Free The Week at Mon Repose by Margaret Pearce

happened.
    â€œAgain,” Jenny insisted. Her eyes were starting to brim with tears.
    Allie watched the glass as it glided from letter to letter. “Genies, help us save Ahmed.”
    They waited. The glass remained on the “D.” Jenny sighed.
    â€œWe’ll try it again.”
    â€œIf it hasn’t worked the first three times, we can sit here until morning for all the good it will do,” Marilyn snapped.
    â€œIf we have to, we will,” Jenny said.
    â€œWell, stop playing games,” Marilyn said rudely. “The first letter G is on the other side of the board.”
    Jenny grabbed for the pencil with her free hand. “It’s moving! Spell out the letters as the glass touches them.”
    â€œIt’s garbage,” Marilyn groaned as the glass slid along the letters ROHCNA.”
    â€œShut up and concentrate,” Jenny ordered. “They might be in reverse like the first message.”
    â€œAnchor,” Allie said. “ AN AS CLOTHES. ”
    â€œMastersons Bob use,” interpreted Marilyn as the glass pulled their fingers across the board to each letter.
    â€œUse Bob Masterton's clothes as an anchor,” Allie said. “We’ve got it!”
    â€œHe’s not a ship,” Marilyn protested as they stood up and headed for the door.
    â€œTo anchor him here,” Allie whispered. “Keep your voice down. We don’t want to wake anyone.”
    They crept along the passage and down the three steps that led to the lower part of the house. It was very dark. The floorboards creaked, but no one appeared to challenge them sneaking along the passage in the middle of the night.
    They reached the last room along the passage before the laundry. Allie opened it quietly.
    â€œIn you come,” she whispered. “I'll turn the light on.”
    She shut the door and clicked the light on. Ahmed’s body was flat under the bed covers. Even his head had become a flat oval, with the flattened face and his staring eyes still gazing upwards. The skin was an even brighter glowing green. To heighten the effect of a cardboard cut-out figure was the fact he wasn’t breathing!
    â€œHe’s carked it on us!” Marilyn gasped.
    â€œHe’s still here, isn’t he?” Allie snapped as she opened the wardrobe door.
    Inside hung a bright purple sports jacket, dark brown pants, and a white silk shirt. A pair of cream, leather, slip-on shoes sat neatly on the bottom of the wardrobe. She got them out and turned to the bed.
    Marilyn was checking out drawers. “Two singlets, two pair of orange striped underpants, three pair of socks, and three check handkerchiefs,” she reported.
    Jenny pulled back the bedclothes and unbuttoned the checked shirt.
    â€œYou’re going to undress him,” Allie protested.
    â€œAnd put him in Mr. Masterton’s clothes,” Jenny whispered sharply. “I think the clothes should be touching his body to work.”
    The three of them held the flat cardboard body carefully. Ahmed was now as light as the cardboard he looked like, and they were terrified they might bend or break him as they buttoned on the loose fitting clothes. Beneath his jeans and check shirt he wore the white cotton sarong he had arrived in.
    At last he was covered in the brown pants, socks, leather slip-on shoes, and the thick purple sports jacket. They lowered his body carefully back on the bed, and pulled up the bed covers.
    â€œCover his hands and head with the spare handkerchiefs,” Jenny suggested.
    â€œHow long before it works, do you think?” Marilyn whispered as they waited around the bed.
    â€œMaybe he will be okay by the morning,” Allie whispered.
    Jenny nudged her and pointed to the handkerchief over the face. It was moving up and down gently. Ahmed was breathing!
    Allie leaned forward and moved the handkerchief from his face. Ahmed’s dark eyes swivelled around to look at her out of the bright green