Extracts

Ghost In The Train

The ghost remained quiet, bobbing up and down slightly. It had no form, no definite shape, but Emma could tell how it was feeling and even a little of what it was thinking. She didn’t know how she was doing this, but it was undeniable, and what she felt most of all was that the ghost was on her side, wanting to help. It had done nothing since they’d met to hurt or frighten her, and all it wanted was for Emma to remember, and Emma was trying, but she was scared of remembering because there was pain and hurt there. Even so, she wanted to be brave, and this might mean trying to find whatever it was that had somehow become lost and confused. She felt a bond to this insubstantial thing beside her. She wanted to comfort it as much as it wanted to comfort her. There was something touching and sad about it, something it needed and had never had.

Emmy’s Invitation

“Emma found it hard to enjoy things the way she’d enjoyed them before she’d seen her mysterious twin. She couldn’t think of much else except finding out about her and helping her. She wanted so much to do something rather than just think about it, and there was only one thing to do.
The idea had started as a tiny seed then grew until it became huge and she bumped into it at every turn.
And then it bumped into her.
For weeks she’d done nothing, just tried to fight the idea because it was too foolish to consider. But that Saturday she’d seen the message and it had filled her heart with grief and joy. ‘Stop and tork to me’, it had read, spelt badly and written untidily, but heartrendingly readable.
“Poor little mite,” Emma heard someone say. “She wants the whole train to stop for her. How funny!”
The message wasn’t for the whole train at all, it was for Emma. This was an invitation.

Plan for a crime

It was midnight and she still couldn’t sleep. She went to the kitchen and took a glass of milk. She could hear her father snoring. He stopped for a moment and Emmy waited, then he started again and she relaxed. In the living room, the papers they’d been looking at were still on the table.
She studied the plan of the house, the front, the rear garden, the downstairs rooms, the staircase, the upstairs bedrooms. Victor had indicated the safe with an ‘X’, just like a treasure map.
She wondered if she should take the map to the police, but she daren’t. When Victor and Saul found out, which they would, they’d kill her. Really kill her. And she couldn’t cheat on her dad. She loved him and hated him at the same time, and though he’d got her into something bad and dangerous, she just couldn’t sneak to the police behind his back. She’d do this terrible thing and it would be over.

Through the train window

If the ghost was truly helping her, she didn’t know why, and she couldn’t offer help in return – the ghost was dead and it didn’t matter what Emma did, she couldn’t bring it back to life.
“Because thas the way it is,” the ghost said. “There ain’t an explanation for everyfing.”
Also without an explanation were the visions which Emma saw through the train window. If she didn’t know better, she’d say the ghost conjured them up itself. Visions appeared now – a man, a woman, a young man and a little boy. They were sitting at a table, eating, but quietly and without joy.
“Who are they?” the ghost asked.
“My family,” Emma replied.

A talk with dad

It was Sunday evening and she’d had two days to think about their stupid plan and she resented being part of it more now than ever. She had the sickening feeling that things were going to go horribly wrong. Her father stood in the doorway to her bedroom, ill at ease. He couldn’t deal with her like this, and yet there was no way he could tell Saul and Victor that Emmy wasn’t coming – they needed her.
“They’ll hurt you, that’s why.”
“Don’t care.”
She did care, of course. She was terrified of Saul and Victor and was angry at her father for letting them push him around. She’d had plenty of time to think about it, and though at first she thought she’d do what they wanted – just to be free of them again – she’d gradually become more and more nervous. Now, at the twelfth hour, she’d decided against it.

Alone on the marshes

Ahead and to the right lay the train line and the level crossing. It was a good distance away, and set back from the riverside path, so Emma had no option but to venture deeper into the marshes.
She checked her watch. It was almost time. She wasn’t going to be late, and perhaps The Girl was early. What would they say to each other? How odd it would be to see close up that face so like her own, a face that bound them together, just as the worlds they lived in set them apart.
It took her ten minutes to reach the level crossing. At first, she had doubts. She thought it smaller than it appeared from the train. But no, it was definitely the one.
Deserted.
Not a soul in sight, just stillness and mystery for company.

Review [from The School Librarian]

Review from The School Librarian Winter 2009 vol.57 no.4

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