Shiver by Alex Nye Page A

The boy’s loving hands had worn them smooth with handling. They were all he had: the only souvenirs from a life long since faded away. Everything the boy had once known had crumbled into disrepair, leaving nothing but this forlorn little corner of the building, where he and his sister had slept for so many hundreds of years,like children in a fairy tale, waiting to be woken. And now that they were awake … what now? Were they to be forever haunted by their own dreadful memories?
    He let go of his toy soldiers so that they fell, unsupported, to the ground. Even the world of make-believe could let us down, sometimes.
    Eliza found her brother in the dusty room they inhabited together. He was still crying. With a rare touch of compassion, Eliza put her arm around him.
    “Cease that noise. I have returned.”
    “But you will leave me again,” he whispered. “I know you will.”

Lynns Farm
    “I really don’t see how he can help,” Sebastian was saying, as they crunched their way through the deepening snow towards the waterfall.
    “He was helpful last time,” Fiona reminded the others.
    “I don’t think he’ll take kindly to us just turning up, though,” Charles said uneasily. “It’s only you and Samuel he knows properly.”
    “He won’t mind,” Fiona reassured her brother. “Anyway, it’s always good to see Mr MacFarlane. Granny Hughes said we should check up on him in this weather. Make sure he’s alright. We’ll be doing a neighbourly turn.”
    Her brothers followed her and Samuel past the waterfall, through the trees to the lonely little farmhouse set in its isolated grounds. The sunlight rarely penetrated this low-lying piece of ground where Lynns Farmhouse stood, sheltered on all sides by trees and high ridges of land.
    Patrick MacFarlane lived here alone, with his dog and his memories. He was not an unhappy man, despite his solitude and eccentricity, and he’d been delighted by Samuel and Fiona’s attempts to make friends with him. It had opened up a little window in his lonely life. They didn’t visit him often, but when they did, he always found it entertaining.
    He was not expecting them, however, and they had noway of knowing if he was actually in. They approached the door nervously, peering at the windows to see if there was any life behind them.
    “Mr MacFarlane!” Samuel knocked on the door and called out his name.
    Silence. An eerie uncomfortable silence. They couldn’t even hear the dog barking. A blanket of disappointment drifted down like the snow and landed on their shoulders. It was unsettling.
    “Oh,” Samuel said. “Where would he be in this weather?”
    “See?” Charles snapped tetchily. “I told you.”
    “
What
did you tell us?” Fiona replied.
    “That there was no point. That he wouldn’t be in!”
    “No you didn’t,” Samuel corrected him. “You just said you didn’t want to bother, that was all.”
    “I did not,” he cried, rounding on Samuel.
    “Ach, for goodness sake!” A voice broke in. “Stop that bickering. I can hear you a mile off.”
    They turned to see Patrick MacFarlane making his way towards them through the snow, his arms full of chopped firewood, the dog at his heels.
    Fiona’s face lit up. “How are you Mr MacFarlane?” she beamed.
    “Och, I’m not so bad. And yourselves?”
    “We’re good,” Samuel said.
    “I see you’ve brought your big brothers this time?” he observed, looking at Charles and Sebastian keenly.
    “That’s right,” Fiona said.
    “So … what brings you to my door?”
    “Questions …” she blurted out, looking at him desperately.“We were wondering if you knew any stories about other ghosts up at the house?”
    He looked at her shrewdly. “More research?”
    “That’s right,” Fiona said.
    “And what kind of ghosts would these be?”
    “Two children,” she said. “A brother and sister. Very young. The girl is about nine, we think.”
    “Two children?” He looked perplexed and shook his