The two uncles held their hands in the air and bowed.
‘How does it work?’ Aurelie asked quietly. ‘When I touch you, you feel real.’
‘It’s like we can decide to be fully human or mostly human with ghost bits thrown in,’ Rolo explained. ‘It’s all a matter of concentration.’
‘Something Old Forgetful here isn’t very good at.’ Rindolf raised an eyebrow.
‘I’ll get better,’ he said to Aurelie. ‘I promise.’
‘Can you do anything else?’ she asked.
The two uncles raced to the box, pulled out swords and wrapped shiny capes around their shoulders. They held the swords high as they squared each other off.
Rolo assumed a French accent. ‘You ’ave inzulted me, my family, ze king and my horze.’
‘You are wrong, monsieur,’ Rindolf replied. ‘I would never insult anyone’s horse!’
‘En garde!’ Rolo cried, and the two began to fight. Swords clashed and rang throughout the marquee. The uncles dodged and thrust until they plunged their swords into each other’s bodies.
‘Ah! You got me,’ Rolo cried and stumbled.
‘Ah! You got me too.’ Rindolf staggered and they both fell to the ground.
They lay with swords protruding from their stomachs until Rolo lifted his head. ‘You’re supposed to clap now.’
Aurelie, who had been holding her breath, clapped.
The two men jumped up, withdrew the bloodless swords and bowed before climbing onto the bench on either side of their niece.
‘We’re sorry we didn’t tell you earlier,’ Rolo said. ‘We always meant to, but it was hard to work out when.’
‘Is there anything else I should know?’ Aurelie asked.
‘Should we tell her about Frank?’ Rindolf asked.
Rolo’s face soured. ‘He’ll only show off like he always does.’
‘Who’s Frank?’
Rindolf called. ‘Come on out, Frank. It’s time to say hello.’
Aurelie squinted into the streams of dusty light in the tent. Slowly, the shabby form of a man appeared. He wore tall black boots, a sword at his side, a rumpled shirt and a floppy black hat perched on wild curly hair.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’
Rolo crossed his arms. ‘Aurelie, this is Frank. Frank, this is Aurelie. Happy?’
‘Never mind him, dear. He never had many manners before he died, so it’s no surprise he has none now that he’s come back.’
He held out his hand.
Aurelie went to shake, but her hand reached through Frank’s. She gasped and withdrew her arm, hugging it to her chest.
‘Don’t go giving her your hand,’ Rolo growled. ‘You don’t have one, remember? Or a brain, come to think of it.’
‘So you’re a real ghost?’ Aurelie asked.
‘Yep.’ Frank held his hat across his chest. ‘Died during the storm of 1913. It swept up fast, with winds so fierce that the pier’s swinging chair ride was in danger of being uprooted and flung into the ocean. The lives of small children were at risk, and I had to act. Just as I’d pulled all the kids to safety, one of the chairs snapped free, falling on me and killing me in an instant.’
‘Okay, Mr Hero,’ Rolo said. ‘Now tell her how you really carked it.’
Frank’s shoulders slumped. ‘Pumpkins.’
‘Pumpkins?’ Aurelie asked.
‘Yeah.’ Frank shrugged. ‘I was walking through the Alleys when the back of a cart carrying a load of pumpkins broke. They spilled out, and with just one bad bounce on the head I was a goner. I had hoped for a more glorious death.’
‘Frank sometimes joins us in the ghost train,’ Rindolf explained.
‘I mostly like being the beheaded man on the guillotine.’ Frank smiled broadly.
‘But the beheaded man is a dummy,’ Aurelie said.
‘Most nights it’s me. It’s more lifelike that way. I never tire seeing the faces of passengers when my chopped-off head thuds into the bin, my wide, horror-struck eyes staring straight at them. I’ve had over fifty pass-outs so far.’
‘Pass-outs?’
‘You know, fainters. Like this.’ Frank collapsed to the floor dramatically.
Rolo frowned. ‘Did I mention he was a show-off?’
‘Are you the only ghost who works here?’
Frank opened his eyes and shot a look at Rindolf. ‘How much have you told her?’
‘We’ve just started, really.’
