The House That Grew One Room Every Night

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The Bramblewhisker family had lived inside the great snail-shell house beside Moonberry Stream for as long as anyone could remember. It had six rooms, fourteen windows, one crooked chimney and a balcony where Mrs. Bramblewhisker served tea when the fireflies appeared. Living inside an enormous snail shell might seem strange elsewhere, but in Elderwood it barely deserved comment. Mr. Bramblewhisker grew herbs beside the stream, their daughter Pippa loved fishing, and Uncle Nib spent most afternoons repairing things that had not been broken until he repaired them. Life was pleasantly predictable. Then, on Wednesday morning, Pippa discovered the seventh room. She was looking for her red scarf when she moved a basket beside the kitchen cupboard and found a tiny green door behind it. “Mother? Why is there a door in the kitchen?” Mrs. Bramblewhisker appeared carrying a teapot. She stopped. “That wasn't there yesterday.” Mr. Bramblewhisker inspected the door. Uncle Nib tapped it with a spoon. “Definitely a door.” “Thank you, Nib,” said Mrs. Bramblewhisker. “An expert opinion.” Pippa opened it. Beyond was a bedroom. A perfectly ordinary bedroom, except nobody had ever seen it before. There was a small bed with a blue blanket, a desk, three shelves of books and tiny boots beside the wall. A cup of tea stood on the desk. Steam still rose from it. “Someone lives here,” whispered Pippa. “Impossible,” said her father. Then Mrs. Bramblewhisker noticed the picture hanging above the bed. It showed the family outside their shell house. Mr. and Mrs. Bramblewhisker were there. So were Pippa and Uncle Nib. But between Pippa and her mother stood another young mouse, smiling with one paw around Pippa's shoulder. “Who is that?” Nobody knew. On the back someone had written: Bramblewhisker Family Picnic — all six of us together again. Pippa counted. The fifth was her little cousin Mallow, who lived upstairs. The sixth was the unknown mouse. Mr. Bramblewhisker closed the door. “We will discuss this after breakfast.” This was his preferred solution to impossible events. The following morning the green door was gone. In its place was a short corridor with two doors. “Oh dear,” said Mrs. Bramblewhisker. The first led to yesterday's bedroom. The second opened into a workshop filled with miniature clocks. Uncle Nib walked inside and stopped. On the bench lay a half-finished wooden boat. “I made this.” “You've never made a boat,” said Pippa. “I know.” He picked it up. His face changed. “Wait. I remember making it with someone.” “Who?” Uncle Nib stared at the boat. “Your brother.” Silence filled the room. “I don't have a brother.” “Of course you do. His name is…” Uncle Nib frowned. The memory vanished. He nearly dropped the boat. On Friday morning there were nine rooms. One contained toys Pippa remembered playing with though she had never owned them.