The Glass Children Read online

  Billie knew what was coming, and her heart was pounding so hard that it must surely be visible through her top.

  ‘. . . she hanged herself,’ Amanda continued. ‘The manageress found her the following morning, before the children woke up. Sunshine House was closed just a few weeks later, and the children were sent elsewhere.’

  Simona placed a hand on Billie’s arm. ‘So now we know who she was, the girl who died in the house,’ she said quietly.

  Amanda got to her feet. ‘I’m worried you might have nightmares after hearing such a sad story,’ she said, looking as if she was about to leave.

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ Billie reassured her. ‘We wanted to hear it. I don’t suppose you know what happened to the house afterwards, when it wasn’t a children’s home any more?’

  Amanda frowned. ‘It was empty for many years. Then a family moved in, but there was a fire.’

  That was exactly what Ella had said – that things turned out badly for everyone who had lived there.

  Billie had one last question on her mind, and in the end she just had to ask. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about the house being haunted?’ she said, feeling her cheeks flush red.

  Amanda turned away so that she wasn’t looking at Billie or Simona; it was as if she was avoiding eye contact. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I have. Some people say that Majken still haunts the place. That it doesn’t matter what kind of lamp you put up in the living room, it always swings to and fro as if someone were hanging from it. And I’ve heard another story too.’

  About the woman who burned to death, Billie thought.

  But that wasn’t what Amanda said at all.

  ‘About the glass children who drowned. It’s said that they wanted to come back home, that they couldn’t find peace when they died. They wanted to return to the children’s home, and so they drive away everyone who moves into the house on Sparrisvägen.’

  At that moment Billie remembered the hand-print in the dust that she had found just after she and her mum moved to Åhus. The little print of a child’s hand.

  And she realized that they could have been wrong. Perhaps it was neither Majken nor the woman who had burned to death who haunted their house. Perhaps it was the children who had once lived there, and wanted to come home.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It had started to rain by the time Josef parked outside the hospital.

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ he said as he switched off the engine. ‘How did you get on today? Did you find out anything about the children’s home?’

  ‘Not much,’ Billie said evasively.

  Her mind was whirling after everything she had heard. She must call Aladdin as soon as she got home. They had to talk about everything that had happened, and what to do next. She had no intention of saying anything to Josef before that, and she definitely wasn’t going to tell her mum.

  Mum was much better. She was sitting up in bed having something to eat when Josef and Billie arrived, and she gave Billie a big hug. Her arms felt just as strong as they always did, and Billie could tell from her eyes that she wasn’t so ill any more. She wasn’t tired and confused as she had been over the past few days. She talked and laughed several times when Billie and Josef told her what they had been doing.

  ‘The doctor says I can come home at the weekend,’ she said, stroking Billie’s cheek. ‘Isn’t that wonderful?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Billie said.

  At the weekend. Before then, she and Aladdin and Simona would have worked out how to get Billie and her mum out of that house. Somehow.

  ‘It’ll be so nice to sleep in my own bed,’ Mum said. ‘To get back to our little house.’

  She smiled warmly at Billie, who forced herself to smile back. Soon she would have to talk to her mum about the house, but not right now.

  In the car on the way back to Åhus, Billie thought about the glass children all the time.

  ‘Wow!’ Aladdin said when Billie had finished telling him her story on the phone. ‘So the ghosts in your house are children, not adults.’

  ‘So it seems,’ Billie said.

  But she couldn’t help having her doubts. Did ghosts really exist? Hadn’t they talked about this, and decided that they didn’t? But if ghosts didn’t exist, then how had a child’s handprint appeared in the dust on the table in the spare room?

  Aladdin agreed with her. At the moment, the idea that the house was haunted was the best explanation they had for everything that had happened.

  ‘Perhaps we could try to speak to the ghosts, if they do exist?’ Billie said slowly. ‘You know, ask them what they want?’

  Aladdin snorted. ‘My mum believes in that kind of stuff, but I think it’s just rubbish. Speak to the ghosts? I mean, if it is down to them that everyone who lives in that house comes off badly, then I don’t really see the point in speaking to them. Surely that means they’re just nasty?’

  On the one hand Billie agreed, but on the other, she didn’t. Perhaps the ghosts were responsible for the spooky stuff – the tapping on the windows, the handprint in the dust and so on – while the accidents were simply accidents?

  ‘Is there anyone else we can ask?’ Billie wondered. ‘Shouldn’t we try to get hold of the father and son who survived the house fire? They seem to have been the first family to move in after the children’s home was closed down.’

  ‘But what can they tell us?’ Aladdin said doubtfully. ‘They might not even be alive any longer.’

  ‘You obviously can’t count,’ Billie said wearily. ‘The father is probably dead, or at least very, very old, but the son would be no more than seventy or eighty now.’

  Seventy wasn’t all that old. Not if you were fit and healthy, like Grandma and Grandpa, for example. Sometimes Billie thought those two would go on for ever.

  ‘OK, but how do we find him?’ Aladdin said. ‘We don’t even know his name, just that his father was called Manne Lund.’

  ‘I could ask Josef for help,’ Billie said.

