The Ivory Rose Page 2

  It was here that Jemma lived with her parents, in a narrow sandstone terrace with a neat box hedge across the tiny front garden and an antique urn overflowing with mini agapanthus.

  Jemma used her key to open the black front door and called out hopefully, ‘Mum? Dad? Is anyone home?’

  She was answered by deafening silence. Jemma paused a moment, listening to the stillness of the house. I should go and do my homework, thought Jemma. I should practise my flute.

  She glanced over the fence to the cottage next door. The jaunty strain of a violin sounded on the breeze. She could hear squealing and shrieking and giggling, doors banging. She could imagine the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

  Just a few minutes, thought Jemma.

  She locked her own front door carefully and crept next door, the gate creaking on its rusty hinges. This garden was overgrown with roses and lavender and geraniums. Jemma ignored the rarely used main entrance and took the side path, which led to the back of the house. Jemma knocked tentatively at the open kitchen door. A sharp barking sounded from inside.

  ‘Come in. Is that you, Jemma? Ruby – Jemma’s here.’

  Dropping her bag at the back door, Jemma stepped into the kitchen, a wide smile on her face. Latte, the chocolate labrador, bounded over, wagging her whole body with her tail and licking any part of Jemma that she could reach. Then Latte rolled over, offering her tummy for a scratch, her golden eyes glowing.

  Jemma obediently scratched Latte’s tummy and rubbed the dog’s favourite spot, right between her eyes. Latte wuffed with pleasure and closed her eyes, tail sweeping the floor.

  The warmth and chaos of the kitchen enveloped Jemma like a snug quilt. Ruby’s mum sat on a chair in the centre of the room, a violin tucked under her chin, the music book on a stand in front of her. Ruby was her best friend and neighbour – one of four children. Ruby’s sister Brenna sat on a chair beside her mother, her own violin tucked under her chin. The twins, Liam and Daisy, raced around the room, waving swords, shrieking and laughing.

  ‘Hello, Milla. Is it okay if I come in for a while? Mum and Dad aren’t home from work yet.’

  ‘Of course, darling,’ replied Milla, waving her violin bow in welcome. ‘Are you hungry? There’s freshly baked banana bread on the bench. Help yourself. Take some upstairs to Ruby. She’s doing her homework. How did you go looking after little Sammy? She’s a sweetie, isn’t she? And Maggie’s gorgeous too. I’m so glad you can help her out.’

  Jemma nodded and concurred in the right places as she carved two hunks of warm, moist banana bread and laid them on a plate. Her mouth salivated as she smelt the delicious aroma.

  ‘Thanks, Milla. This smells delicious.’

  Jemma had a mock sword fight with Liam and Daisy as they tore past her. She pretended to be mortally wounded, swooning to the ground, the plate of banana bread carefully cradled on her chest.

  ‘You’re dead,’ screeched Daisy. ‘We killed Jemma!’

  ‘Give Jemma a kiss and she’ll come back to life again,’ suggested Milla as she resumed playing her violin, Brenna following her lead.

  Daisy obediently hugged Jemma and kissed her cheek.

  ‘Thanks, Daisy,’ Jemma whispered, kissing her back. ‘I think you saved my life.’

  Upstairs, Ruby was in the room she shared with Brenna, working at her desk. When Jemma came in she slammed her books shut with a beaming smile. ‘Reprieve!’ she exclaimed, reaching for a slab of banana bread. ‘How was it? Was Sammy good?’

  Jemma sat on Ruby’s bed, nibbling at her own portion. ‘It was great. Sammy is so cute. Maggie was lovely. But the house … Well, it gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Why?’ begged Ruby, her eyes sparkling with curiousity. ‘Did something happen? Do you really think it’s haunted?’

  Jemma frowned, thinking over the odd happenings of the afternoon. Were they strange enough to mean Rosethorne was haunted?

  ‘Noooo, well, yes – in a way,’ Jemma began. ‘Sammy says a girl called Georgie comes to visit her. A girl no-one else can see.’

  ‘Well, lots of kids her age have imaginary friends,’ Ruby replied dismissively.

  ‘Yes, but the cat hissed and spat at nothing when Sammy said her “friend” came in, and I felt suddenly cold, then the door slammed with no breeze, and the rocking chair started moving all by itself. It was really spooky.’

