations? It’s because of the likes of you and that henchman in my house that Fort Willow is no longer what it was. Go back from where you came. And don’t ever, do you hear me when I say EVER, speak to me again!” she shouted.
    Petronella was so shocked by Mrs Bellamy’s