the folded mattress made a damp, dark tunnel which we would dare each other to crawl through. I can clearly remember the spine-tingling feeling I got when I pushed my head inside and forced myself to go into the darkness.
‘Arthur weed in that,’ says Rose.
‘I did not! I spilled a Fruit Shoot in there.’
‘Whatever,’ she says with an infuriating smile.
Grandad runs his hand through the dust on the headboard. ‘Well, one of you definitely did something to it. Look at this!’
I see some words are scratched into the plastic headboard.
‘“Enter here for the Land of Roar”,’ I read, although what it actually says is,
I slip my hand in my pocket and touch the corner of the map.
‘What’s the Land of Roar?’ asks Grandad.
‘Just some game we used to play,’ says Rose.
Suddenly I know exactly why we scratched those words on to the headboard. ‘This was how we got there,’ I say. ‘We’d crawl into the bed, shout, “Hear me roar”, and when we came out the other side we’d be in Roar!’
Rose groans. ‘We’d be in the attic, Arthur.’
‘I know,’ I say quickly. ‘I mean, it’s how the game always began.’
Grandad pats the bed. ‘Well, how about it, twins? Fancy crawling through the bed and having one last adventure in Roar?’
Rose looks at him in horror. ‘Grandad, we haven’t played games like that for years. Plus I’m not going anywhere near that stinky old wee mattress.’ She gives the bed a shake. ‘It’s heavy. Do you want me to help you get it downstairs so we can dump it at the tip?’
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘We’re saving the big stuff for the end. Right, Grandad?’
He nods. ‘But I have seen one big thing we can get rid of.’ He picks up the dinghy and carries it towards the window. ‘Let’s see how far this baby can fly!’
He forces it halfway out then gives it a massive shove. Rose and I get to the window just in time to see the dinghy float over the garden wall and land on the Baileys’ conservatory.
‘Oh dear,’ says Grandad. ‘I suppose I’d better get it back.’
‘I’ll go,’ cries Rose, dashing out of the attic.
Soon I see Rose run outside, climb on the wheelie bin and scramble into next door’s garden. Mazen is on her trampoline; she acknowledges Rose’s presence by shrieking, ‘What are you wearing?’ then doing a backflip.
‘Well, Arthur?’ Grandad is watching me. ‘Are you up for taking one last trip to Roar?’
Honestly? I’d give anything to play Roar with Rose again. Just me and her, and a load of dragons and unicorns and no thoughts of starting secondary school. But it’s impossible. I’m too old and I couldn’t do it without her. The rush of excitement that I felt when I saw the bed has gone and in its place is a heavy lump of disappointment. ‘No thanks, Grandad. Rose is right. We don’t play games like that any more.’
Outside, we can hear Rose and Mazen talking, then the squeak of trampoline springs.
‘Who said anything about playing a game?’ Grandad grins then turns away. ‘Come on. I saw a bag of tennis balls earlier. Let’s see if we can chuck them as far as Mazen’s trampoline.’
By the end of the day the attic is empty.
Well, almost. The camp bed is sitting in the middle of the room, watched over by Prosecco, but everything else has gone: the dressing-up clothes, the plastic weapons, the Playmobil, the cuddly toys. Even the Quality Street tin is down in the garden in the tip pile.
I take one last look around the room, and turn out the light.
Grandad seems to have forgotten about the meal commonly known as dinner so Rose and I heat up a pizza we find at the bottom of the freezer then put ourselves to bed. We have to. It’s midnight and Grandad is out in the garden, dancing round a bonfire he’s made out of old newspapers and egg boxes.
The pizza and trampolining have put Rose in a good mood because she starts kicking the bottom of my bunk bed, distracting me from the book I’m reading. The only downside to staying at Grandad’s is having to share a room with Rose.
Eventually the kicking stops and I try to get into my book. Clearing out the attic has left me feeling a bit weird and on edge, but soon I find myself pulled into the story. It’s about a girl who discovers she’s descended from a Samurai warrior and can defeat any enemy by summoning the ghost of her ancestor. I wouldn’t be worried about starting secondary school if I had a Samurai ghost on my side.
Rose’s voice drifts up from the bottom bunk. ‘Arthur . . . Mazen says you’re going to be eaten alive at Langton Academy.’
Some people believe that twins can read each other’s minds. I can’t read Rose’s mind, but sometimes she can read mine.
‘Mazen says, because you can’t play football and you got a telescope instead of a phone for your birthday, everyone will think you’re weird.’
I really don’t like Mazen Bailey.
‘Oh, and Mazen says you should use product on your hair. To make it, you know, less big or people will laugh at you.’
Actually I think I might hate Mazen Bailey.
‘Arthur? Can you hear me?’ Rose gives the bottom of the bed an extra big kick. ‘Mazen was only trying to help. She’s in Year Eight so she knows.’
‘Mazen Bailey,’ I say, after a moment of dignified silence, ‘believes that The Force Awakens is the first Star Wars film, so obviously her opinion counts for nothing.’
Rose goes quiet and all I can hear is tap, tap, tap, tap.
‘Rose, are you sending her a message?’
‘Shh,’ she says. ‘Did you just say obviously her opinion counts for nothing, or clearly her opinion counts for nothing?’
I throw myself over the side of the bunk bed and make a grab for Rose’s phone, but she just pushes me away and keeps typing. ‘Rose, if you press send I’ll –’
She looks up, interested. ‘Yes? What will you do?’
‘I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’ What can I do? What power do I have over Rose these days? She doesn’t want to hang out with me. I don’t make her laugh any more. Everything about me annoys her. ‘I won’t sleep in here!’ I shout.
She
