While she worked on the house, Elsie moved into the terrace next door and lived there, hoping she wouldn’t fall through the floorboards, because that terrace desperately needed renovating too.

  I skip over a chapter or two – mostly about how Elsie had furnished each room. It’s other information I’m here for.

  Information about how and why the house is haunted.

  The story of the haunting, when I find it, goes something like this:

  Once upon a time there was a husband and wife called Monsieur and Madame LeNoir. They weren’t really French. In fact, they had both been born in London itself and their real names were Henry Black and Ellen Walker. Henry came from a poor family, but he was clever and ambitious and wanted to make something of himself. He went to work for an uncle who owned a chemist’s shop in Southwark, where poverty and disease was rife. The chemist’s shop sold all sorts of medicinal cures that were no better or worse than what would be prescribed by the city’s top doctors. Even they could only offer such treatments as blistering, or blood-letting, which tended only to make patients even more ill.

  Henry became interested in the craze for mesmerism that was sweeping the city. Some doctors claimed they could put patients into trance-like states and shift the energy field within their body. Painful surgery could then be performed without any pain at all. They even claimed they could cure patients of diseases simply by using mesmerism. Henry decided he had to see this for himself. He began to attend demonstrations of mesmerism in the city and was an instant believer. He watched the doctors very carefully and practised their special hand movements in every minute of his spare time. It didn’t take him very long until he knew how to mesmerise people himself.

  At one of these mesmeric demonstrations, Henry met Ellen. Ellen came from a family who dabbled in spiritualism. Several members claimed to be in constant contact with the twilight world. They were very happy to take people’s money and put them in touch with their loved ones in the twilight world.

  Henry and Ellen decided to get married. They formed a plan – they would change their names to Monsieur and Madame LeNoir. And they would set up as Monsieur and Madame LeNoir – Mesmeric Spiritualists. They would combine the best of both their talents – mesmerism and contact with the twilight world.

  The pair distributed pamphlets stating that they had discovered putting subjects into a mesmeric trance brought them closer to the twilight world – that it changed their spiritual energy and enabled Madame LeNoir to draw their dear departed loved ones as close to the living world as possible.

  Their show was an instant sensation.

  The pair travelled the length and the breadth of the country, filling music halls and giving costly private sittings.

  But their show was a sham.

  For while Monsieur LeNoir was skilled at putting people into a trance-like state and he had soon taught Madame LeNoir his tricks, neither of them could contact the twilight world. Madame LeNoir had never been able to. What she and her family had always relied upon was their ability to observe people closely, gleaning what information they could from very little. Some blonde hair curled into a mourning brooch? Madame LeNoir would see someone young and fair calling out to her from the twilight. An old lady ready to part with her money? A gentleman associated with the letter “J” had a message for Madame to impart. Did the lady perchance know a John? A Jack? A Joseph? Why, of course it was her brother, Jeremy!

  Tired of moving and wanting a base to operate out of, the LeNoirs bought a terrace house in Spitalfields. It wasn’t a very nice area, but they needed something large. They wanted to use the bottom floor for their private sittings and to live upstairs. Hopefully they would become even more famous and be able to afford something better shortly.

  They hadn’t been there long when something remarkable happened.

  A mother who lived several streets away heard that the LeNoirs had moved into the terrace house. This mother had a daughter, Clara, who was eight years of age. Clara was always talking about people who weren’t there – spirits she called them. The mother called upon the LeNoirs and imparted this information, not knowing who else to turn to. Madame LeNoir, who was an abrupt person, had attempted to slam the door in the mother’s face. But Monsieur LeNoir had stopped her. He had looked down at waif-like Clara and seen past her dirty dress and knotted hair. He convinced the mother to leave Clara with them.

  The girl would become Madame LeNoir’s apprentice.

  Within days, Clara’s talents became apparent. She chatted easily to anyone and everyone about the spirits surrounding them. Names were correct. Relationships were correct. She would mention the tiniest details – the name of a treasured lapdog, the exact design of a cherished brooch made of Whitby jet, even a favourite hymn.

