Girl in the Window. Penny Joelson

so much that I ache. It may hurt physically but I do feel better inside.

      ‘Do you think you’ll be back at school soon?’ Lia asks, when we can finally speak again.

      I shrug. ‘I hope so.’

      ‘You must be so bored stuck in here,’ she says. ‘Or have you been doing some writing? That story you wrote was so brilliant – it’s fab that you’ve won that competition!’

      She sounds genuinely pleased for me and my feelings towards her soften.

      ‘I don’t really feel up to writing,’ I tell her. ‘I’m sure I will get back to it soon, though.’

      ‘Lia and I are going to Dimitri’s New Year’s Eve party!’ Ellie says.

      ‘Dimitri’s? But you can’t stand him!’

      ‘Oh – he’s all right. Loads of people are going.’

      ‘Could be fun, I guess.’

      ‘Yeah, well, I’ll tell you how it goes,’ Ellie says, laughing.

      ‘Who throws up where and when, you mean?’

      Lia giggles.

      Ellie turns to me. ‘Remember that time at Erin’s party, Kas?’ She grins. ‘When you had to rescue me?’

      ‘What happened?’ asks Lia.

      It takes a few seconds but the memory comes flooding back. ‘Oh, yeah! You got locked in the loo!’ I laugh.

      ‘There was someone in the downstairs loo, so I had to go up,’ Ellie tells Lia. ‘Then the door wouldn’t open and I was yelling and yelling – but the music was so loud no one heard me.’

      ‘And I was dancing with Serene and Erin,’ I say, ‘and waiting for you, and you took ages, so in the end I came up to look for you and heard you shouting!’

      ‘So how did you get out?’ Lia asks.

      ‘Erin found a screwdriver and undid the door handle,’ I tell her.

      ‘I’d have been stuck there for hours otherwise,’ says Ellie. I thought I was going to have to climb out the tiny bathroom window and shimmy down the drainpipe!’

      Now it’s me and Ellie laughing together, and Lia’s turn to join in.

      After they leave, I feel glad that Lia came. Ellie will always be my best friend, but it was nice to talk to someone else for a change.

      I turn my chair back to the window and sit looking out. It’s weird, thinking back to Erin’s party – dancing and laughing with my friends, having fun. It’s like that was another lifetime. But I will get better – I am determined to get back to these things. I see movement in the corner of my eye but when I look there’s nothing. Did the curtain move? Was she there, and did she fade away instantly, as always? I wanted to wave – to let her know I’m here. Perhaps she’d stay visible if she knew someone could see her.

      I need to find out more. I don’t want to upset Mrs G, but right now she’s the only one who can help. I need to talk to her again.

      I’ve knocked on the door and I’m waiting and waiting for Mrs Gayatri to come and answer it.

      She looks surprised. ‘How are you, dear?’ she asks. ‘What can I do for you?’

      ‘I thought I’d come for a chat, but only if it’s convenient,’ I say.

      She smiles and holds the door for me.

      ‘I’m so glad you came again,’ she says. ‘Those hungry birds have got through all the food already. I’ve seen blue tits there, and great tits. If you could refill the bird feeder for me I’d be so pleased.’

      ‘Of course,’ I tell her.

      ‘You do that while I make some tea.’

      When I’ve refilled the feeder, we sit on armchairs opposite each other.

      ‘Mrs Gayatri, you know you told me about the girl who died across the road? I don’t want to upset you, but I’d really like to know more about what happened.’

      She frowns. ‘To lose your only child – it’s such a sad thing,’ she says quietly. ‘She was a sweet girl. Meningitis, it was. There’s nothing more to tell really.’

      ‘Meningitis?’ I repeat. ‘So she was ill?’

      I was expecting something more dramatic – something that would give a reason for her to be appearing as a ghost.

      Mrs G nods. ‘Nasty illness that – can still be a killer, even now. Her parents moved away in the end. I think it was hard for them to see . . .’ She pauses, her eyes glassy for a moment. ‘To see other children growing up in the street when their child was no longer there. It was empty for over a year after they went, number forty-six. I think people viewing the house could still sense the sadness.’

      ‘You mean forty-eight?’ I ask.

      ‘Forty-eight? No.’ Mrs G frowns. ‘What makes you say that? It was forty-six.’

      ‘Forty-six?’ I stare at her in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’

      ‘Yes.’ She nods firmly. ‘Poor Shari, she was only five, you know.’

      I am speechless, silent, as I try to take this in. This isn’t about my girl at all – it’s the wrong house, and the girl is the wrong age. So now I’m back to knowing nothing at all!

      Mrs G looks so sad. I know it was a tragic thing, but I’m surprised that she is this upset.

      ‘I’m so sorry I asked you about it,’ I tell her. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

      ‘Never mind,’ she says. ‘Let’s say no more about it.’