Free The Visconti House by Elsbeth Edgar

pencil. “Yes, it does. You just need some more shading here and a bit more height with the roof.”
    Laura gazed at the transformed picture. “How did you do that?” she marveled. “It looks fantastic.”
    “Practice.” Her mother kissed her on the top of her head. “Now you try again.”
    When she had finished several views of the house, Laura did some drawings of the garden. She even went back up to the attic to get a bird’s-eye perspective. By the end of the day, she was able to add several sketches to her Mr. Visconti box. She was very proud of them, but as she closed the lid, she thought how little she had really discovered. Mr. Visconti’s story was still as mysterious as ever.
    When her alarm rang on Monday morning, Laura switched it off and lay cuddled under her comforter, staring at her Mr. Visconti box, puzzling about what to do next in her investigation. Suddenly, she remembered that Leon Murphy might come over that afternoon. Perhaps he would have some ideas, but did she want to ask him? She rolled over. This was
her
mystery, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to share it with anyone.
    Laura glanced back at the clock. It was almost eight o’clock; she really should be getting up. She stretched, expecting to feel Samson snuggled at the bottom of her bed, but he was not there. There was not even an indentation in her comforter where he usually slept.
    She jumped up, deciding that he must already be in the kitchen, waiting for his breakfast, and listened for his outraged mewing as she came down the hall. But the only sounds she heard were the hum of the fridge and the chirping of a bird in the bushes outside. Hoping he wasn’t the cause of the bird’s distress, she flung open the back door, but Samson wasn’t in the garden either. He was nowhere to be seen.
    “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon,” mumbled her fathersleepily when she burst into her parents’ bedroom to tell them that Samson was missing. “You know what cats are like. They have their secrets.”
    Laura shook him. “Samson
always
comes for breakfast. He wouldn’t miss it.”
    “Maybe he dined on mice during the night,” suggested her mother. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
    “But what if he’s not fine? What if he’s lying hurt somewhere, calling for us? What if he’s lost?”
    “We’ll look for him when we get up,” said her father. “You need to get ready for school.”
    Laura scowled and left the room, but she did not get dressed. She continued searching frantically until it was almost half past eight. It was only when she heard her father stirring that she threw on her uniform and dashed out the door without having eaten breakfast.
    Halfway through her first class, Laura was starving. She looked across irritably at Leon, who was sitting on his own as usual, his eyes fixed on his textbook. Laura gnawed her fingernails. Why had she asked him over? What on earth had she been thinking? She jabbed her pen into her notebook, hoping he had forgotten all about it.
    She hoped this even more fervently when she passed Kylie and Janie coming out of class.
    “Leon Murphy still looking out for you?” jeered Kylie. “He must really like you.”
    Janie laughed. “Maybe the note was for him.”
    Laura hurried on. She must have been crazy to ask Leon over — what would happen if anyone saw them together now? She shuddered. Perhaps if she left immediately after school, she might make it home before him. Perhaps, then, he wouldn’t come.
    She dashed out as soon as the last bell rang, but when she arrived at Mrs. Murphy’s cottage, Leon was sitting on the front steps, waiting for her, his bag beside him. Laura glanced around to check that no one else was nearby.
    “Did you mean what you said about seeing your house?” he asked, coming up to the front gate.
    “Yes,” replied Laura. After all, she
had
asked him.
    “Then I’ll come now. I’ll just dump my bag inside.Do you want to wait?”
    “All right.” Laura stood uncomfortably by