Every Saturday, collectors, bargain shoppers, neighbours out for a walk, and teenagers with limited supplies of pocket money could open the local paper and find a list of garage sales in their district. Each week, at least one person, whether the executor of a deceased estate, a resident planning to move house, a family doing a clean out of unwanted goods or anyone else who sought to sell their second hand wares would post signs on the telegraph poles in nearby streets, announcing that their garage, and perhaps their front yard, would play host to anybody wishing to walk away with recycled books, toys, furniture, or whatever else took their fancy, at a fraction of the original cost.

For Andy, all of this was true, and he also enjoyed the chance to go onto the premises of some of the many surviving old houses of the district. Their historical architecture appealed to him, as he was on his way into adolesence and developing new hobbies and interests.

He made his usual plans one week, researching the garage sales in the local paper. He made up his usual itinery, listing the sales in the best order, based on location and starting time. When Saturday morning came, he made sure that his backpack was empty, so that he could fill it with purchases, mounted his bicycle, and headed for the first sale. It yielded nothing of interest. He found two paperback novels at the second sale, and then had to get off his bike at the front of the third property’s long driveway, and walk up to its battle axe block. He came to an enormous three storey mansion, probably built some eighty or ninety years ago, and began to examine the items in the garage and on the back lawn.

He went through a box of vinyl records and took out a few that had instrumental soundtracks of some of his favourite old movies, which were his favourites primarily because of the music scores themselves. In the past, he’d contented himself with editing the music from the movies themselves, which unfortunately left the dialogue voices in. Since his garage sale ventures had started, he was gradually replacing all his make shift soundtracks with the real deal.

On the lawn he also noticed a dark brown coloured dollshouse, which hard one particularly impressive characteristic. Its design very much reflected the historical architecture style of the mansion owned by the host of the garage sale, who was a middle aged woman.

“It belonged to Bonnie Kay, when she lived here. Later on, her mother let the dollshouse go along with the property, as Bonnie no longer wanted it.”

“Bonnie Kay lived here?” he asked, “As in the famous teenager who solved all those mysteries?”

“Yes, that was her.”

“That must have been around sixty years ago.”

“She lived here with her widowed mother, and got the dollshouse when she was about fifteen or sixteen. It’s basically the same now, except I repainted it a dark brown colour that wouldn’t show the dust and signs of wear as easily. It’s the only thing here that I’m asking a lot more for, since it’s an antique and a collector’s item.”

Andy was one of Sandra Corlani’s time class students.