"Daddy, do we have an attic?"

The man looked up from his newspaper, gazing at his daughter over his glasses and smiled, although he was a little confused. "Yes, of course, but why on earth do you want to know that darling?"

She ignored his question. "Georgina's parents were going to clean out her attic and attached some ladders, but they forgot and she went up there and found boxes and boxes full of old things. Is our loft like that?"

"Sort of," he replied warily. He anticipated her next question, yet waited for her to ask it herself.

"Can I go up there?"

He looked wary. There were attached ladders to the loft, but he wasn't too sure about her going up there. He hesitated for a moment, yet smiled wearily. "Of course. But please don't go rummaging through old things, will you?"

Again, she ignored this. "And can Georgina come over now and come up with me?"

"Yes," said her father.

"Can she stay over tonight too? To eat and sleep and only go home tomorrow night?"

He gave a weary smile. "Alright, but only if Georgina's parents agree. You are on no account to pressurize them, okay? It's their decision, not yours or your friends. But let them know that I'm okay with it, yes?"

"Fine," she grinned. "I'm not stupid. You wouldn't let me do that and they wouldn't either. They're strict!"

"Always a good thing when caring for children. Being a pushover as you'd call it is just no good." She nodded and smiled at what he said, then thinking that their conversation was over, turned to run out of the door. "Harriet!"

She turned back around to face him. "What?"

"You did listen to me before, and you'll tell me that you promise now, and won't break it?"

"What promise?"

"That you won't go rummaging through old things. Please, don't?"

"I won't."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Promise what?"

She rolled her eyes. Really, he was just too touchy about old things. He didn't answer questions about her past, but this was really becoming infuriating. She was eight years old! She was a big girl now. He had to stop treating her like a baby. "I promise that I won't go rummaging through old things. Satisfied?"

"Yes," he smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Darling, I'm trusting you. Please don't let me down."

She blinked. How could she let him down? She was about to ask, but he smiled again and walked out of the living room. She blinked a second time then shrugged, putting her shoes and coat on to go the two streets down to Georgina's house, to invite her friend over for their evening meal, sleepover, and attic raid.

* * * * *

As Harriet climbed the ladders to the loft, they creaked. She looked down, happy to see that they were sturdy, but stunned at the height she was at. She was nearly at the top. Funny, she thought, she'd never thought of herself as being scared of heights. She climbed to the top and witnessed Georgina grinning at her. She was a monkey of a climber, and found it funny that Harriet was not as sturdy or as quick about climbing as she was.

The darkness around was quite terrifying, but lookily their eyes soon adjusted to the light and they were equipped with torches. The attic was full of old wooden crates of things, and dust lined everything, dancing in the torchlight.

They wandered around for a while, keeping well away from the downward dropped before Georgina grinned. "Sooo." Her toe stirred in the dust of the floor. "Do you wanna take a look through some old things?"

"Well, I want to, but I promised daddy that I wouldn't."

"Aw, come on, don't be a baby! You do want to don't you?"

"Yes, but I've just told you."

The smart, curly-haired child grinned. "I know, you promised your dad that you wouldn't look through old things. You're not going to. But I didn't promise him, so I shall!"

"Georgina." Harriet muttered uncomfortably. She always found it hard to say no to her friends, and after all, she wasn't breaking her promise, was she?

"What?" Asked her friend sharply.

"I. nothing, nothing." She smiled. Georgina grinned back.

"So, let's get this show on the road then."

Harriet sat down on the floor and hugged her knees. What was she letting her friend do?

IAN HOUR OR SO LATER/I

"This is boring. This place has nothing but junk!"

"What about your loft? Your attic? What was in there that was so interesting?" Harriet had become annoyed. "What did you find that couldn't be defined as junk?"

"I found lots of fun stuff! Baby toys, my birth certificate, mummy and daddy's marriage certificate, mummy's wedding dress, some old baby clothes, loads more baby books."

"Okay, okay!" Why didn't her father have anything from her past? She was wondering now. Why wouldn't he let her question it? Why. "Well, you found some neato stuff here too!"

"What? Old lampshades and stuff? Come on, this stuff is from about fifty years ago!"

"MY DADDY IS NOT FIFTY YEARS OLD!" Harriet found her anger rising, herself shouting. She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come, just weird sobbing noises coming from her throat.

"Crocodile tears!" Georgina jeered, then realized that it wasn't an act, that her friend was actually genuinely upset. "Oi, what's the matter? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Just don't insult my daddy, okay?"

"Fine." Said her friend, wondering when she'd become so touchy. She walked over to another crate and opened it, pulling out pads of paper. Most of it was blank, but she came to a certificate. A death certificate. "Is that your mummy's?"

Harriet stared at the certificate and blinked. Then she shook her head fiercely. "I've never had a mummy! She wouldn't be mummy because I don't have one, okay?"

"Sure, sure," said Georgina, in an extremely unconvincing tone.

Harriet snatched the certificate from her. "Come on, come on, we're going down now!"

Georgina opened her mouth to argue, but could see that she'd get nowhere. Harriet was being decidedly stubborn for a change.

They crept towards the hole in the floor and climbed down the ladder, Harriet silently and inwardly crying, yet trying to act brave in front of her friend. Georgina, having been friends with Harriet since when she was four, knew how her friend felt but not why. She didn't know what to say so decided to not let her friend know that she knew how she felt. It was the best course of action, even if it wasn't very. acting.

* * * * *

The next day after Georgina's parents had come and picked her up, Harriet was angry. She hadn't slept much, staring at the certificate, wanting to know who it was. She quite forgot her father's warning not to go looking through things, and could think of nothing else but wanting to know who this. this person was. She stomped into the living room, tears flooding down her cheeks. Her father looked up, startled.

"WHO IS THIS?" She demanded, thrusting the certificate at him.

He stared at the certificate. "I told you not to rummage through old things. You promised."

"And I kept that promise!" She snarled. "II/I didn't go through your old things! Georgina did! You never said she couldn't, you only made me promise, not her, so technically we did NOTHING WRONG! Now who is it? Who's the person? Please, tell me!"

The man sighed. "She's my daughter. That's all you need to know."

"So am I! You didn't even tell me that I had a sister!"

"You wouldn't have been born when she died. Don't worry."

"But, who's our mummy then?"

"Her mummy is none of your concern."

She cut in. "HER mummy? Is my mummy different? Who was mine?"

He sighed again, wearily. He should never have let her go up there. "I don't know."

She was getting annoyed. How could he not know who her mother was? "You're lying! You're lying! You know who she is!"

"No I don't."

"How-" she began, but he didn't wait for her to finish the question. He had a damn good guess at what it was going to be anyway.

"Harriet, honey," his voice was so apologetic, she stopped. "You're adopted."

She hadn't expected it. You could almost say that it was her worst nightmare. She screamed.