The Whispers of Wilderwood Hall Read Online Free PDF Page A

liking!” Mum replies, patting my hand. “I still think I should’ve taken you to the nearest hospital to get you checked over. I know you’ve had your funny moments before, but this felt different.”
    â€œThe lady in the café said that would’ve been two hours’ drive away, though,” I remind her.
    â€œHmm. Well, hopefully she’s right, and you’re just low on iron.”
    As I came round yesterday, I’d heard the elderly café waitress tell Mum that both her granddaughters had taken “turns” like this. “Some girls can be prone to it at this age. Anaemia, that is. They grow so fast, you see, and this young lass of yours is certainly big.”
    I’m “big”. Urgh. I think everyone thought I’d groaned because I was in pain, but it was the awfulness of that description that hurt me most.
    And then things got worse; I was staring up at Mum, the waitress and two inquisitive dogs … but where was the bird-eyed boy? All of a sudden, it dawned on me that my head was in his
lap
, and I scrabbled to my feet quicker than the time Shaniya told me a giant spider had dropped from the ceiling on to my shoulder. (It was a small leaf. Shaniya’s idea of a joke; well, it got a big laugh from everyone, except me, with my famous “sense-of-humour failure” as Shaniya calls it.)
    â€œI’ll be fine. I’ll google it, and find out what foods I should be eating,” I assure Mum.
    â€œWell, you won’t be able to do THAT till we get the engineer out to fix our internet connection. And I’m not sure how dependable the electrics are … someone’s coming to look at those soon, as well as the roofer and builder and plumber…” Mum’s voice trails off as she pulls her mobile out of her back pocket and checks her list of whos, whats and whens that’ll make the Shiny New Project start to take shape.
    While she’s momentarily frowning at her phone, I take a minute to gaze around at the grounds. When we arrived yesterday, Mum drove us – in drizzle – through tall, rusted, wedged-open gates, up the driveway, past the grand main entrance and on round to the back door, i.e., the servants’ entrance. The drizzle fuzzed up our view, and I was feeling too fuzzed-up inside to be curious. As for Mum, as soon as she saw the removal van already parked up and waiting for us, that was all she could focus on.
    â€œHmm … I’ll be back in a sec, Ellis,” Mum says absent- mindedly. “I just want to see if I can get a signal from anywhere upstairs.”
    As she turns to go, in the corner of my eye I see the faintest flash of light glimmer, coming from the direction of the garden. I give an involuntary shiver.
    â€œFeeling funny again, babes?” Mum asks, pausing when she spots that tiny movement of mine, the way mothers do.
    And as her daughter, I’m pretty sure she’s worried that my “turn” had nothing to do with iron or lack of it and everything to do with my “waves” getting worse.
    â€œI’m just a bit cold,” I say quickly. I guess the glimmer must’ve been a weak gleam of sunshine glinting off something.
    â€œCome on inside, then,” says Mum, ushering me to follow her.
    â€œIn a minute,” I tell her. To be honest, I suddenly don’t feel like doing every little thing Mum says. I did the big stuff, like letting her move us here, didn’t I? That seems like plenty.
    Mum frowns, but leaves me to myself. Maybe she’s hoping that the healthy Highland air, the bracing breeze of it, will whip away any traces of anxiety. Same as maybe she’s hoping I’ll take one look at all the space – the endless space – we have here compared to our gardenless third-floor flat on our busy street in London and fall in love with Wilderwood as much as
she’s
fallen in love with RJ.
    It’s not going to happen, of course.