Elsie and the Late Shadow

Elsie had a shadow that ran late. Everyone's did, in Pebble Lane. Shadows came a few steps behind and caught up only at noon.

Today was moving day, and Elsie wanted one thing. She wanted her blue box to get to the new house safe. Inside was Mr Biscuit, her old stuffed rabbit.

The big van stood open. Dad carried the sofa. Mum carried the plant. Elsie carried the blue box, all the way up the ramp.

"Last one," said Dad.

At the new house, the blue box sat in the empty bedroom. Elsie wanted Mr Biscuit out. She pulled the lid. It would not budge.

"Come on, lid," she said. She pulled harder. Nothing.

She tried sitting on the floor and pulling with her feet. Nothing. The room felt big and bare and echoey. Her words bounced off the walls.

"Hello," said Elsie. "Hello-hello-hello," said the room.

Elsie giggled. But the lid still would not budge.

She sat very still and looked at the box. The lid had a little line of sticky tape along one edge. Dad had put it on in the old house so nothing would fall out.

"Tape!" said Elsie.

She picked at the edge with her fingernail. Rrrip! The tape came off, long and curly, and stuck to her sock. She pulled the lid again. Pop! It flew up.

There was Mr Biscuit, a bit squashed, with one ear bent.

Elsie hugged him. Then she carried him to the window. The sun was high now. Outside, her shadow came hurrying across the grass, a little out of breath. It stopped right under her feet, just in time for noon.

"There you are," said Elsie. "You found the new house."

She sat Mr Biscuit on the windowsill. Her shadow sat down beside his, and the two of them looked out at the garden. Somewhere downstairs, Mum was calling that lunch was ready, and the whole new house smelled of toast.