Read Online Dial a Ghost by Eva Ibbotson - Free Book Online

midnight and then go to the master bedroom in the East Tower and begin your haunting. Good luck and best wishes for your new life.
    ‘Come on then,’ said Addie. ‘What are we waiting for?’ And before they could stop her, she had swooped up the gravel drive and zoomed into the house.
    Oliver did not think he would be able to sleep, but he did sleep – a restless, twitchy sleep filled with hideous dreams.
    Then suddenly he was awake. The clock in the tower was striking the hour, but there was no need to count. He knew it was midnight. He knew by the frantic beating of his heart, by the shivers of terror running up and down his spine, and by the clamminess of his skin.
    He tried to sit up, and felt the familiar tightening of his chest. He was going to have an asthma attack
    – and he reached out for the inhaler before he realized it was gone.
    And then, as he was struggling for air, he saw it. A hand! A pale hand coming through the wardrobe door, its fingers searching and turning... The hand was attached to an arm in a white sleeve: a wan and lightless limb, sinister and ghastly.
    The wailing nun? The murdered bride?
    The other arm was coming through the fly-stained mirror now – and dangling from it on a kind of string was something round and horrible and loose.
    Its head. The phantom was carrying its head.
    Knowing that his end had come gave Oliver a sudden spurt of strength. Managing to draw air through his lungs, he sat bolt upright and switched on the light. ‘Come out of there,’ he called, ‘and show yourself.’
    The figure did as it was told. If it was a nun or a bride it was a very small one, and it seemed to be dressed for bed.
    ‘Who are you?’ asked Oliver, between the chattering of his teeth. The ghost came forward. ‘I’m Adopta Wilkinson,’
    she said. ‘There’s no problem about that . But who are you, because you’re certainly not a nun.’
    Oliver stared at her. She seemed to be about his own age, with a lot of hair and sticking-out ears. ‘Why should I be a nun?’ he asked. ‘It’s you who are supposed to be a nun. And headless.’
    ‘Do I look headless?’ she asked, sounding cross.
    ‘No. I thought... your sponge bag was your head.’
    The ghost thought this was funny. ‘Would you like to see what’s inside?’ she asked.
    Oliver nodded and she unpacked her tooth-cleaning things. Then she took out the fish and put it down on the counterpane, where it lay looking peaceful, but not at all energetic. ‘I tried to find a friend for it when we were living in the knicker shop. I haunted every fishmonger in London – you know how there are always rows and rows of dead fish on the slabs – but not one of them had become a ghost to keep him company. Not a single one.’
    ‘He doesn’t look unhappy,’ said Oliver.
    ‘No.’ Addie repacked her bag. ‘But I don’t understand; we were supposed to come to a convent and this can’t possibly be a convent. Nuns don’t have little boys and they wouldn’t have those awful rude words carved everywhere.’ She pointed to the head of the bed and the words ‘I Set My Foot Upon My Enemies’ carved into the wood.
    ‘No – that’s the motto of the Snodde-Brittles,’ said Oliver.
    ‘They sound awful. I bet the feet they set upon their enemies have yellow toes with hair on them and bunions.’
    Oliver began to explain about Helton, but he was interrupted by the most extraordinary sound: a gurg ling, guggling sort of noise ending in a hiccup.
    ‘Good heavens, what’s that?’
    ‘Don’t worry, it’s only Aunt Maud. She’s practising wailing woefully or moaning muffledly, you can’t be sure. She’s terribly worried, you see, about not being dreadful enough for you. All of them are. Shall I tell them it’s all right?’
    ‘Yes, please do. And Adopta, could you just make it clear that muffled moans are not at all big with me?’
    So one by one the Wilkinsons came and Addie introduced them. As soon as she saw Oliver all the nonsense