The Haunting of Padfield Estate

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‘Alfonso was the best ferret a girl could ever wish for,’ Becky sniffed. She shuffled her index cards.

She cleared her throat before continuing. ‘He was kind, he was funny, and he was really clever. I will always remember how he used to run up my shoulders and sit on my head. Alfonso was one of a kind.’ Tears welled up in the little girl’s eyes.

She gulped and looked squarely at the shoebox. ‘Alfonso, you were the best ferret a girl could ever wish for.’

‘That was beautiful,’ Becky’s mum cooed. ‘Don’t you think so, George?’

George, Becky’s dad, was slumped on a deck chair, fast asleep.

She elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Didn’t you think Becky’s speech was lovely?’

‘Yes — yes,’ he said.

‘Would anyone else like to say some words?’ Becky’s mum asked.

Mrs Ficklewhince raised a wrinkled hand.

‘Go ahead, Doris.’

‘I wanted to check how long this would go on. I have got to have my tablets at six.’

Becky’s mum checked her watch. It was half-past-one.

‘Don’t worry, Doris. We won’t let you forget to have your tablets.’

Mrs Ficklewhince lowered her hand.