The spare room had only a small wall light; its muted glow coloured the room yellow. Billie went over to the little table and bent down to pick it up. Suddenly she stiffened. That was impossible. She crouched down so that she could get a closer look. But no, her eyes weren’t deceiving her. And the more she stared at the dusty surface of the table, the more frightened she became.
Above the line that she herself had drawn in the dust, someone had left the print of a very small hand. It was as if a child had come into the house while they were at the beach, pressed its hand in the dust, then walked away.
Chapter Four
However hard she tried, Billie couldn’t stop thinking about that handprint in the dust. Someone had been in their house while they were away. But her mum didn’t believe her. She said that Billie must have made the print herself.
‘But that’s impossible!’ Billie had said, placing her own hand over the print. ‘My hand is much bigger!’ She couldn’t understand how her mum could think that she was lying.
‘So what are you saying? That a small child sneaked into our house?’
Billie didn’t know what to think, so she didn’t answer. But she was scared. She found it difficult to get to sleep, and during the night she was woken by the birds running around on the roof, and by the strange creaking from the walls and floors.
‘That’s just the way it is with old houses,’ her mum said. ‘They make noises.’
But Billie didn’t feel safe, and the sense that things weren’t right began to grow. Sometimes she imagined that they weren’t alone in the house.
She hoped she would feel better when they had been living there for a while. She was too old to believe in ghosts, and of course her mum was right when she said it was impossible for a small child to have come into their house while they were out. But in that case, how had the handprint got there?
It started to rain. Billie spent most of the time in her room, lying on her bed and reading as the raindrops hammered on the roof. After five days of uninterrupted bad weather, Mum announced that she had more or less finished sorting out the house, and at the same time the sun reappeared.
‘I thought we were going to get rid of all the stuff we put in boxes?’ Billie said as they put the last bits and pieces in the spare room.
‘Yes, but the weather has been so terrible,’ her mum said. ‘And you remember Martin, the man who showed us round? He’s promised to take care of it all if I just leave it here.’
Billie remembered the man, and she also remembered that she had disliked him as much as she disliked the house. So his name was Martin, was it?
‘He told a whole load of lies,’ she said.
‘Oh, Billie,’ her mum said. She looked tired.
‘But he did,’ Billie insisted. ‘He said the family who used to live here had moved because the father got a new job, then all of a sudden he said it was the mother.’
‘He probably forgot,’ her mum said. ‘Just let it go.’
But Billie thought again about the handprint in the dust, and she couldn’t understand why her mum wasn’t frightened by what had happened.
The best thing about Åhus was that it was so small. Nothing was far away, and you could get everywhere by bike. Billie got into the habit of trying to go somewhere every day.
A place she particularly liked to visit was the library, which was behind the large supermarket by the harbour. Billie loved books. She had even decided not to pack away the books that the previous family had left in her room, but to leave them in the bookcase.
The librarian recognized Billie by this stage, and greeted her with a smile as she walked up to the desk to ask about a book she had ordered.
‘You’re in luck,’ the librarian said cheerfully. ‘It’s just come in!’
She turned and took a book off the shelf behind her. The book was thick, with brown covers, and there was a rubber band around it to secure a piece of paper with Billie’s name and address on it.
‘There you go,’ said the librarian, removing the rubber band.
Billie took out her library card. As she handed it to the librarian, she brushed against the piece of paper and it drifted onto the floor. Just as she was about to bend down to retrieve it, she heard a voice:
‘I’ll get it for you.’
Billie gave a start; she hadn’t noticed that there was someone behind her. An elderly lady picked up the piece of paper and read it before handing it to Billie.
The lady was very small, even shorter than Billie. And she was wearing such strange clothes: a long dress that looked as old as she was. She smelled funny too – like candle wax. Billie could tell from the librarian’s expression that she recognized the old lady, and she didn’t look pleased.
‘Ella, your book still hasn’t arrived,’ she said sharply. It was as if she thought the old lady visited the library too often, and as if she didn’t like her.
‘Oh well,’ said Ella. ‘In that case I’ll have to come back another day.’
‘I’ve already said that we’ll ring you when it comes in.’
The old lady didn’t speak for a moment, then she said: ‘There’s no need. I haven’t got much to do; I’m happy to call in.’
Then she turned to Billie. ‘I noticed from the piece of paper that you live on Sparrisvägen,’ she said. ‘You haven’t moved into the blue house opposite the pine trees, have you?’
Her voice was friendly, but her expression was anxious. Billie felt uncomfortable. Why was the lady interested in where she lived?
‘Yes, we have,’ she said eventually. ‘But we haven’t been there for long.’
Ella shook her head, and Billie thought she looked upset.
‘I was sure nobody else would move in there,’ she said.
The librarian gave Billie her book and card.
‘Thanks,’ Billie said automatically.
‘You’re welcome. Now you get off home before Ella fills your head with gossip.’
Ella was annoyed. ‘I haven’t said anything!’ she insisted loudly.
‘No, and you’re not going to,’ the librarian said. ‘I’m sure this young lady is very happy in her new house, and she really doesn’t need to hear your fairy tales.’
