by Paul Mason
From his black bag, Stonyheart had taken out an electrical meter, with a set of electrodes (like the sort you see in programmes about hospitals). He began attaching the white discs to the boots, then ran the wires back to the meter, and plugged them in. The dial on the meter immediately began revolving.
‘Aha! Yes, yes. These boots are charged. No doubt about it.’ Stonyheart cracked his knuckles. ‘I’ll just set this reading here –’ he clicked a button on the meter ‘ – and now we have its signal.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Parkin.
‘The signal of the ghost. Each one has its own. Now I can track it using this meter.’
Interesting, thought Parky to himself. That might come in handy.
Stonyheart got to his feet.
‘Now, where else has this foulness been sighted?’
‘Come with me,’ said Mrs Crank. ‘But you will be discreet, won’t you, Mr Stonyheart? It would spell the end of the hotel spa if it got round that the castle was having ghost problems.’
‘I’ll be secret, like a snake waiting to strike,’ Stonyheart hissed.
Mrs Crank showed Stonyheart some of the portraits that the ghost had appeared from, the Turnerelli bust, and her office desk. All were tested using the meter. With each reading Stonyheart got more and more excited. Mrs Crank showed him the ladies’ loos and told him about the phantom blockage.
This time the electrical meter didn’t move at all. ‘You definitely have a pest problem, Mrs Crank, all the places you have shown me so far have a ghost reading,’ said Stonyheart. ‘But it hasn’t been anywhere near here. There’s nothing here. That was caused by something else.’
Mrs Crank looked perplexed. Parkin looked at the floor.
‘I can’t wait to get started on this one,’ said Stonyheart. ‘I’ll track it down and catch it. Then I’ll shut it in a box.’
‘So you can help us?’ asked Mrs Crank.
Stonyheart took her by the hand. ‘Mrs Crank, not only can I help you – it will be a pleasure.’ He smoothed down his hair. ‘I don’t think you have to worry. I’ve found in the past that ghosts are actually afraid of me. The horrible things know danger when it comes.’ He sneered. ‘Have your man here – ’ he waved at Parkin ‘ – help me with my equipment. I’ll start first thing in the morning.’
Parkin trudged down to the van behind Stonyheart. He was really beginning to dislike this man, with his silly black hat and overcoat.
The ghost hunter slid back the side door to reveal a compact little workshop. There was a desk with a computer and chair, and shelves of equipment: cables, microphones, cameras. There was also a shelf of black boxes – well over a dozen of them, all plugged in to a giant battery. Each of the boxes had a flashing red light on the top.
‘What are those?’ asked Parkin.
Stonyheart grinned proudly. ‘Those are all the ghosts I’ve caught so far this year. I have more at home. Loads of them.’
‘What happens if the boxes get unplugged and the lights go off?’ asked Parkin.
‘The boxes eventually run out of battery power, then wham!’ Stonyheart clapped his hands together. ‘The ghosts escape like rats from a trap and we have mayhem on our hands. Imagine what it would be like with multiple ghosts running about the place. I never, ever unplug them.’
Interesting, thought Parkin again.
He helped Stonyheart carry his equipment inside. The Duke, the twins and he would have to have another meeting this evening.
Chapter Eleven
A wild-ghost chase
The next morning, Mrs Crank decided to close the castle to visitors, and sent all the staff home. She didn’t want word of the ghost hunt getting out.
Quite a few tourists were turned away. Having come down to the seaside especially, they were a little annoyed. They stood outside scratching their heads.
Encouraged by the news that the ghost was soon to be no more, the builder and the architect had both agreed to come back to work. They were busy measuring up rooms and marking out changes.
The two assistants were busy too, drawing up advertising slogans, and spa treatment menus. (£145 for the Indian rope massage, £162 for a course of hot stones and so on. Ridiculous, if you ask me.)
Mrs Crank was in her office making phone calls.
Stonyheart had laid out all his equipment. He had placed empty force-field boxes in several of the rooms, and had attached them to a battery. There were cables running all over the place, microphones on stands, motion-sensing cameras. He got out his meter and flicked it on. The meter crackled into life and the dial started spinning. The ghost was nearby. Stonyheart licked his lips. Time to get started.
