Ghost Club 2

by Deborah Abela

  ‘What happened?’ Angeline asked.

  Elsie paused and looked down. ‘A young girl lost her life, and it was said that Robert was responsible. Grandma Ada called it “the disgrace”. My immediate family didn’t really speak about it much, but others say she took it very hard. No one in town spoke to anyone in the family afterwards. Grandma could understand why, but what she couldn’t understand was how the brother she knew and had grown up with could have done something as reprehensible as that. He loved kids and looked forward to the day he would have his own.’

  She raised a crooked finger and pointed to a shoebox on the table. ‘I haven’t looked inside that box for years, but when you called I remembered I had it. It’s all he left us. You might find something interesting in there for your studies.’

  Angeline reached for the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a small collection of letters, an old sepia photo of Robert Thompson with a young woman, and an official document, which she opened.

  ‘It’s a letter from the government congratulating him on receiving the Victoria Cross.’

  ‘The Victoria Cross?’ Edgar’s eyes widened. ‘That’s the highest award a soldier can receive for bravery in battle. It was only awarded for acts of extreme self-sacrifice, daring or devotion to duty in the presence of the enemy.’ He looked at Elsie. ‘That means he was no ordinary soldier.’

  ‘The family were all so proud when he received this award, but it was also nothing less than they expected. Grandma Ada thought he may have left the medal in the box, but none of the family has seen it since he disappeared.’

  Dylan shot a look at Angeline.

  ‘The rest of the letters are from Mary and some soldiers and their families. They thought very highly of Robert and thanked him for all manner of courageous deeds.’ Elsie sighed. ‘He was a hero who risked his own life many times, but the newspapers called him a coward.’

  ‘What happened to him in the end?’

  ‘After the young girl died he disappeared, and not long after that Grandma Ada discovered this box on her doorstep. When he was found guilty at the trial, some were so angry that they burnt his house to the ground.’ She looked at the small, battered box. ‘Not much is it? One small shoebox. A measure of a whole man’s life.’

  The old woman lowered her head and picked at the woollen tassels of her shawl.

  ‘Can I ask you one final question?’ Angeline asked.

  ‘Of course, dear.’

  ‘Do you think he did it?’

  ‘My grandmother wanted it to be untrue, but they say war can do terrible damage to a person’s mind, make them someone they’re not. Turn a good man to a lost and haunted one. It’s sad to think this may have happened to Robert, but it’s possible.’

  Angeline returned the letters and replaced the lid on the box. ‘Thank you, Mrs Graham.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. It was nice to remember the good things about Great-Uncle Robert, despite what happened.’

  There was a sad lilt to her smile. She lifted herself from her chair with a slight groan and led them to the front veranda. ‘And remember, if you want to come back for more sweets, I’d be happy to ignore my doctor again.’

  She waved them off before shuffling inside and closing the door quietly behind her.

  Angeline picked up her bike. ‘Does anyone else think Mr Thompson doesn’t sound like a murderer?’

  ‘A Victoria Cross was the military measure of a remarkable man,’ Edgar reminded them. ‘And it was perhaps what Bridie had around her neck.’

  ‘He could have become a murderer because of what he’d seen during the war,’ Dylan added.

  ‘Maybe.’ Angeline’s brow knotted. ‘But it feels like there’s something we’re not being told. Something that’s been hidden all these years, and I think that might be what Bridie is trying to tell us.’

  Dylan sighed. ‘And that means it’s time to go back to the boarding school that may be haunted by schoolgirls and soldiers?’

  ‘Yes.’ Angeline smiled broadly. ‘Even though we have no proof yet that it’s haunted by soldiers as well as Bridie.’

  She and Edgar buckled their helmets and rode off. Dylan watched as they cycled away, wishing he could be as excited as Angeline about sharing the evening with ghosts.

  The shiny black hearse slid quietly through the swaying corridor of weeping willows. The light of a full moon splintered through the branches in startled bursts, like warning flares, cautioning to stay away, that danger was only moments ahead.