Ella snorted. ‘Fairy tales,’ she said crossly. ‘I don’t think so! They’re just as true as I’m standing here now.’
What are they talking about? Billie wondered. She clutched the book to her chest.
‘Is there something the matter with our house?’ she said, trying to sound confident.
She failed; her voice was unsteady, and came out more like a whisper.
‘Not at all,’ the librarian said. ‘It’s just Ella, imagining things.’
What kind of things? Billie wanted to ask. But she didn’t. Something held her curiosity in check, as if she was afraid of what she might hear.
‘I’m not imagining anything,’ Ella snapped. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t bother you any longer.’
She swept out of the library, her skirts rustling as she went.
‘You’d better wait here for a few minutes to make sure she’s gone,’ the librarian said to Billie, who couldn’t shake off the feeling that Ella had been trying to tell her something; something important.
‘What did you mean by gossip?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ the librarian said. ‘It’s just Ella, talking nonsense. Various different families have lived in your house over the past few years, and that seems to have fired up Ella’s imagination.’
Billie stood there by the desk, clutching her book. She wondered what it was that Ella had wanted to tell her. And she wondered how come their address was so well known that both Ella and the librarian recognized it?
‘I have to go home,’ she mumbled.
Without really knowing why, she ran out of the library and over to her bike. Ella wasn’t waiting for her. She dropped the key no less than twice as she tried to undo the lock.
There was something wrong with their
house. Just as Billie had known all along.
Chapter Five
‘Isn’t it time you invited a friend over?’ Billie’s mum said when they were lying on the beach a day or so later. ‘You only see your friends when we’re in Kristianstad.’
Billie had been thinking the same thing herself. It probably was time. Her friends in town kept on asking if they could come and see her.
‘I might ask Simona,’ she said.
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ her mum said.
She looked at Billie through her sunglasses and gave her a gentle nudge. ‘Isn’t that the boy we saw when we came down for a swim the first evening?’ she said.
She nodded towards a dark-haired boy who was sitting on the sand a short distance away. Billie recognized him at once. He was wearing the same red shorts, and he didn’t appear to have a beach towel with him this time either.
‘Why is he just sitting there staring?’ Billie said; she could hear how bad-tempered she sounded.
‘Perhaps he’s bored,’ her mum said. ‘Why don’t you go over and talk to him?’
It was just typical of her mum to come up with something so stupid. Why don’t you go over and talk to him? You just didn’t do that kind of thing; everybody knew that.
‘No chance,’ she said.
Her mum got up and brushed the sand off her legs. ‘Coming for a swim?’
Billie looked down at the book she was reading. ‘The water’s too cold.’
‘Please yourself,’ her mum said, taking off her glasses. ‘Keep an eye on my stuff, will you?’
Then she turned and ran into the sea.
Billie stayed where she was, sitting on the towel with the book on her lap. It was the book she had collected from the library when the old lady called Ella had been there. She was still curious. Billie had tried to talk to her mum about what she had heard, but her mum had merely said that she shouldn’t listen to gossip.
But how could Mum be so sure that it was just gossip? Billie was desperate to know what Ella had wanted to tell her. The question was, how could she track her down? It seemed as if she visited the library quite often; perhaps she would be there the next time Billie went.
A cloud drifted across the sun, and Billie shivered. Her mum had been right; she ought to ask a friend over. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen.
Billie stole a glance at the boy in the red shorts. He caught her eye and smiled. Billie immediately turned away. What was he up to?
A little while later, Billie couldn’t help looking in his direction once more. But by then he had disappeared.
The bus from Kristianstad stopped at Vattentornsområdet, and Billie was waiting when it arrived. Simona had been delighted when Billie rang to invite her. She decided to come that very same day.
Happiness made Billie feel warm all over. Why hadn’t she asked a friend over before now?
The bus driver helped Simona get her bike out of the storage hold. ‘You take care now,’ he said.
Billie and Simona giggled as they put on their helmets. Billie pointed things out as they cycled the short distance from the bus stop to Sparrisvägen. She showed Simona the old clog factory; according to her mum, she and her brother used to steal clogs from there when they were kids. Billie also showed Simona in which direction the sea lay.
‘I’d like to move too,’ Simona said. ‘Just make a fresh start!’ And she laughed out loud.
They could smell cooking as they cycled up the garden path. Billie’s mum had set up the barbecue on the patio, and waved cheerfully as they whizzed past her. She was wearing the blue apron Dad used to wear when he was barbecuing, and her sunglasses were pushed up on top of her head. Billie had always wished she had lovely curls like her mum, but instead she had inherited Dad’s fair, straight hair.
‘This is lovely! And you’ve got all this old furniture!’ Simona said as Billie showed her around the house.
‘It’s not ours,’ Billie explained. ‘The people who used to live here left loads of things behind.’
‘How come?’ Simona’s red hair stood out like a halo.
Billie didn’t answer; instead, she took Simona by the hand. ‘Come on, I’ll show you my room.’
She led her friend up the stairs.
