part – there were a pair of
twin sisters, my great-great-great aunts, who were separated by tragedy in their teenage years. We have a portrait of them right here in this museum, you know.’
‘Twin sisters!’ Olivia breathed, leaning closer. ‘I saw that portrait.’
‘It’s a good one, isn’t it?’ Joan nodded. ‘But it’s not a happy story. According to old family lore, the tragedy that separated the twins left their souls
restless in the afterlife. Now, one of the sisters is said to be forever trapped here, cursed to haunt our town – and you can tell when you’ve seen her, because she’s always
decked out in a fancy red dress.’
A red dress . . .?
Olivia used every ounce of her acting ability to keep her voice from quivering. ‘What were their names?’ she asked Joan.
But she had a horrible feeling that she already knew half of the answer.
Five minutes later, Olivia’s legs gave out in the museum hallway as she stared once again at the portrait of the Victorian twin sisters: Patience and Hope Calhoun. She
leaned back against the wall and slid helplessly to the ground, her gaze still fixed on their faces . . .
Their
familiar
faces.
‘I can’t believe it . . . I might actually have talked to a ghost!’ she whispered. ‘It would explain why the girl in that fabulous red dress was behaving so strangely at
Camilla’s party. I thought she was just in costume . . .’ She shook her head helplessly. ‘Could I really have been talking to the ghost of Patience Calhoun?’
‘Hey, woah there,’ said Ivy, sliding down beside her. ‘Remember, we still don’t know any of this for sure. Until we do, there’s no point overthinking it.’
‘You’re right,’ Olivia said. ‘But, still . . . Joan’s story is kind of checking out.’
‘I know, but we still need proof. Until we have some, we should keep an eye out for that girl you were talking to.’
‘You’re right,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘There could be a perfectly rational explanation . . . and if there is, we’ll find it. But . . . what now?’
Ivy sighed, thunking her head back against the wall. ‘I have to admit, I was just wondering the same thing!’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But actually . . . maybe I
do
have an
idea. Why don’t we go see Camilla and get the full details of exactly what she
was
planning for the party? Who knows, maybe there was some kind of technical malfunction. She was
using a lot of fancy equipment – for all we know, something could have gone wrong, and
that’s
what really caused all the spooktacular stuff. All this fuss could be for
nothing!’
‘You might be right,’ Olivia said, as she took out her phone to call her friend.
Olivia had been in Camilla’s room countless times since she’d first moved to Franklin Grove. But she’d never seen it look like this. Camilla’s mother had
let the twins into the house and sent them upstairs, and when Olivia first opened the bedroom door, she couldn’t even see her friend inside beneath all the chaos.
It looks like Lillian was right – Camilla may just have gone crazy!
Two huge new corkboards had been hung on opposite walls of the bedroom, each of them completely covered in masses of newspaper clippings, photos, and random scraps of paper with notes scrawled
all over them. Long lines of coloured string ran between the two corkboards, forming a spiderweb of connections across the room, with sticky notes attached to each string.
‘Come on in!’ Camilla’s voice sounded from across the room. She was kneeling underneath the final lengths of string, scribbling notes. She looked up with a mad glint in her
eyes. ‘But don’t disturb anything!’
‘Um . . . OK.’ Olivia shot a wide-eyed look at Ivy before crouching down in front of the tangle of string that filled the room. She kept her questions to herself as she carefully
crawled underneath the tendrils, but as soon as she reached her friend, she gently laid a hand on Camilla’s shoulder.
twin sisters, my great-great-great aunts, who were separated by tragedy in their teenage years. We have a portrait of them right here in this museum, you know.’
‘Twin sisters!’ Olivia breathed, leaning closer. ‘I saw that portrait.’
‘It’s a good one, isn’t it?’ Joan nodded. ‘But it’s not a happy story. According to old family lore, the tragedy that separated the twins left their souls
restless in the afterlife. Now, one of the sisters is said to be forever trapped here, cursed to haunt our town – and you can tell when you’ve seen her, because she’s always
decked out in a fancy red dress.’
A red dress . . .?
Olivia used every ounce of her acting ability to keep her voice from quivering. ‘What were their names?’ she asked Joan.
But she had a horrible feeling that she already knew half of the answer.
Five minutes later, Olivia’s legs gave out in the museum hallway as she stared once again at the portrait of the Victorian twin sisters: Patience and Hope Calhoun. She
leaned back against the wall and slid helplessly to the ground, her gaze still fixed on their faces . . .
Their
familiar
faces.
‘I can’t believe it . . . I might actually have talked to a ghost!’ she whispered. ‘It would explain why the girl in that fabulous red dress was behaving so strangely at
Camilla’s party. I thought she was just in costume . . .’ She shook her head helplessly. ‘Could I really have been talking to the ghost of Patience Calhoun?’
‘Hey, woah there,’ said Ivy, sliding down beside her. ‘Remember, we still don’t know any of this for sure. Until we do, there’s no point overthinking it.’
‘You’re right,’ Olivia said. ‘But, still . . . Joan’s story is kind of checking out.’
‘I know, but we still need proof. Until we have some, we should keep an eye out for that girl you were talking to.’
‘You’re right,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘There could be a perfectly rational explanation . . . and if there is, we’ll find it. But . . . what now?’
Ivy sighed, thunking her head back against the wall. ‘I have to admit, I was just wondering the same thing!’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But actually . . . maybe I
do
have an
idea. Why don’t we go see Camilla and get the full details of exactly what she
was
planning for the party? Who knows, maybe there was some kind of technical malfunction. She was
using a lot of fancy equipment – for all we know, something could have gone wrong, and
that’s
what really caused all the spooktacular stuff. All this fuss could be for
nothing!’
‘You might be right,’ Olivia said, as she took out her phone to call her friend.
Olivia had been in Camilla’s room countless times since she’d first moved to Franklin Grove. But she’d never seen it look like this. Camilla’s mother had
let the twins into the house and sent them upstairs, and when Olivia first opened the bedroom door, she couldn’t even see her friend inside beneath all the chaos.
It looks like Lillian was right – Camilla may just have gone crazy!
Two huge new corkboards had been hung on opposite walls of the bedroom, each of them completely covered in masses of newspaper clippings, photos, and random scraps of paper with notes scrawled
all over them. Long lines of coloured string ran between the two corkboards, forming a spiderweb of connections across the room, with sticky notes attached to each string.
‘Come on in!’ Camilla’s voice sounded from across the room. She was kneeling underneath the final lengths of string, scribbling notes. She looked up with a mad glint in her
eyes. ‘But don’t disturb anything!’
‘Um . . . OK.’ Olivia shot a wide-eyed look at Ivy before crouching down in front of the tangle of string that filled the room. She kept her questions to herself as she carefully
crawled underneath the tendrils, but as soon as she reached her friend, she gently laid a hand on Camilla’s shoulder.
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