“You quit? Why?”
“Aye. Being a polis is nothing like I thought it would be. I heard there’s a janitor’s job going at your school. That seems to be where all the action is. I might put in for that.” He marched off.
“So,” said Sian, “you’re living with a ghost, one that only you can see. What’s that like, I wonder?” She drummed her fingers on her chin, then snapped them together. “That’s it! I’m going to do a feature on you, Jay Patel. It’ll be my next big story. I’m going to make you FAMOUS.” She circled me, making a square with her fingers, sizing me up for the headline shot. “How do you feel about THAT?”
“How do I feel? Hmm…” I shared a quick glance with Grandad, then I pretended to notice something in the distance. “Ooh, what’s that over there, behind the plane? That could be important…”
“What?” She turned away.
I picked up the mask and legged it. Now it was my turn to merge into the background, this time for good. Once a case is solved, no good detective worth his salt sticks around.
Chapter 41
The White Envelope
Back home, Mum and Granny hadn’t even noticed I was out. I planted the mask down in the hall, and listened at Mum’s door. Whale noises were playing, which meant she was asleep. How whale noises were meant to help anyone get to sleep was beyond me. It sounded like polar bears constantly throwing up.
Granny was snoring in front of the telly while a zombie movie was playing. They were her favourite for some reason. If only she knew the dead really could return from the grave, I thought. She was still wearing her DIY goggles. I carefully picked them off and placed them on a side table.
Grandad slung his coat on a hook, along with his hat. He peeled off his sunglasses, folded them up and stuck them in his pocket.
I flopped onto the bed, too exhausted to even undress or clear off the mess. “Night, Grandad.”
“Night, Jayesh.” He plonked his ghostly buttocks down on my bedroom chair, among a pile of papers. “You deserve a good night’s sleep.”
He might have been annoying sometimes, but I had to admit, there was something quite nice and comforting knowing he’d be there all night, watching over me.
Maybe that’s why I slept like a log. When I woke, he was still there, resting his elbows on his knees. “What would you like?” he asked. “The good news or the bad news?”
I yawned and sat up. “Is there any middle-ish news you can give me instead?”
“OK,” he sighed. “The bad news is, the African lads, they do not wish to return home any more.”
“Eh?”
“Look, see.” He blinked then flung open the bedroom door. Granny had her workbench set up in the hall, and was planing the edges off some wood. The Mumbari were leaning over, checking out her work, admiring the smoothness of her finish, and nodding and grunting in approval, even the ones with no heads. “They are quite taken with her. They say she is a goddess. I can hardly disagree with them. I mean, look at her: my girl.” Granny had just bent over, her bandy legs splayed out, to pick up a T-square.
I swiped my hand. “They’re going home, and that’s that!”
“WHIT?” cried Granny.
“Nothing, Granny,” I said.
“I’ll make your porridge, laddie.” She whisked off her goggles and gloves and scurried into the kitchen. The Mumbari trailed after her, excited. They’d never seen porridge before. I hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed.
“So, what’s the good news?” I asked.
“Well, I think I have figured out why I am here,” said Grandad.
“You have?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely. I am here to help you find your father again.”
I nodded. “Good, because I really need your help, Grandad.”
He gave me a ghostly grin, then rolled up his sleeves and stepped into the middle of my bedroom, gazing purposefully at the maps and newspaper cuttings, and all the evidence I’d gathered over the last nine months. “Come on, then,” he said. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”
As I walked into the hall, a white envelope dropped through the letterbox. I stared at it for a moment, then stared at Grandad. It was a funny coincidence, coming right at that moment. I wasn’t altogether sure I believed in coincidence any more, not after all the things that had happened to me lately.
I picked it up. The envelope was addressed to me and Mum, the two of us.
Mrs K Patel & Master J Patel
We walked back into my bedroom, where I sat down on the bed, thumbed the envelope open, and slid out a folded piece of paper.
“Well?” Grandad asked. “What is it?”
“An invitation.”
Mrs K Patel & Master J Patel,
Congratulations!!!
You have won a fabulous weekend break at a luxury country house hotel!
We look forward to welcoming you at the Brightburgh Manor.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Copyright
Kelpies is an imprint of Floris Books
First published in 2017 by Floris Books
Text © 2017 David MacPhail. Illustrations © 2017 Floris Books
This eBook edition published in 2017
David MacPhail and Laura Aviñó have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988 to be identified as the Author and Illustrator of this Work
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the prior permission of Floris Books, Edinburgh www.florisbooks.co.uk
This publisher acknowledges subsidy from Creative Scotland towards the publication of this volume
British Library CIP data available
ISBN 978-178250-450-4
Top-Secret Grandad and Me Page 13