  Or perhaps that was just how Dylan always felt in Gloom’s company. Particularly when he was lying in the back of the groundskeeper’s hearse.

  The car emerged from the willows.

  ‘There it is.’ Angeline pointed from the comfort of the front seat that she shared with Edgar.

  Gloom came to a slow stop in front of the abandoned Gravesend Boarding College. He stepped out of the car in his polished black shoes, his cape and scarf wavering behind him as he admired the building. Angeline and Edgar began slipping on their Ghost Club coats and satchels.

  ‘Oh, she’s a beauty,’ Gloom said in hushed tones. ‘A once-proud and mighty jewel worn away by the ravages of time. But what is beauty but simply a –’

  He was interrupted by Dylan banging on the car window.

  ‘Oh, my dear boy.’ Gloom swooped to the back of the hearse and opened the rear door. ‘Sorry about that – I was caught up in a wave of poetry.’

  Dylan eased himself out of the hearse and smoothed out his jeans and shirt, as if trying to wipe away any traces of the gloomy vehicle. He stared at the building and felt smothered by a wave of uneasiness. ‘It looks creepy.’

  ‘Even as a young boy I would hear stories about this place,’ Gloom said wistfully. ‘Rumours of children going missing while simply out for a walk, picking flowers or on a field trip in the woods nearby. One story told of a teacher who saw a boy wander into the forest just near here. She immediately called him back. Annoyed that he didn’t obey, she followed.’ Gloom turned suddenly, only millimetres from Dylan’s nose. ‘Apart from a woman’s shoe and a boy’s jumper torn to shreds, they were never seen again.’

  At that precise moment, a gust of wind swept along the dirt road, stirring a wisp of dust into the air and throwing the nearby bushes into a brief frenzy.

  ‘What was that?’ Dylan sprang back, clutching his satchel to his chest.

  ‘Hard to say.’ Gloom studied the bushes. He lowered his voice. ‘Could be a harmless possum, or a wild boar, or . . .’ He paused, his forehead creased with concern. ‘A disgruntled soldier from the past sending us a warning to stay away?’

  ‘Disgruntled soldier?’ Dylan wheezed.

  Angeline stepped between them. ‘Are we ready?’ She handed Dylan his satchel and coat. ‘We better put our badges on straightaway. We might be lucky and Bridie will visit us sooner than we’d hoped.’

  Dylan’s mind was still filled with images of stampeding boars and vengeful soldiers.

  ‘Dylan?’ Angeline asked. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Sure I am.’ He began threading his hands into his coat sleeves and putting on his boots. ‘I’m about to enter an abandoned building to search for ghosts. Why wouldn’t I be okay?’

  ‘Ghosts who seem to have had a tormented end,’ Gloom reminded him. ‘And a building that endured its own wretched fate, witnessing the demise of an innocent, the extinguishing of a young life, snatched away by the jaws of death when –’

  ‘Shouldn’t we go inside and get started?’ Dylan was keen not to hear any more reminders of wretched endings.

  ‘Oh, Master Dylan, if only everyone I met had your eagerness.’ Gloom flicked his cape behind him, took a large black bag from the hearse and carefully closed the door. He climbed the entrance stairs, limping slightly and favouring his good leg.

 
‘What was that?’ Dylan turned and scanned the trees around them. ‘Did anyone hear it? A rustling noise? Do you think it’s a wild boar?’

  Edgar frowned. ‘I’m fairly sure you won’t find any wild boar in these woods.’

  Dylan shivered and rubbed his arms. ‘Does anyone else feel like they’re being watched?’

  ‘It happens in this business.’ Angeline shrugged. ‘It always feels as if someone is looking over your shoulder or staring at you when there’s not a soul in sight – not one attached to a body, anyway. It’s all part of the job. You get used to it after a while.’

  Gloom unlocked the door and swung it open dramatically. ‘Let the ghosting begin!’ He bowed as the ghost-catchers entered the old boarding house. Dylan threw one final look into the bushes before joining his friends inside.

