The Whispering House Read Online Free PDF

must have been Maisie’s doll.”
    â€œYeah?” Sam was trying to look interested, but he was stifling a yawn and looking pointedly at the refrigerator. “Is it lunchtime yet?”
    â€œSure. Wait a minute while I fix it.” She moved the doll to one side and washed her hands under the kitchen tap, and within ten minutes they were both comfortably settled in front of a video, a plate of sandwiches between them—and Maisie Holt, with her faded, dusty past, temporarily forgotten.
    It was only after Sam had gone that Hannah returned to the forlorn figure still lying on the drainboard. She shivered suddenly. It was only a doll, but there was something disturbing about those mad, staring eyes.
    Hannah’s mother wasn’t impressed when she saw the damaged paintwork on the landing, and she was even less impressed by the state of the attic.
    â€œI’m certainly not storing anything in there!” she said, shuddering. “Whatever made you think of unblocking that door?”
    â€œWe thought you needed space. It might have been useful. And Sam says there’s more of that paint in the other room.”
    â€œWhich shouldn’t have been opened in the first place,” replied Mom severely, walking back down the uncovered stairs. “It’s a shame we can’t use it, though. It would have been the obvious room for us. It’s bigger than the other one and gets the light from both windows.” She sighed.
    â€œWe found something interesting in the attic,” said Hannah, hoping to distract her. She led the way downstairs and brought the doll from the kitchen.
    â€œGood heavens!” said Mom. “Whatever’s wrong with her?” She looked carefully at the pale china face, then laughed suddenly. “Oh, I see. Someone’s tried to change the color of the eyes—using a paintbrush, by the look of it. You can just see a bit of the original blue where the new paint hasn’t quite covered it. Only there’s too much of this brown on her left eye. That’s why she looks slightly crazy.” She peered closer, lifting the matted hair. “And here’s something else. She used to have blond curls—see? They’re still underneath. This dark stuff has been stuck on over the top.” She rubbed a few strands between her fingers. “What’s more, this is real hair. Human hair. Most dolls had hair made of wool in those days. Looks like some little girl had a haircut and then decided to give her doll a makeover with the trimmings!”
    â€œDo you think we could wash her dress?”
    â€œMaybe.” Mom sounded doubtful. “Sometimes these things are sewn onto the body.” She turned it over. “This isn’t, though. Look, it’s got a row of buttons at the back. They’ll be hard to undo, after all this time.” She peered at the tiny buttons and frowned. “Maybe not, after all. Look, these holes are way too big for the buttons. That’s unusual. Victorian sewing is usually so neat.”
    The blue ribbon was a problem, however, and it took a lot of coaxing before the tight little knot yielded at last. Then Mom unfastened the dress and gently pulled it over the doll’s head.
    â€œOh!”
    The exclamation came from both Hannah and her mother at once. They stared at the cloth body, naked save for the black boots.
    â€œWhat’s happened to her?” asked Hannah.
    â€œDon’t ask me!”
    All over the back, stomach, arms, and legs were dark yellowish-brown stains. Each was roughly the size of a small coin, and they were evenly spaced.
    â€œThese have been done on purpose, haven’t they?” Hannah said in astonishment.
    â€œLooks like it.”
    â€œBut why?”
    Her mother smiled sadly. “I’ve no idea. Maybe it was some kind of game the child was playing with her friends. Perhaps she thought the marks would wash out and realized too late that they were there to