Zoe peered out of the train window at the late afternoon sunshine pouring over the huge, granite-grey shape of a big old house. Are we there yet? moaned her brother Andrew beside her. Its been ages and ages! grumbled his twin Antony, who was sitting beside Andrew with his arms folded and looking grumpy. Not far now, answered Zoe, feeling quite the little mother to her nine-year-old brothers, even though she was only 11 herself. Not taking her eyes off the huge house which was so close now that she could see its grimy windows, she felt a nervous fluttering in her stomach. Andrew and Antony stared out of the train window. That cant be where were going, can it? asked Andrew, looking in disgust at the building with its little turrets and rounded corners, a cross between a house and a castle. No, I dont think so. Mum said Sligachan was quite a big house, but I didnt think it was going to be as big as that, explained Zoe. She thought back to the day her parents had told them the three children were to have a special treat, to go to stay with Miss McDougal at Sligachan House. It had all sounded wonderful then, to leave their home in Newcastle to go to the Scottish house where her mother had stayed as a child. But it didnt sound as good when she heard that her parents would not be going too. They had to visit Granny in London who wasnt very well and Mum said it would be very boring for the children. But now the dark, gloomy mansion had come into view around the corner of the railway track, she wasnt so sure. She hoped that wasnt where they were going. Yet there were no other buildings to be seen and an announcement over the carriage speaker said their stop was fast approaching. It was in just the right place, as her mother had described, at the foot of a mountain, a wood behind and the railway track just in front. Suddenly, Antony cried out, Look, look! Theres somebody at the window watching us, all pale and strange. But when the other two looked towards where he was pointing, there was nothing to be seen. Stop pulling our legs, said Zoe, angrily, for she was already starting to worry about how menacing Sligachan House appeared. Im not pulling your leg, I really did see something, argued Antony. Do us a favour Ant, and shut up yawned Andrew. The train was slowing down now and finally pulled with a clanking noise into a station. Old metal columns curled up towards a leaf-strewn glass canopy, making the platform gloomy. Zoe said loudly, over all the noise, This must be our station! Dont forget your suitcases and mind the gap when we get out. I dont want you falling under the train! Zoe liked bossing her brothers around. She stepped gracefully down on to the platform and her brothers tumbled out behind her. Andrew pretended to get his leg stuck in the gap but Zoe wasnt fooled. Stop messing about! she said, grumpily. At first there seemed to be nobody there to meet them but suddenly a shadowy figure loomed towards them. For a moment, they couldnt see who it was and jumped in fright. A dark outline seemed to support a face so pale as to be almost floating in space. Then a gentle Scottish voice said, Hello, you must be the Bramley children. Im Mrs McDougal. So pleased to meet you. Now lets get back to Sligachan House before it gets too dark. Andrew whispered into his sisters ear, I thought you said it was Miss! Shhh! Zoe didnt want to offend the woman who stood in front of her. Antony gaped at the curly, grey-haired little woman who was now leading the way out of the station towards a battered old cart in front of which stood a dappled grey pony, pawing at the ground with its hoof. Antony hissed at Zoe, Im sure thats the person I saw at the window! But when I saw her there, she was ghostly white! Zoe ignored him, with her nose in the air. Mrs McDougal helped them into the cart, looking them up and down. Those are very thin, odd looking clothes youve got on, she said. Its tweeds and woollens for the Highlands, you should know. The three children were surprised. Their mum had kitted them out in warm new coats in the latest waterproof fabric. Who would want to get soaked in heavy wool? Zoe looked at Mrs McDougals thick black skirt, almost brushing the ankles, and the scratchy looking cloak which hid the upper half of her body. After a short ride bumping over the rough, pot-holed track, Mrs McDougal pulled the pony and cart to a stop outside the huge, dark bulk of Sligachan House. Zoes heart sank when she saw that it was indeed the place they had seen from the train. Mrs McDougal led them up to a heavy oak door which she opened with a strong shove of her shoulder. It creaked, loudly. I dont like this, said Andrew, as they followed the woman inside. They found themselves in a high hallway where a staircase disappeared up and around corners into the darkness of another storey. Suddenly, he grabbed Zoe and whispered, Did you see that? See what? whispered Zoe, impatiently. She was getting very annoyed with her brothers. Andrew pointed at a big painting of a very important, rich looking man on the wall. He scowled at me and waved his fists! Stop talking rubbish, muttered Zoe, Thats impossible! After steaming bowls of scotch broth soup in the cavernous and chilly dining room, the children were shown to their bedrooms. Antony and Andrew