  Monsieur and Madame LeNoir knew they had discovered a goldmine. They cleaned Clara up. They coiffed her hair, purchased some smart little boots and had some beautiful dresses made. All of the dresses had the same special high neckline that would cover Clara’s terrible scars. When she was only hours old, the wrap she had been swaddled in had caught fire and she had been badly burned. She had not been expected to survive. But she had. Some said it was this dance with death that had led to her strong ties to the spirit world.

  Clara was paraded. Lauded. Monsieur and Madame LeNoir began to charge more. Much more.

  People began to talk about this miraculous child who could speak directly to the deceased. Clara was called upon to visit a Baroness. A Countess. A Duchess, even.

  And then the letter came.

  Clara would have an audience with the Queen herself.

  Queen Victoria had been interested in spiritualism for some time, but especially so after the sudden death of her dear husband, Prince Albert.

  But when Clara visited the Queen, Prince Albert’s spirit was nowhere to be found.

  Monsieur and Madame LeNoir were furious. They knew that this sometimes happened – there had been quite a number of times that Clara had not been able to contact a spirit. But for it to happen on this occasion? It was simply not acceptable. They made their excuses – it might take time for the girl to coax the spirit towards the living world. It would, perhaps, take several sittings.

  Clara baulked. She knew that she would never be able to contact the Prince. It didn’t matter how many sittings she had with the Queen.

  But Monsieur and Madame LeNoir would not take no for an answer and forced Clara to visit the Queen time and time again. They used their contacts to pay for information from the Queen’s household. They had Clara mention private details of the Queen and Prince’s life together. When Clara divulged the Prince’s pet name for his wife, the Queen was in raptures. She sent a present to the house – a beautiful silver locket, engraved with her thanks.

  Clara had not wanted to wear the locket, but Madame LeNoir forced her to wear it every single day. She would point out the gift to every client. Every passer-by in the street. The locket that had been a gift from the Queen herself.

  Then, quite unexpectedly, Monsieur LeNoir became sick and died.

  Madame LeNoir knew their act would have to change overnight. Mesmerism was viewed as a medical skill – a male skill – while women were seen as being more adept at contacting the twilight world. She would now be completely reliant on Clara for an income. Madame LeNoir began to push harder. She forced Clara to tell more falsehoods and speak to spirits who were not there. Another problem: Clara was growing far too quickly. Four years had passed and Clara was now twelve years of age. Decent food meant that she was filling out. People had preferred her to be that tiny, waif-like creature that had appeared on the LeNoir’s doorstep.

  Madame LeNoir began to starve Clara. Soon, her eyes became dark hollows. Her dresses began to hang off her.

  And then, one night, she ran away.

  Clara ran to the place she used to call home. She had seen her family only a few times since being left on the LeNoirs’ doorstep. Her family wasn’t really sure what to do with her – this strange, grown-up child with curled hair in the beautiful dress and fancy locket. She didn’t belong. Not to mention all the money that had been invested in her apprenticeship. Clara’s mother dragged her back to Madame LeNoir and handed her daughter into her care.

  After that night, no one ever saw Clara again.

  I put Tanice’s book down in the early hours of the morning, my eyes dry from reading and lack of sleep.

  Finally, I properly understand what I’ve always felt in the house. Two spirits – one dark and one light. Madame LeNoir and Clara. It had been Clara I’d seen that day in the mirror behind Elsie, I was sure of it. That other, fleeting, presence I’d felt – the friendly one – had been her.