  Ruby wrinkled her brow, then shook her head decisively, tossing her long red ponytail. ‘There must have been just a slight breeze, Jem, and you didn’t notice it. There is always a logical explanation for these things. Kids that age have such amazing imaginations, just like Liam and Daisy. I bet if you’d taken a closer look, the window was open a fraction or there was a draught from another room.’

  Jemma thought back over the scene in Sammy’s bedroom. Was it just my imagination? Was it a fluky breeze? It must have been. Jemma felt a little silly.

  ‘Have you finished your English essay?’ asked Jemma, changing the subject. ‘I should go home and get mine done or Mum will be freaking.’

  The girls chatted easily about homework and teachers and school friends, then Milla called up the stairs.

  ‘Jemma, your dad just called. He’s home now and wants you to get onto your homework.’

  Jemma and Ruby thundered down the stairs, dodging the two armed knights and Latte the chocolate warhorse, and into the kitchen. Milla was now cooking dinner, the room filling with the smell of chorizo and bacon pasta. Jemma sniffed surreptitiously.

  ‘Stay for dinner tomorrow night if you like, Jemma,’ Milla offered, her eyes sympathetic.

  ‘That would be great, thanks Milla. Mum and Dad have a fundraiser for the children’s hospital, so they’ll both be late.’

  ‘Bring over your homework and do it here with Ruby.’

  Jemma grinned and nodded as she loped out the back door, scooping up her bag.

  The lights were on at home now. Jemma used her key to open the door and headed down the long hallway.

  ‘Dad, I’m home,’ Jemma called.

  ‘I’m in the kitchen, Poss,’ her dad replied.

  Jemma’s eyes skimmed over the familiar objects of her home. It could not be more different to the colourful chaos of Ruby’s home or the dingy dereliction of Sammy’s old mansion. At Jemma’s house everything was perfect.

  From the oversized vase of pure white lilies on the elegant hall table to the carefully placed artwork on the taupe walls and the matching chocolate and cream cushions, meticulously selected by some famous interior designer – there was never an object out of place.

  Jemma stowed her bag away in the hidden cupboard under the stairs, in the special cubicle designed for that purpose.

  In the kitchen she hugged her dad and received a kiss on top of her head. ‘How was your day, Poss?’

  ‘Great, thanks Dad,’ Jemma replied, lost in her own thoughts of Sammy and Georgie.

  She pulled up a stool and perched at the vast cultured stone bench. The kitchen was stunning – the latest in European design with an impressive stainless steel oven and cooktop, gleaming dishwasher and polished glass splash-back. Her dad, Dan, was opening a number of takeaway containers and warming the contents in the microwave.

  Dan was tall with brown hair that had once been fair like Jemma’s and a kind face that crinkled easily into smiles. He was a paediatric physiotherapist at the children’s hospital.

  ‘Mum will be home in a minute.’ Dan juggled a hot container in his broad hands. ‘She was caught up in a meeting.’

  ‘Mmmmm,’ Jemma muttered.

  ‘Do you have much homework? Maybe you should hop into it while I warm up dinner.’

  Jemma fetched her homework obediently and began planning out her English essay on A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

  The front door opened and closed, and Jemma heard the tippy-tap of her mother’s heels pattering down the hallway.

  Elizabeth Morgan was beautiful. Tall, graceful and impeccably dressed – her dark hair was cut fas
hionably short, flicked back to reveal diamond stud earrings. She wore a black fitted designer suit with pointy high heels. Elizabeth leant over to kiss Jemma, stroking Jemma’s fringe back from her forehead, and smiled. ‘Hi, darling.’

  Jemma felt a surge of pride. Her mum was a senior partner in a major international law firm. She was astute, extremely intelligent and had a well-earned reputation for integrity and toughness.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she apologised, placing her briefcase on the sideboard and kicking off her shoes. ‘There was a major flaw in the BHPR contract and none of the juniors noticed. It’s lucky I found it tonight or it would have been a total disaster at the client meeting tomorrow.’

  Dan leant over and massaged her shoulders. ‘Sounds like a tough day – how’re you feeling?’

  Elizabeth smiled back, arching her shoulders under his strong hands. ‘Stressed. Exhausted – glad to be home. Thanks for picking up dinner, Dan.’

  ‘No problem,’ Dan replied. ‘I thought about cooking my famous “Dan pad thai”, but I couldn’t face the late-night supermarket crowd, so it’s takeaway Japanese tonight. Why don’t you get changed and I’ll start serving.’

