There’s an old lady outside vacuuming her driveway.

I’ve seen old ladies do many things, but I’ve never seen an old lady do this.

It’s 3 am. She’s across the road at Number 61. She drags a round vacuum cleaner on wheels, sucking up the sand in the cracks of her driveway as a fluffy white cat watches her from the veranda. It’s loud, like how a plane sounds as it’s taking off. I’ve been on six planes so I know.

I wonder why Kay hasn’t woken up. Maybe she’s ignoring it.

Maybe the old lady does this often and the other adults on the street have decided to pretend it doesn’t happen. Adults do that a lot. Maybe I’m the only one who’s ever seen her.

She turns the vacuum off, takes out a pair of glasses from the pocket of her nightie, and inspects her work. She turns the vacuum on again and shuffles back and forth, going over any spots she missed. Once she reaches the front door, she turns it off and pushes it inside. The cat flicks its tail and goes inside too.

From the doorway, the old lady looks out at the street. She can’t see me though. There’s lace over the window so I can peek out without people seeing me. I smile at her just in case. She doesn’t smile back. She just looks, as if she’s waiting for someone, and then goes inside. The lights go off at Number 61.

The street is quiet again…

Continue reading the extract here…

Acknowledgment of Cultural Fund support

Better Reading acknowledges the support provided by Copyright Agency for us to support The History of Mischief.