Something Strange in the Cellar

by George Chedzoy

  Chapter 11: QUICK THINKING FROM LOU

  The phantom halted, as if surprised to see a similar apparition to himself looking down at him. Lou felt like screaming as she beheld the white lump in the torchlight with three black holes for a face. He had seen her, but she was clad as a ghost too, of course. She had to act natural and hold her nerve. If she screamed she would give herself away.

  ‘Hey, Idwal. Ti sy ’na? Fedri di ’neud ffafr i fi. Oes na un o dy blanhigion di’n barod fan ’na? Mae gen i angen tipyn bach o stwff smocio dros y weekend.’ (hey Idwal, is it you? Can you do me a favour. Are any of your plants ready down there? I need some stuff to smoke over the weekend), shouted Lou in Welsh, hoping her voice didn’t sound too young, or too female for that matter.

  Fortunately the echoing effect of the cellar and the din from the ghost noises helped disguise it. In her panic, Lou had forgotten the Welsh word for weekend but it didn’t matter, many Welsh speakers mixed in touches of English in casual conversation.

  ‘Pwy sy’ na? (who’s there?)’ replied the ghost. ‘Chwaer Rhodri wyt ti?’ (Rhodri’s sister?)

  ‘Ydw,’ (yes) said Lou.

  ‘Ga i weld,’ (let me see).

  To Lou’s great relief, he turned round and went back to the cellar at her request. Lou wasn’t about to be caught out a second time. She pounced on the trapdoor and pulled it to. She cursed under her breath as it creaked. Placing the torch carefully between her knees so its light shone onto the lock, Lou pushed the key into the hole and turned. She gasped with relief as she heard the bolt slide home.

  So it was true! Idwal and his mates weren’t members of the restless undead, seeking revenge on the living but a squalid little band of crooks, junkies and drug dealers. How satisfying to have their ringleader locked up!

  Then a nasty thought struck her – could the trapdoor be opened from the other side? Yes, possibly, mortice locks could be opened from either side. How foolish of her not to have considered that. She looked around in desperation. What was heavy that could be dragged over the top? The kitchen table must weigh a ton. She tugged it with all her might until one of its legs sank heavily onto the top of the trap door.

  She flung open the kitchen cupboards. Good, a big old-fashioned earthenware pot. She heaved it down and placed it on the corner of the table above the trapdoor. Potatoes? Mrs Owen would be bound to have some.

  Lou went to the pantry and shone her torch inside. Yes, a big sackful, that should do it! It was so heavy, she couldn’t lift it onto the table so she placed it alongside the table leg. Idwal could turn his key in the lock but would have to be immensely strong to get the trapdoor to budge.

  Oh but he was trying! She heard angry, muffled shouts from below ground and repeated banging. Lou fled to the back door, fumbling clumsily in her pockets for the key. Maddeningly, she tried to open it with the similar-looking trapdoor key before getting hold of the right one. In fact, it was already unlocked – of course, Idwal must have opened the door with his own key. Lou stepped gingerly out and slunk around the side of the house.

  She peeked into the back garden. There, before her eyes, was the same terrifying sight she had witnessed the night before – a dozen or so ghosts dancing and flapping about in the garden and circling the house, making horrible whooping noises. One of them, she noticed, appeared significantly smaller than the others. That must be Jack – he had joined them! She slipped into the group too, hoping Idwal’s gang would either not notice there were two extras among their number or just assume they were guests of Idwal.

  As for Idwal himself, he was not around to ask or point suspicious fingers. The ghost-in-chief was trapped in the cellar unable to escape. Lou’s heart was beating fast. Her plan had worked, but only just. What had seemed straightforward enough when discussing it with the others had thrown up unexpected and dangerous problems.

  There was still the small matter of escaping from the rest of them. She would have to keep her wits about her and look out not only for herself but for Jack. He was probably so scared underneath his ghost outfit that she would have to do the thinking for both of them.

  She caught a twitch of a curtain in an upstairs window and glanced upwards. For a fleeting second, she saw the terrified face of a wizened old woman – Mrs Owen. How she wished she could call up to her but that would give the game away.

  Suddenly, the wailing from down below stopped. It didn’t fade away as it had the previous night but came to a halt suddenly. Presumably Idwal realised that he couldn’t be heard above the din and getting his friends’ help to escape was now his main priority.

  Unfortunately for him, with the heavy back door firmly shut, his accomplices merely assumed that the show was ending early that night. They trooped out of the garden along the narrow, single-track lane. Jack and Lou found themselves in the middle of them.

  Lou gravitated over towards Jack, careful not to be too obvious. He was easy to spot being by far the shortest, other than herself. They now had a problem. They had hoped to slip away unnoticed, although Lou had never worked out how exactly. But the ghostly show had come to an end with a jolt and they were now trooping in procession along a mud track, with a dozen or so other ‘ghosts’, presumably bound for their waiting getaway van, she guessed.

  They had to avoid getting in that vehicle at all costs! Lou stole a glance at Jack but, covered in a white sheet, it was impossible to work out what he was thinking. Lou brushed against his arm to indicate that he should stick by her. He was planning to, of course. Jack was now beyond scared. He felt as if he were in a surreal nightmare from which he would never wake up.

  Lou slowed her pace and dropped back from the middle of the group. Jack did the same. The lane was narrow but straight at this point. They needed to fall behind to the rear, then hope for a sharp bend around which the others could disappear. That was the only way to decouple themselves without attracting attention.

  The lane continued stubbornly straight. At any moment they might reach their van and Lou and Jack would find themselves forced to board it. Ahead lay the bend which Lou had longed for. She took a risk and nudged Jack’s arm, then stopped as if attending to something in her shoe. Mercifully, the other ghosts, save for Jack, carried on and trudged round the corner.

  ‘Come on, let’s head back, as fast as we can,’ whispered Lou to Jack as soon as the others were out of sight. ‘Keep a look out for Idwal, in case he has escaped.’