The Chocolate Factory Ghost

by David O'Connell

  ‘Let’s be logical,’ he said to himself. The entire room was devoted to the McBudge family. The clue must relate to that somehow. Maybe Archie could find some helpful information in the library. Tablet had mentioned that there were books on the family’s history in there.

  He turned to run back into the hallway but stopped in his tracks. A suit of black armour stood as if to guard the door, the grim figure clutching a formidable axe in a gauntlet-covered hand. Archie watched, mesmerised, as its fingers twitched into life and its arm slowly raised the axe. With a lunge it hurled the weapon straight at him …

  Archie just had time to jump sideways as the axe dropped towards him, its blade slicing through the air. It hit the floor behind him with a heavy thud.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ said Portia, stepping out from her hiding place behind the armour, where she’d been covered by a tapestry. She looked rather disappointed. ‘What a terrible accident. I can’t think how that happened.’

  Archie had almost forgotten the Piglets.

  ‘You threw that!’ he said angrily. ‘You had your arm inside that suit of armour. It was deliberate.’

  Portia strolled up to him casually and pushed her face close to his until they were eye-to-piggy-eye. Her sweaty breath formed an oily slick on his skin.

  ‘Prove it!’ she hissed. ‘This old house is so old and unsafe, I’m sure accidents happen all the time. You should be careful, or something awful might occur.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this game,’ said Archie, pulling away. ‘Let’s find your brother so I’ve got you both where I can see you. I think I heard him go into the library.’

  Portia hasn’t noticed the letter, he thought, glancing with relief at the statue on whose head it still sat, or she would have said something. Goodness knows what would happen if the Puddingham-Pyes knew about his quest! The girl gave him a surly pout but followed him out of the portrait room and across the hallway.

  Even though he hadn’t been living long in the Hall, Archie had decided that the library was his favourite room. There was something comforting about all the books and the old sofa in front of the fireplace. He also liked the thought that Great-Uncle Archibald was keeping an eye on him from his painting up on the wall.

  ‘What a dump!’ said Portia, turning up her nose at the rows of ancient leather-bound volumes. If she hated it then Archie liked the library all the more.

  ‘You look over there,’ he said, walking over to the wall that was covered in bookcases. ‘And I’ll look over here.’ Portia gave him a dismissive sniff and made a show of searching for Georgie in ridiculous places, lifting up cushions and peering in the wastepaper basket.

  ‘Brother, dear!’ she trilled. ‘Where are yooou?’ Meanwhile, Archie quickly scanned the shelves. There were all kinds of books on all kinds of subjects. There were the obvious sweet-related books: The History of the Cocoa Bean and its Cultivation, My Life in Fondant – A Chocolatier’s Story, and One Thousand Things to Do with a Walnut Whirl amongst others. Then there was a bookcase with very deep shelves that was filled with giant atlases and charts. It also had some huge, thick books about the McBudge clan. There was The Very Spooky Legend of Black Douglas McBudge, The McBudges of Dundoodle and Duntootie and their Family Connections, and The Cursed Jewels of Lady Deirdre Pookie, but nothing that Archie thought might actually be useful.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ said Portia, bored with hunting for Georgie. ‘Let me see!’ She pushed Archie out of the way, knocking him over.

  ‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Look out!’ The girl stood over him, smirking. Then a shadow fell across them both, and Archie saw one of the massive books slowly edging itself off the shelf above them.

  ‘No, really – LOOK OUT!’ he called, rolling to one side, but it was too late for Portia. The book tumbled from the shelf and she just had time to give a piggy squeal before it flattened her with a CRASH! She sprawled on the floor, wriggling like an upturned beetle under the weight of hundreds of ancient, dusty pages.

  ‘Get it off me!’ she wailed.

  ‘Oops, sorry, sis.’ Georgie peered out from the bookshelf overhead, looking sheepish. ‘Didn’t see you there.’

  He clambered down from his hiding place and dragged the book off his slightly crushed, but none the worse, sister.

  ‘I want to get out of this horrible place and go home!’ she cried. ‘Now!’

  ‘But Mummy said –’ began Georgie.

