In The Grip Of Old Winter

In The Grip Of Old Winter Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: In The Grip Of Old Winter Read Online Free PDF
Author: Jonathan Broughton
a
question, more matter-of-fact and to be taken for granted.
    “But-” Peter didn’t
understand. “You can’t - because you’re only a girl.”
    She lifted the candle higher
and her reflection blurred, so that another image of her face appeared in the
panes, though less clear than the first. “What do you mean?”
    Peter’s eyes hurt from
staring. “Grandma - and granddad are - very old. Mum was born a long time ago
and you - you’re not as old as mum.”
    She lowered the candle and
faced him. “I’ve lived in this forest for a long time. I’ve always lived here.”
    “Are you -” Peter’s heart
thumped. “Are you a ghost?”
    Her expression didn’t change,
yet she tilted her head as if she didn’t understand. “My name is, Leonor.”
    Peter replied, because he
didn’t know what else to say. “My name is, Peter.”
    “I know. I heard it.” She
picked up a fold of her white dress, lowered her head and curtsied.
    No girl had ever curtsied to
him before. Nobody ever curtsied in real life, only on television when
important women met the Queen. “You heard it?”
    “Of course.” She stood
straight. “The fire burned so bright and warm tonight.”
    “I - I saw you when the
lights went out.”
    Leonor glided away from the
window and closer to the bed. Peter gripped the blankets tight and cowered as
she approached. Her milky-white eyes gazed into his. “You’re frightened of me.
Why?”
    Peter gulped, he didn’t want
to scream, though it threatened, like waiting for a loud noise that frightened
and thrilled at the same time. “It’s - it’s night and dark and - and - you’re
not real.”
    Is this the bad dream? If
she touches me, I’ll wake up and the scream will be so loud. Peter’s breathing panted like a runner’s after a
race.
    Two dark shadows trickled
down her cheeks and Leonor’s face dissolved.
    She’s going to change into
a hideous monster!
    He didn’t dare look, but he
didn’t dare not! He watched through squinted eyes, but nothing horrible
happened and with a jolt he understood that what he saw were ghost tears.
    “Why... why are you crying?”
    The flame on Leonor’s candle
wavered and when it dimmed her body diminished and her outline frayed, like
mist that evaporates in the early morning light.
    “I don’t want you to be
frightened.” Her voice no longer sounded clear. “I’m all alone and I need your
help.” She glided away. “I felt sure that you’d been sent to help me. Perhaps I
was mistaken, but when I saw you looking at me from outside, then I hoped that
you knew what must be done.”
    This didn’t make sense. “Help
you? How can I help you?”
    She faced him and the candle
burned brighter and her body drew together again. “You’re a special boy. And
only a special boy can help me.”
    Peter jumped when he heard
the word that mum used. “What do you mean? That’s just - that’s just playing.”
He didn’t like Leonor using that word. He and mum enjoyed ‘special’ together,
in private. It was not a word for sharing. “You shouldn’t listen to other
people’s conversations. That’s rude.”
    Leonor tilted her head again,
though her expression never changed. “I didn’t listen on purpose. I promise.”
    “Then how did you know?”
    “The house - the house,
that’s how I heard.” She gazed towards the ceiling, lost in some distant
thought. “The house - that’s right.”
    Peter shivered. The house
frightened him because of its difference. Did it really live? Did it listen? Is
that what Leonor meant?
    She faced him. “And you saw
the flame in the woods. Just now, you did, didn’t you?”
    Peter nodded.
    “You are special, you see.
Very few people see that flame. You can help me.”
    Then, with a rattle and a
creak that made Peter shout with fear, his bedroom door opened. At the same
moment, his candle ignited and burned with a steady yellow light.
    “Peter, are you all right?”
Mum sat on his bed and wrapped her arms around him. “I heard
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