Though Stonyheart didn’t know it, Parkin had told the Duke and the twins about the meter, and how it worked. Together they had laid a trail for the ghost hunter. The ghost hunter was going to go on a bit of a wild-goose chase, or rather a wild-ghost chase. While he was distracted, they would put the rest of the plan into action.
So the night before, the Duke of Wellington had rolled himself along certain carpets to leave as much of his signal as possible. Stella and Tom had borrowed some things from the gift shop and had thrown them back and forth through his body. (The Duke didn’t care for that at all.) Then the things had been put back where they found them. They had done the same with bits and pieces from the kitchen.
The Duke and the twins would stay out of sight until it was time for them to join the battle. ‘Just like the reverse slope defence, you know,’ he chortled. ‘Keep the troops out of sight and draw the enemy in. Hurrah!’
So it was no wonder that Stonyheart’s dial was spinning furiously and his headphones were crackling. The trap had been set.
Just you wait, ghostie, I’m on to you, Stonyheart thought.
He crept down the corridor, meter in one hand, microphone in the other. There was a massive signal coming from the carpet. It was heading down the stairs, away from the stately rooms and towards the courtyard where the gift shop and café were. Stonyheart carried onwards.
While the ghost hunter was busy on the trail, the twins were waiting. They were safely hidden in Leafage, with one of Parkin’s walkie-talkies, waiting for the word to spring into action.
The walkie-talkie buzzed to life. ‘All clear,’ Parkin said. ‘He’s busy on the trail.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Tom. The twins quickly crawled out of the hut and ran through the woods towards the fence and the car park. There they spotted the black van with the black windows. They ran up to it. As Parkin had suggested, the sliding door had been left unlocked.
‘That’s careless of him,’ giggled Stella. She was beginning to enjoy herself.
Making sure no-one was looking, they slid open the door and crept inside. The boxes were there the way Parkin had said they would be, red lights blinking in the gloom.
‘Which ones do we take?’ said Tom. He lifted a couple of the boxes to see how heavy they were. ‘I reckon I could manage two of them.’
Stella was peering closely at the boxes. They had labels on them but it was too gloomy to read them. ‘I don’t know, let’s just grab a couple each and hope for the best.’
Nervously, they unplugged the boxes and got down from the van. They would get them back to the castle, then the Duke would take charge.
Stonyheart was in the kitchen. His meter was sending him all over the place: underneath tables, into the carrots in the larder, the pies in the chiller room, the pots and pans.
This is one strange ghost, thought Stonyheart. Clearly likes its food. He had never known ghosts to eat before.
Now he began to pick up a trail, leading to the gift shop. ‘We’ll soon have you, parasite!’ he hissed.
The Duke, of course, was nowhere near either the kitchen or the gift shop. He had just emerged from the wardrobe in the apartments upstairs, ready for action. Stella and Tom had managed to sneak back inside the castle thanks to Parkin, and had brought the ghost boxes with them.
They laid them down on the carpet in
front of the Duke and inched away, nervously. Parkin quickly pressed the release buttons. He stepped back and put a protecting arm around the twins.
The Duke nodded at them, then puffed up his chest, ready to assume command. The boxes began to beep, the red lights flashed faster and faster. There was a hiss and a puff of steam, then one by one, the boxes sprung open releasing their occupants.
Chapter Twelve
‘Get what’s coming to you!’
A Roman legionary in full battle armour burst into the room, half a dozen arrows buried in his back. (No question how he had died.) Behind him came a belly dancer in a glittering top and sequined skirt. They both began chattering excitedly and moving about the room, completely bewildered, the belly dancer jiggling and twirling.
The Duke tried to introduce himself. Stella and Tom clutched Parkin.
The doors to the third box swung open and a man in red and white football kit leapt into the room, football at his feet. He dribbled neatly around Stella and Tom and blasted a searing drive, raising his arms as he watched the ball soar into a goal only he could see. Another ghostly ball appeared magically at his boots.
