Free The Mystery of Wickworth Manor by Elen Caldecott Page A

be for water. You can look for anything that way.’
    Paige dipped a fat brush into a pot of PVA glue. Instead of painting the tissue paper, she blobbed a bit on the back of her hand. When it dried, she could peel it off like loose skin. Cool.
    ‘And what exactly are we looking for?’ Curtis asked, taking the brush from her.
    ‘Hey, I was enjoying that.’
    ‘What do you intend to dowse for?’
    She thought about the twisting white mist she’d seen near the bathroom last night. Her face became more serious. ‘Well. Ghosts. They want to tell us something. I can feel it. We just have to make sure we’re listening. It’s all about allowing yourself to be open to the signals.’
    ‘I’m not a mobile phone mast, you know.’
    ‘Actually, if you let yourself be, that’s exactly what you are.’
    Mr Appleton called for everyone’s attention. ‘Great work this morning, Year 6. We’ll have a splendid creation by the time the week is out. Clear up now. Fifteen minutes’ break, then head in for lunch. This afternoon, be sure to put on quick-drying clothes. Canoeing, you know. It gets a bit damp.’
    Paige grabbed a couple of lengths of spare willow while Curtis cleared their area. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘This will be fun.’
     
    Paige took Curtis out to the lawn in front of the house. Another group were out here. They sat in the shade of the trees. The lake looked inviting, cool against the heat of the midday sun. But there was no time for swimming.
    ‘We’ll start here,’ Paige said.
    ‘But there’s loads of people about,’ Curtis answered.
    ‘It’s true. They might disrupt the signals. But we’ve only got fifteen minutes.’
    Curtis frowned.
    Paige gave him a light punch on the arm. She knew he hadn’t really been worried about the others being signal disrupters. He was more worried about looking like an idiot. But that was never anything to worry about. ‘Ready?’
    Curtis shoved his hands into his pockets, but nodded.
    Paige held out the sticks in front of her and concentrated hard on the Wickworth Boy. She tried to see his face in her mind; his dark hair, skin the colour of bark and eyes that were angry and sad and kind, all at once.
    As soon as she could see him clearly, she took a few steps forward. The grass was springy under her feet. She breathed gently. The sounds around her faded. It was just her and the dowsing rods that mattered.
    ‘Have you found anything yet?’ Curtis asked.
    Paige sighed. ‘No. This could take a while. Why don’t you get two sticks and help me?’
    ‘I don’t know how to do it.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s a gift. Either you can do it, or you can’t. Simple as that. Go and get some sticks and let me concentrate.’
    Curtis edged away slowly. She wasn’t sure that he would join in, but at least he wasn’t staring at her the whole time now either.
    She took another slow breath and felt the delicate weight of the wicker in her hands. They were still, but as soon as she was on the trail, she knew they would leap and bounce, crossing and uncrossing like windscreen wipers on the blink. It was how she and Mum found the car keys quite often.
    She imagined the boy in the painting smiling, beckoning her on. She took a few slow steps. Towards the lake. One of the rods turned gently, like a weather vane changing direction. She moved closer to the water. The other rod rotated too. They were both swaying together: left, pause, right, pause. They were picking up an energy, though it was still weak.
    As she stepped on to the wooden jetty that stuck out over the lake, she felt one of the rods kick and leap in her hands.
    The hairs on the back of her neck raised as though a spectral mouth had blown on them. She was close to something, she could feel it.
    She stepped back on to dry land. The rods settled back into their gentle spin.
    Forward on to the jetty. The rods twitched and crossed like a beginner’s baton class.
    It was the jetty. Something was here, on the