Read Online The Ghost Before Christmas by Katherine John - Free Book Online

Chapter One
    Nia Phillips was three years old, and small for her age, but when she heard shouts and screams echoing up the stairs one night she tried to shrink even smaller inside her bed. The last time Mam and Daddy had quarrelled in the night, Mam had come into her bedroom and grabbed her. Daddy had tried to take her but Mam had held her so tight she’d hurt her, making deep red marks on her arms and legs.
    When Daddy finally pulled her away, he’d cried. It was her fault. She knew it was her fault because every time Mam was angry, she said she’d never wanted her.
    She had to hide before Mam found her and hurt her and Daddy cried. She slipped sideways, out of her bed, and crawled down the gallery on to the stairs. A nightlight burned in a socket next to the top step. It was dim, no more than a flicker. The shadows around it were thick and dark. She tried not to picture the monsters that could be hiding in them.
    She slithered close to the high, carved banisters, and wrapped the fingers of her right hand tightly around each one until the knobbly bits bit into her palm. It hurt, but she knew if she was brave – and silent – she would reach her secret hidey-hole without being seen.
    She clutched her penguin to her chest with her left hand. Pengy knew everything about her. What she liked, what she wanted, and how more than anything else in the world she wished Mam and Daddy would stop quarrelling and that Mam would stop hitting Daddy and her, even when she was being naughty. Her Uncle Dewi and Aunt Elin had given her Pengy and showed her his secret. When his tummy was pressed, a light came on inside him, but she didn’t dare do that. Not until she was safe.
    The post she wanted was carved with deeper grooves and bigger bunches of grapes than the rest. When she reached it she stopped still. She held her breath, clenched her fists, and listened hard.
    The hall, passage, living room, and dining room were in darkness. The voices were coming from the kitchen. Daddy always came in through the back door when he finished working in the pub. She peeked between the banisters and saw a strip of yellow light on the floor at the end of the passage.
    She lifted the secret door and crawled through it, falling forward and landing with a bump that hurt her hands and knees. She pressed Pengy’s tummy. The light flickered on. She pushed Pengy ahead and moved forward. If she could get to her hidey-hole without breathing out, Mam wouldn’t find her. If Mam didn’t find her she couldn’t hit her. She made it to the second door, pressed it, and fell inside.
    She charged in so quickly she hit her face on the back wall. She pulled the door behind her, catching her fingers. She stifled a cry, breathed out, and grabbed her blanket. An old one she’d taken from the laundry basket and hidden there. She wrapped it around herself. She’d brought in an old cushion as well. One that smelled of polish. She lay on top of it.
    Wrapped up and comfy, she watched Pengy’s light dim and go out. Her father had told her if she wanted Pengy’s light to keep working she had to save the battery. It was a good job she wasn’t afraid of the dark because it wasn’t just dark like the hall and stairs in her hidey-hole. It was black. Blacker than the cellar in the pub with the light turned off.
    She knew, because she’d followed Daddy down there once. He hadn’t seen her and she’d sneaked behind the barrels. When he’d finished changing the pipes he’d climbed the stone steps, turned off the light and shut the door. She’d watched him but she hadn’t shown herself because she thought he’d be cross with her for following him. She didn’t know how long she’d stayed there because she fell asleep. She woke when he picked her up.
    â€˜What are you doing down here, poppet? Aren’t you frightened of the dark?’
    â€˜Not frightened of dark, only