Silent Song (Ghostly Rhapsody) Read Online Free PDF Page B

detour or got lost, but because the neighborhood was so huge that Dave had grossly miscalculated distances. “Walk one street up” is one thing in town, but another altogether when suddenly the block is one sprawling mansion with about a square mile of yard around it.
    “So…” Dave said as we passed perfectly manicured lawns, “why are we getting this stuff now?”
    “My mother asked the same thing,” I huffed. “Why can’t we rehearse surrounded by nice things, just for once? Since we don’t have to pay for rent time and all that.”
    Anna nodded, but Dave looked far from convinced.
    “I want to see how Lady Windermere’s drawing room is going to look too, but haven’t you wondered where we’re going to store it? We can’t leave it in place on stage.”
    I hadn’t thought of that. “And why can’t we leave it prepared?” I countered, as if I had.
    “Speeches. Meetings. Football pep talks. All that takes place in the auditorium, and they use the stage. A stage that can’t be cluttered with random Victorian crap, way too expensive for our high school to pay for if it’s broken,” Anna said, slowly.
    Dave nodded. “My point.”
    “If it’s so expensive, why are we borrowing it in the first place?” I wondered.
    His answer was cut short by a beep on his phone. He checked the screen and pointed to the left. “That’s our stop,” he said, the doubts forgotten in the face of the elegant house.
    Pathetic as it was, we stood for a good minute at the door, trying to decide who’d ring the bell. The whole neighborhood was grandiose, looking like an imported British residential area, right out of the past century, but this one mansion dwarfed the rest. It didn’t stand taller or bigger than the others, but it exuded an air of authenticity that made my jeans and denim jacket feel highly inadequate.
    In the end, we got Dave to ring—him being a guy and a gentleman and all—and the bell echoed through the three floors, reverberating in large, empty spaces for seconds on end before the sound died.
    “Creepy,” Anna whispered, and I had to agree.
    I fully expected the door to be opened by a mummified butler with stiff looks and disdainful eyes to tell us that his Lord was not available for visits. Instead, a middle-aged woman appeared on the threshold. She had mousy-brown hair and wide eyes, which were, in turn, set widely on her face. Her smile was polite and welcoming as she took us in.
    “You must have come on Mr. Hedford’s behalf,” she said, speaking with a perfect Oxford accent. “Come on in, my husband is waiting for you in the sitting room.”
    “Which one of them?” Anna murmured as we entered the house under cover of the shield provided by Dave’s presence.
    Quietly, the woman led us along a long corridor, wide enough for the three of us to walk abreast—scraping a bit against the paneled walls, granted, but no one wanted to be left behind. The ceilings hung so high over our heads that I don’t think I’d have reached to change a light bulb with the standard ladder of my own home, and the floor was covered in a thick-fitted carpet that muffled our steps and the creaking of the wooden planks below.
    Our sponsor waited on the first room to the left, an airy sitting room with two small sofas, a glass table, and a balcony overlooking the garden. He was a middle-aged man, with dark hair that started to show hints of steel gray around the temples, and while he dressed casually, his “house clothes” looked more expensive than the average of what any given classmate of ours would wear to prom.
    “Ah, welcome.” He had a kind smile, at least.
    “Hello, Mr. Nightray.” Anna found her voice first and Dave and I could only nod. “My name’s Anna, and this is Alice and David, from the theatre group at St. Francis. I hope we’re not coming at a bad time?”
    “No, not at all, my dear. I was waiting for you. Mr. Hedford announced your visit yesterday. I imagine you’re anxious to see