  I stare at the bedroom ceiling for a while, my thoughts caught up in what I’ve just learned. I can’t figure out why I didn’t want to know this information before. Why did I think I was protecting myself in not knowing what it was that lurked within the house? Why hadn’t I asked questions? Hundreds of them? I’d definitely had questions about that house for as long as I could remember. I’d desperately wanted to blurt them all out at Elsie that day in the ginger garden. I’d wanted her to answer them quickly and neatly so that my brain could rest and stop searching. But something had stopped me. Fear? I don’t know. But if I thought by not talking about it all that Madame LeNoir was going to go away and leave me alone, I was wrong. That’s what Elsie had been trying to explain to me that day, I suppose. I couldn’t just deny what I’d experienced and expect Madame LeNoir to magically disappear. I had to deal with her. Maybe even confront her. Something inside me tells me that’s what Elsie wants me to do now – this is what I’m supposed to be getting ready for.

  I shudder, thinking about it all. Especially about Clara. Had Madame LeNoir really murdered her? That dark, bitter anger I’d felt in the house – it wouldn’t surprise me if it was true.

  I try to go back to sleep and fail, tossing and turning until Freya pops her head in the door.

  “You awake, Loll?”

  “Yes. Um, Freya?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Can I go back to Tiny Pieces today?” I don’t think I can go back to the house. Not yet. I’m still trying to take in what I’ve read. And with little to no sleep, I’m too tired to keep Madame LeNoir’s energy at bay, or to deal with Elsie’s demands about this thing that I have to be ready for, which I know is to do with the spirits in the house. Right now I don’t feel ready for anything.

  Freya slips into the room and inspects me for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “Because you want to go to Tiny Pieces, or because you don’t want to go to the house?”

  Um . . . “Both?”

  She sighs. “It’s not an unreasonable request. Let me text Suzie first.”

  “Okay.”

  “Go and have some cereal and get ready.”

  Texts fly. Suzie says she’d be delighted to have me at Tiny Pieces and asks if Jada would like to come along too.

  Over a second coffee, Freya leans on the kitchen bench. “So, we have a plan. We’ll stop by the house, pick up Jada, and I’ll walk you girls over to Tiny Pieces.”

  “All right.” I’m not going to complain about spending a few minutes at the house. As long as I don’t have to hang out with Madame LeNoir all day I’m happy.

  Freya and I pick up Jada and the three of us make the short walk over to Tiny Pieces, where Suzie opens the door for us. Freya says her hellos and mentions that she has to dash back to the house. “Call me if you need anything or if you want me to come and pick the girls up,” she tells Suzie.

  “Will do. But we’ll be just fine. Truth be told, you’re doing me a favour. I could use the help.”

  “Great! See you soon!” Freya rushes off.

  Suzie closes the shop door. “Right. Festive hats first, of course.” She bustles about locating my hat, which she’s named and a new hat for Jada. These she places on our heads. “It’ll just be us for a bit, I’m afraid. The others are at a planning meeting at the site our mosaic will be installed at – just for an hour or so. There’s plenty to do here, though, so I hope you’re ready to be put to work!” She puts a couple of containers which hold some large wedges of glass down on one of the benches. She passes us some clippers. “Would you mind getting started on these?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Do you know how to do it?” I ask Jada.

  She nods. “I’ve been here before with Mum and Elsie. It’s fun.”

  “I’ve just got to send a few emails,” Suzie says. “If you need anything, call out.”

  “Okay,” we both say.

  Suzie selects a Christmas playlist and Jada and I begin clipping in silence. The more time I spend at this place, the more I like it. It’s kind of soothing concentrating on clipping the little pieces of glass and not thinking about too much else.

  “Beebee says you took a copy of Mum’s book,” Jada says.

  I stop clipping.

  “I mean, she gave it to you. Not that you stole it or something. Haven’t you read it before?”

  “Do you think the house is haunted?” I blurt the question out.

  Jada thinks for a moment before answering. “I know some people come to the door and won’t go any further. And lots of them don’t even know about Madame LeNoir before they get there. They just say there’s a feeling – a bad feeling – and they don’t want to go inside.”

  “Do you think it’s true then? That she murdered her apprentice?”

  “Clara. Her name was Clara.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  Jada shrugs. “There wasn’t any real proof that she did. Only talk. The police investigated it, though that was in Victorian times, so I’m guessing it would have been a pretty basic investigation. It all seemed to focus on that locket.”

