Sophie Cleverly - The Curse in the Candlelight

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2018

Published in this ebook edition in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd,

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The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text copyright © Sophie Cleverly, 2018

Illustration copyright © Manuel Šumberac, 2018

Cover illustration © Kate Forrester

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2018

Sophie Cleverly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008218317

Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780008218270

Version: 2017-12-07

“This is one of the best books I have ever read. It was exciting, funny, warm and mysterious.” Lily, aged 9

“The whole book was brilliant … after the first paragraph it was as though Ivy was my best friend.” Ciara, aged 10

“This book is full of excitement and adventure – a masterpiece!” Jennifer, aged 9

“This is a page-turning mystery adventure with puzzles that keep you guessing.” Felicity, aged 11

“A brilliant and exciting book.” Evie, aged 8

“The story shone with excitement, secrets and bonds of friendship … If I had to mark this book out of 10, I would give it 11!” Sidney, aged 11

For Theo and Willow, who are tiny and new

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

Dedication

Chapter One: Scarlet

Chapter Two: Ivy

Chapter Three: Scarlet

Chapter Four: Ivy

Chapter Five: Scarlet

Chapter Six: Ivy

Chapter Seven: Scarlet

Chapter Eight: Ivy

Chapter Nine: Scarlet

Chapter Ten: Ivy

Chapter Eleven: Scarlet

Chapter Twelve: Ivy

Chapter Thirteen: Scarlet

Chapter Fourteen: Ivy

Chapter Fifteen: Scarlet

Chapter Sixteen: Ivy

Chapter Seventeen: Scarlet

Chapter Eighteen: Ivy

Chapter Nineteen: Scarlet

Chapter Twenty: Ivy

Chapter Twenty-one: Scarlet

Chapter Twenty-two: Ivy

Chapter Twenty-three: Scarlet

Chapter Twenty-four: Ivy

Chapter Twenty-five: Scarlet

Chapter Twenty-six: Ivy

Chapter Twenty-seven: Scarlet

Chapter Twenty-eight: Ivy

Chapter Twenty-nine: Scarlet

Chapter Thirty: Ivy

Chapter Thirty-one: Scarlet

Chapter Thirty-two: Ivy

Chapter Thirty-three: Scarlet

Chapter Thirty-four: Ivy

Chapter Thirty-five: Scarlet

Chapter Thirty-six: Ivy

Chapter Thirty-seven: Scarlet

Chapter Thirty-eight: Ivy

Chapter Thirty-nine: Scarlet

Chapter Forty: Ivy

Acknowledgements

Have you read them all?

About the Author

Books by Sophie Cleverly

About the Publisher

t was the worst birthday I could remember. And considering I had spent my last birthday locked up in an asylum, that was really saying something.

I ran into what had once been our bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me. I flung myself down on the dusty sheets and beat the pillow with my fists, sending clouds billowing into the air.

It wasn’t long until I heard light footsteps gently treading the stairs, and the creak of someone pushing the door open. I knew it was my twin, Ivy.

“Scarlet,” she whispered, somewhere near my ear.

“No,” I said, my face still in the pillow.

“No what?” she asked.

I pushed myself up and stared at her, my arms folded. “No, I’m not going back in there. And no, I’m not going to apologise!”

She sat down on the bed beside me. “I wasn’t going to say that. I don’t blame you at all. I think she should apologise. But I know she never will.”

We hadn’t wanted to go to our father’s house that summer in the first place. We’d spent most of the holidays with our scatterbrained Aunt Phoebe, in her cosy cottage. It meant cleaning and tidying and cooking because our aunt could barely remember to do that for herself, let alone us as well, but we didn’t mind. Aunt Phoebe’s house was always filled with love.

Father’s house, on the other hand, was filled with the stepmother who hated us, and our three hideous stepbrothers. I couldn’t bear it. I missed Father sometimes – or maybe I just missed the way he had been. The rest of them were a nightmare. I hadn’t wanted to go back.

But in a rare moment of remembering that we existed, Father had turned up at Aunt Phoebe’s the day before our birthday, asking to bring us home. Aunt Phoebe had thought this was a “lovely surprise” and so here we were now. I would rather have caught the plague, to be quite honest.

Unfortunately, we hadn’t had a choice in the matter. We had waved goodbye to our aunt and sat bundled in the back of Father’s motor car, dreading what would lie ahead at the end of the journey.

Our stepmother, Edith, had greeted Father warmly, and given us a greeting colder than ice. That was typical. Ivy had tried to say hello to our stepbrothers, but they had just ignored her and carried on playing with their model trains.

Dinner hadn’t gone any better. Our stepmother had given us the smallest helpings of everything, and then called me greedy when I had asked if there was any more. Her boys got portions the size of mountains, and she gave them seconds. I glared at them one by one, but they were too busy stuffing their faces to notice.

We’d spent a chilly night in our old twin beds. I spent most of it staring through the crack in the curtains at the black night sky, hoping that if I stayed awake long enough it would delay the arrival of morning. But soon my eyes slipped shut, and I woke up to the weak, watery sun rising on our fourteenth birthday.

Ivy rolled over sleepily in her bed. “Happy birthday,” she mumbled to me.

“Happy birthday,” I said back, without much feeling. I peered over at her, through the dust spiralling in the light. She was smiling. “What?”

“Well …” She sat up and hugged her knees. “You have no idea how much it means to hear you say that.”