HIGH HOUSE

Aunt Patsy and I arrived at Waverley Station, Edinburgh, about seven o’clock in the morning. I realised that she was the sort of person who feels irritated and is difficult to talk to in the early morning so I didn’t say much and she didn’t say anything either, except “I hope you managed to sleep” and “We’d better get a cab.” A strange town looks twice as strange first thing in the morning with no one about and I felt too sleepy and confused to notice anything except the coldness and freshness of the air and the tall cold grey buildings. The cab drove up a steep hill and then turned right and went on climbing. “I live near the Castle,” said Aunt Patsy. “ If you lived here, you’d know it’s the oldest part of Edinburgh.” When we got out I realised what she meant. The buildings were all tall and twisty and some of them looked as though they could fall down at any moment. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could live in them so I asked Aunt Patsy about it. “Well, I do,” said Aunt Patsy, a little sharply, as she paid the cab driver. “How are you going to manage with the trunk, lady?” he asked. “I’ll take one end,” said Aunt Patsy, and to my horror she and the cab driver began walking down stone steps beside one of these huge crumbling buildings, carrying my trunk between them, leaving me to follow with the suitcases. I couldn’t think where they were going. Surely Aunt Patsy couldn’t live here? I stopped for a moment at the top of the steps and looked down. At the bottom a wide road curled round like a snake and then more steps went down another hill until they disappeared among hundreds of tall dark buildings, all with puffing chimneys. I walked slowly down the steps and joined Aunt Patsy and the cab driver who had put the trunk down outside a shabby-looking red door. Aunt Patsy looked for the keys in her bag. To my surprise, she wasn’t even out of breath. “We’ll leave it at the foot of the stairs and we’ll carry it up later,” said Aunt Patsy. “How far up do you live?” asked the cab driver. “Fourth floor,” said Aunt Patsy. He looked at the trunk doubtfully and then shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll do it,” he said “though it’ll probably be the death of me.”