The Door — a short story for English reading and speaking

They found it while playing hide and seek in their grandmother’s house.

“Granny is no longer with us,” Mum had said.

Peter wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Perhaps Granny had gone to the big room where old people sat at tables and marked crosses on pieces of paper.

He had gone there with her once. It had been terribly boring, although an old man had given him a sherbet bonbon.

Now Mum was upstairs, sorting through Granny’s things, and Peter was hiding from his little sister, Gemma.

He had chosen the basement because Gemma was frightened of it. Peter was frightened too, but he would never admit that.

He waited on the bottom step for what seemed like ages. Gemma didn’t come. She didn’t even open the basement door.

At last he climbed halfway up and heard her talking to Mum in the kitchen.

“Gemma!” he called.

The door opened a crack. Gemma peered down at him, her bright blue eyes framed by blonde curls.

“I’m not going down there,” she said. “There’s spiders. And a big snake.”

Peter glanced behind him. A snake would be brilliant. His friend Darren said snakes ate mice and sometimes even cats.

Granny had owned a cat, but Mum said it had gone away too.

Then Peter noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

Behind a stack of suitcases and cardboard boxes, a wooden frame rose from the basement wall. He could just make out the top hinge.

A door.

“Gemma,” he whispered. “Come and look at this.”

She shook her head. “There’s spiders.”

“I chased them away,” Peter lied. “They’ve all gone outside.”

“You’d better not be lying. I’ll tell Mum.”

“There’s another door down here. A secret one.”

Gemma leaned forward, gripping the frame of the basement doorway. Peter pointed into the shadows.

When she finally spotted it, her face lit up.

“Maybe it goes to the Magic Garden,” she said. “Where Iffy and Bang live.”

Peter had no idea who Iffy and Bang were. They were probably characters from one of her silly books. But he didn’t want to open the door alone, and having Gemma beside him would make it easier.

“Maybe,” he said. “Come on. Let’s find out.”

Gemma took one cautious step down. The stairs were steep, even for Peter.

He climbed back up, took her hand and helped her down.

A gust of wind blew through the cracked basement window. The door at the top of the stairs swung shut with a creak.

Gemma stopped.

“It’s all right,” Peter said. “We can go back up whenever we want.”

The single bulb in the ceiling cast a weak yellow light over the room. Old furniture stood beneath dusty sheets. The air smelled of damp cardboard and something stale that Peter couldn’t identify.

“Granny never liked us coming down here,” Gemma said.

Peter remembered that. Whenever he had asked what was in the basement, Granny had told him it was full of rubbish and nothing worth seeing.

He looked at the hidden door again.

“Help me move these.”

Together they pushed aside the smaller boxes. Peter dragged a heavy suitcase across the floor. Its wheels squealed, making Gemma jump.

“Sophie says the Magic Garden only opens for Wanderers,” she said.

“Who are Wanderers?”

“I don’t know. But Sophie does.”

Peter wasn’t listening. They had cleared enough space for him to stand in front of the door. It was old, with peeling varnish and a dark brass handle.

He turned the handle.

Nothing happened.

He pulled harder, then put his shoulder against the wood. The door didn’t move.

“It’s locked,” he said.

Gemma looked disappointed. “Maybe we’re not Wanderers.”

Peter was about to give up when she pointed at the wall.

“What’s that?”

A brass key hung from a nail, almost hidden behind a strip of loose wallpaper.

Peter took it down. The metal felt cold in his palm.

He pushed it into the lock and turned it. There was a heavy clunk.

For a moment, neither child moved.

Then Peter turned the handle and pulled.

The door opened slowly.

Beyond it lay a room without windows. Light from the basement stretched across the floor, revealing a narrow bed in one corner. It looked more like a cot. A thin blanket lay crumpled at its foot.

Peter leaned forward.

Something moved on the other side of the room.

At first he thought it was another pile of old clothes.

Then it lifted its head.

A woman sat against the wall. She was naked, covered in dirt and so thin that Peter could see her ribs. A chain ran from a metal ring around her neck to a bolt in the wall.

She stared at the children, her eyes widening.

“Help me,” she said.