  She looked at the copies of the articles she had brought home from the library. Manne Lund. That must be quite an unusual name.

  ‘Why Josef?’

  ‘Well, he works for the police. They’re usually pretty good at tracking people down,’ Billie said.

  She curled up on her bed, the telephone pressed against her ear. Josef was busy in the kitchen, and she could hear him opening and closing cupboard doors. Billie’s dad had never enjoyed cooking or baking, but Josef was different. He seemed to be more like Aladdin’s dad – he couldn’t get enough of being in the kitchen. If Josef got fed up with being a police officer, perhaps he could open a restaurant too.

  Then Billie thought of someone else who they needed to talk to. Someone who ought to know a great deal. And who had a lot of explaining to do.

  ‘There’s someone else,’ she said.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Aladdin asked.

  ‘Martin.’

  ‘Who?’ Aladdin sounded surprised.

  ‘The man who showed me and Mum around the house when we bought it. The man who told us so many lies.’

  Billie remembered exactly what Martin had looked like on the day he met them outside the house. She remembered how he had led the way up the steps and shown them around. How he had avoided answering some of their questions, and how he had contradicted himself. This time he wouldn’t get away with it so easily.

  ‘Perhaps we should start by speaking to him after school tomorrow,’ Aladdin suggested. ‘And we can ask Josef whether he can find out any more about Manne Lund or his son.’

  That sounded like a good idea. When Billie had finished talking to Aladdin, she called Simona, then went downstairs to speak to Josef. Unlike her mum, he didn’t ask a lot of questions, so Billie felt slightly ashamed of herself when she said she had to track down Manne Lund for a school project. She had given the same explanation at the library and the museum, and nobody seemed to think it was odd. Nor did Josef.

  ‘Just write down what you already k
now, and I’ll check it out tomorrow,’ he said.

  All she had to do now was track down Martin’s address, and that wasn’t difficult. Mum had asked for his contact details when they moved in, and the piece of paper was still on the notice board in the hallway.

  Josef settled down in front of the TV after dinner, and Billie slipped into the hallway and took down the piece of paper. It crossed her mind again that it was a long time since she had seen or heard anything strange in the house. Everything had been quiet since her mum was taken ill, as if whatever had frightened Billie thought the fact that her mum had contracted meningitis was enough for the time being.

  Billie glanced over at the spare room. The door was closed. The worst things had happened inside that room; it was several days since Billie had been in there.

  Hesitantly she moved across to the closed door and placed her hand on the handle. There was no need to be afraid now; it wasn’t night time, and Josef was in the room next door. But her hand was still trembling slightly as she opened the door. Cautiously she stepped inside. It had a musty smell.

  She let out a long breath when she switched on the light and saw that everything was as it should be. Even the little table, the one she had liked so much at first, looked fine. No messages, no handprints.

  Then she looked over at the window and turned to a block of ice where she stood. Several times she made herself close her eyes and open them again. But no, there was no mistake. She was panting with fear and astonishment.

  The windowsill was not empty. There was something there that shouldn’t be there.

  Someone had placed the glass children in the window.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was blowing a gale when Billie collected her bike and cycled over to Aladdin’s after school the following day. He was waiting for her on the pavement outside his house with a map in his hand.

  ‘It’s not far,’ he said. ‘It’ll only take a few minutes to cycle there.’

  Billie thought that was just as well, because the sky was ominously grey, and it looked as if it might start pouring with rain at any moment.

  ‘Did you speak to Josef?’ Aladdin said. ‘Has he found Manne Lund and his son?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Billie said. ‘I’ll ask him when he gets home from work.’

  However, she had no intention of telling Josef about the glass children in the window. She had told Aladdin and Simona, but no one else. The risk of not being believed was too great.

  Billie felt guilty because she had gone straight to Åhus on the bus after school instead of calling in to see her mum as she usually did. But the house was dangerous. That was all there was to it. And that was why Billie had to find out as much as possible, so that she could persuade her mum that they had to move.

  Martin lived in a white wooden house with red eaves. Just as Billie and Aladdin turned into the garden, the first drops of rain began to fall. They quickly dropped their bikes and ran up onto the veranda to ring the doorbell.

  They rang twice. The rain was pattering on the roof, and Billie shivered in her summer jacket.

  ‘What if he’s not home?’ Aladdin said.

  ‘He has to be,’ Billie replied, banging on the door.

  They heard footsteps on the other side and waited anxiously as someone fiddled with the lock. The door opened slowly, and Martin was standing there.

  Even though Billie hadn’t seen him since the day he showed them around the house, she recognized him immediately. But he looked so tired! And had he really been so old the last time she saw him? He must have been, of course, but Billie thought he looked older now.

  Martin looked at her with weary eyes, and nodded slowly. ‘I recognize you,’ he said. ‘How are you getting on in the house?’

  ‘Fine, thanks,’ Billie said. ‘This is my friend Aladdin. We were wondering if you had time for a little chat.’

  Aladdin said hello politely and shook hands, and Martin took a step backwards.

  ‘I’ve always got time,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’

  Martin’s house reminded Billie of their house on Sparrisvägen, with small rooms on two floors. But Martin had really nice wallpaper and newer furniture.

