Colin sank back against his pillows, and some of the tension seemed to leave the room.

Mary glanced at a portrait of Aunt Grace on the wall near the door. “Is that your mother?” she asked. “They say I look like her.”

“I hate her,” Colin muttered.

“Hate her?” Mary echoed, confused.

Colin nodded. “For dying. She loved me hugely, but then she died and left me all alone—is that not unforgivable of her?” He gave Mary a self-pitying look, clearly expecting sympathy.

But she had none to give. “At least your mother loved you,” she said sharply. “My mother never loved me!” She stared at the floor.

There was a long silence.

When Colin spoke, his voice was softer. “Will you read to me while I try to fall asleep, Mary? I struggle to sleep. My back hurts, and I think too much.” She glanced up and saw he was looking at her almost pleadingly.

She nodded and then returned to his bed and sat in the wheelchair beside it. “Very well. I will tell you a story of gods and a quarrel over who first made fire.”

Colin snorted in disgust. “That sounds terrible.” He gave her a book. “Here, read me this instead.”

A laugh burst out of Mary.

“What?” Colin said in surprise.

She shook her head. “I think you might quite possibly be the rudest boy I have ever met!”

Colin opened his mouth indignantly. Mary raised her eyebrows at him, and he subsided. Opening the book, she began to read.

11

Dreams and Memories

Mary read on until Colin’s eyes closed, and then she got up and tiptoed out of his room.

As she pushed his door shut, she froze as she heard the sound of merry laughter behind her. Swinging around, she saw two ghostly figures running up the corridor—two young women in long white ball gowns—her mother and Aunt Grace. They smiled at her and vanished into thin air.

Mary blinked, icy fingers running up and down her spine. Had she really just seen two ghosts? I must have imagined it, she thought, staring at the empty corridor. Mustn’t I?

Just then, a different noise made her jump—it was the sound of Mrs. Medlock coming upstairs again. No! She was going to be caught! Mary dashed to a nearby door on the opposite side of the corridor to Colin’s and turned the handle. To her relief, it opened, and she slipped inside the large room.

Moonlight was shining in through the windows, bright enough for her to see that the walls were covered with detailed murals—painted scenes. The room was neat and tidy. Objects were set out around it as if they were on display—an ornate oriental screen, a wooden chest painted with flowers, display cabinets filled with carved ivory, and little elephants made from black wood.