‘Cool!’ Simona said, looking around. ‘And you’ve got a sloping ceiling! I’ve always wanted one of those.’
She sat down on Billie’s bed; Billie could see that the bookcase had caught her eye.
‘Are those your books?’ she asked.
‘No, mine are still at our old house in town. These belonged to the girl who had this room before me.’
Billie stopped short. She had said ‘the girl’. It was as if she knew for sure that this had been a girl’s room, but of course she didn’t. She had just made that assumption.
Simona got up and walked over to the bookcase. ‘They’re beautiful, but they’re really old,’ she said, running her hand over the spines.
The same thing had occurred to Billie. She had flicked through some of them and thought they were probably children’s books, but she had never heard of any of them.
‘Is the family who used to live here still in Åhus, or did they move away?’ Simona asked, taking out one of the books.
‘Nobody knows where they went,’ Billie said, lowering her voice so that her mum wouldn’t hear.
Simona replaced the book. ‘But they can’t just have vanished,’ she said.
Billie swallowed. ‘That’s the way it seems.’ She hesitated, then added: ‘I think there’s something wrong with this house. And that’s why they didn’t want to stay here.’
Åhus was bathed in evening sunlight as Billie and Simona cycled down to the harbour. Mum had said she was going to watch something on TV, but gave them money for ice creams.
The gravel crunched beneath their wheels as Billie took them on a short cut. They passed the disused Åhus park where her mum had gone to discos when she was younger, and Jocke’s old bike shop, where Dad had bought Billie her very first bicycle.
They parked their bikes in front of the old fortress in the harbour and went on board the Ice Cream Boat. They had enough money for a big cone each – two scoops topped with whipped cream. Simona found a table by the rail.
Her face was a picture of concentration as she started on her ice cream.
‘So you think the house is haunted?’
Billie nearly choked. ‘No, no,’ she said. ‘Not haunted.’
Because there was no such thing as ghosts. Or was there?
‘But what about that handprint you mentioned?’ Simona said. ‘How did that get there while you were out?’
‘I don’t know,’ Billie said.
And then she suddenly saw the boy in the red shorts, the boy she had seen on the beach. He was sitting on the edge of the quay, watching them. And this time it didn’t look as if he was intending to leave them alone.
Chapter Six
It was Simona who suggested that they should go over and speak to him.
‘We need to find out what he wants, if he keeps on turning up like this,’ she said.
Everything seemed so straightforward to Simona, although Billie knew that things had been difficult for her in the past. Her mother had been badly hurt in a car accident, and had had to learn to walk again. Billie couldn’t remember ever having seen Simona cry at the time – not even once.
When they left the Ice Cream Boat, the boy was sitting on a bench, waiting for them. He stood up as they reached him. ‘Hi,’ he said with a smile.
Billie reluctantly admitted to herself that he looked pretty good.
She and Simona both said hi.
‘Did you want something?’ Billie said. ‘Only you keep following me around.’
The boy looked surprised. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said. ‘You keep turning up wherever I am. I’m the one who should be asking what you want.’
Billie was so taken aback that she didn’t know what to say. She certainly wasn’t chasing him – q
uite the reverse.
‘Maybe it’s just an accident that you two keep on bumping into one another,’ Simona suggested.
Typical – she always came up with the right thing to say.
‘Maybe,’ the boy said. ‘In which case it’s what I’d call a happy accident.’
He held out his hand to say hello properly, the way adults do. ‘Aladdin,’ he said. ‘Nice to meet you!’
Billie couldn’t help giggling. Nobody their age said ‘Nice to meet you’! She didn’t want to upset him, so she quickly shook his hand and said: ‘Billie. And this is my friend Simona.’
‘Billy? Isn’t that a boy’s name?’
‘Billie with an i-e at the end – that makes it a girl’s name.’
‘Aha,’ said the boy, bowing politely. ‘In that case, Billie with an i-e at the end, may I show you and your friend around the harbour?’
His name really was Aladdin, and he came from Turkey. However, he didn’t really remember anything about it; his parents had moved to Sweden when Aladdin was just two years old.
‘We’ve got family here,’ he said as they walked along past the neat rows of boats. ‘Dad thought he’d get rich if he came over here and cooked Turkish food for the Swedes.’
‘What kind of food is that?’ Simona asked.
‘Kebabs, grilled meat, that kind of thing,’ Aladdin said. ‘Now he’s got his own restaurant.’
‘Does your dad own the Turk in the Tower?’ Billie asked in amazement.
‘Yep,’ Aladdin said, bursting with pride.
The Turk in the Tower was the best restaurant in Åhus. It was right at the top of an old disused water tower.
‘Have you ever eaten there?’ Aladdin asked.
‘Only once,’ Billie replied.
‘Twice,’ Simona said. ‘Once on my dad’s fortieth birthday, and once when my brother passed his driving test.’
A dad and a brother. Billie had neither, and fell silent.
‘This is where I live with my parents,’ Aladdin said. He was pointing to a large houseboat moored at the quayside. Billie thought it looked like a shoebox.
The Glass Children Page 2