  Angeline and Edgar took out their Trackers and slowly surveyed the foyer. ‘Best to keep your Tracker handy,’ Edgar advised Dylan. ‘There’s no sign of paranormal activity yet, but it could happen without any warning.’

  Dylan pulled the device from his satchel and pressed his thumb against the screen. It immediately verified his identity and came to life.

  The hall echoed with their footsteps as they made their way via torchlight upstairs into the old dormitory. Gloom flicked the light switch to reveal the unmade beds from the Senior School Sleepover and the general chaos of a quick departure: the odd sock, jumper and dressing-gown strewn across the beds and floor.

  A cold shiver pinched Dylan’s skin. He pulled his coat closer around his shoulders.

  Angeline and Edgar went straight to work setting up special infra-red cameras on tripods, covering every corner of the room and testing the area for any spectral traces.

  ‘No sign of her yet,’ Angeline said. ‘But hopefully, if we’re patient, she’ll make an appearance – and we have to be ready. She’s trying to tell us something, but both times we’ve seen her she hasn’t stayed long enough for us to know what.’

  ‘How long do you think we’ll have to wait?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘That’s difficult to estimate,’ Edgar answered. ‘It may be all night.’

  ‘All night?’ Dylan’s breathing quickened.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Angeline said. ‘We’ve brought you a sleeping bag.’

  Gloom clapped in delight. ‘This reminds me of your first overnight call-out to Castle Koszmar.[1] Oh, we had such fun then, didn’t we?’

  ‘We did?’ Dylan sighed.

  Edgar called up a 3-D map of the building. ‘I’ll investigate if there is any paranormal presence beyond this room.’ His screen lit up with bright green outlines of the boarding school: dining areas, corridors, reading rooms, the attic and cellar. ‘The Spectro-Thermal Scanner is recording no sudden changes in temperature or cold regions.’

  ‘Which means no ghosts.’ Angeline flopped onto a bed.

  Dylan sat gingerly on the bed beside her. He sent a quick look into the darkened corners of the room, which seemed filled with shadowy figures and crouching black beasts ready to pounce.

  ‘We might as well make ourselves comfortable, don’t you think?’ Gloom plonked beside him on the bed, sending Dylan’s puny body bouncing into the air. He landed awkwardly on his feet and stumbled backwards a few steps until an echoing crack snapped in the air. His foot broke through a splintered floorboard and his bottom hit the ground with a dull, painful thud.

  ‘Dylan!’ Angeline sprang to his side. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I . . . I . . .’ Dylan tried to remove his leg but it was jammed between the broken floorboard and the cavity underneath. ‘Ouch!’

  ‘I’d advise not moving while we investigate the best way for you to get out,’ Edgar said.

  Angeline shone her torch while Edgar carefully manoeuvred the jagged board. Dylan winced and carefully lifted his leg free. His shoe was caught beneath the floorboards and his ankle was scratched and bleeding.

  Angeline pulled a hanky from her pocket and gently dabbed it on the wound. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  Dylan was caught by her gentle concern and found that his leg didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had moments before. ‘At least it wasn’t an oubliette or a door that opens onto a moat.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ Gloom was right beside him. ‘I admire that you can always find the brighter side of life.’ He was hovering close, like a wasp about to sting.

  Or at least that’s how it felt to Dylan.

  Angeline reached into the hole for Dylan’s shoe. ‘What’s that?’ She handed it to Dylan. ‘I can see something else in there.’ She stretched out on the floor and flashed her torch inside the hole. Working by feel, she bit her bottom lip and she wriggled her fingers towards the object. ‘Got it!’ She carefully withdrew crumpled and yellowed sheets of paper. She sat up and blew away small clouds of dust to reveal neat handwriting. ‘They’re pages of a diary.’

  ‘Does it say who the author is?’ Edgar moved in close to his sister.

  She read the pages before slowly looking up. ‘It’s signed “Bridie”.’

  [1](See Ghost Club Book 1: The New Kid)

  ‘The diary belongs to Bridie Wallace?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘I can double-check with Endora,’ Edgar said, ‘but I don’t recall there was any other Bridie in the school records.’

