“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Didn’t. We knew it was you, didn’t we, Eugene? Eugene?”
Eugene peeped his head out of the tent. “Has it gone?”
Darren was still going on about his clever trick as they got into their sleeping bags. Right that’s it, thought Bertie. Two can play at that game. No one made a fool of Bertie, the terror of Class 3. Who had locked Mr Weakly in the cupboard? Who had turned the hose on Mr Grouch, the demon caretaker? We’ll soon find out which of us is the scaredy-cat, scowled Bertie. By the time he had finished Darren would be begging for his mum.
CHAPTER 3
“Pass the crisps,” said Bertie.
“All gone,” said Darren.
“Throw me a biscuit, then.”
“None left.”
“There’s still some muesli bars,” said Eugene.
Bertie burped. Wrappers, crisp packets and biscuit crumbs littered the tent. He brushed them off his sleeping bag. They’d read their comics, made shadows with their torches and eaten their midnight feast, but still none of them felt the least bit sleepy. The wind moaned outside.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Bertie. “Let’s tell ghost stories.”
“No!” wailed Eugene.
“What’s the matter? Scared you might have nightmares?” taunted Darren. “I love ghost stories, the scarier the better.”
“Who’s going first then?” asked Bertie.
“Eugene,” said Darren.
“Why me?” moaned Eugene. “I don’t know any ghost stories.”
“Just make one up,” said Bertie. “And to make it even spookier we’ll turn off our torches.”
Eugene turned pale. “But it’ll be dark.”
“Great,” said Darren. “I love the dark.”
“Me too,” said Bertie. “Everyone ready?”
CLICK! Off went the torches. The tent was plunged into blackness.
Eugene cleared his throat. “Once upon a time there were three bears…”
Darren groaned. “That’s not a ghost story!”
“It is, it’s about ghosts.”
“You said it was about three bears!”
“It is. They’re ghost bears.”
Eugene started again. “Once upon a time there were three ghost bears who lived in a little ghost cottage in the ghost wood…”
“This is rubbish!” grumbled Darren. “It’s a fairy story!”
“No it isn’t!”
“Yes it is! I bet Goldilocks comes and sits on the ghost chairs and eats the ghost porridge!”
“If you’re so clever you tell a story,” said Eugene sulkily.
Bertie saw his chance. “I’ve got one,” he said. He was going to tell a story so hair-raising that Darren would be begging him to stop.
“It was a dark, dark night,” Bertie began. “The wind was moaning.”
“Wooo wooooo!” moaned Darren.
“Three boys were camping in a spooky haunted wood. Suddenly they heard—”
Bertie broke off.
“W-what? Suddenly they heard what?” asked Eugene.
“Shhh!” said Bertie. “Listen!”
“Don’t!” whimpered Eugene. “You’re scaring me.”
“Oooh, me too!” said Darren, giggling.
Bertie shook his head. “I’m serious. I think I heard something.”
“It’s a ghost! We’re all going to DIEEEEE!” wailed Darren, clutching his throat and falling back on his pillow.
“Shut up!” hissed Bertie. “Listen!”
They all held their breath and listened.
THUMP!
Help! thought Bertie. There really is something out there.
Footsteps came down the path. Closer and closer. Bertie froze. Darren gripped his arm. Suddenly the tent flap was unzipped and they were blinded by light.
“ARGHHHHHHH!” they yelled.
“What’s going on?” Mum shone a torch in their faces. “I came to check if everyone was OK.”
Bertie heaved a sigh of relief. “We’re fine,” he said. “We were just going to sleep.”
“Yes,” said Eugene. “Only first I need the toilet!”
CHAPTER 4
“Eugene?” whispered Bertie. “Eugene, are you awake?”
Eugene snored.
“Darren?”
Darren wheezed. Only Bertie couldn’t sleep. How long had he been lying awake? Hours and hours. It must be the middle of the night. The ground was hard, his feet were like blocks of ice and a howling draught was coming from somewhere. Worst of all, he kept thinking he could hear noises outside. Strange, scuffling, moving-about noises.
“Mum?” called Bertie, anxiously. “Mum, is that you?”
No answer. His parents would be fast asleep by now. They wouldn’t hear him, even if he screamed. Of course he was only imagining things. It was the wind in the trees. Or the tent creaking. It couldn’t be anything else – like a headless ghost for instance. Ghosts were only in ghost stories. If he peeped outside there was no chance at all he’d see a ghost. But just in case, maybe it was safer to stay in the tent. Nothing could get at him in here … unless it came through the walls.
THUD!
Bertie sat bolt upright. He had definitely heard something that time. He switched on his torch. How he wished he was back in his own bed. Whose stupid idea was it to sleep outside in a tent? Didn’t his parents care if he was eaten alive?
SCUFFLE, SCUFFLE, SCUFFLE.
“HELLO?” croaked Bertie.
No answer. If he was going to come face to face with a headless ghost, he didn’t want to do it alone.
“Darren!” he hissed.
Darren went on snoring.
“Darren, wake up!”
“Urhhhh? Whasssgoingon?”
“Listen!” said Bertie. “Something’s out there!”
Darren yawned and rolled over. “Yeah, yeah. Nice try, Bertie.”
“No, I’m not joking this time! There is!”
Darren raised his head an inch.
SCRATCH, SCRATCH, SCRATCH.
He gasped. He reached under his pillow for his space gun. Bertie gripped his pirate dagger and put a finger to his lips. Maybe if they were quiet as mice the ghost would pass on by?
THUMP!
Arghhh! It was right outside the tent. Bertie could hear its heavy breathing. He froze in horror. The door of the tent was gaping open! Eugene must have forgotten to zip it up when he’d come back from the toilet. No wonder the tent was as cold as the grave!
Bertie pointed. “Close … the … zip!”
“You close it!” squeaked Darren.
The thing was scratching at the tent, trying to get in. Bertie pointed the beam of his torch. Help!
A gigantic shadow with savage teeth and a monstrous head loomed on the side of the tent.
The next moment the thing burst in and was on top of him.
“GET IT OFF! IT’S EATING ME!” screamed Bertie.
“HA! HA! HA!” Darren was doubled up with laughter.
Bertie sat up, pushing the monster off him. He stared at his floppy-eared attacker, who was now crunching on a muesli bar.
“WHIFFER! How did he get out?”
Darren grinned. “Someone must have forgotten to close the back door.”
“Eugene!” said Bertie. “I’ll kill him. Wait a moment. Where is he?”
They both shone their torches. From the corner of the tent came the sound of peaceful snoring.
Mum unzipped the flap, flooding the tent with morning light.
“Good morning!” she said, brightly. “How did you all sleep?”
“Great, thanks!” Eugene sat up and stretched.
In his sleeping bag, Bertie groaned. All night long he’d had Whiffer lying on top of him, tossing and turning and whining in his sleep. Eugene and Darren had taken it in turns to snore the loudest. Bertie hadn’t slept a wink.
“Who’s for breakfast?” asked Mum. “Bacon and eggs?”
Bertie turned a sha
de of green. He wriggled out of his sleeping bag and crawled out of the tent.
“Bertie?” said Mum. “Where are you going?”
“Back to bed!” groaned Bertie.
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Characters created by David Roberts
Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2009
Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2009
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.
eISBN: 978–1–84715–401–9
The right of Alan MacDonald and David Rober ts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available
from the British Library.
www.stripespublishing.co.uk
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