‘Anyone know where the other team is?’ he asked peering about the room, then seeing the other ghosts, he joined in, making a loud racket. (Well, you would make a racket too, if you had been shut up in a container the size of a shoe box.)
None of them knew what was going on, especially the legionary, who was babbling at everyone in Latin.
Finally, the last box ran out of power. Out came a man wearing a suit and a black gown, with a pair of spectacles perched on his nose. He carried a cane which he started swishing through the air. A ghostly headmaster.
‘Now, where is that horrible little man?’ roared the headmaster, looking around the room. ‘He’s going to get six of the best from my cane for locking me in that box.’
‘Good show,’ said the Duke, but he could barely be heard over the noise. He tried to get all the ghosts to stand still.
Finally he shouted, ‘Attention!’ and suddenly, there was silence. His voice carried such authority that, even after all these years of being a ghost, all the other ghosts stopped and stood in a line, even the belly dancer, who was just getting warmed up.
The Duke eyed each of them. ‘Now I’m sure all of you have questions, and are completely in the dark as to what is going on, but I’m afraid there just isn’t time for explanations. There will be plenty of opportunity for that later. But I’m sure you will agree that you want to get back at the man who trapped you.’ The Duke pointed to one of the force-field boxes and mimed so that the legionary would understand The ghosts all nodded.
‘And you agree that you much prefer being free, don’t you?’ Again the ghosts said yes.
The Duke began pacing back and forth, his arms behind his back. ‘If you do as I tell you, you can have your revenge and your freedom before the day is out.’
The Duke stopped in front of each one to see that they were ready to follow orders. The ghosts were standing to attention, eyes front. ‘Good. Now, here is what I want you to do...’
Jezzard the builder was hunched over in the dining room over his building plans, making adjustments to his measurements, punching numbers into a calculator, working out just how he was going to fit a giant Jacuzzi into the room.
His day was about to be ruined.
‘What’s this?’ a voice roared behind him. Jezzard leapt to his feet, heart beating wildly. In front of him stood a ghost. It looked like a headmaster, tapping a cane on his palm with purpose.
‘Here we go again,’ Jezzard groaned. He covered his eyes, hoping the ghost would go away. It didn’t.
‘Using a calculator in exams?’ the headmaster bellowed. ‘Cheating, were we?’
Jezzard stood frozen. He barely managed to speak.
‘Er, n-n-o sir, I was just trying to – ’
‘Silence!’ the headmaster cut in. Jezzard yelped in fright. ‘Come here, boy, and get what’s coming to you!’
The ghost advanced on the poor builder. From down the corridor all you could hear was a cane whistling through the air, and a scream.
Down in the dungeon, Pitt the architect was cowering in a corner, trying to hide behind his briefcase. Unless his eyes were playing tricks, in front of him was a centre forward – a dead centre forward. The man looked angry and dangerous, and clearly meant business.
‘Stand up and defend!’ shouted the footballer. He fired a shot and sent the ball whizzing just past the architect’s nose. Pitt started to babble. ‘No guts eh?’ snarled the centre forward. ‘We’ll see about that.’
Up in the courtyard all you could hear was the thumping of football after football, and a long, desperate howl.
In the staffroom both the assistants were petrified – as still as statues. But it wasn’t anything to do with toilets of mystery or the Duke of Wellington this time. There in front of them was another ghost. A soldier, with a shield, a sword, a spear and a bunch of arrows buried in his back. And he was gibbering at them in Latin.
‘Recedite, plebes! Gero rem imperialem!’4 the ghost shouted. ‘Recedite, plebes!’
The assistants didn’t need to know Latin to know they needed to be somewhere else. Right away. Keeping an eye on the legionary, they began shuffling towards the door, trembling like leaves.
They reached the doorway, the soldier still jabbering away at them, and broke into a run. All you could hear upstairs was their terrified wailing, followed by the clanking of armour.
Staring out from behind the curtains in their apartment upstairs, the twins were giggling furiously. The Duke was chuckling too.
