Extract: Music on Kohatu St, by JL Williams

Two children. One hidden staircase. A journey that will change everything. When the past finds you, will you know what to do?

Twelve-year-old concert pianist Jasmin Lee has spent her life on the road. She’s brilliant, tired, and done with music. When her parents take her to Kohatu House to rest, she expects only a quiet holiday. Instead, a carved wooden arch, a whispering melody, and a secret stone staircase drop her into 1893 where a musically gifted eight-year-old boy named Jacob plays a tin whistle on dusty streets.

Music on Kohatu Street is a middle-grade time-slip adventure set in Russell/Kororāreka in the Bay of Islands.

Extracted from Music on Kohatu St by JL Williams, RRP $20.00, published by Ocean Echo Books (2025)

Chapter 1. The Arrival

The black Audi with the tinted windows turned a corner and slowed to a stop outside Number One, Kohatu Street.

Oh no, we’re here. Jasmin closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“A short street,” remarked Mrs Lee. “It seems to be the only house. No other house.”

Jasmin lay still in the back seat, listening to the silence that filled the car as the engine stopped. Outside, she could hear the distant shush and swish of waves washing on the shore. Without opening her eyes, she stretched out her right hand on the car seat, her fingers spanning an invisible octave on a piano. They moved into the familiar pattern of the first bars of Prelude in E minor, a Chopin melody.

No! Stop! She snatched her hand back from the seat and balled her fingers into a fist.

Her mother’s voice was sharp. “Jin Ling? Jasmin? We’re here.”

Reluctantly, Jasmin opened her eyes, then quickly averted her gaze to avoid her mother’s anxious scrutiny. She looked instead at the big, old-fashioned holiday house they’d arrived at.

Number One Kohatu Street did indeed appear to be the only house on the street. It was an enormous, old-fashioned building, two stories, with a wrap-around verandah where a pale purple wisteria vine trailed long tassels of blossom. The house filled up an entire corner of the sleepy lane, which led up a hill and into the bush behind the town. Jasmin tilted her head back to gaze at the roof of the house. A starling perched on one of the chimney pots warbled a welcome.

Jasmin read the sign, ‘Kohatu House’. “It looks old,” she said. “Not your usual choice.” She saw her parents exchange glances.

“An unusual choice for an unusual situation,” replied her father, smiling at her. His cheerful tone seemed forced. Jasmin could hear the concern in his voice.

“You need somewhere peaceful to rest and recover,” he continued. “We think you’ll like it here.”

Jasmin pulled herself upright and surveyed the old house’s garden. It was lush with greenery and bright with flowers. A few graceful ash trees and tall palms stood on the wide lawn.

The front door of the guesthouse opened, and a tiny woman appeared on the doorstep. She wore a long black dress with a bright red and green shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked across the road at their car, then hurried down the wide front steps. With surprising energy, she trotted along the brick path and swung open the white-painted gate to welcome them.

“She looks like a witch,” whispered Jasmin.

“Shhh,” said her mother. “It must be the owner. Mrs Greenway.”

Mrs Lee and her husband climbed out of the car. Jasmin opened her door, but stayed where she was, watching her parents cross the road together to meet their host. They stopped outside the gate, and both bowed. Jasmin saw the old lady return their greeting.

“Welcome to Kohatu House,” she heard the old lady say.

As her parents turned to look at her, Jasmin realised she should have been right behind them. She scrambled out of the car, slammed the door shut, and hurried across the road to stand beside them. She ignored the pained look on her mother’s face and bowed to the old lady. “Hello,” she said.

The old lady smiled kindly. It was a warm, gentle smile that somehow made Jasmin feel special. “I’m Serena Greenway,” she said. “You are most welcome. I think you are just the right guest for this house, at just the right time. I’ve been hearing music at night. Please, follow me.”

Hearing music at night? Weird. Maybe she’s a bit crazy?

Studying her, Jasmin thought she certainly looked like somebody who could be a bit crazy. But there was that warmth in the woman’s voice, and her sane, confident, kindly manner.

Somehow, she makes me feel comfortable. Relaxed, even.

“This way,” the old lady said. She turned and led the way along the tidy brick path and up the broad front steps to the verandah.

Lingering at the gate, Jasmin watched her parents follow Mrs Greenway.

“Jasmin!” Mrs Lee’s voice was sharp.

Jasmin glared at her mother, but trailed after them, scuffing her feet along the path and reluctantly climbing the steps.