  ‘How have things been?’ Martin said. ‘Did you manage to sell your house in town?’

  Billie swallowed. ‘Not yet, what with the summer holidays and everything. But the agent doesn’t think it will take much longer.’

  She would have preferred to say that they had no intention of selling their house in town, because they would be leaving Åhus soon, never to return. But instead she followed Martin into his living room, where they sat down at a large dining table. Billie couldn’t see any photographs of a wife or children, which made her feel sad. Martin looked about the same age as her grandparents, and they would have been terribly lonely if they didn’t have one another.

  ‘What was it you wanted to know?’ Martin said.

  Aladdin looked at Billie.

  ‘We’ve got one or two questions about the house on Sparrisvägen,’ Billie said in a small voice.

  ‘Oh yes?’ Martin said, suddenly sounding annoyed.

  He leaned back and folded his arms the way Billie had seen lots of adults do when they were cross. ‘What’s on your mind?’ he said.

  Suddenly everything felt so wrong. What were they actually doing here?

  ‘Well,’ Billie said even more quietly. ‘We were wondering whether you knew why so many families have chosen not to stay in the house?’

  She was surprised to hear her own voice asking such a brave question. Straight to the point, as Dad would have said.

  Martin stared at her for a long time before he answered. ‘What do you mean?’ he said.

  The palms of Billie’s hands suddenly felt damp, and she wiped them on her jeans. Why was he being so difficult?

  She plucked up courage once more. ‘The last family only lived in the house for a year or so, and we’ve found out that several other families have done the same – they’ve moved out after a very short time.’

  ‘We’ve also heard that the families moved out because people got hurt in that house,’ Aladdin said, sounding quite cocky.

  Martin sighed. ‘So that’s what you’ve heard, is it?’

  He spread his hands wide and sighed again, as if he thought they were incredibly stupid. ‘I’ve also heard a lot of gossip about the house on Sparrisvägen, but to be honest I don’t believe a word of it. After all, people move for all kinds of reasons. Thinking there’s something wrong with the house itself is just ridiculous.’

  However, Billie had no intention of giving up. She knew that Martin had already lied about several things.

  ‘How long had the house been empty when Mum and I moved in?’

  ‘A year, just as I told you the last time you asked,’ Martin said calmly.

  ‘But that’s not true,’ Billie said; she couldn’t help getting cross. ‘We’ve spoken to several people, and we know that the family who lived there actually moved out two years ago.’

  Martin didn’t say a word; he just sat there at the table staring at them.

  ‘We know that you lied about the furniture too,’ Aladdin said. ‘You said it belonged to the previous owners, but that’s not true. That furniture is really old.’

  Billie waited for Martin to give in and admit that he hadn’t told them the truth. With a bit of luck he would also tell them why he had lied. But still he said nothing – he just looked even more angry. Billie noticed that he was clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.

  ‘Get out of my house with your nonsense!’ Martin snapped, and even though he wasn’t shouting, Billie knew that it was time to leave before he exploded.

  She and Aladdin got to their feet at the same time and practically ran to the door. Behind them they could hear Martin’s voice:

  ‘Get out!’ he yelled. ‘Get out and leave me alone!’

  They had never cycled so fast in their lives. They didn’t stop until they reached B
illie’s house. It was pouring with rain, but that was the least of their worries.

  ‘Goodness,’ Aladdin said when they were curled up on the sofa in the living room under a blanket each. ‘Did you buy the house from him? He seems a bit . . . odd.’

  Billie couldn’t help but agree. She had been so scared when Martin started shouting. Why had he done that? Why didn’t he just talk to them, tell them what he knew? Because he knew something, she was sure of it.

  ‘I don’t know why Mum trusted him,’ she mumbled into her blanket. ‘I never liked him.’

  Aladdin shuffled further into his corner of the sofa and rested his head on the back. ‘I hope things go better when we speak to Manne Lund,’ he said.

  ‘They couldn’t go much worse,’ Billie said, and started to giggle.

  The giggle turned into loud laughter, and it was catching. Aladdin started to laugh too, and they laughed and laughed until they couldn’t breathe as they thought about how they had gone to see a man they didn’t know and tried to get him to tell them his secrets.

  They were laughing so hard that they didn’t hear Josef unlock the door and walk in.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ he said, smiling when he saw them on the sofa.

  Billie and Aladdin were so surprised that they stopped laughing.

  Josef went into the kitchen with a bag of shopping. ‘Would you like to stay for tea?’ he said to Aladdin.

  ‘Yes please!’

  They had already decided that if Josef had found a phone number for Manne Lund or his son, they would ring that very evening.

  Billie stumbled into the kitchen with the blanket tightly wrapped around her body. ‘Did you find him?’ she asked. ‘Manne Lund, I mean? Is he still alive?’

  Josef was putting a carton of milk in the fridge. ‘I think so,’ he said. ‘There weren’t many men with that name who were the right sort of age. I’ve brought the address and phone number. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to find out whether he had any children, and if so what their names are.’

  Billie tried not to look too pleased as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket.

  ‘Brilliant, thanks!’ she said.