The Gargoyle in My Yard. Philippa Dowding

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      She got out of bed and slowly descended the stairs to the kitchen. She walked to the back door and silently opened it for her parents as they solemnly marched back into the house, too shocked to speak to her or to each other.

      Neither of them was looking at her. Instead, they sat at the kitchen table and stared at their hands.

      Katherine turned off the forgotten stove, where the pan was beginning to smoke, and turned to them.

      “Mom, Dad,” she began boldly, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I stomped all over your flowers in my new shoes.”

      She looked at them for encouragement. They were both looking at her now with nearly blank expressions. But at least they were listening. She pressed on.

      “It looks bad, I know,” she continued, “but I swear to you I didn’t do it. I’m going to tell you the truth,” she hesitated and bit her lip, “only it’s going to sound kind of crazy.”

      At the word “crazy”, her mother’s head shot up and her mouth opened. She was looking hard at Katherine with a funny, dazed expression on her face. She was barely breathing.

      “You know, you know...” Katherine trailed off.

      What am I afraid of? she asked herself. It’s the truth. I have to tell it, I have to get them to believe me. They’re my parents, after all. They will believe me, won’t they? She took a deep breath and started again.

      “Mom, Dad, the gargoyle did it,” she blurted out finally. She breathed out deeply and looked her parents in the eyes. It felt good to tell the truth, no matter how crazy it sounded.

      Her parents did two different things at the same time. Her father burst out laughing. Her mother, however, groaned, then dropped her head into her hands and started crying.

      Neither Katherine nor her dad was expecting that. They both rushed to her mother’s side.

      “What is it, Mom?” Katherine asked.

      “What is it, Marie?” asked her dad, looking worried. They pulled up chairs and sat beside her, trying to comfort her.

      She was muttering through her hands. “Not that stupid gargoyle! It can’t be! Not again!”

      Katherine’s dad was clearly worried about his wife, but Katherine started to wonder what her mother knew. Or thought she knew.

      She decided to try a new tack with her mother. She pressed a cup of tea into her mother’s hands and put her hand gently on her shoulder.

      “Mom,” she said quietly, “where did you get that gargoyle? I mean, you seem to believe me that it was him, and I’m really glad you do, but you must know that he’s...” she stopped. She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

      “Alive?” her mother said suddenly, snapping her head up to look Katherine in the face. “Yes! I know he’s alive, Katherine...”