  ‘NOW!’ bellowed Portia, swatting at her brother. With a venomous glare at Archie, the twins stomped out of the library. He waited until he heard the front door slam behind them before chuckling with relief. That was a narrow escape – two narrow escapes, in fact! Archie went to pick up the book that had squashed Portia, which was still lying open. The pages were covered with curly writing and funny-looking pictures of people in strange clothes. But one picture made his eyes light up and his heart skipped a beat. It was the McBudge coat of arms!

  Archie knelt on the floor, studying the words in front of him for clues. The book appeared to be telling the story of how the dragons ended up being part of the family crest.

  And so the scribes tell, Archie read, that Gregor the Hairy, Clan Chief of the McBudges, chanced upon an injured dragon in the old forest of Dundoodle, not far from the fabled Wyrdie Tree. Being a man of honour, and not prone to needless violence in case it messed up his beard, Gregor nursed the noble beast until it was well enough to fly once more.

  ‘Good chief,’ said the dragon, ‘by your kindness you have shown yourself to have a heart warm enough to melt hard stone into golden honey. May your beard be ever coiffed! You and your family will be blessed by the dragons for evermore.’

  And indeed good fortune fell upon the McBudge clan soon afterwards, so they took the dragon as their symbol and bore the motto DE ORE DRACONIS, which means ‘Out of the mouth of the dragon’, for the dragon said it would be so.

  ‘Out of the mouth of the dragon,’ Archie repeated. He was sure the family motto in the portrait room was a clue. It almost sounded like an instruction. But which dragon? And what was coming out of its mouth? Fire? Even Dundoodle couldn’t be strange enough to have real dragons! Someone would have noticed great big fire-breathing lizards blundering around. The dragons on the roof of the Hall? No … Archie jumped to his feet. Of course! The statue in the portrait room! It was the only dragon nearby, and that’s where the letter had landed!

  He raced back to the room, keeping clear of the suit of armour, just in case. The magical letter had vanished but that didn’t deter him. He walked around the statue, searching for any secret hiding places. The dragon was made of a pale gold metal and was probably very heavy and valuable. Then Archie realised what had made the statue seem unusual earlier.

  ‘There’s no dust on it!’ he said. Everything else in the room showed Tablet’s trademark lack of housework skills but the dragon was clean. It must be new!

  Archie carefully lifted the statue from its pedestal. To his surprise it weighed very little. It couldn’t be metal after all. He scratched at the golden surface and almost laughed as it snagged under his fingernail – it was metal foil! And underneath – dark, sweet-smelling chocolate! A hollow, chocolate dragon, like you might buy in a McBudge Fudge shop. He should have known – all the clues had sweets in them! He tore off the rest of the foil, grabbed the beast’s nose and broke it away, scattering chocolate splinters over the floor.

  ‘Out of the dragon’s mouth,’ he said, pulling a rolled-up strip of paper from inside the hollow creature. Archie unwound it between thumb and finger to find four words on it, written in caramel-brown ink:

  MEMENTO MISERICORDIAE.

  REMEMBER MERCY.

  Archie tucked the mysterious message into his pocket and took the chocolate dragon back up to his bedroom where Sherbet was still snoozing, curled up into a bundle of white fur on the bed. He brought the wooden box out of his wardrobe and sat next to the dog, munching on chocolate dragon-snout and pondering the objects that had been collected so far.
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  There was the bell, the ring and now the message, as well as the plan of the unknown building, which was safely hidden in Fliss’s secret den. The plan could be some kind of treasure map, but other than that it was all meaningless. Archie sighed.

  ‘I hope one of the last two clues gets us an instruction manual,’ he said to Sherbet, who raised his head sleepily as Archie replaced the box in the wardrobe. ‘Otherwise we’re never going to complete this Quest. And that’s if the Puddingham-Pyes don’t get to me first …’

  Archie was still thinking about the baffling assortment of objects at breakfast the next morning. He and Mum had soon learned that the kitchen of Honeystone Hall was the best place for meals, partly because they hadn’t yet found the dining room and Tablet seemed to have forgotten where it was (or even if they had one), but mostly because it was warm and inviting and always smelled of something delicious. The old butler really did know a thing or two about food, and how to keep a fire burning at a comfortable heat.

