by Jo Simmons
‘I’m only nine,’ Jonny spluttered.
‘Expect you’ve never seen a ghost before?’
Jonny shook his head.
‘Never seen a king before, either,’ said the man.
Jonny shook his head again.
‘Queen?’
‘No,’ squeaked Jonny.
‘Duke? Bishop?’
‘Sorry, no,’ said Jonny.
‘Well, it’s your lucky day! Henry the Eighth, Tudor king, English legend, at your service.’
Henry held out his hand for Jonny to shake, but when Jonny took it the hand melted into air.
‘I’m Jonny,’ said Jonny in a tiny, breathless voice. ‘And you’re Henry the Eighth’s ghost?’
‘The very same,’ said Henry. ‘Wondering how I got here?’
Jonny nodded rapidly. Henry sat down on the bed – well, hover-sat – and made himself comfy.
‘I’ve got a man,’ said Henry.
‘A man?’ whispered Jonny.
‘Yes, he’s a secretary.’
‘A secretary man?’
‘Yes, he’s on the Other Side now, but I employed him when he was alive too. Thomas Cromwell. He was my master secretary. Very good at getting things done. You want a new wife but you’re still married … that kind of thing. He just –’ Henry did an impatient little sweeping motion with his hand – ‘sorts it out!’
‘Oh,’ was all Jonny could manage.
‘Now, I had been in a bad temper about being dead for, ooh, a few hundred years at least. Not much fun, you see? I had tried to return to dear old England before, but it always ended pretty poorly. Everyone was terrified. So I says to Crommers, “I want to try the living world again – can you get me in?” And Crommers says, “There’s a lad looking for a new brother. Open-minded little fellow. Not a bit bothered by ghosts, it says here on the application. Could Your Majesty do that?” “Of course,” says I. I used to have a brother, although he died years ago. They all die, you know. Tragic really …’
Henry stroked his red beard thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Anyway, that is how I come to be here before you. I am to be a brother. Your brother!’
Jonny was dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe Henry was there, and he certainly didn’t remember saying he was happy to have a ghost when he sent his form to Sibling Swap. What was going on?
‘Do they have the internet in the afterlife?’ he whispered, but Henry didn’t seem to hear him.
‘Methinks I shall make an excellent brother for you, young Nonny,’ he said. ‘I remember being a boy. Well, sort of. It was over five hundred years ago, after all! But I definitely have the impression that it was all jolly japes and wrestling and pie eating and the like. So huzzah for that! We shall have such sport.’
‘Great!’ said Jonny weakly.
‘You don’t sound very pleased,’ said Henry, narrowing his eyes to menacing slits. ‘Are you complaining? I hate complainers!’
‘No! No! Sorry, Mr Sir Majesty Sir,’ said Jonny.
‘Good,’ said Henry, cheerful again. ‘You have nothing to fear. You’re probably thinking Henry the Eighth, he’s a king and immensely powerful and terrifying, et cetera. It’s true, I used to be quite a tough customer, always chopping off people’s heads and fighting the pope.’
He chuckled to himself. ‘But, actually, I’ve mellowed quite a bit in my old age. I’m more concerned with having fun than warring with the French or finding a new wife. That all rather took it out of me. I used to comfort eat, you know. Terrible really. Not good for one’s waistline! Those wives would have me reaching for the mutton, I can tell you. I had six wives. Six! Not a lot of people know that.’
Jonny stared up at him, speechless, as Henry rambled on. He couldn’t believe the ghost of Henry VIII was in his room. Or that this deceased king was supposed to fill the brother gap that Hari had created. What was Sibling Swap playing at? Jonny wasn’t sure he wanted Henry VIII’s ghost for a new brother, but what could he say? The guy was royalty!
‘Now then!’ said Henry. ‘Stop looking so lily-livered and show me your manor house. Come along now. Chop-chop! That’s just my little jest! Geddit? Chop-chop! Chopping off heads? Oh, never mind.’
