As the house materializes in front of me for the third time I know, in my heart, that something magical is happening. I rush inside, across the foyer to the gold-lined, glass-topped table, and I see it again. The bracelet. Just like before it glows slightly brighter than everything else, and I’m reminded of the crystals we have to collect in Fairy Hunters, which have gold halos surrounding them, letting us know they’re items we can collect. I pick the bracelet up, clasp it firmly in my hands, and wait.

The same laughter, the same blur of hair. But I follow them this time. The two girls.

The house is awake today. I can feel its heartbeat pounding. The smells are more vivid with the bracelet in my hand, the colours brighter, like opening the curtains on a sunny day.

‘Hello,’ I call, out of breath, as I chase the girls up the stairs, crossing parts of the house I’ve never seen before. There are photo frames with pictures that I know hold stories, and doors that lead to rooms I’d love to see. But I don’t have time to explore. Not now. The girls ignore me, intent on chasing one another. ‘Hello, where am I?’ I try again.

They stop suddenly in front of a set of lavish forest-green double doors, but I’ve built up too much momentum and I brace myself just as I’m about to crash right into them.

I close my eyes and hold my hands out.

Instead of clothes and hair, I feel wood and brass. It’s as if I’ve walked right through the girls, and straight into the door.

Then, all of a sudden, the doors swing open with force. I jump out of the way just as a woman appears. She has orange hair, like fire, and a beautiful face that looks like . . .

Mum? But she looks different here. That’s when I picture the photo by Mum’s bed, and my eyes widen in realization.

‘What on earth is going on?’ my grandmother demands.

‘I . . . It wasn’t . . .’ I stutter, but the strangest thing happens. She walks straight past me. Straight through me.

She can’t see me. I test out my theory and wave my hands in front of her face. I even try to touch her arm, but my hand goes through her. None of them can see me.

They always say if you cross a ghost, you feel a shiver down your spine. That’s not what this is like, because I feel nothing, not even a breeze.

Maybe because I’m the ghost.

‘Aminah, are you tormenting your sister again?’ my grandmother asks, her voice like poison. ‘We have guests and they can hear you from all the way out here.’

I frown. Aminah?

‘I’m not, Mama, I swear,’ the older girl calls from the landing.