and waggled her fingers. ‘Sounds spooky to me! What do you think, Bob? Could there really be ghosts in Franklin
Grove?’
‘I don’t want to hear it!’ Ivy wailed. She turned the TV off with a
click
and slammed the remote back down on the coffee table.
Then she drew up her knees and tucked herself into a ball at one end of the couch, pulling the warm quilt up around her. Burying her head against her knees, she let out a low groan of
frustration in the quiet darkness.
‘Ivy?’ Her dad’s voice spoke just behind her.
Gasping, Ivy jumped up, letting the quilt fall to the floor.
Charles stood in the doorway, wearing elegant black silk pyjamas and a crimson dressing gown and rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. His hair stood up in every direction.
‘Wow, Dad.’ Her shoulders relaxing, Ivy nearly smiled. ‘That’s some epic coffin head you’ve got!’
‘Very funny.’ Charles dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. ‘But I want to know about you. What’s brought you down here at this time of night?’
‘Oh . . .’ Ivy wrapped her arms around her chest, looking away from her father’s searching expression. ‘I’m fine. You should go back to bed. Don’t worry.
Everything’s OK.’
Shaking his head, Charles walked into the room. ‘I can tell that it’s not.’ His face grave, he sat down on the couch and patted the seat for Ivy to sit down beside him.
‘Have you been worrying about our ghost issue? I’m sorry. I know you’ve seen how concerned I am . . . but just because I take these problems seriously doesn’t mean I expect
you to solve them for me! Believe it or not, you know, you really are only fourteen years old. No one expects you to take charge of protecting our community.’
Sighing, Ivy leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘I’d love to be able to give up and stop worrying,’ she admitted. ‘But now that I’m so far into the investigation
. . . I just can’t.’ She turned her head to peer up at him. ‘Do you understand? I can’t bear to stop now, before I’ve figured it all out. That’s just not the way
I’m made.’
‘I understand.’ Smiling ruefully, Charles dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘And do you know what? I’ll tell you a secret: that unwillingness of yours to palm off
responsibility is actually one of the qualities that makes me most proud to be your father. But . . .’ He gave her a stern look as he stood up. ‘That doesn’t mean you should stop
looking after yourself, too. Understood? I want you to get
some
sleep tonight!’
‘Understood,’ Ivy said. ‘Goodnight, Dad.’
She was smiling as he left the room . . . but the smile was wiped off her face only a moment later when the windows gave a sudden, massive rattle.
‘
Ahhhhhhhhhhh
. . .’
It was that wailing wind again! It made every inch of her spine prickle. Driven by instinct, Ivy ran in a blur of vampiric speed to the window. She pushed open the curtains . . . and a chill ran
through her as she glimpsed a girl in a long, Victorian-style dress walking slowly down the street. But this dress wasn’t red – it was a pale blue. Ivy couldn’t tell from this
angle whether the girl was carrying any obsidian jewellery in her hands, but as she watched, the wide skirts of the girl’s dress seemed to shine and shimmer in the faint light of the street
lamps.
Ivy clenched the windowsill in both hands, forcing herself to take deep breaths.
It could just be a coincidence . . . or Garrick in a different dress . . . or . . . or . . .
But even as she scrambled to find any believable explanation, she noticed something spookier yet.
As the strange girl disappeared into the shadows of Undertaker Hill, the air outside fell completely silent.
The wailing wind was gone.
Chapter Eight
O livia took a deep breath as she stepped into the front hallway of her house the next morning. She was wearing her most comfortable shoes and a
pair of grey yoga pants under a long pink sweater. She’d
Grove?’
‘I don’t want to hear it!’ Ivy wailed. She turned the TV off with a
click
and slammed the remote back down on the coffee table.
Then she drew up her knees and tucked herself into a ball at one end of the couch, pulling the warm quilt up around her. Burying her head against her knees, she let out a low groan of
frustration in the quiet darkness.
‘Ivy?’ Her dad’s voice spoke just behind her.
Gasping, Ivy jumped up, letting the quilt fall to the floor.
Charles stood in the doorway, wearing elegant black silk pyjamas and a crimson dressing gown and rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand. His hair stood up in every direction.
‘Wow, Dad.’ Her shoulders relaxing, Ivy nearly smiled. ‘That’s some epic coffin head you’ve got!’
‘Very funny.’ Charles dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. ‘But I want to know about you. What’s brought you down here at this time of night?’
‘Oh . . .’ Ivy wrapped her arms around her chest, looking away from her father’s searching expression. ‘I’m fine. You should go back to bed. Don’t worry.
Everything’s OK.’
Shaking his head, Charles walked into the room. ‘I can tell that it’s not.’ His face grave, he sat down on the couch and patted the seat for Ivy to sit down beside him.
‘Have you been worrying about our ghost issue? I’m sorry. I know you’ve seen how concerned I am . . . but just because I take these problems seriously doesn’t mean I expect
you to solve them for me! Believe it or not, you know, you really are only fourteen years old. No one expects you to take charge of protecting our community.’
Sighing, Ivy leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘I’d love to be able to give up and stop worrying,’ she admitted. ‘But now that I’m so far into the investigation
. . . I just can’t.’ She turned her head to peer up at him. ‘Do you understand? I can’t bear to stop now, before I’ve figured it all out. That’s just not the way
I’m made.’
‘I understand.’ Smiling ruefully, Charles dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘And do you know what? I’ll tell you a secret: that unwillingness of yours to palm off
responsibility is actually one of the qualities that makes me most proud to be your father. But . . .’ He gave her a stern look as he stood up. ‘That doesn’t mean you should stop
looking after yourself, too. Understood? I want you to get
some
sleep tonight!’
‘Understood,’ Ivy said. ‘Goodnight, Dad.’
She was smiling as he left the room . . . but the smile was wiped off her face only a moment later when the windows gave a sudden, massive rattle.
‘
Ahhhhhhhhhhh
. . .’
It was that wailing wind again! It made every inch of her spine prickle. Driven by instinct, Ivy ran in a blur of vampiric speed to the window. She pushed open the curtains . . . and a chill ran
through her as she glimpsed a girl in a long, Victorian-style dress walking slowly down the street. But this dress wasn’t red – it was a pale blue. Ivy couldn’t tell from this
angle whether the girl was carrying any obsidian jewellery in her hands, but as she watched, the wide skirts of the girl’s dress seemed to shine and shimmer in the faint light of the street
lamps.
Ivy clenched the windowsill in both hands, forcing herself to take deep breaths.
It could just be a coincidence . . . or Garrick in a different dress . . . or . . . or . . .
But even as she scrambled to find any believable explanation, she noticed something spookier yet.
As the strange girl disappeared into the shadows of Undertaker Hill, the air outside fell completely silent.
The wailing wind was gone.
Chapter Eight
O livia took a deep breath as she stepped into the front hallway of her house the next morning. She was wearing her most comfortable shoes and a
pair of grey yoga pants under a long pink sweater. She’d
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