Emily Feather and the Secret Mirror Read Online Free PDF

course, but it wouldn’t take much magic to make her tread in something disgusting – quite a lot of people walked their dogs along this road. She gave him a warning look. “Don’t. It really was mostly my fault.” Then she hurried on, anxious to get this horrible walk done.
    Rachel had stopped at their gate, and muttered, “Bye, then,” and Emily had sighed and tried to smile. “Bye. See you tomorrow,” she added, fiddling with the gate, until Robin lost patience and dragged her into the garden, leaving Rachel to walk round the corner to her mum’s flat.
    â€œYou’d better make up with her,” Robin snapped as they walked up the path. “I’m not putting up with that for the rest of the week. It felt like being wrapped up in a cloud of miserable fog.”
    Emily had blinked at him in surprise – but then he and the rest of her family did feel things in that sort of way. Now she huddled her duvet round her shoulders, trying to imagine what that would be like. She quite liked the idea. Instead of worrying about something , and not being able to work out quite what, you would know exactly what was going on, because there was a sad little cloud of greyness sitting next to you, or wrapped round your neck like a scarf.
    It would be even better if they were … things, Emily thought to herself, climbing out of bed and tugging the duvet with her like a squashy coat. Or animals. A sad little creature that you could cheer up with a saucer of milk, so you stopped being miserable, or worried.
    She curled herself up with her duvet on her window seat and gazed into the strangely slanted glass. It was greenish and old, as old as the house, and it had been made by hand, her father said. If Emily looked hard enough at the swirls and tiny bubbles, usually something would appear, although she never knew what it would be, or whether she would like it.
    A few weeks before, when Emily had started to feel that she was different, the visions in the windows had seemed just another proof that there was something wrong with her. She had tried not to see them, and she’d moved her chair to the other side of the table, facing away from the glass. But she had missed the pictures.
    Emily had always loved them, right from when the funny little room in the tower had first been hers, when she was five and old enough to walk up the steep, narrow staircase without falling. She adored her room. She could sit for hours drawing the strange things she saw in the window – cities made of clouds, strange creatures dancing through rivers of light. Now she knew that her pictures were probably real somewhere. And that all along the fairy world had been trying to entice her in.
    Emily leaned her cheek against the cool green glass and looked at it out of the corner of her eye, hoping to catch a hint of movement.
    A faint misty swirl, far off inside the glass, darkened and seemed to come towards her, becoming clearer and more solid as it paced slowly forward. A small, dark grey bear padded into view, its head hanging down, and Emily swallowed. It was exactly how she felt.
    The bear sat down, just on the other side of the glass from Emily, and leaned forward, as though to place its damp black nose on her shoulder, or in the crease at the top of her neck. Emily could almost feel him through the glass, and she shivered with excitement. She’d never been able to touch the pictures in the glass before. She was sure her dad was right – now that she had been through the doors, there was magic inside her too…
    The bear sighed mournfully, and Emily giggled. She could feel its sad breath and tickly whiskers on her ear. “I don’t know how you did it, or if you even meant to, but I do feel a bit better.”
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    â€œDo you want anything particular in your lunch?” Eva, Emily’s mother asked, waving a buttery knife at her. “Do you think you ought to take two drinks?