Oranges and Lemons

F. Andrews Paula

Description

Gregarious teenager, Jessifer Jordan, has always been loyal and open, and her love of acting has made her an expert in pretence. So, when six-year old Victorian ghost, Adeline, appears in her life and Jess's best friend won't believe her, deceit becomes Jess's natural ally. Previously fun-loving and sociable, she becomes serious and isolated in her quest to discover what Adeline really wants. Always curious, she finds herself whisked back in time to 1863 and into the clutches of a volatile doctor with an obsession for morphine. As she journeys back and forth into the past, she realises that Adeline reminds her of her dead sister and her submergedgrief resurfaces. Will her great aunt Ruby's counsel help her? Can she outwit the deranged medic? And whose is thatsmoky cat which keeps turning up out of the blue?

Sujets

• Children's

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 14 novembre 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838597634
• Langue: English

Extrait

Copyright © 2020 Paula Andrews

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Illustrations copyright © Jill Calder 2019

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ISBN 978 1838597 634

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Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

For my Four Family


“Oranges and lemons,” say the bells of St Clement’s.
“You owe me five farthings,” say the bells of St Martin’s.
“When will you pay me?” say the bells of Old Bailey.
“When I grow rich,” say the bells of Shoreditch.
“When will that be?” say the bells of Stepney.
“I do not know,” said the Great Bell of Bow.
Here comes a candle to light you to bed.
Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.
Traditional nursery rhyme
Contents
1
Jessifer Jordan
2
Adeline
3
Invitation
4
Under the Lamplight
5
Heavens Above!
6
Bleeding Boy
7
Family, Friends and Facts
8
Paranormal
9
Pink Ribbon
10
Mulberry Hall Coffee Shop
11
Adeline Skips Through Time
12
Morphine
13
Friction
14
Disturbance
15
Books and Pictures
16
Murderer or Miracle Worker
17
Conroy’s Café
18
Family Tree
19
Funny Lady
20
Rendezvous
21
The Blacksmith’s Arms
22
Photographic
23
Stuck
24
Nobody
25
Tyler
26
Connecting, Disconnected
27
Tom Metcalfe
28
History Unfolds
29
Drugged
30
Ghost So Small
31
Aunt Ruby’s Secret
32
Mulberry Hall China Shop
33
Happy Girl
34
Righting Wrongs
35
A Play, a Tree and a Bench

About the Author
Acknowledgements
Endnotes
1
Jessifer Jordan
2019
So cold. And too small and fragile. Have you ever felt it? When a little kid slides their hand into yours? But this was no ordinary kid clutching my hand. This one was dead.
Fear shot through me, yet, when I looked down, there was no kid. I gazed at my palm as if I’d find it there, the hand. Ridiculous.
Clunk-clank. The muffled sound grabbed my attention. I drew in a breath. Trembling, I crossed the room to the glass cabinet containing the old weighing scales, said to have come from the kitchen when Mulberry Hall was a Victorian family home. The brass pans were tipping and rising, yet the scales were in a sealed cabinet. I looked around. I was alone, waiting for my great aunt who was paying our bill in the café upstairs. The low drone of chatter drifted down with the tang of coffee.
“Come with me.”
The voice came from the cabinet. It was clear and insistent. A child’s voice. The scales continued to see-saw. My hands shook as I placed them on the glass casing.
Immediately, I drew them back, scowling at my skin, expecting to see ice burns. The glass was freezing cold.
“Jess, shall we go home?”
I turned to see Aunt Ruby, stepping softly down the carpeted staircase, then I glanced back at the cabinet. The scales had come to rest. I rubbed my frozen hands. My memory had taken a snapshot of those tiny fingers.
“Are you cold, darling?” Aunt Ruby asked.
I nodded but couldn’t speak. My throat was dry and my mind was spinning like a Catherine wheel. Could the story possibly be true?
“I hope you’re not coming down with something,” she said and began fussing with my scarf, before fixing her own.
We stepped out of Mulberry Hall into the January afternoon, leaving the shop’s bell jangling behind us.
*
We approached our house as the last feeble talons of daylight clung to the horizon. A smoky-grey cat stood by our wrought-iron gate, its green eyes fixed on us. I clicked open the latch; it stared briefly then turned away, bored. A little bell around its neck tinkled softly.
“Who does that cat belong to, Auntie?” I said, closing the gate behind us. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“I don’t know but it probably smells Jupiter on you.”
Jupiter, or Joopy as I mostly called him, was my pet rat. He’d be fast asleep in my room right now and probably wouldn’t wake until supper time.
While Aunt Ruby delved in her bag for the key, I stamped my feet, trying to warm up. I turned at the sound of a child’s voice. Singing, growing steadily louder.
“Here comes a candle to light you to bed…”
“D’you hear that, Auntie?” My voice shook and I tugged my aunt’s coat sleeve as she fumbled with the lock. I stared at the low wall at the end of the sparse garden.
A child sat there, her legs swinging. She hadn’t been there seconds ago. She wore a white party dress and little dark lace-up boots but no coat. A pale ribbon was in her fair hair.
I gasped. She’d freeze. Without thinking, I rushed towards her.
“Go home to your mummy. Where’s your mummy?”
She smiled. Then she turned, clambered over the wall and ran off, laughing. Her mum must be waiting along the path, hidden from view by the privet hedge of the house next door. I shivered.
“Come on, Jessifer,” shouted Aunt Ruby. “What on earth are you doing?”
*
I began to warm up once we were inside and Aunt Ruby had made a pot of tea. I checked on Joopy and smiled at the mound of shredded paper, his bed; it rose and fell. He was definitely sleeping, then.
In the lounge, cradling a steaming mug, my mind drifted back to the weighing scales in Mulberry Hall. Had I imagined them moving? No. They really had been. They had swung up and down. It had looked wrong. Then there was that tiny hand. I put my tea down and examined my fingers. They looked normal but when I touched them to my lips they felt like ice pops, in spite of the hot mug. A tremor of fear filled my tummy again.
“Get a grip, Jessifer,” I murmured. I huffed and lifted my tea again.
“Talking to yourself, Jessifer, darling?” said Auntie as she walked into the room with her cup and saucer. Auntie was so refined. She didn’t like drinking from a mug.
“Nearly spilled my tea, that’s all, Auntie.”
“I still think you’re coming down with something. Early night for you tonight,” she said as she sat across from me in her favourite chair.
“Okay, Auntie. I’m fine though; just tired.” I paused and looked at her. She didn’t look as if she was coming down with anything. Her fossil-grey eyes caught the soft light and her pumpkin hair, though silver-streaked, shone in its side-swept chignon. She was always so clever at piling and pinning her hair artfully and she oozed health. I hoped I could look as good as her in my sixties. “Auntie, something weird happened today. At Mulberry Hall.”
“Oh?” Now she frowned.
“Well, it was nothing much. You know the old weighing scales in the cabinet?”
“Yes, you were gazing at them when I came downstairs.”
“They were moving. On their own, inside the cabinet. How could that happen?”
“They weren’t moving when I saw them, darling. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Maybe it was just a… you know… like an optical illusion then,” I said, rubbing my cold fingers agai