by Paul Mason
‘Oh yes,’ said the Duke. ‘I have quite a force. And you,’ he grinned at Stonyheart, ‘have just met your Waterloo.’
Stonyheart and Mrs Crank were slumped on chairs, pinned behind the desk. They were totally outnumbered. A circle of ghosts stood around them: an angry-looking headmaster, a footballer, a Roman legionary and the belly dancer, who was smiling at Mrs Crank.
Stonyheart recognised the ghosts as ones he had captured in other parts of the country. But how had they escaped? His head spun.
The Duke was talking to Mrs Crank. The director of marketing was slowly recovering from her shock at having been possessed by a dancing fiend. She peered out from behind a tangle of hair. Her face had lost all its earlier colour.
‘This hotel-spa idea you have planned really isn’t acceptable,’ the Duke was saying. ‘There is over five centuries of history here, you see.’
‘I tried to tell you,’ said Parkin. ‘Neither his Grace here nor I will see this place turned into mud baths.’
Mrs Crank nodded weakly. ‘So you’re in this together?’
‘I’m afraid so, Mrs Crank, yes,’ said Parkin.
‘Traitor!’ hissed Stonyheart.
The legionary banged his sword against his shield, the headmaster swung his cane, and Stonyheart sunk back in his chair.
Mrs Crank looked at the ghostly quartet surrounding her.
‘And where did they come from?’ Her bottom lip quivered. ‘There used to be only you.’
‘From Stonyheart’s van – we set them free. These ghosts are under my command,’ the Duke said proudly.
Parkin laughed. ‘Faced with our new ghosts, Pitt, Jezzard and your two assistants ran away earlier, and I doubt they will return.’
‘And even if they were to somehow come back,’ added the Duke, ‘and you do renovate my castle, I must warn you as soon as the first customer sets foot in the hotel, we ghosts will make sure their visit is cut short, if you catch my meaning.’ He guffawed.
‘Then there really is no hope for the Wellington Spa now, is there?’ Mrs Crank said wearily.
‘Absolutely none,’ replied the Duke.
‘Then I give up,’ said Mrs Crank. She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘You win. You can have your castle back.’
She turned to Stonyheart. ‘It seems your services will no longer be required. You’re dismissed.’
Chapter Fourteen
Things turn out well
Stonyheart leapt to his feet, and bravely made a dash for the door, barging his way through the ghosts. He wiped at his clothes with a disgusted look on his face as if they had been rolled in mud, and glared around the room, his eyes crazed.
His voice rose in pitch as he shouted at them all.
‘Mrs Crank may be giving up, but I certainly haven’t!’
Parkin and the Duke moved away from him.
‘I hate ghosts, do you hear!’ Stonyheart was practically foaming at the mouth. ‘I hate the lot of you, and now I know where you are, I’ll be coming back. Just you wait!’
He ran from the room laughing like a maniac, and fled from the castle, picking up his equipment as he went, and hauling it to his van in a jumble.
‘What a strange man,’ said the Duke. ‘I’m rather glad to be rid of him.’
He turned to the other ghosts. ‘Job well done, you’re dismissed for the day. Find a comfortable place to hide and we’ll meet later. And no further spooking of humans unless ordered,’ he added.
The ghosts happily vanished into the walls.
Parkin smiled at Mrs Crank kindly. ‘There’s still quite a few tourists outside, what say we straighten this place out and let them in? I would hate for us to lose the ticket money.’
Mrs Crank sighed. ‘But how can we open up with just the two of us? I sent all the staff home.’
‘Ah,’ said Parkin, ‘I have an idea there. Hold on.’ He pulled his walkie-talkie off his belt. ‘Parkin here. The coast is clear, come down to the office.’ Mrs Crank looked at him, puzzled. ‘My new assistants,’ Parkin said with a grin.
Stella and Tom had been in hiding, waiting to hear the outcome of the battle. As soon as they received the call they rushed downstairs. They slowed down as they got to the office door, not quite sure what to expect.
‘Ah, here you are,’ the Duke said when the twins had poked their heads round the door. ‘Come to save the day.’
The twins still had no idea what was going on, and stood there silently, a bit worried to be out in the open after all these weeks of hiding.
Parkin came over and took them gently by the arms. ‘This is Stella, and this is Tom. My trainee castle wardens. They just happened to be doing some work for me in the castle grounds – weren’t you?’ Parkin slipped them a wink.
Tom was confused for a second, then he twigged. ‘Yes, of course,’ he nodded, smiling. ‘Working in the grounds. Trainee wardens. Pleased to meet you.’ He shook Mrs Crank’s hand.
‘We were weeding in the moat,’ Stella added.
Mrs Crank looked them up and down. They seemed rather young to be working as wardens, but after the events of today, nothing about this castle would surprise her any more.
‘Very well. Give me a moment to fix my hair, Mr Parkin.’ She nodded at Stella and Tom. ‘And you two, come with me. We have a ticket office to run.’
‘That’s the spirit,’ laughed the Duke. ‘I mean spirit as in enthusiasm, not spirit as in ghost,’ he added, winking at Mrs Crank.
