– Poppy looked back at the dates on the website. The portrait had been painted in 1793, when Sophia was fifteen. Back then people did get married very young – the girls anyway. She sniggered to herself. Jake and Alex were fifteen. She couldn’t imagine either of them getting married.
But Sophia Morrell might have been just at the right age to fall in love with somebody (there were a whole lot of fifteen-year-old girls who were mad enough to fancy Jake and Alex, after all). And she was bound to fall in love with the wrong person, Poppy thought to herself, grabbing her pad and starting to draw Sophia – the big eyes, pale face, shining honey-coloured hair. If you were fifteen and you spent days and days wearing your best dress and staring at a handsome young painter (Poppy had no idea if Francis Rowley was handsome or young, but for the purposes of her story he was eighteen and gorgeous) surely you’d fall in love with him. Poppy drew him – with some paintbrushes and floppy hair. And then your father – Lord Morrell was a bit boring in his official portrait, so Poppy decided to make his moustache bigger in her version – said you couldn’tever marry a penniless portrait painter, and besides, he’d already arranged for you to marry the boring oldest son of the Lord next door.
Anyone with any sense of drama – and it was obvious from her portrait that Sophia was very dramatic – would go out and walk up and down the lake in the dark feeling totally miserable, and then accidentally fall in and drown. The portrait painter would turn up just too late to rescue her – but in time for Sophia to tell him that she would love him for always, and she was going to haunt Amberlake to make her mean father’s descendants as miserable as she was.
Poppy happily scribbled away, drawing Sophia dying in her painter’s arms, and then her ghost, still in the green dress, walking over the surface of the lake.
“We can call her the Green Lady,” Poppy muttered happily to herself. She put the laptop down on the floor next to her bed and then rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Now she just had to work out a way to use her ghost to scare Ali.
It had been such a strange few days, eerie and horrible, and she was still dreaming about the shadow, and waking up in the middle of the night.Poppy yawned. Her bed was so comfortable, and the room was warm.
A thin green figure danced across the water, darting in and out of the sunny patches and the reeds around the lake, her green dress merging into the tall stems. She fluttered and blinked in and out as the light caught her, and Poppy strained her eyes to see.
The figure came gradually closer, stretching her hands to Poppy. It was hard to see her face – she was like a flickery reflection on the water instead of a proper solid person, but Poppy was sure that she was smiling. Poppy was quite certain that she was a ghost – her Green Lady, but she wasn’t frightened. Sophia wanted to help…
Poppy blinked and yawned, and stared at the ceiling in puzzlement, still seeing faint greenish patterns behind her eyes. She’d been dreaming…
Then she remembered what she’d been dreaming about, and sat up with a start. She’d imagined herself an awfully real-looking ghost. But even though she’d hated the thought of pretending to be a witch, she was actually looking forward to this now. She’d made Sophia’s story up, so it was silly to feel that Sophia approved of what they were going to do, but Poppy couldn’t help it. That flittery greenish figure hadbeen laughing. She wanted Poppy to get back at Ali, just as she’d wanted to get back at her bullying father in Poppy’s story.
And Poppy’s dream had told her exactly how to do it too – the first part of it anyway. She just needed to get herself and Iz and Maya and Emily somewhere Ali could hear them, and tell them all about her dream.
“Well, it tasted horrible,” Poppy said, glaring at Emily, who was smirking at her
But Sophia Morrell might have been just at the right age to fall in love with somebody (there were a whole lot of fifteen-year-old girls who were mad enough to fancy Jake and Alex, after all). And she was bound to fall in love with the wrong person, Poppy thought to herself, grabbing her pad and starting to draw Sophia – the big eyes, pale face, shining honey-coloured hair. If you were fifteen and you spent days and days wearing your best dress and staring at a handsome young painter (Poppy had no idea if Francis Rowley was handsome or young, but for the purposes of her story he was eighteen and gorgeous) surely you’d fall in love with him. Poppy drew him – with some paintbrushes and floppy hair. And then your father – Lord Morrell was a bit boring in his official portrait, so Poppy decided to make his moustache bigger in her version – said you couldn’tever marry a penniless portrait painter, and besides, he’d already arranged for you to marry the boring oldest son of the Lord next door.
Anyone with any sense of drama – and it was obvious from her portrait that Sophia was very dramatic – would go out and walk up and down the lake in the dark feeling totally miserable, and then accidentally fall in and drown. The portrait painter would turn up just too late to rescue her – but in time for Sophia to tell him that she would love him for always, and she was going to haunt Amberlake to make her mean father’s descendants as miserable as she was.
Poppy happily scribbled away, drawing Sophia dying in her painter’s arms, and then her ghost, still in the green dress, walking over the surface of the lake.
“We can call her the Green Lady,” Poppy muttered happily to herself. She put the laptop down on the floor next to her bed and then rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Now she just had to work out a way to use her ghost to scare Ali.
It had been such a strange few days, eerie and horrible, and she was still dreaming about the shadow, and waking up in the middle of the night.Poppy yawned. Her bed was so comfortable, and the room was warm.
A thin green figure danced across the water, darting in and out of the sunny patches and the reeds around the lake, her green dress merging into the tall stems. She fluttered and blinked in and out as the light caught her, and Poppy strained her eyes to see.
The figure came gradually closer, stretching her hands to Poppy. It was hard to see her face – she was like a flickery reflection on the water instead of a proper solid person, but Poppy was sure that she was smiling. Poppy was quite certain that she was a ghost – her Green Lady, but she wasn’t frightened. Sophia wanted to help…
Poppy blinked and yawned, and stared at the ceiling in puzzlement, still seeing faint greenish patterns behind her eyes. She’d been dreaming…
Then she remembered what she’d been dreaming about, and sat up with a start. She’d imagined herself an awfully real-looking ghost. But even though she’d hated the thought of pretending to be a witch, she was actually looking forward to this now. She’d made Sophia’s story up, so it was silly to feel that Sophia approved of what they were going to do, but Poppy couldn’t help it. That flittery greenish figure hadbeen laughing. She wanted Poppy to get back at Ali, just as she’d wanted to get back at her bullying father in Poppy’s story.
And Poppy’s dream had told her exactly how to do it too – the first part of it anyway. She just needed to get herself and Iz and Maya and Emily somewhere Ali could hear them, and tell them all about her dream.
“Well, it tasted horrible,” Poppy said, glaring at Emily, who was smirking at her
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