Wishing Water Read Online Free

begged.
    Then it was Nick’s turn. They glanced sideways at each other and giggled.
    ‘It’s a bit daft is this,’ he said. ‘Go on. Get on with it.’
    When he had done they emptied the rest of the brown liquid into the tarn and watched the wind sweep the sunlight like a shower of diamonds across the small lake. It seemed, to Lissa’s lively imagination, like an answer, and a great sense of peace and certainty came upon her. It would work out all right in the end, she felt sure somehow, deep in her heart.

 
    Chapter Two
    Time passed. Lissa tried not to think of her mother and was happy enough in the dale. Each spring she and Nick continued to make their wishes, though never revealed them or owned up to whether they ever came true. That was far too risky and might spoil their chances, though Nick did boast one day that he’d got picked for the school football team.
    Lissa wrote regularly to Canada, and twice a year, on her birthday and at Christmas, received a reply. These were always a disappointment, telling her little, closing with the promise that one day Kath would come but never offering any definite date. Then on her thirteenth birthday a different sort of letter arrived.
    Meg handed it to her, frowning. ‘It’s from Mrs Ellis. She’s declared herself ready to receive us.’  
    ‘Oh.’ Lissa was stunned. Was this good news or bad? She couldn’t quite make out from Meg’s attitude. ‘Why now?’
    ‘Perhaps a bout of conscience? Though I very much doubt it. Have you been writing to Canada?’  
    Lissa nodded, saying no more when she saw how Meg’s face tightened in that odd way she had whenever Kath or Canada were mentioned.
    ‘We are to call next Wednesday, at three o’clock precisely. You must put on your best frock. Only I would prefer you not to fall in the beck this time. Let us try to present a civilised image, shall we?’ Meg gave a wry smile and Lissa giggled with relief.
    ‘I’ll do my best.’  
     
    Lissa knew, the moment she stepped into the house, that she hated it, which was deeply disappointing. They passed through a dark hall where a glassy-eyed stag’s head glared down at them, causing her to shiver. Then they were shown into a small, oak-panelled room of faded gentility, dark and depressing. Where was the pretty turquoise and gold drawing room Meg had spoken of? Lissa had imagined delicate, tasteful furniture. Instead, most of the house seemed dusty and shut up, judging by the number of forbiddingly closed doors.
    At first sight everything in the room appeared to be draped in some sort of covering; filled with mats, runners, tablecloths, even the piano shrouded in an Indian rug. A single, rose-shaded lamp bloomed in the window embrasure. It should have given a cosy feel but it only cast gloomy shadows across the walls.
    Lissa’s small nose wrinkled with distaste at the stale smell that met her nostrils. The room was as unaccustomed to fresh air as it was to visitors.
    A figure rose from the shadows by the empty fireplace and Lissa started, stepping back in sudden fright as she recalled Nick’s constant teasing about a witch, and felt glad suddenly of Meg’s warm reassuring hand as it slipped over hers. But then she was almost grown up now, and didn’t believe in witches.
    ‘Miss Turner.’ The voice sounded cold and disembodied. Glancing anxiously up at Meg, Lissa caught the ghost of a knowing smile and knew instinctively that these two were old adversaries.
    ‘Mrs O’Cleary, if you recall. But you always used to call me Meg.’  
    A pause, during which Lissa received the decided impression that she was being scrutinised from head to foot, though since the room was so dim and the woman was in shadow, she couldn’t be sure.
    ‘I see you have brought the child.’  
    Meg smiled again. ‘Of course. This is Lissa. My daughter.’  
    Lissa felt as if she should curtsey, the moment so crackled with tension. Instead, she screwed up her courage, took a step forward and