Fenella. Youâre like a starved savage in a famine poster! Savage indeed. She recalled Fenella worshiping Monigan and Fenellaâs letter: âDear Parents, We have killed Sallyâ¦â I think I shall start haunting you now , Sally announced.
There was, Sally knew, a kind of ghost which threw things about. After her success with the wastepaper basket she was sure she could do that. She reached for the salt cellar. To her surprise and exasperation, nothing happened. She reached for it again. Still nothing. She could make no impression on it at all. She could not seem even to move Imogenâs handkerchief, which Imogen had prudently crumpled beside her place in case she cried again.
Oh, bother! Sally cried out. Iâve forgotten how! Oliver responded to that with a sudden growl. He seemed to have resigned himself to Sally, but he did not like her shouting. I hate you all! Sally shouted, and flounced off, bobbing and whirling, to perch on the draining board.
âYou know,â remarked Cart, âif Sally was here, sheâd just have got to the part where she shouts out that she hates us all.â
Sally glowered at Cart from the draining board. You wait , she said. People can see me. Mrs. Gill did, and I can move things. Just wait till Mother and Himself come in, and then Iâll shrivel you all with guilt!
She was certain both parents would come and see them as soon as School was over for the evening. Hopefully she watched the big wall clock for nearly an hour. There was a bell and distant shrill bustling from School. Now , she thought.
However, no parents appeared. Sally had to move from the draining board then because Imogen cleared the table. Even bodiless, Sally did not fancy sitting on dirty dishes. She thought it might be a hopeful sign that Imogen was clearing up. Himself got very irritable if he saw the mess they lived in. But Imogen was not behaving as if she was expecting Himself. None of the sisters was. Imogen was tidying in a vexed, restless way, as if she felt more grieving coming on. Cart was reading. Fenella was lying on her bulging stomach under the table, spitting chewed-up pieces of paper at Cartâs feet. She missed every time.
The latch of the outside door clacked. Sally sprang up. So did Oliver. Imogen turned round from the sink, and Cart laid down her book.
âHallo,â Cart said cheerfully. âCome on in.â
Ned Jenkins slid round the door, clutching a paper bag, grinning rather guiltily. âWe brought the jar of coffee,â he said. âHave you any spare food?â
âBecause,â said Will Howard, sliding in after Ned, âthere was practically nothing for supper again, and weâre starving.â
âDrat you!â Fenella exclaimed from under the table.
âWhy?â asked Ned Jenkins, bending down to look at her.
Fenella looked accusingly up at him. âYou made me jump, opening the door, and I swallowed the piece of paper I was chewing.â
âPaper doesnât kill you,â said Ned Jenkins.
âYes, it does,â Howard said cheerfully. âIt wraps itself round your appendix and you die in agonies.â
Fenella gave him the look which had defeated Mrs. Gill. It had no effect on Will Howard at all. âHow many more of you are coming?â she said witheringly. âIâm not going to chew any more paper until youâve all arrived.â
âStinkerâs up to his ears in physics,â Ned said, rubbing Oliverâs back with his paper bag. âGreer, Wrenn, and Shepperson are all prancing around in wire helmets, waving swords. And Howard told Nutty Filbert we werenât coming here tonightââ
âWhy?â said Fenella.
âBecause Filbertâs mad,â Howard said blandly.
âBut weâre pleased to see you two,â Imogen said kindly.
She said it so grandly that Howard bent down under the table and whispered to Fenella, âIs your sister saying
John O'Riley
Jill Gregory
Celya Bowers
Aria Cunningham
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Christopher George
Learning to Kill: Stories
Brenda Sinclair
Karl Iagnemma
C. J. Cherryh