were sharing one, Zoe was in another. They had been looking for lights to switch on, but there were no switches. No electricity here, Mrs McDougal told them, handing them a lighted candle each on a little dish. In the town, yes, but itll be a long time before it gets to a place like this. She closed the curtains against the night and added, Theres a box of matches for you in your rooms if you need a light in the night. But be very careful. We dont want a fire! Alone in her room, in a big old bed and under piles of blankets, Zoe lay awake for hours, unable to sleep. She couldnt face being in the dark and watched the candle burn lower and lower. Then suddenly, it went out, just as if someone had blown it out. Just a draft, Zoe told herself, not altogether reassured, and burrowed deeper and deeper under the covers, her eyes now shut tight. Soon, exhausted, she fell asleep. Then the door burst open and footsteps thundered across the bare floorboards. Something was pulling the blankets from her face. It was still pitch black. She could see nothing and cried out in terror. Shut up, Zoe! came a familiar voice and she realised it was Antony and, judging by the deep breaths of someone else nearby, Andrew as well. Why are you in here? You gave me such a fright! said Zoe, angrily. There was a scratching sound and a light flickered from a match as Antony lit the candle he was carrying. Weve seen a ghost! cried Andrew. It was the man I saw in the portrait on the wall, walking along, all grey and misty. It was horrible! I saw it too! squealed Antony. He was coming to get us, Im sure! There are no ghosts, not here, not anywhere! said Zoe, angry but rather frightened too as they sat in the small pool of light from the candle. Arent there? croaked a voice from the shadows behind her. They all spun round to see the grey shape of a man in old-fashioned clothes floating inches above a chair. There was no need to say anything. The three children leapt up, the candle fell from Antonys hands and they ran out of the room, falling over each other as they piled through the door, tiny screams trying to get out of their mouths which the fear had left dry as dust. A soft moonlight glowed through the windows as they crashed along the landing and sprinted down the stairs. At the bottom, they stopped dead as the figure of Mrs McDougal, grey and shadowy, appeared in front of them. Where did she come from? hissed Zoe but nobody had any answers. You cannot leave, she said sternly, and then threw her head back and gave a loud, cackling laugh. Then the children heard a strange, crackling noise from above and turned in horror to see an orange glow and thick clouds of smoke coming from what had been Zoes room. Mixing with the black smoke was the strange, grey glow of the ghostly man they had seen there. Now there were more, a dozen figures, some grey, some pearly white, men and women, even small children, their strange forms wafting in and out of view. Without thinking, Zoe, Antony and Andrew stormed forwards to push Mrs McDougal out of the way but instead found they passed straight through her, feeling as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been tipped over them. As they rushed towards the front door, flames seemed to engulf the whole house and the door disintegrated before their eyes, yet as they rushed through the gap they felt no heat, only a cold chill. They didnt stop running until they were right down at the station. Looking back to where Sligachan House had been, they could see only the wood that had been behind it and, instead of a fire, they could see only the rosy glow of the slowly rising sun. Shocked and exhausted, they turned towards the station and gasped in amazement. Gone were the old iron columns and the glass canopy and instead a brightly-lit, modern ticket hall stood before them. A lone ticket seller was just opening his booth. Come to collect your things, then? he asked. And to their amazement, they saw all their suitcases piled in a corner. Looking down, they were no longer in their pyjamas but in the clothes they had worn for the journey. Youre off to see Miss McDougal at New Sligachan House, arent you? he went on. Suddenly, all the children started speaking at once. Theyd been to a big house, there had been a fire. The railwayman cut them short. I know all that. The old Sligachan House burned down 50 years ago when some kid dropped a candle, so the story goes. The children looked at him in a mixture of horror and amazement. Fifty years ago? gasped Zoe. Oh yes, said the man. Ive had lots of children coming and telling stories about seeing the old house as if it was real and the housekeeper. They all talk about Mrs McDougal. She was grandmother of the Miss McDougal youre going to see in the new house they built down the road after the fire. Shell be along to pick you up soon. I cant think how it was that you got here so early. The children looked at each other, reaching out and gently feeling hands and sleeves to reassure themselves they were all still real. The man walked back towards his office. Load of nonsense, of course, he said. Funny thing is, they all tell the same story. Then he stopped in his tracks and looked back at them, sniffing suspiciously. And they all smell of smoke, just like you do! he added.