  “The one that Queen Victoria gave to Clara.”

  Jada nods. “Their maid happened to see it lying around after Clara left. That’s when all the rumours started about Madame LeNoir murdering her and the police got involved. It was the maid who came out and said what had been going on – that Clara had been starved and that she couldn’t contact Prince Albert. But I think everyone was convinced she’d been murdered because the maid had seen the locket. No one could believe that Clara would leave without it. It was valuable and she always wore it.”

  “What? It makes complete sense that she wouldn’t have taken it with her if she’d gone! She’d have hated that locket and everything it stood for. She would only have worn it because Madame LeNoir made her.”

  “But it was valuable and she had nothing,” Jada argues. “Even if Clara did run away, everyone ended up believing that Madame LeNoir had murdered her anyway. It ruined her life and her career. She kind of just hid out in the attic after that and rented the furnished downstairs rooms cheaply, because no one wanted to live there. People weren’t interested in her spiritualist sittings anymore. They were scared Clara’s vengeful spirit would return and get them.” She waggles her fingers at me and laughs.

  “It’s not funny,” I say, shifting in my seat.

  “Yeah, I guess not. I don’t think Madame LeNoir murdered her, though. It wouldn’t have made sense. Clara was how she made her money. I think Clara just ran away again. I mean, the old witch was starving her. I would have kept running away too. I think the second time she just got smarter and didn’t go back to her family.”

  “Is that what your mum thinks as well?”

  “Pretty much.”

  With a shiver, I think about that terrifying face pushing out of the wall. I’m not so sure.

  We go back to our clipping.

  It isn’t long before the Tiny Pieces crew begin to arrive from their meeting.

  “Alfie!” Jada jumps up as soon as she sees Britt and Alfie walk past the workshop window. She runs over to open the door for them. Ignoring Britt, she scoops up Alfie, who begins to lick her face excitedly.

  “Everyone’s always so happy to see me,” Britt says with a snort.

  Santa hats are located, cups of tea are made and biscuits are shared. Jada gives Alfie his dog biscuits – pretending to take them from the biscuit packet, just like I’d done the other day.

  Alfie just wags his little tail and laps up the attention, the pompom on his hat bobbing frantically.

  Britt takes a seat beside me and starts clipping.

  “You look a bit tired,” she says, after a while.

  “I stayed up late reading a book about the house.”

  “Suzie told me it opens up tomorrow. For visitors and stuff.”

  I nod. “Tanice and Freya have to get everything sorted today.”

  “They said we could all go and see it for free, but I don’t know. It sounds a bit spooky. And no talking? I quite like talking. You might have noticed.”

  I laugh.

  Alfie barks one short bark.

  “Right. Off we go.” Britt jumps up. “Toilet trip,” she explains. She clips Alfie to his lead and the pair make their way outside. I kind of like how she doesn’t take off their Santa hats.

  As Jada and I continue with our work, I half-watch through the workshop window as Britt and Alfie go on their way. They pause outside on the pavement to talk to a woman and her spaniel. At first the dog tries to jump up, but Britt makes the dog sit obediently and gives it part of a dog biscuit from her cargo pants’ pocket. After this, they cross the road. They see someone else with a pug and have a chat. At first the pug is super-excited to see Alfie. But Britt pulls back and makes the dog wait. When it calms, she gives it some dog biscuit, just like she’d done before. After this, she and Alfie disappear into the park for a bit. About ten minutes later, I see them jog back across the road. They’re just about to enter the shop again when someone waves to them from down the street. It’s another woman and yet another dog – a dachshund this time. I don’t think Alfie likes it very much, because he pulls away. But Britt does something different this time – she crushes some dog biscuit and spreads it all over the ground. And while the two dog owners chat, the dogs busily snuffle for biscuit on the ground. Distracted, they get far closer than I think they would have otherwise.