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Laura who was imagining she saw a ghost last night.”
    â€œNo, really?”
    I nodded. Liberty pulled away.
    â€œThat’s awesome. What did it look like?”
    â€œScary,” I said. “But it was just my brain playing tricks. Some psychologist would say that it’s all to do with the move and feeling strange and uprooted.”
    â€œMaybe it was Grandad,” Liberty said.
    â€œNo, it wasn’t. Definitely not.”
    She opened her eyes wide. Questioning.
    â€œI’d have known if it was Grandad. I’d have felt it. Anyway, he wouldn’t have wanted to scare me, would he?”
    â€œOf course not,” she replied, stroking my arm. “Why are we even talking about this? There are no such things as ghosts. Mind you,” she added, “Gran’s house is a bit creaky and spooky sometimes.”
    â€œThanks,” I said with a wry laugh. “You’ve made me feel a lot better.”
    â€œThat’s what I’m here for,” she replied, looking suddenly serious. “I don’t want anything to ever come between us, Laura.”
    â€œThen it won’t,” I said determinedly, and I reached over and screwed the top tightly on the bottle of nail polish, just in case she knocked it over.

T RAPPED
    â€œ Y ou’re quiet,” Mum said at suppertime. “Hmm,” I replied, toying with the chives sprinkled over my new potatoes.
    â€œAren’t you hungry?”
    I shook my head. “Not very.”
    It had seemed strange walking back from Liberty’s house and trying to think of the farm as ‘home’. All my positive intentions had disappeared. I just felt fed up and sad, especially as I’d texted Abi and found out that my London friends were all meeting up for a pizza and going to the movies. The last thing I felt like doing was sitting down with Mum and Gran in a kitchen more than a hundred miles away from where I should be.
    â€œThat’s a waste of good food,” Gran said. “In my day—”
    â€œWell it’s not your day any more,” I said, pushing my chair back and banging it against the front of thedresser, the blue willow-pattern plates tinkling together like a xylophone.
    â€œLaura!” Mum half scolded as I scraped my meal into the bin and clattered the plate into the dishwasher. “What’s the matter?”
    â€œIt’s nothing,” I said, brushing past her so fast she didn’t have time to put out a hand and catch hold of my arm.
    She leaped up. “Wait! It’s not nothing. Apologise to your grandmother.”
    I hesitated, wanted just to ignore her. But it wouldn’t be worth the hassle later.
    â€œSorry,” I mumbled, gracelessly throwing the words behind me.
    â€œThat’s not a proper apology,” Mum said, her voice louder and higher pitched.
    I bit my bottom lip, took a deep breath and summoned all the self-control I had, ready to apologise again. But just as I turned around and opened my mouth, Gran butted in.
    â€œIt’s all right, Liz. Let’s leave it. It’s not worth getting het up about.”
    Wow! That was a surprise. Mum looked prettystunned too as she sank back onto her chair and shot me a look that conveyed in no uncertain terms that I hadn’t heard the end of it. But for now, thanks to Gran, I could make my escape.
    I was in bed by nine. I turned my light out so Mum wouldn’t come in and give me a lecture about everyone making an effort to adjust and the importance of good manners. I heard her come upstairs at about ten-thirty and hesitate outside my door, but she didn’t come in. This time as the house made all those weird creaking, groaning noises I didn’t feel so bothered. My door was opened wide to allow light from the lamp at the top of the stairs to filter through and Mum knew not to turn it off. It’s strange how comforting a little light can be.
    I was on the cusp of sleep when something