  Whilst Archie devoured porridge, McBudge Velvetee Chocolate Fudge Spread on toast, and a big mug of tea, his mum told him about how her search for the missing secret ingredient was going. Badly, as it happened.

  ‘I can’t find anything,’ Mum said. She wearily thumped her mug on the kitchen’s oak table, making Sherbet jump up in panic from his bed on the floor nearby. ‘It’s very strange. I even found the original recipe for the first ever batch of McBudge Fudge. It has all the normal things you’d expect – milk, butter and sugar, but the only difference is that you have to add a teaspoon of powdered dod at the end.’

  ‘Dod?’ said Archie. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve never heard of it and I can’t find anything about dod in any books about food in the library, powdered or otherwise. It doesn’t sound particularly tasty, whatever it is.’

  ‘Indeed, Madam,’ said Tablet, who was buttering some toast near the stove. ‘It sounds like something the dog might have buried in the garden.’ The butler gave one of his wheezing laughs, coughing so hard he let off a fart that rattled the teacups on the dresser.

  Meanwhile, there was business to attend to.

  ‘Mr Tatters is coming over for a meeting with some accountants,’ said Mum. ‘I’ve asked Mr Hankiecrust to attend. And I think you should come too, Archie. You’re in charge, after all.’

  They decided to have the meeting in the library. Mr Tatters arrived promptly, accompanied by two quiet, unsmiling men, called Mr Fade and Mr Fingers. Their pale skin merged with the drab grey of their suits, as if they were made from the same material. Mr Hankiecrust’s friendly face was a very welcome addition.

  ‘We’ve come up with a new sweet idea, Mr McBudge,’ he whispered to Archie as they sat down around Great-Uncle Archibald’s desk. ‘Jelly Jumpers. They’re a cross between jumping beans and jelly beans – sweets that you can bounce!’

  He took a bean-shaped sweet from a pocket and flung it at the floor. It sprang back up off the wooden tiles, jumping so high it hit the ceiling, lodging in the crumbling old plaster above them.

  ‘Some adjustment to the bounce may be required,’ said Mr Hankiecrust, grinning awkwardly. ‘I’ll have to come back for that later.’ Archie chuckled. He was glad someone normal was at the meeting.

  Once everyone was seated, Mr Tatters spoke.

  ‘As is usual when someone new takes over the reins of a business,’ he said slightly nervously, ‘I’ve asked Mr Fade and Mr Fingers of Fade, Fingers and Flint Accountants Limited to examine the accounts for the McBudge Fudge and Confectionery Company. I’m afraid they appear to have discovered some … discrepancies.’

  ‘What kind of discrepancies?’ said Mum, frowning at the grey men.

  ‘You’re asset-rich,’ said Mr Fade.

  ‘But cash-poor,’ said Mr Fingers.

  ‘What are they talking about?’ said Archie. It didn’t sound good whatever it was.

  ‘You don’t actually have any money,’ explained Mr Tatters, looking flustered. ‘The bank account is empty. Although you do own a lot of buildings and land. If something bad happened to the business then you might be forced to sell it all.’

  Something bad, thought Archie. Like no one wanting to buy McBudge Fudge because it didn’t have the secret ingredient that made it so delicious …

  ‘Where did the money go?’ said Mum. She looked shaken.

  ‘Your great-uncle was a unique and eccentric individual,’ said Mr Tatters, which Archie took to mean completely bonkers. ‘It’s unclear at the moment, but he seems to have just frittered the money away somehow. If you should have to sell the business I’m sure we could find a buyer. I’ve no doubt the Puddingham-Pyes would be interested. For the right price.’

  ‘That’s if I don’t have an unfortunate accident in the meantime,’ Archie muttered to himself.

  After the lawyer and accountants had left, Archie and his mum discussed the latest discovery about dod with Mr Hankiecrust.

  ‘We really need to find this dod, whatever it is,’ the factory manager said. ‘And soon! It’s your only hope of saving the factory now.’

