The Write Dream (Storage Ghosts) by Gillian Larkin Read Free Book Online Page A

seconds and then said, “She
says it’s not time yet. She can only tell you her name, it’s Pearl.”
    Grace
smiled at where she thought the ghost was. “That’s a nice name. Are you attached
to the old teapot? Did you give me the strength to hit someone with it a few
weeks back?”
    Marie’s
eyes widened. She said to Grace, “I’m not going to repeat everything she says
because she’s using some words that are not proper.” Marie turned back to where
Pearl was and pointed a finger. “Call me a fuddy duddy if you like but I won’t
repeat them!”
    Marie
pursed her lips and glared into empty space. “Yes, I have heard words like that
on the telly, and I’ve read them in books. Of course I know what they mean! No!
I won’t try using them, I don’t care if they are liberating! I thought old
women were supposed to be genteel!”
    Grace
said calmly, “Marie, you need to calm down, you’re shimmering, I can hardly see
you.”
    Marie
gave the air a disgusted look and turned away from where Pearl must have been
standing. Marie jerked her thumb over her shoulder and said, “She says that
she’s attached to the shop, not the teapot. But she did give you the strength
to whack that ... well, I won’t say what she called him. She’s only sorry that
you didn’t kill him, and his evil friends. Grace, what have you been through?”
    Grace
waved a hand dismissively at Marie. “It’s all in the past. Can you ask her when
I’ll be able to see her?”
    Marie
looked over her shoulder. “She’s gone, sorry.”
    Grace
looked upwards. “I just heard that sound again, it was like something
mechanical.”
    “Perhaps
it was Pearl?” Marie suggested. “If she’s attached to the building she probably
moves around it freely.”
    “Maybe,”
Grace said, but she wasn’t sure. “Anyway, let me phone your son, let me try and
help you.”
    “Don’t
bother, look who’s just walked through the door.”
    Grace
did so.
    It
was Sharon.
    Marie
lifted her chin up and strode towards her. She said to Grace, “I think we’ve
got questions to ask.”
    Sharon’s
eyes narrowed as she looked Grace up and down, she grimaced as if the sight
offended her. She placed her expensive handbag on the counter and pointed a
sharp talon towards her. She said, “Andrew told me where you worked, I didn’t
realise it was so shabby. Listen to me, I want those notebooks back.”
    Grace
walked up to the counter and stood behind it as if using it as a shield against
Sharon’s hate. “What notebooks?” she asked, although she knew what Sharon was
referring to.
    Sharon
shot her a look of scorn. “You know exactly which notebooks. Those ones that
belonged to Andrew, those that are filled with his ridiculous scribblings.”
    Grace
felt Marie stiffen at her side but she kept her eyes on Sharon. “Why do you
want them?”
    “So
I can destroy them! I don’t want Andrew to ever get his hands on them again. He
might start thinking he has some sort of talent, he might believe that idiotic
stuff that his mum told him about following his dreams.” Sharon snorted. “It
used to make me sick hearing her talk like that! No idea at all! She was a
useless mother, filling his head with impossible ideas.”
    Marie
floated through the counter and hovered over Sharon. Sharon shivered and pulled
her jacket closer.
    Grace
folded her arms. “I read Andrew’s stories, I thought they were good. Actually,
better than good. He could be a best selling author.”
    Sharon
sneered. “What would you know? You just work at a junk shop.”
    Grace
took a steadying breath. She heard that peculiar noise again. Her scalp
prickled as she realised what it could be. She almost smiled when she realised
where it could be coming from. She’d need to keep Sharon talking.
    “I
suppose I could give you the notebooks, I don’t need them,” Grace said.
    “No!”
Marie called out.
    Grace
had to ignore her, she couldn’t indicate to where she thought the noise was
coming from, Sharon