Free Jessie's Ghosts by Penny Garnsworthy

string and a couple of
tacks. I’ll see what I have in the kitchen.’
    Jessie shook
her head in frustration. I should have remembered that, she thought, but I was
in such a hurry to get the painting back to Nanna’s. What if the lights
suddenly go out? What will I do?
    Oh, I’ll be so
glad when this is all over.
    Nanna was back
in no time with a piece of kitchen string and a couple of drawing pins. ‘This
should do the trick - after all, it’s only light, it doesn’t even have a
frame.’
    Jessie held
the painting away from herself, with the back towards Nanna as she carefully
pushed in the drawing pins, one on each side of the back of the painting, and
then brought the string around each pin until there was a bit of a loop. ‘Now
it’s right,’ she said.
    Jessie smiled
and lifted the painting up until the string was over the picture hook. They
both stood back and Nanna adjusted it slightly so it was straight.
    ‘Well, that’s
been a good day’s work Jessie. I didn’t know you were all that interested in
art. I’m so glad I introduced you to Fleur.’
    ‘Me too Nanna, really glad.’

CHAPTER 13
     
    Jessie was relieved to be
going to bed, not that she would sleep of course, but she was exhausted from
trying to think of ways to keep Nanna from seeing the message on the painting.
And then she thought about the lights. Nanna would turn them off when she went
to bed.
    ‘I just need a
glass of water, Nanna,’ Jessie yelled, ‘so I’ll turn off the lights.’
    ‘All right,
love. I’ll see you in the morning.’
    Jessie waited
until Nanna had gone inside her room and part closed the door, before turning
off the lights and going back to her own room. I just hope Nanna doesn’t have
to go to the kitchen during the night, Jessie thought; it’s just as well the
bathroom is in the opposite direction.
    Jessie tossed
around from side to side in her bed, unable to stop worrying that Nanna would
need to get up for some reason and see the message on the painting. But everything
remained quiet and finally Jessie’s tiredness won out and she fell asleep.
    Some time in
the night she was woken by the familiar voices of Harold and his mother.
Opening her eyes, she quickly adjusted to the darkness and slipped out of bed.
Following the line of moonlight across to her open door she heard,
    ‘Mother, it was an
accident.’
    ‘My son, you must
report what happened to the police.’
    ‘They will send me to
prison.’
    ‘Harold, you must
speak the truth - for the sake of your father.’
    Jessie listened
intently, wondering if Harold would see the message and read it. But the
conversation continued, just like it had every other night.
    What was the
problem? she wondered. Couldn’t he see the writing? Maybe it wasn’t clear
enough. Maybe I should have borrowed a brush from Fleur as well. Oh, would this
conversation go on forever? Would she never be able to stay at Nanna’s without
hearing the voices over and over every night. And would Harold never be at
peace?
    Jessie sighed
to herself and slipped silently into the hall. Well, at least now she would be
able to see the people in her own painting - maybe they would look a bit
clearer now, in the pitch black.
    As she tiptoed
quietly down the hall the conversation continued.
    ‘You must
go away my son. Leave this place.’
    ‘And leave
you too?’ Harold
cried .
    Suddenly the
voices stopped. Jessie too stopped in her tracks. Had she disturbed them? Oh,
not again! Not tonight, of all nights! It wasn’t fair!
    And then
great-grandmother spoke. Words Jessie had never heard her speak before.
    ‘Harold, my
son. Do you not see it?’
    Jessie
watched, spellbound as Harold turned to face the hallway, and her painting.
    ‘Harold,
you are forgiven,’ his mother said.
    Jessie could
see tears falling from Harold’s eyes. ‘I am at peace, Mother,’ he said, ‘at last I am at peace, ’ and as he turned back to face his mother, they
both became still and the light