  A few minutes later, Elizabeth returned in jeans and a T-shirt, and the family sat around the kitchen bench eating miso soup and ramen noodles.

  ‘How was your day, Dan?’ asked Elizabeth, ladling soup into three bowls.

  ‘Great. Lily Montgomery is making terrific progress – she walked about ten steps today without the frame. Her parents were over the moon. You should have seen her face! She was beaming from ear to ear.’

  ‘That’s fantastic – you must be so thrilled.’ Elizabeth turned to Jemma with a tired smile. ‘And what about you, Jemma? Did you get much homework today?’

  ‘Fine, thanks Mum,’ replied Jemma, toying with her tofu. ‘I have to finish my English essay.’

  ‘Aren’t you hungry, Jemma?’ asked her mother. ‘Or did you eat something at Ruby’s?’

  Jemma loaded up her chopsticks with noodles.

  ‘I had afternoon tea at Sammy’s house,’ Jemma explained. ‘You know, today was my first day looking after Sammy. Maggie has a huge exhibition coming up, so she wants me to mind Sammy for three afternoons after school for the next few weeks.’

  Elizabeth put her spoon down and looked at Jemma seriously. Jemma thought of it as her mother’s secret weapon – ‘the lethal lawyer glare’.

  ‘Just as long as it doesn’t interfere with your homework or music practise,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘If I feel it is disrupting your schoolwork, I will have to ring Maggie and discontinue it.’

  Jemma’s heart sank. Give up my job already? I can’t. I’ve only just started – and Maggie needs me.

  Jemma glanced at her dad pleadingly. He smiled. ‘Jemma finishes at six, so she should have plenty of time to catch up. It will just mean she won’t have quite so much time hanging around at Ruby’s having fun.’

  Jemma flashed a grateful smile at her dad.

  ‘Well, I do think it will be beneficial for you to earn your own money,’ Elizabeth continued, nodding her head slowly. ‘It’s the only way to learn the true value of money. Plus you can save up for a good investment, like some mining shares.’

  Mining shares? Yikes! Jemma immediately changed the subject.

  ‘Maggie’s house is a bit spooky,’ Jemma confided. ‘They say it’s haunted.’

  A shiver ran down Jemma’s spine at the thought of the peculiarities of the old house and the rocking chair.

  ‘Haunted?’ asked Dan with a grin. ‘Did you meet any wee ghaisties while you were there?’ He fluttered his fingers, eyebrows cocked and ooooohed in a deep, dramatic tone.

  ‘What nonsense, Dan,’ retorted Elizabeth, batting his fingers down. ‘Don’t encourage her. The only haunting around here is the neighbourhood kids playing pranks. There’s a perfectly rational explanation for all that superstitious rubbish.’

  Dan tweaked Jemma’s hair, winking at her.

  ‘I’ll clear the table,’ offered Jemma quickly. ‘Then I’d better finish my homework.’

  ‘Why don’t you do your homework upstairs at your desk, Jemma?’ suggested Elizabeth. ‘It’s too distracting for you down here.’

  Jemma thought ruefully of her favourite place to study – at Ruby’s kitchen table, with Latte barking, Liam and Daisy rumbling and fighting, Milla and Brenna practising their music and the delicious aromas of baking muffins or fragrant herbs.

  ‘Sure, Mum,’ answered Jemma, collecting the dishes.

  ‘I’ll do that, Poss,’ offered Dan. ‘You’d better get stuck into that work. Give me a yell if you have trouble, although you know I’m not much help with Shakespeare.’

  On Wednesday, Maggie opened the door promptly on Jemma’s ring. She threw a hurried greeting over her shoulder as she raced to the studio. Sammy had no homework so they read a chapter of Adventures of the Wishing-Chair, and then Sammy decided she wanted to play jungle explorers.

  This game comprised wearing straw hats, carrying a broomstick as a weapon and creeping around the house. Sammy ‘Livingstone’ led them into the spacious reception rooms, piled high with cardboard packing boxes.

  These two rooms, opening into each other, would have been magnificent once, with ornate plaster ceilings, grey marble fireplaces, large bay windows and a built-in window seat. Like everywhere at Rosethorne, the rooms were now shabby and decayed. Sammy was able to wriggle her way between the boxes, calling out what she could ‘see’, with Shadow, her faithful companion, leading the way.

  ‘Just through this rugged mountain pass is a secret valley, with a magnificent waterfall tumbling hundreds of metres to the river below,’ described Sammy, pointing with her broomstick.