  ‘What does it say?’ Gloom asked.

  Angeline studied the fragile pieces of paper. The writing was faint and the creases darkened with dust, but she could just make out the words. ‘Tuesday, December 22, 1925.’

  ‘One day before the murder,’ Dylan remembered.

  Dear Diary,

  Nothing much happened today. We cleaned out our clothes chests and Miss Lloyd-Jones took us for a walk through the forest where I picked daisies. They’re next to me in a small jar. It’s quiet now that all the other girls have gone. Erica promised to write, but I know how busy she gets when she’s with her family. I helped Cook with dinner tonight. She even let me lick the bowl of chocolate pudding, as long as I promised not to tell anyone. I . . . They’re coming. Until tomorrow,

  Bridie

  ‘Who’s coming?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘Someone she felt she had to hide her diary from?’ Edgar suggested.

  ‘Or someone she had to hide from?’ Angeline read further.

  Wednesday, December 23, 1925.

  Dear Diary,

  I don’t know why they do it. I do my best to stay out of their way, to keep to myself and not annoy them, but it doesn’t help. In fact, it makes them seek me out even more. They seem to come out of nowhere. I can be in a room by myself, or sitting in the corner of the library, but they still find me. At least during school term the presence of the other students keeps them away – I assume for fear they’ll be seen. They’re very clever at keeping themselves a secret. During term break it is worse. Much worse.

  Angeline turned to another page.

  The principal says I should simply ignore them, but they keep coming for me. I lie in bed at night and hide under the covers, but just when I think I am safe and begin to fall asleep, they appear. I try not to be afraid, but I just wish I knew what I could do to make them go away. It is not like I –

  There was a sharp scrawl of ink beneath the writing.

  ‘That’s all there is.’

  ‘She must have been interrupted,’ Edgar said.

  ‘By what?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘Could have been anything,’ Angeline answered. ‘A call to dinner, the housemistress needing her or –’

  ‘A rampaging, masked murderer bursting into the room?’ Gloom added with a glint in his dark-green eye.

  Dylan frowned at the macabre suggestion, wondering why no one else looked suitably shocked. ‘A rampaging, masked murderer?’

  ‘Just trying to help.’ Gl
oom shrugged.

  ‘So Bridie was able to see the ghosts of soldiers too?’ Edgar asked.

  ‘We know from the records that Thompson thought he could see them, so it’s possible that she could too.’

  Dylan snuck a quick look over his shoulder and lowered his voice. ‘Do you think they might be the ones I can feel watching us?’

  ‘It’s hard to say, but one thing I do know is that you’ve done it again,’ Angeline said.

  ‘What? Fall down? Unfortunately, this kind of thing seems to happen quite naturally.’

  ‘Not the falling down part, the uncovering of crucial evidence that has given us some clues as to what may be bothering our ghost.’

  ‘If only I could start doing it while standing up.’ Dylan shook his head.

  Angeline’s laugh made Dylan feel like he was floating.

  Until he was brought to the ground by Gloom’s hand landing on his shoulder. ‘What do we do now?’

  Edgar was studying his Tracker. ‘There’s still no indication of her presence, so we’ll need to wait.’

  Dylan tried to ignore the feeling of his breath being squeezed from his chest. ‘Can’t we just leave the cameras here and come back for them in the morning?’

  ‘That’d be no fun,’ Gloom blustered. ‘What if she appears and we’re at home safely tucked in our beds?’

  Dylan mumbled, ‘I’m not getting what the problem is with that.’

  Gloom slapped Dylan on the back. ‘Oh, Master Dylan, you really deserve your own comedy show.’ He slipped his hand beneath his cape and pulled a notebook from his jacket. ‘And because you’re such a big fan, I’ll give you a personal reading of one of my favourite poems.’

  ‘No really, Mr Gloom, you don’t have to –’

  ‘That’d be perfect.’ Angeline took off her boots and pulled her sleeping bag out of its pack. ‘Being read to always helps me relax.’