Running across the lawn towards the car park, arms flapping, were Jezzard the builder, Pitt the architect, and the two assistants. They couldn’t get to their cars fast enough. The cars lurched into life and soon were speeding down the driveway, sending up a shower of gravel.
Now there were only two adversaries left: Mrs Crank and Stonyheart. The Duke had saved the worst for last.
He nodded to Parkin. ‘It’s time to call Stonyheart. I believe Mrs Crank should be about ready.’
Chapter Thirteen
Stonyheart meets his
Waterloo
Nearly every item in the gift shop lay scattered over the floor. There were books and tea mugs, stuffed toys and model catapult kits. Stonyheart had pulled apart the shop in desperation.
‘Where is this trail going?’ he muttered angrily. The ghost had to be near here. Its signal couldn’t have been stronger had it been rubbing itself over the things in the gift shop.
Parkin ran into the room.
‘Come quick, Mr Stonyheart!’ He pointed upstairs.
‘Is it the ghost?’ asked Stonyheart greedily. ‘Has it shown its face?’
Parkin shook his head. ‘No, it’s not the Duke, it’s Mrs Crank. Come with me, I think she might be possessed!’
Stonyheart dropped what he was doing and quickly followed the caretaker up to Mrs Crank’s office. What on earth was going on now?
Parkin threw open the doors. ‘See?’
Stonyheart was flabbergasted. He leaned on the wall for support.
Mrs Crank was belly dancing, her beehive bobbing and spinning to the sound of music no one else could hear. She twirled about the room, a smile glued to her face, her arms above her head, her hips swaying to and fro, her belly wobbling.
‘I’ve waited so long to be free,’ she cooed. Though it really didn’t sound like Mrs Crank’s voice at all. ‘All these years I’ve been wanting to dance!’
Now she whirled even faster, shimmying up and down the office. A mad frenzy of dance, her body not her own.
Stonyheart’s eyes were wide, his mouth hung open. ‘Wait here, Parkin, while I get my electrodes,’ he said in a whisper.
‘But you mustn’t leave!’ trilled Mrs Crank. ‘The show has just begun!’
She tried to grab Stonyheart’s hand, but he snatched it back and left the room in a hurry.
When Stonyh
eart came back with his meter and his electrodes, Mrs Crank’s hair had fallen around her shoulders in a wild mess, her face was flushed and she was swinging her head around and around, hair flying as she pranced around the room.
Stonyheart chased after her. ‘Hold her, Parkin!’ he shouted. ‘We must get a reading.’
Parkin tried to corner Mrs Crank, but she skipped past him, arms twirling. Stonyheart managed to grab hold of her with one hand and Parkin came over to help.
Stonyheart started sticking electrodes onto her face. ‘Not to worry, Mrs Crank, we’ll soon get that horrible ghost out of you.’
‘But I want to dance,’ said Mrs Crank. ‘I want to boogie!’
‘No, you don’t, Mrs Crank, this isn’t you talking. It’s some terrible vermin that’s got hold of you.’
‘If anyone’s vermin around here, it’s you, Stonyheart!’ boomed a voice from the doorway.
Stonyheart spun round to see a silvery shape hovering in the doorway. It was the shape of a man, strong and proud. His arms were folded, and he glared at Stonyheart along a fierce nose.
Stonyheart took a step back. He looked at Mrs Crank and then back at the Duke. Were there two ghosts? What was going on? He pressed himself up against the wall.
‘You may come out now, madam,’ said the Duke to Mrs Crank.
‘Oh, do I have to?’ said a voice from inside Mrs Crank. ‘I’m having such fun.’
Stonyheart watched in amazement as Mrs Crank gave a sudden shudder, and out wriggled the ghost of a lady in a dazzling costume, a ruby in her bellybutton. The ghost curtsied to him with a smile.
Mrs Crank flopped into a chair, exhausted from all her efforts. She was too confused to speak and just crumpled into a heap.
The ghost floated away happily and joined the Duke.
‘You’re an excellent dancer, madam. First rate,’ said the Duke beaming at her. ‘Now, would you be so kind as to get the others?’
‘Others?’ yelled Stonyheart. ‘There are others?’