Herbert in the attic (part 1)

For weeks Mia Lucas felt chills every time she walked past the hatch to the attic. At first they didn't bother her; she thought it was the onset of winter making the house cold. But when her mother insisted the heating was turned on full power Mia sensed something wasn't quite right.
"What's in the attic?" she called out one morning as she stood beneath the hatch.
"I really have no idea Mia," replied her mother from the empty spare room. "Your father and I haven't gotten round to clearing it out. There's far to much to do in every other room."
"Can I go up and look?"
"I don't think that's wise, Mia. We don't have a tall enough ladder and the attic might not have a proper floor."
Mia hung her head and trudged back to her room. She hated being restricted from doing things. But far from sitting on her bed and sulking about it, Mia thought about how she could get up there without anybody knowing. Like streetlights flickering into life at dusk, ideas popped into her head. She leapt off her bed and bounded down the stairs, two at a time.
"Just going outside for a bit," she called out before slamming the front door shut behind her.
The first thing she needed was a ladder. That was easy. Mr Hugsly next door had a very tall set of steps that Mia had seen him use to prune his trees and hedgerows.
"Hi Mr Hugsly," said Mia as she peeped over the privet into Mr Hugsly's front garden.
Mr Hugsly was bent over weeding his bed of pansies. "I recognise that bouncing voice," he said as he sat back on his haunches. "So what do you need from me this time? Binoculars? Wood to make a bird feeder? You know you still have my wife's Wellington boots?"
Mia shied sheepishly and twiddled her hair around her fingers. She remembered the Wellingtons. They were now somewhere beneath Camely Bog. But then if her mother had bought her a pair like she asked she wouldn't have borrowed Mrs Hugsly pair.
"I just wondered...erm...if I could borrow your step ladder?" she asked putting on her most girlish, innocent voice that everyone seemed to melt to.
"Oh, go on then," he replied. "But I'd be grateful if you'd bring it back as I want to clean my gutters tomorrow."
"I will," said Mia, aware that it was unlikely he'd get them back before the end of the week as it rather depended on the rest of her plan.
Mia knew her mother better than her mother knew herself. She was an Art teacher by day and by night she was a slave to her fascination with the strange and usual. All Mia had to do was find something that would occupy her mother for long enough. It wasn't long before Mia found the answer inside the 'What's on' section of the local newspaper.
"Look mum, there's a Witchery tour of the town on tonight. You should go. I know you'd like it," Mia said holding up the paper.
"Mmmm. It does look interesting. And they cover the Camely Trials of 1642," she said as she studied the advertisement.
"I can look after myself now, after all I am twelve," said Mia. "You can trust me!"
Mia gave her mother the toothiest smile she could muster; so wide her lips stuck to her gums.

It was six o'clock when Mia's mother finally clicked the front door shut behind her. Mia peeped through the curtains watching her mother as she walked down the street and disappear round a corner. When she was out of sight Mia set to work. She skidded across the smooth kitchen floor to the back door and grabbed the steps that were leaning against the side of the house. Then she carried them up the stairs and carefully positioned them beneath the hatch. With a deep breath Mia climbed the steps , feeling the air getting cooler with every step. Determinedly she placed her hands on the hatch and pushed it open.
Inside it was dark and dusty and smelt of old books and mouldy wood.
"I should have brought a torch," Mia said as she grabbed a thin cord hanging from one of the rafters. She didn't realise it was a light until she pulled it. Slowly the bulb, swinging from the ceiling, flickered into life, as though it hadn't been turned on in years. "That was fortunate."
Mia looked about the attic. There was definitely a floor, from what she could tell, but there was so much clutter she wasn't sure how much of the attic it covered. There were boxes and chests piled in a higgledy-piggledy fashion, dusty paintings, mirrors strewn with thick cobwebs and piles of newspapers and discarded toys.
"Wow, it's like Aladdin's cave in here," Mia said. But as she hauled herself inside her foot kicked the ladder and with a clatter it tipped over and crashed onto the landing.
She knew that was going to be a problem later but ignored it. She had more important things to do, like investigate this space. Caring little for the presence of spiders and webs and dust, she busily raked through the boxes examining board games, wind up toys, dolls dressed in dirty lace frocks and comics.
But it was a strange whimpering sound and a faint wispy cloud that darted behind boxes that caught Mia's attention.
"Hello," she said. "Is anybody there?"
No reply came.
"If you are there, my name's Mia."
The cloud appeared again from behind a tall mirror. It had no form that Mia could identify, it just looked like floating dust. Then it disappeared. Mia sensed there was something unusual about the attic. She felt it, tickle her skin just like it had done when she lived in an old house in Blakestone; that house had a past too, but that's another story.
"I can sense you, whoever you are. You don't need to be afraid of me. "
"Leave me," a whistly voice said.
"What's your name?"
"Leave me," it said again.
"I'm afraid I can't. I'm trapped up here. The ladder has fallen down. I can't get out," said Mia. "Please tell me who you are. We can be friends."
There was a still silence. Mia scanned the attic trying to locate the wisp.
"Herbert," said the voice.