Frank jumped up and rubbed his ghostly hands together. ‘Come on out, fellas!’
A straggly group of men and women wavered into view. Jugglers, ride operators, circus masters, horse riders. Some waved, others bowed or curtsied.
Aurelie’s face paled. ‘You’re all ghosts?’
‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ Rindolf hugged her close. ‘We’ve known them for years.’
‘Some longer than others,’ answered the circus master who had fluffy eyebrows and a beard like a small cloud. He bowed and tipped his tall hat. ‘I’m Master Dudley Dragoon – first circus master of Bonhoffen’s Seaside Pier.’
‘So that means you were born …’ Aurelie began.
‘One hundred and thirty years ago. But I do think I hold my age rather well, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Aurelie smiled. ‘You look quite handsome.’
Master Dudley blushed.
Aurelie crossed her arms and rubbed her shoulders. ‘Is anyone else suddenly cold?’
Rolo took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.
‘Sorry.’ Frank screwed up his face. ‘That’s our fault, I’m afraid. Ghosts have a habit of sending the temperature down.’
‘How come I’ve never seen any of you?’ Aurelie asked.
‘We have to want you to see us,’ explained a tall man with a riding crop and short red jacket. ‘And we wanted you to be okay with it first.’
‘Most of them used to work here years ago,’ Rindolf said. ‘It’s only Frank who still likes to help out.’
‘It takes time to get used to,’ Rolo added. ‘We’re still here for you, though, like we’ve always been.’
‘Always will.’ Rindolf smiled.
‘Us too,’ a round woman in a flouncy red dress winked, ‘now that we’ve finally met. I’m Rosie.’ She turned and introduced the others. ‘And that’s Hamish, Glenda and Roberto.’
The three ghosts waved.
A tear balanced on the tip of Aurelie’s eyelash. The uncles opened their arms and wrapped her in their capes.
‘Is it too much, all at once?’ Rolo held her hands. ‘I knew it’d be too much.’
‘No, it’s just …’ Aurelie took a breath. ‘You’re not going anywhere, are you?’
‘Nowhere that doesn’t involve being near you,’ Rolo said. ‘What would be the point of that?’
‘No point at all.’ Rindolf shook his head.
Master Dudley wiped his sleeve across his eye and motioned for the others to leave. They took a few steps away before disappearing.
‘Is there anything else you’d like to know?’ Rolo asked.
‘Why did you decide to come back?’
Rolo was quiet.
‘We needed to see someone,’ Rindolf answered.
‘The woman in the house on the hill?’
‘Valentina Bloomfield,’ Rolo said quietly. ‘She was beautiful. She reminded me of music, the way she talked and laughed.’
‘What happened?’
‘I was on my way to ask her an important question when we had the accident. That’s why I came back.’
‘And I came back ’cause I’d watched these two lovebirds for months – I had to make sure his nerves wouldn’t stop him from going through with it.’
‘But when we got to the house, it was too late,’ Rolo said. ‘Through the window we saw the son of one of the town’s richest families. His name was Reinfeld. He was on one knee holding out a ring.’ Rolo laughed. ‘I couldn’t compete with him. He was rich and handsome with a big house, and I was a circus ma
n with a trumpet, some juggling skills and not much else.’
‘A month later,’ Rindolf continued ‘we read in the paper that Reinfeld was getting married, but not to Valentina. I rushed to tell Rolo, just as he got her letter.’
‘It said she was leaving Gribblesea to set up a charity for homeless children in the city,’ Rolo explained.
‘What else did she say?’ Aurelie asked.
‘She hoped I was well.’
‘No, when you told her how you felt?’
‘I … she … you see …’
Aurelie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You didn’t tell her.’
‘By the time we got to the house she was already gone. We asked her sister to let her know we’d called, but Valentina never contacted us.’
‘We tried a few times to find her, but we never could,’ Rindolf said.
Rolo stubbed his toe into the ground. ‘I figured she’d forgotten about me by then.’
Aurelie threw up her hands. ‘How could she? You’re Rolo – she’d never have forgotten you.’
‘She probably lives far away in a palace or a fancy London mansion.’
‘We could try to find her together?’
