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didn’t like people nattering through it.
    “You’re a conductor, dear. Now be quiet while I watch my program.”
    Belladonna watched for a while, then got up and went into the kitchen to do her homework. She hauledthe books out of her bag, spread them out, and stared at them. She did the same thing every evening, and every evening she asked herself the same question: Should she start with the Math and get it over with or go with the easier option (which tonight was History)? She opened the Math book and looked at what she had to do.
    She slammed it shut. Definitely History.
    Belladonna had always liked History, even before she could see ghosts. Of course, now that she could, it was much more interesting. If she ever met the shades of Charles I or Anne Boleyn, she’d be ready with some conversation. She wondered if Anne knew that her daughter had become England’s greatest queen, and if Charles had ever had the least inkling that the Parliamentarians were prepared to cut his head off. She had to believe that if he had, he wouldn’t have been so spectacularly dim-witted in his scheming. Although, from her observations watching the evening news, it had struck her that very few people ever lost money betting on the stupidity of politicians.
    She thought about Elsie with her long skirts and that big bow in her hair. There was nothing of the Victorian fading violet about her, but when she had lived, women hadn’t even been allowed to vote. Belladonna reckoned she should ask Elsie about that the next time she saw her.
    She turned the pages of the book over to see howmuch she had to read. Fifteen pages. Right. Better get started, then.
    She leaned her elbows on the table, covered her ears to block out the sound of
Staunchly Springs
from the living room, and began to read. She’d only managed about two sentences, however, when her thoughts drifted back to the look on Steve’s face when he’d seen Elsie. She wondered what he was thinking about now. Was he excited to have seen a ghost, or would he be spending the next few nights with the light on, jumping at every sound and peering into the shadows?
    Belladonna pushed her black hair out of her eyes and looked up at the kitchen clock. It had been two years since she’d started seeing them. Her parents had been alive then and her mother had told her that it was just a family trait, like red hair or big ears. At the time, Belladonna had thought that, on the whole, she’d have preferred the red hair. She didn’t want to be different, and she was terrified of being caught talking to something that no one else could see. School was bad enough already, what with being so skinny and having hair that hung down the sides of her face like the “before” picture in an advert for hair stuff. All she needed to cement her role as the class outcast was for someone to find out that she saw ghosts. Or thought she did. Because, of course, no one would believe that she really was conversing with the dead. The result was that she turned in on herself more than ever, which had thesame effect as if her classmates
had
known about the ghost thing.
    Then her parents had died, and she was suddenly grateful for the family trait. But it was still a secret. So far as the school authorities were concerned, Belladonna lived with her grandmother. Now, though, someone else had seen. It wasn’t just her.
    She smiled and turned back to the History book.
    After half an hour, the battles of the Civil War were oozing together into a great morass of Cavaliers, Roundheads, and brave ladies defending castles. Somewhere in there, Belladonna was almost sure, were some facts that might actually show up in an exam. She counted the pages again. Six to go. She sighed, got up, and poured herself a glass of water. She sat down again, read a page, then realized she couldn’t remember what she’d read. Was this important? Was there going to be a test? Because if there wasn’t, maybe she could get away with just