She glared back at him. ‘Don’t you have a cupboard you should be hiding in?’
It turned out to be a busy day with a constant stream of tourists. Stella and Tom coped well. They quickly tidied up the shop, and were good about taking money for tickets and giving out the right change.
Mrs Crank was very happy to see the work done and the money coming in. Parkin suggested that the twins could keep on helping out, and she said that was entirely up to him. And when she asked them where they lived, Parkin interrupted to say, ‘They’re staying with me at the castle, till they find their own place.’
Mrs Crank just nodded and didn’t ask any awkward questions. As far as she was concerned, Parkin was dealing with the ghosts, and if he wanted his trainee wardens to help out, she wasn’t going to make trouble. In fact, she was quite exhausted from the most amazing dance workout she’d ever had, and she was wondering if the belly dancing ghost would offer regular sessions for a few select clients. The Strictly Spirits Dance Studio sounded good...
Later that night after Mrs Crank had gone home and the castle was locked up, the twins, Parkin and the Duke were lounging about in the apartment, eating takeaway pizza. (Well, the Duke wasn’t eating, of course.)
‘First a home and now jobs,’ whistled Tom. ‘Things have turned out well.’
‘But it’s not all going to be Simpsons and carrot cake around here. There’ll be lots of reading and maths for homework,’ said the Duke. The twins groaned.
‘Do you think that horrible man Stonyheart will come back like he said he would?’ asked Tom. ‘Aren’t you worried?’
‘I wouldn’t give him too much thought,’ Stella said with a giggle. She had a mischievous look on her face. ‘Something tells me he’s probably in a bit of a pickle.’
Seymour Stonyheart sped away from the castle, fuming. Never before had a ghost got the better of him. Never before had he failed. That woman Crank was weak. How dare she give up on him? He would have his revenge, oh yes!
Stonyheart was so cross as he drove, and was grinding his teeth together so loudly, that he failed to notice that in the back of the van, the lights on top of all the ghost boxes had begun to blink. The boxes were unplugged and slowly losing power. In fact they only had about a minute’s worth of power left. After that the lids would spring open.
Seymour Stonyheart drove on, and behind him, a dozen angry apparitions waited for their chance to burst free.
A Note from the Author
The story, characters and events of this book are all
fictional, but the unnamed castle in my story looks rather like Walmer Castle, a real place that you can visit. I borrowed some real details from this wonderful building for my fictional castle, such as the ramparts and cannons, the gardens and woods, the apples called Newton Wonders, the Duke of Wellington’s room with its campaign bed, the museum with his boots, and many more things besides.
I love visiting Walmer Castle with my family. The idea of children living a secret life in a castle like it came from my daughter Mia.
Luckily, unlike the castle in my story, Walmer Castle is run by English Heritage, a wonderful organisation that protects historic places from people like Mrs Crank, so that future generations can understand and enjoy our past.
Though the character of the Duke of Wellington in this story is obviously made up, lots of the historical details are true. The real Duke of Wellington did battle with Tipu Sultan, the ruler of the kingdom of Mysore in 1799. He lived in Walmer Castle, thinking it was ‘the most charming marine residence’. When he died in 1852, over nine thousand people came to the castle to pay their respects to Britain’s greatest ever soldier.
Even three of the things my ghost says in the story are the Duke of Wellington’s real words (or thought to be).
‘The whole art of war consists in getting at what is on the other side of the hill.’
‘The hardest thing of all for a soldier is to retreat.’
‘Up, Guards, and at ’em!’
And finally...
Though Wellington was well known for being a strict leader and a tough soldier, he was often kind to children, and in my story I tried to bring that side of his character out a bit.
A well-known yarn about the Duke, which I like to believe might be true, tells of a time when he was out on a walk and came across a young boy who was crying. Wellington asked what was wrong, and the boy replied that he was sad because he had to go back to boarding school the next day and wasn’t able to take his pet toad. To cheer the boy up, the Duke took the toad and promised to look after it.
A few weeks later the boy received a letter. It said: ‘Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington presents his compliments to Master – –, and has the pleasure to inform him that his toad is well.’
Fancy that.
Footnotes
1 You can see Tipu’s Tiger in the V&A Museum in London. It really is a clever thing.
2 For those of you who don’t know, a crank is a mechanical handle you can use to start an engine. It is also a rude way of calling someone a bit of an oddball. Funnily enough, both of these suited Mrs Crank. She was both cold and mechanical, and had bizarre ideas and plans. And you will soon learn what these were.
3 Yes, Garra rufa fish are real, and people pay money to have the little nippers eat the dead skin off their feet. Fun for the people, and a lovely snack for the Garra rufa fish.
4 ‘Stand aside, little people! I am here on official business!’
Copyright © 2013 A & C Black
Text copyright © 2013 Paul Mason
Illustrations copyright © 2013 Mike Phillips
First published 2013 by A & C Black,
an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square
London WC1B 3DP
www.bloomsbury.com
This electronic edition published in January 2013 by Bloomsbury Publishing
The right of Paul Mason and Mike Phillips to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved
You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library.
eISBN 978-1-4081-8078-5 (e-book)
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