Rolo looked at his watch. ‘Oh, look at that. We need to get you some dinner before it’s time for the evening trains.’
‘But –’ Aurelie objected.
‘No “buts”.’ Rolo took her hand and led her to the exit. ‘Those passengers aren’t going to scare themselves, you know?’
Frank slumped on the props trunk and watched them leave. ‘Oh yeah, don’t worry about me,’ he called after them. ‘I’m just a ghost. No point saying goodbye.’
Aurelie stopped. ‘Bye, Frank.’
Frank wore a chuffed grin. ‘It was nice to finally meet you. I’ll come and see you when you need a break from those two.’
Outside the tent, Rindolf hurried alongside his brother. ‘Aurelie has a point, you know. Maybe it’s time you –’
‘Got ready for work?’ Rolo interrupted. ‘I couldn’t agree more!’
‘No, Rolo.’ Aurelie puffed beside his quickening steps. ‘Time you –’
‘Look.’ Rolo pointed into the distance. ‘Isn’t that your friend?’
Rufus ducked under the helium balloons of a young girl and made his way to a smiling Aurelie.
‘I accept,’ she said.
‘I haven’t said anything.’
‘You’ve come to help save the pier, haven’t you?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Save the pier?’ Rolo shook his hand. ‘I knew you looked like a good man the moment I saw you.’
‘What’s the plan?’ Rindolf asked.
‘We’re going to ask for the town’s help to rejuvenate the pier in return for a special performance.’
‘What kind of performance?’ Rolo asked.
‘It has to be something remarkable,’ Rufus said. ‘Something so spectacular that the audience will think they’ve seen magic.’
‘Magic.’ Aurelie turned to her uncles. ‘That’s exactly what we need. Think you can do it?’
‘Think so?’ Rindolf gave Aurelie a wink. ‘With the help of a few friends, I think we can give them a performance that will make them think they’ve seen ghosts.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A Surprise Visit
It didn’t take long for Mrs Farnhumple to enlist the help of Ernestine Bloomfield. A fellow member of Saint Barnabas, Ernestine was a rich, miserly woman who, it was rumoured, had sewn all the family’s wealth into every cushion, mattress and curtain hem of her mansion overlooking Gribblesea.
‘I almost lost my sister to a no-good time-waster of a man from this place.’ Ernestine adjusted her gloves with a sharp tug and looked up as they approached the pier. ‘He had her swooning over his fancy words and wily ways, and even led her to believe he intended to marry her.’
‘What happened?’ Mrs Farnhumple asked.
‘He broke her heart, as I warned her he would. Said he would be at our house on a certain evening to ask for her hand, and he never showed up. I promised, from that moment on, I would never let anyone hurt her again. We are sisters, after all, and need to look after each other until the end.’
‘Well said,’ Mrs Farnhumple agreed. ‘For if you do not have family, who indeed do you have?’
Their conversation halted as they arrived at the gates.
‘It’s even more run down than I thought,’ Ernestine said.
‘I suspect inside will be more of the same.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to visit while Aurelie is here?’ Julius panted, having caught up with the two women and their fast-paced steps. He clutched a leather case in one hand and a folder of papers in the other. ‘To get a proper idea of how she lives? From the girl, I mean.’
Mrs Farnhumple narrowed an eye at the young man. ‘No need for the little dear to be home for our visit. It would only add to her already unfortunate circumstances.’
‘Oh, I see, but wouldn’t it –’ Julius’s folder slipped from his hand, sending papers scuttling onto the ground.
Mrs Farnhumple’s eyebrows darted up her forehead. She spun on her heels and led the way through the pier, not pausing for an instant until she stood before the office of Argus Bonhoffen.
Her knock was met with Argus’s unshaven face and wild morning hair.
‘Mr Bonhoffen? I’m Mrs Farnhumple, Principal of Gribblesea College, and this is Ernestine Bloomfield and our assistant, Julius.’
‘Well hello, ladies, always a pleasant surprise to be met with beauty in the morning. And you too, Julius. This is my wife, Amarella.’
‘Would you like to come in for tea?’ Wisps of hair flicked around Amarella’s face.