  ‘We’ll keep looking,’ said Mum, her eyes alight with determination. ‘This isn’t just about us any more. If the business is in trouble then so are lots of people’s jobs.’

  Coming to Dundoodle seemed to have given Mum a new lease of life. But Archie wasn’t enjoying all this responsibility. Did he really want to finish this treasure hunt, if there was nothing left to inherit at the end of it? He looked up at the painting of Great-Uncle Archibald, scrutinising the old man’s face. Why would he have gone to so much trouble to set up all these magical puzzles if it was all for nothing? Something wasn’t right, Archie’s instincts told him. And he was sure that the answer would lie at the end of the Quest. There was no choice. He had to continue.

  With a new sense of purpose, Archie decided he would go and meet Fliss and Billy after school that afternoon, instead of waiting for them to come to the Hall. He hadn’t seen much of Dundoodle, so it was a good chance to explore. He snapped Sherbet’s lead on to the dog’s collar and together they trudged into the cold afternoon air. The sky above them was like a bag of cotton wool about to burst: snow was on its way.

  They had just got past the gates at the end of the drive when there was a flutter behind Archie’s ear and the magical letter swept past, travelling at great speed. Sherbet strained at his lead, trying to chase the piece of paper and almost pulling the boy over.

  ‘It’s flying away from the Hall!’ said Archie. ‘That’s odd. The next clue must be in the town.’

  But the letter zigzagged around chimney pots and plunged between rooftops, taking an erratic course and flying far too quickly for them to follow.

  ‘Why is it going so fast?’ said Archie, his breath turning to steam as they ran to keep up with it. ‘What’s the hurry?’ The reason soon became clear. As Sherbet dragged him down into the warren of streets, a small, dark shape zipped overhead like a hawk. The mobgoblin was back! There was evil intent in its movements. It was hunting the letter!

  The chase was on. The letter ducked and dived, flapping its paper wings with all its might. The mob­goblin was bigger and ungainly but it shadowed the letter relentlessly, sometimes kicking its scaly feet against a chimney to give it an extra boost.

  ‘Rip it! Shred it! Slice it!’ the creature cackled.

  Down below, Archie followed as best as he could, watching helplessly. Occasionally he lost sight of the race as it took him down back lanes where the eaves of houses cast sinister, jagged shadows, or twisted through roads where uneven cobbles seemed to trip him almost deliberately. Often he was so busy looking up that he bumped into passers-by, bouncing off their thick winter coats like a pinball and losing all sense of direction. But luckily Sherbet always knew which way to go.

  Eventually they found themselves at the gates of Dundoodle School, just as its pupils were pouring out at the end of lessons. Fliss saw him and ran over, eager for news. Archie, out of br
eath, pointed upwards.

  ‘If that thing gets the letter we’ll never be able to complete the Quest!’ he panted. Fliss stared as the letter circled the school, its little wings beating desperately. No one else seemed to notice – the letter was just litter fluttering about in the icy breeze. Billy appeared at their side, horrified at the sight of the mobgoblin swooping down on the defenceless piece of paper. It fled around the side of the school, into an empty alleyway. Fliss rummaged in her school bag as they dashed after it.

  ‘I said we’d be ready for that thing the next time it showed up,’ she said. ‘And we are!’ She pulled out a lollipop that was tied to a bundle of string.

  ‘This is no time for a snack!’ said Billy.

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you!’ said Fliss. ‘This is a McBudge Raspberry Slurpopop, as a matter of fact. Partially slurped. And it’s not a snack, it’s a weapon!’

  Like a knife thrower at the circus, she aimed the lollipop at the mobgoblin and then flung it as hard as she could. It soared through the air, trailing the tail of string behind it, and hit the little creature squarely in its fuzzy chest. The mobgoblin squeaked in surprise as the sticky sweet stuck fast to its skin. Fliss tugged on the other end of the string and reeled the creature in towards her as it bucked and struggled furiously, like a fish caught on a line.

  ‘Let Garstigan go, horrid smellable little bratlings!’ the mobgoblin rasped at them in a harsh voice. ‘You are not Garstigan’s keeper!’