Breathe: A Ghost Story (Fiction - Middle Grade) by Cliff McNish

Author:Cliff McNish [McNish, Cliff]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Lerner Books
Published: 2011-07-31T18:30:00+00:00

Jack spent the next hour or so in his bedroom, waiting for one of the ghosts to visit him. When they didn’t, he checked anxiously around the house but couldn’t find a trace. Where were they hiding? But he wasn’t as worried as he had been. With his mum already talking to the Ghost Mother, he knew things could only improve. About mid-morning, after poking around a while in various places, calling Oliver’s name, he took a break and went to fix himself a snack.

The Ghost Mother was already in the kitchen, waiting for him. She had decided to wear Sarah’s longest skirt—all the trousers felt uncomfortable against her legs—and a blouse that covered her arms. As Jack entered, she stood at the sink, her back to him, preparing food. In her left hand there was a pear. As Jack watched she bit voraciously from it, a single bite, then put it down. Several other pieces of fruit and raw vegetables, all with one or two bites in them, were strewn across one side of the table.

In her right hand she held a five-inch-long carving knife. She was slowly chopping carrots with the knife, then clearing them with the side of her hand to the edge of the cutting board. It was an efficient method of cutting, though Jack had never seen her use it before. She hummed an odd tune to herself, one Jack didn’t recognize. The table was set for lunch. Plates and cutlery were laid out, cups positioned neatly.

“What’s up?” he asked. “We having guests?”

She stopped and blinked at him. “No, of course not.” She finished preparing the food. It was vegetable soup. Jack had had it before, but never tasting quite like this. “Nice,” he said, helping himself to a second bowlful.

The Ghost Mother watched him eat. It was a pleasure to see Jack enjoying her first attempt at a meal. But she was careful. She resisted the impulse to say anything unless he asked a direct question, because she kept tripping over the simplest of words—Sarah’s constant shouting making it hard to focus. Instead, she let her taste buds, dormant for so long, linger over the food on her own plate. To eat again after all these years! She wanted to dwell over every spoonful but was careful about that, too; she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

Jack didn’t mention the packed bags sitting in the corner of the living room. Although Sarah had said she’d help him find the ghosts, he wanted to keep any thoughts about leaving far from her mind. Instead, he went over everything he knew about the ghosts again, including his fruitless search this morning. He decided against mentioning Isabella yet, though—five ghosts were probably enough for his mum to cope with right now. The Ghost Mother listened closely, but her attention wandered whenever Jack mentioned the children, especially Oliver.

“Aren’t you interested in him?” Jack asked, after a long silence.

“Yes.” She smiled.

“Oliver’s scared of the Ghost Mother.”

No reaction. Just the smile.

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