‘I’m afraid we don’t have time for tea, Mrs Bonhoffen. We’re here as members of the board of Saint Barnabas.’ Mrs Farnhumple said this as if to explain everything.
Argus and Amarella stared back.
‘We see to the welfare of young people,’ Ernestine explained.
‘Oh, good,’ Argus said. ‘The welfare of young people is definitely worth seeing to.’
‘As you know,’ Mrs Farnhumple continued, ‘we have been having a few problems with Aurelie’s behaviour at school and –’
‘Aurelie’s in trouble at school?’ Amarella asked.
‘I’d assumed your daughter told you. Her uncles came to speak to me only days ago.’
‘They did?’ Amarella looked to Argus, who shrugged.
‘Yes, and I must say your not knowing only adds to my concern.’
‘What kind of trouble has she been in?’ Argus asked.
‘Well, recently she threw a paint-bomb at a teacher.’
Amarella looked at her husband then back to the two women. ‘Are you sure you’re talking about our Aurelie?’
‘Oh yes, Mrs Bonhoffen. I am.’
‘What can we do?’ Amarella asked uneasily.
‘We’re here today to ask ourselves that exact question. We believe that by seeing Aurelie’s home, we may come closer to the answer.’
‘If you think it will help,’ Argus offered. ‘Where would you like to start?’
‘Perhaps a general look at where Aurelie spends her time.’ Mrs Farnhumple took a notebook from a handbag.
Argus looked around him. ‘Let’s start with the marquee then. Aurelie is becoming quite the performer and is a fast learner.’
Argus slipped his hand into Amarella’s and led the small group to the marquee. He held open the canvas entrance, and the two women hoisted their dresses up over the dusty ground. Julius tripped on an iron tent peg and careered through the flap, falling face first into an open props box.
‘A little more care, Julius.’ Mrs Farnhumple stepped over him. ‘We don’t want to lose you before this is over.’
Julius struggled upright and brushed himself down. He smiled at the sight of the tiered seats, painted angels and walls of bright blue clouds.
‘Aurelie loves helping out with the shows,’ Amarella explained. �
��Our animal show is a real treat with the kids. No live animals, of course, just performers in costumes. Mostly Aurelie helps out by being the back end of a cow.’
‘Yes.’ Ernestine pursed her lips. ‘We’ve heard.’
‘She also helps out with the ghost train.’ Argus smiled. ‘She’s always been like that. Wanting to help where she can.’
‘And what does she do in the ghost train?’ Ernestine asked.
‘Sometimes she’s the murdered maiden, other times she plays the headless schoolgirl.’ Argus laughed. ‘You should see the reaction she gets. Whole carriages screaming in terror.’
Ernestine’s face drained of any colour.
Mrs Farnhumple took hurried notes. ‘Can we see where the child sleeps?’
‘Sure, this way.’ Argus motioned towards the exit.
‘I know a parent is bound to say this,’ he said, following them outside. ‘But Aurelie hasn’t been an ounce of trouble since she was born.’
‘Mmm.’ Mrs Farnhumple stepped over the congealed puddle of an upturned ice-cream.
They walked on in silence.
‘Here we are.’ Argus held his hand out to the ghost train entrance.
‘“Here we are” where?’ Ernestine’s eyes lowered into an irritated squint as they stood before skeletons holding scythes, wild-haired witches on brooms and carriages fashioned into ghoulish, winged demons.
‘Aurelie’s bedroom. Well, not here exactly.’
Argus climbed the front steps to the entrance of the train, which was guarded by a bent, wart-covered troll with a crooked smile and broken teeth. He patted the troll absentmindedly on the head before leading them to a set of narrow stairs at the side. ‘She sleeps up there.’
‘Up there?’ Mrs Farnhumple looked as if someone had asked her to hold a python.
‘Yep. Please, go on up.’
The two women climbed the stairs and disappeared through Aurelie’s door.
‘What are they looking for?’ Amarella whispered to Argus.
‘I’m not sure.’
It only took minutes for the two women to reappear.
‘The best room in the house,’ Argus said. ‘With a view of the ocean that would fill even the meanest person with wonder.’
The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen Page 9