Read Online The Whispering House by Rebecca Wade - Free Book Online Page B

appeared overnight , Sam. She wouldn’t have been playing outside in the middle of the night!”
    â€œMaybe they had some weird connection with her illness?”
    â€œOr maybe the aunt had,” she said darkly.
    Sam frowned and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in ginger tufts. Then he sighed. “Okay. I think I get the picture. You’re saying that this is what those dreams are all about? That what really scared Maisie wasn’t some character in a book, but her own aunt?”
    â€œWell, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Maisie suspected her aunt all the time, but never let on. She suppressed it, which is why it could only come out in her dreams!”
    â€œDidn’t you say there was a photograph?” Sam said at last.
    â€œIt’s downstairs. I’ll fetch it.” When she returned, he took the photo from her and peered at it closely. He pointed to the little girl. “This is Maisie, right?”
    â€œYes. And that’s the aunt, sitting next to her.”
    Sam opened his eyes wide in mock horror. “Ugh! She’s hideous! No wonder the kid was scared of her. She’s enough to give anyone nightmares, just looking at her!”
    â€œI suppose she couldn’t exactly help the fact she was ugly.”
    â€œIt could give her a motive, though.” He grinned. “Maybe she was jealous. Maisie was quite a looker, wasn’t she?”
    Hannah nodded thoughtfully, and for the first time she looked at the photograph properly, in a way she hadn’t had a chance to do with Mrs. Wilson there.
    Apart from Maisie’s mother, who hardly looked as though she was in the picture at all, the grown-ups had a stiff seriousness about them. Photographs at that time were clearly no laughing matter, and the servants all gave an impression that they were facing a firing squad. Only Maisie looked alive—vivacious. Hannah looked at the small face, shining with vitality even through the faded sepia: at the lustrous dark brown hair, the pretty white dress with its sash and deep hem. Then she caught her breath.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” Sam looked up.
    Without replying, Hannah ran out of the room and galloped down the stairs. A moment later she was back, holding the doll.
    â€œLook at it!” She thrust it into Sam’s hands and he stared in bewilderment.
    â€œWhat am I meant to be looking at?”
    â€œHer dress!
    Sam obediently looked at the doll’s dress, then back at Hannah, but his eyes were still baffled. “I don’t get it. What’s so special about this dress?”
    â€œNow look at the photo. What is Maisie wearing? ”
    Still frowning, he did as he was told. Then, suddenly, light dawned. “It’s . . . the same dress.”
    â€œExactly! You can’t see from the photo that the sash is blue, like the ribbon, but I wouldn’t mind betting it was. And that’s not all. The doll used to be blond. This dark hair has been stuck over the top. And the eyes were blue once, only someone’s painted them brown!”
    The baffled expression was back on Sam’s face. “Why would they do that?”
    â€œDon’t you see? This doll has been made to look exactly like Maisie!”
    â€œWell, so what? It’s the kind of thing girls do, isn’t it?”
    â€œAnd then stick pins in themselves?” Hannah thrust the doll into his hands and at the same time pulled the dress up over the doll’s head, revealing the odd yellowish-brown marks, each with its telltale puncture. “Angelina,” she muttered.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMrs. Grocott said that Maisie called it Angelina.”
    It. She’d said “it” again. Not “her.” The hard little word lay between them. There was an uncomfortable silence.
    Suddenly Sam dropped the doll. It landed on the floor with a soft thud, and Hannah looked up at him.
    â€œHey! What’s the matter? You okay?” His