The Whispering House by Rebecca Wade Read Free Book Online Page A

Yes.”
    Sam picked up a paper napkin from her tray, found a stub of pencil in his pocket, and put both on the table in front of her. “Here, try it.”
    She closed her eyes for a few moments. Then she opened them and pulled the napkin toward her. The drawing took only a few seconds. She turned it around, and he stared at it hard before glancing through the book’s illustrations, one by one.
    â€œNope,” he said at last, shaking his head. “I don’t see anything here to connect your leaves with this book.”
    â€œBut look at the stories! You must have read them before. What do almost all of them have in common? A wood! And in that wood is something scary. Something that means harm to the child!”
    â€œWhat are you afraid of, exactly? More dreams?”
    Hannah looked bleakly at her untouched plate. “Yes.”
    â€œYou think the next thing that’s going to appear is the big bad wolf? The wicked fairy?”
    If it was an attempt to make her lighten up, it failed.
    â€œIt’s not just the dreams.”
    â€œWhat else?”
    â€œThe doll. It . . . I don’t know, it feels wrong somehow.”
    He grinned. “So would you feel if you’d had a load of pins stuck in you.”
    â€œBut Maisie died , Sam,” persisted Hannah. “She died a few months after getting that book.”
    Sam swallowed his last mouthful and laid the fork carefully on the plate. He looked up. “Okay, I give in. What you need to do now is try to find out how she died. You never know—there could be someone who knows something about the history of that house. But right now, I think you should eat some lunch.”

Chapter Nine
    Lucky Break
    I T WAS ALL VERY well for Sam to airily issue advice, thought Hannah, but how exactly was she going to find out anything about the death of a child after so much time had gone by? Unless that death had been suspicious, there would be no newspaper reports to look back on, and in any case, with exams approaching she couldn’t afford to go investigating anything that didn’t have to do with schoolwork.
    Besides, over the next week the weather improved. The days were sunnier, the nights lost their close heaviness, and she slept well. For the time being, at least, there was no recurrence of the dreams.
    And then, one evening toward the end of the following week, something rather unexpected happened.
    She had gone to the local grocery store to buy lettuce to go with dinner and had just put it down on the counter when the woman serving looked at her curiously.
    â€œAre you the one who’s moved into Cowleigh Lodge?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œEverything okay, is it?” The woman rang up the lettuce on the register.
    â€œFine, thanks.”
    â€œStaying long?”
    â€œJust for a few months, probably.”
    The woman raised her eyebrows. “That’ll be a first, then.”
    â€œA first? How d’you mean?” Hannah looked puzzled.
    â€œFirst time I’ve known anyone to stay beyond the end of June. Long as I’ve been here, that place has lain empty through July and August. Then new folk move in around September.”
    â€œD’you know why?”
    â€œRoof’s in a bad state, could be one reason.” The woman stuffed the lettuce into a paper bag and held out her hand. “People always seem to move out after a spell of wet weather. They should get it fixed. Sixty pence, please.”
    Hannah handed over the money. Then an idea occurred to her. She glanced behind her to check there wasn’t a queue, but there was only an old man propped against the counter reading a newspaper. She turned back. “I don’t suppose you know anything . . . anything about the history of that house, do you?”
    â€œHistory?” The woman looked baffled. “It’s Victorian, if that’s what you mean. Same as all the other houses in that road.”
    â€œYes. Yes,