The Ghost Wife
CHAPTER ONE
LYECROSS FARM
Becca hung under the rafters, looking down.
There they were, the warm ones, snug in the bed, sweltering under their covers and
breathing, snoring… And there was the little one, in the cradle.
Sophie woke in the dark. Above her the ceiling was lit by a faint red light, flickering and
rippling like water-light, from the fire dying in the bedroom's grate. There was a faint smell
of burning, and also a smell of blankets, and the sweet mustiness of the straw in the
mattress beneath her. But it was a sound that had woken her: the sound of the cradle
rocking. Against her own back she could feel the solid, hot back of her husband, Harry. He
breathed deep and slow, sleeping. His young brother, Jon, would be sound asleep in the
loft on the other side of the house. But someone was rocking the cradle. Its wooden
rockers met the wooden floor with a rolling, drumming noise. Sophie wanted to press
closer to Harry and duck her head beneath the blankets - but her baby was in the cradle.
Raising herself up a little, she peered over the edge of the blankets. A thrill of shock went
through her as, by the red glow of the fire, she saw a girl standing near the end of the bed.
A white cloth was wrapped about the girl's head and neck, framing her face and gleaming
faintly in the dim light. Over it was worn a wide-brimmed hat. The girl was looking down,
into the cradle, while the treadling sound of the rocking went on. Sophie threw back the
blankets and rolled from the bed before she became too afraid to act. In a couple of steps
she was at the cradle, close to the girl - and then she realised how cold the room was.
Beneath her cotton slip, her skin pimpled into gooseflesh. The sound of the rocking
stopped. The girl in the wide-brimmed hat and tight-waisted bodice straightened and
looked at Sophie, though Sophie couldn't see the face or its expression in the shadow
cast by the hat's brim. Sophie kept her head twisted up a neck-cricking angle, so she
could watched the girl even as she stooped and grabbed the baby from the cradle.
Clutching the child to her, she straightened and, keeping her eyes fixed on the girl in the
wide-brimmed hat, she backed towards the bed. Every moment she expected the girl to
make a move towards her, to try and snatch the baby, and her flesh shuddered and the
hair moved on her scalp. Dropping down on the bed, she scrambled into it, pulling the
blankets over both her and the baby. "Harry!" She pressed against Harry's back, the baby
between them. The tiny boy squirmed and whimpered. "Harry!" Sophie poked her
husband in the back. And away Becca went, passing from the air of the house to the air of
the night with a slamming of the yard door - though the door never moved in its frame.
Away out and through the branches of the trees, whirling down like a leaf, pouncing
through the hedgerows with the farm cats…
Visiting, with a change of thought, of whim, the warm byres where the cows stood; shifting
to the stables to knot the horses' manes and tails, and listening all the time for Jonathan's
dreams…
Harry, disturbed by the cold draught as the blankets were lifted, and the rocking of the
bed, was already stirring. "Huh? What?"
"Harry, Harry, the ghost!"
"What? What you on about?"
"The ghost's here. It's here, Harry. It was rocking the cradle!"
Harry sat up. He'd lived in this house all his life, and didn't fear the ghost as much as his
wife. "If it was here, it's gone now."
The baby, its fright soothed by its mother's petting, fell quiet. "It was here! It was after the
babby!"
"After the babby? Don't talk - "
"It was after the babby!" Sophie peeped out from under the blanket, clutching her son to
her. "It was rocking the cradle. I don't like it, Harry, I don't like it."
"Now don't take on, don't get in a state." Harry sat up, tousling his own hair. "You knowed
when you married me that the house had a ghost. I told you."
"But I don't like it looking at the babby. I want it laid, Harry. I want the preacher."
"I'm having no preacher coming in trying to get rid of her! So don't start that again. I told
you, I explained it to you. It wouldn't do any good - it'd only make things worse for Jon.
D'you think laying her hasn't been tried before?"
"But it frightens me, Harry."
"What do I keep telling you? Stop being frightened of her and make friends. You've got
nothing to be scared of. It's Jon's ghost. He takes all the worst of it. Now go back to
sleep."
Sophie wanted to ask what would happen if Jon wasn't there to take the worst of it, but
she was afraid of making Harry angry. It was impossible for her to sleep, but she did lie
still and keep quiet until first light, when she had to rise to begin her chores. As she
stepped into the kitchen, Becca greeted her, as she did every morning, with a volley of
wall-knockings and rappings…
COPYRIGHT, SUSAN PRICE, 1999
Shown here by kind permission of Scholastic.