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was expecting this total mutiny .
    “At least listen to Alistair,” pleads Mum.
    “It seems I have no choice.”
    He turns, as cold as a loch in winter, and walks solemnly up the stairs. Uncle Alistair follows, and the little shadow follows him. It’s not on his shoulder now, it’s walking by itself, and it looks a lot like…
    Wait. A little girl? Seriously? I try to take a better look, but she blurs, and she’s gone. I must have been dreaming. I blink again. Nothing.
    I can’t go and listen at the door, they’ll know. So I can’t tell you what they said to each other. But I can tell you what we say, my mum, Aunt Shuna, Valentina and I.
    “Come to the kitchen, for a snack and a chat. Mum’s standard answer to emergencies is to give us food.
    Valentina is still looking towards the stairs. She does that sometimes, staring into a corner even though there’s nothing there. A bit like cats do.
    “Come on, darling,” says Mum, and Valentina reluctantly walks into the kitchen with us.
    We all sit around the table with the red polka-dot oilcloth on it. Valentina and I have Nutella on toast; Mum and Shuna have a cup of tea.
    “When we’re finished, can I go and play with the wee girl?” says Valentina all of a sudden.
    “Who?”
    “The wee girl that came with Uncle Alistair. The one without shoes.” 

3. DISAPPEARING ACTS
    Alistair Grant’s Scottish Paranormal Database
Entry Number 351: Donald Campbell
Type: Post-mortem manifestation
Location: Inverawe House
Date: 1756–the present
Details: Donald Campbell has been sighted in Inverawe House many times over the years. He was murdered in 1756. His brother Duncan had inadvertently given the Campbell word that Donald’s killer would not be punished. Donald appeared to Duncan three times, asking him to break his word and hand in the killer, but Duncan refused. In revenge, Donald told his brother where and when he would die.
    Shuna and Mum look at each other.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “The wee girl with the white dress and no shoes. I don’t know her name,” Valentina says insistently. “You saw her, Luca, didn’t you?”
    I shake my head slowly. My instinct says it’s better to keep quiet. I’d like to give Valentina a sign that yes, I’ve seen her too, that we can talk about it later – but I don’t dare. Mum would pick up on it. Instead I give Valentina a tiny wee nudge under the table. She freezes.
    “Is that your new imaginary friend?” asks Aunt Shuna hopefully. It’s not easy to keep up with mysister’s unstoppable mind.
    “Yes! Yes, she is. The wee girl with no shoes. My imaginary friend!” Valentina says brightly.
    “Yes, she told me about her too!” I chip in.
    They decide to buy it. Phew.
    “Anyway. You want to know about your Uncle Alistair,” Shuna begins. “Twelve years ago, the year before you were born, Luca, your Granny and Papa disappeared. Vanished. It was the night of your dad’s graduation – there was a big celebration for him here. We have to assume that your grandparents died. Your dad insists that it was your uncle’s fault. He hasn’t wanted anything to do with him ever since.”
    “What happened?” I ask. There’s always been a big mystery around Dad’s mum and dad. About the only thing I know about them is that they had a band: the Grants of Eilean Ceilidh Band. There’s a picture of them on the mantelpiece: my Granny Beth is playing the piano, and my Papa William is playing the fiddle; it was taken at the ceilidh dance here that night, after my dad’s graduation. There are people all around them, and they look happy.
    My mum always puts fresh flowers from our garden in front of their photograph. She says that’s what they do where she comes from, in Italy. They put pictures of their dead relatives in a nice display, and little vases of flowers in front of them. I like having my grandparents remembered this way.
    “Nobody knows, Luca. They simply disappeared.”
    “And why was it Uncle