Her parents stood on the verandah, chatting with their host. Jasmin joined them, enjoying the fragrance of wisteria and roses drifting on the breeze, half listening to her parents. They admired the garden, exclaiming about its delightful old-world charm. Then they lowered their voices, explaining to Mrs Greenway that their daughter needed to stay somewhere quiet. For a rest. She’d been… unwell.

So irritating. Why do they have to tell this woman anything at all? And if they must talk about me, why don’t they just say it out loud? Stop hinting and making it sound worse than it is.

Jasmin studied the old lady. Mrs Greenway was smiling and nodding understandingly. Her hair was a snowball of white curls, but her face didn’t look old. She seemed bursting with energy compared with Jasmin’s exhausted-looking parents.

Well, it serves them right. Dragging me all over the world. Jasmin stopped herself. No. Don’t go there. Those thoughts always spiralled into a bad place.

She sighed. “I just want a normal life,” she whispered to the wind.

The old lady stepped forward. “I’m so glad you’re here, my dear,” she said. “I think this is going to be a very special holiday for you. Please come inside.”

Jasmin crossed the threshold into a wide hallway, the outdoor sounds of birdsong and rustling trees fading behind her. Stained-glass windows on either side of the front door threw a pattern of red, blue and gold onto the wooden floor. She caught her breath.

This is a significant place. Something important is going to happen here.

She shook the feeling off.

Don’t be silly. It’s just an old hotel.

A narrow, softly patterned strip of carpet ran the length of the hallway. An ornate wooden archway halfway along stretched up into the shadows of the ceiling. Intricately carved wooden flowers and leaves adorned the polished wooden columns that met overhead in the arched centre. The colours from the stained-glass windows highlighted each flower, leaf, and vine.

Jasmin moved closer. She saw small animal faces peering out from the woodwork and recognised a rabbit and a fox. And wasn’t that a badger? Jasmin knew them from her English schoolbooks. Her mother’s Hong Kong background had filled her childhood with stories set in cool forests in the temperate climate of the British Isles.

She reached out her hand, her fingers gently stroking the polished head of a carved wooden rabbit. “It’s beautiful!” she burst out.

As she stood there, a faint strain of music came to her ears. The haunting melody was somehow familiar.

 Flute music! But a softer tone than Mum’s concert flute. Perhaps it’s a wooden instrument?

The music faded. Jasmin strained her ears, but the music was gone.

Was that the music Mrs Greenway was talking about?

“The archway?” asked Mrs Greenway. “Yes, it’s very special. I fell in love with it myself when I first came here as a little girl.” She beamed. “I think I’m the luckiest woman in the world to live in this amazing house.”

“It’s quite unique,” agreed Jasmin’s father.

“More unique than you know,” murmured Mrs Greenway, leading the way into a sunny living room.

The room smelled of flowers and furniture polish. There were comfortable-looking chairs and sofas, and a big square table holding a vase of roses. Colourful wallpaper patterned like a tropical jungle covered the walls, where old-fashioned paintings hung in heavy wooden frames.

Jasmin lingered near the doorway. No one else had commented on the music. Had they heard it? Or was I the only one?

Mysterious.

“This is my living room,” said Mrs Greenway. “It’s my private room, and my apartment is just behind. This is where you’ll find me if I’m not pottering around in the garden. The guest lounge and dining room are on the other side of the house, looking out onto the front lawn and the trees. And all your bedrooms upstairs have a view of the sea.”

“It’s a big house. Is anyone else staying here?” asked Jasmin.

“Only your family,” said Mrs Greenway. “Now, follow me, and I’ll show you the old dining room. I’ve made a nice big space in there for the Baby Grand. It’s a lovely room for music.”

“Baby Grand?” Jasmin gasped.

“Yes,” said her mother, a warning in her voice. “I ordered it. It should arrive today. And I’ve arranged for a piano tuner to come.”

Jasmin glared at her.

“Er, we wanted to make sure you could keep practicing,” said her father, his eyes anxious.

“I told you,” said Jasmin. “I’m not practicing. I’m done with all that.” She felt tears prick her eyes and raised her voice. “I’m not touching this piano. You’re wasting your money. My money,” she added bitterly.

Ignoring her mother’s outraged expression, she rushed from the room.

“Jasmin!” her mother’s voice followed her.

She heard her father say, “Let her go,” in Chinese, as she fled outside into the garden.

Music on Kohatu St is available in bookstores now.