  ‘Can you see any animals down there?’ asked Jemma, the lowly Sherpa.

  ‘Lions, tigers, elephants, monkeys, giraffes and Georgie, although Georgie isn’t an animal of course,’ explained Sammy.

  Jemma stiffened. She heard a spitting, hissing sound and Shadow shot from between the boxes, fur standing on end and tail in the air as she fled the room.

  ‘Silly Shadow is frightened of the lions, although I wouldn’t let any lions get her,’ Sammy scoffed, her hand on her hip.

  Jemma felt a waft of air on the back of her neck, almost as though someone was breathing on her. She whirled around, the fine hairs on her neck as stiff as Shadow’s. There was nothing there.

  ‘Come on, Sammy,’ suggested Jemma with false cheer. ‘Let’s go and explore in the kitchen. I could discover some hot chocolate in there, I’m sure.’

  ‘No, I want to explore the valley, Jemma, pleeeaase,’ begged Sammy. ‘I’m sure there’re unicorns down there, plus Georgie wants to play too.’

  An icy sensation gripped Jemma’s bare arm like freezing hands. Jemma squealed and jumped, then shook her arm violently to ward off the chill.

  What was that? wondered Jemma, her heart hammering in her chest. That was not my imagination playing tricks. Someone or something just clutched at me with icicle hands. Jemma took a few deep, steady breaths.

  ‘Come on now, Sammy,’ cajoled Jemma, holding out her hand to Sammy. ‘I’ll give you a piggyback ride to the kitchen. It’s too dangerous here … The boxes might fall over and squash you.’

  Sammy reluctantly agreed, and Jemma hoisted her up on her back and galloped all the way to the kitchen, where Shadow was skulking in her basket. For some reason this room felt safe and warm. Jemma made hot chocolate and had just sat down to sip on the creamy froth when there was a loud crash from the front of the house.

  Jemma and Sammy raced to the reception rooms. A tower of three boxes had toppled over, spilling clothes, shoes, papers and saucepans. The top box had held pottery, which smashed over the floor, scattering shards of ceramics everywhere.

  A few moments later Maggie ran in.

  ‘Argh,’ Maggie cried, her brow furrowed. ‘I heard the crash. Did you knock something over? I knew I should have unpacked those boxes by now.’

&
nbsp; ‘We w-w-were in the kitchen,’ stuttered Jemma.

  ‘Well, never mind,’ Maggie soothed. ‘Lucky it was just some old pottery of mine.’

  ‘I’ll clean it up,’ Jemma offered reluctantly, glancing around for signs of whatever had knocked over the boxes.

  Maggie smiled at Jemma. ‘Thank you. That would be great. I’m right in the middle of a firing.’

  When Jemma left to go home that evening, Sammy gave her a great big cuddle.

  ‘I like you coming to look after me, Jemma,’ Sammy confided. ‘Georgie likes you too. Georgie’s not sad when you’re here.’

  Jemma cuddled Sammy right back. ‘I’m glad Georgie’s not sad when I’m here. I like coming too.’

  The lights were on when Jemma arrived home, but she couldn’t resist popping in next door to tell Ruby about the strange happenings at Rosethorne.

  Ruby was practising her guitar on the sofa, while Brenna, Liam and Daisy sprawled in front of the fire with Latte, playing LEGO. Latte jumped up to greet Jemma, her tail wagging furiously, sending LEGO flying all over the floor and making the children shriek in annoyance.

  Jemma laughed, rubbing Latte between the eyes. She helped Brenna scoop up the smashed space base and then plonked on the sofa next to Ruby, her legs curled up underneath her. She told Ruby everything.

  ‘Are you sure you didn’t just imagine all this, Jem?’ asked Ruby skeptically, cradling the guitar on her lap. ‘Sammy or the cat must have knocked the boxes when they were exploring, causing them to topple over later.’

  ‘Maybe,’ agreed Jemma. ‘But that doesn’t explain the freezing grip on my arm. There is something very odd about that house.’

  ‘Let’s google it,’ suggested Ruby, putting her guitar down. ‘We might find out something interesting. Mum, can we use the computer to research Sammy’s house?’

  ‘Sure,’ replied Milla, looking up from where she was sorting socks at the kitchen table.

  The two girls switched on the computer in the corner of the kitchen and typed in ‘Witches’ Houses of Annandale’ and ‘Rosethorne’. A number of results popped up, including entries from the local historical society and old newspaper articles: