Tales From The Wyrd Museum 1: The Woven Path Read Online Free PDF Page A

chairs and a bookcase that was empty save for a dead spider plant and a chipped mug. In one corner stood an ugly standard lamp covered with a dusty turquoise shade and hanging over the narrow window was a net curtain that was yellow with age.
    The disgust was plain on Neil's face and he glanced briefly into the bedroom to see if that was any better. It wasn't.
    ‘Dad,’ he muttered, ‘where are me and Josh going to sleep? There's only one bed.’
    Mr Chapman began to get flustered and he pinched his nose as he stared miserably into the room.
    Wearily, Neil shook his head and folded his arms. ‘Do you mean,’ he hissed at his father, ‘that you took this job without even looking at this place? I don't believe you sometimes.’
    ‘Is there a problem?’ inquired Miss Ursula.
    ‘No, not at all,’ Mr Chapman hastily lied before Neil could say anything. ‘This will be fine. Once we get our bits and pieces in it'll be cosier than our old place. Thank you very much, Miss Webster, I'm very grateful.’
    The old lady smiled, icily. Then I shall leave you to settle in,’ she said. ‘If you can begin work first thing tomorrow, Mr Chapman, I shall inform you of your duties.’
    Closing the door behind her, Miss Ursula left and Neil turned a belligerent face on his father.
    ‘Before you start,’ Mr Chapman protested, holding up his hand to halt the torrent of blame and criticism which was about to be unleashed, ‘I don't want to hear it! You know I couldn't afford the mortgage on the house since your mother left. OK, maybe I should have checked out this flat but I never expected to get the job. So what if it's a bit small? It's only for eating and sleeping in, you can wander about the whole of the museum when you want to. Look out there, there's a yard for you both to play in. As for the sleeping arrangements, I'll bag the sofa, you and Josh'll just have to share the bed for now, until I can get hold of a camp bed for him—or change it for two singles. Buck up, Neil, it isn't that bad.’
    Neil said nothing but stared at his father reproachfully. They had left everything—their home, his friends, his school, and for what? For this tiny box of a place in the middle of nowhere with three barmy old loons for company.
    At that moment Josh began to cry and though Mr Chapman tried to comfort him he would not be silenced.
    ‘You'll soon get used to it, Josh,’ he burbled. ‘A lick of paint'll cheer this place up and once you've unpacked your toys... Oh, stop crying for God's sake!’
    Standing by the window, Neil gazed out at the dreary, walled yard, feeling thoroughly bleak and miserable. As his brother's wailing continued, he turned and gave a pitying groan.
    ‘I think he's wet himself,’ he muttered.

Chapter 3 In The Separate Collection

    In the days that followed, the new caretaker and his family did their best to make the small apartment more comfortable. The walls were given several coats of canary-yellow paint and although here and there ghostly images of flowers were still visible, the overall result was most satisfactory and the living room appeared bright and brimming with sunshine. The shabby settee was covered with a colourful check blanket, their old television was given pride of place in the corner, where the standard lamp had stood; Mr Chapman filled the bookcase with his own precious volumes on bird-watching and steam trains and, as they could not afford any more paint, Neil covered the sombre bedroom wallpaper with football posters.
    During this hectic time, the boys had little opportunity of exploring the rest of the museum and saw nothing of the strange Webster sisters. Mr Chapman was kept extremely busy for, as Miss Ursula pointed out, the general upkeep of the place was now up to him. Floors needed polishing, as did the glass cabinets; the statuary had to be dusted and it was his responsibility to ensure that the pot plants were well watered; and he had to be on duty on the rare occasions when the