Jonny paused on the landing. ‘My mum will be up soon,’ he said, ‘and …’
‘Never fear!’ said Henry. ‘Only you can see me. She won’t be able to. I’ll make sure of it. I can control who sees me and who doesn’t. Just a little ghostly talent of mine. Told you I was a legend! Now, lead me to the cook’s quarters. I’m famished.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE PHANTOM MENACE
Henry VIII yanked open the fridge door.
‘Ah, yes, the victuals store!’
He rummaged inside.
‘I’ll just help myself to a morsel,’ he said. ‘Just something small. I can’t manage to hold heavy things now I’m all ghostly. But a little something … Ah! What do we have here? Some form of posset?’
Henry grabbed a yoghurt and tipped it into his ghost mouth, gulped it down his ghost throat and SLAP! It fell straight through his ghost body and on to the floor.
‘I’ve always enjoyed feasting,’ he said. ‘Appetite of a bear! But these days I can’t seem to get enough sustenance!’
I can see why, thought Jonny, staring at the yoghurt splat on the floor. Widget spied it too, and began licking it up.
‘Be gone, cur,’ said Henry, kicking out at him.
‘That’s my dog!’ shouted Jonny.
‘Call that a hound?’ snorted Henry.
‘He’s a Cockapoo.’
‘Language!’ said Henry. ‘I won’t tolerate a potty-mouthed child.’
‘Sorry, it’s the type of dog, Your Royal Mightiness,’ said Jonny.
‘Hmm,’ said Henry, his top lip still curling with disdain. ‘What does he do? Is he a good ratter? Is he fast? Can he take a deer?’
‘He’s good at catching a tennis ball,’ offered Jonny.
‘Tennis!’ said Henry. ‘I used to enjoy a game of that. Loved all sports, in fact. Marvellous for showing your true worth and valour. Actions speak louder than words, young Jimmy.’
‘Jonny,’ said Jonny.
‘Now, show me to the great hall,’ said Henry.
In the living room Henry stood and stared. His huge bulk almost filled the space.
‘Not very grand,’ he sniffed. ‘You need some tapestries on the wall. Brighten the place up a bit.’
‘Mum decorated in here last year,’ said Jonny. ‘The colour is a sort of white with a hint of –’
‘And it’s so small!’ boomed Henry, striding around the room. ‘How do you receive the court, foreign ambassadors, ladies-in-waiting?’
‘We sometimes bring in a chair from the kitchen,’ said Jonny, ‘if we have family over …’
‘What’s this?’ asked Henry, indicating the TV.
Jonny switched it on. There was a cartoon on. Henry’s eyes grew wide. He looked behind the TV and even passed his hand through it (Jonny still couldn’t get over how totally mad this was).
‘Why, this is pure alchemy,’ Henry muttered. ‘Spirits conjured from thin air …’
He hover-sat on the floor, transfixed.
Jonny nipped back to the kitchen and quickly wiped the rest of the yoghurt up. His mum appeared silently.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Er, cleaning?’ said Jonny.
‘Ooh, lovely,’ said his mum. ‘Bless you! Such a good boy.’
Then she froze.
‘What was that?’ she asked.
She looked towards the living room. She’d heard a noise. Henry! He was guffawing as he watched the cartoon.
‘I think the TV is on, that’s all,’ said Jonny, racing to the living room, where he frantically waved at Henry to be quiet.
‘What is it, lad?’ asked Henry.
‘My mum is in the kitchen …’ Jonny did the finger-across-the-throat gesture to urge Henry to shut up.
Henry’s eyes squeezed into tiny das
hes.
‘Listen, my young sire,’ he growled. ‘If anyone is ordering any head chopping-off around here, it is me! Understand?’
‘Of course, Your Utter Splendidness, I totally understand, but if you could just be a tiny weensy bit more quiet …’
Unfortunately, Henry didn’t keep quiet. Even with the noisy kettle boiling, Jonny could still hear him in the living room. Every time he hooted with laughter, Jonny had to laugh too, to cover it.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Jonny’s mum.
‘Just something I thought of,’ said Jonny. ‘To do with polar bears and scones and, er, you know? Hah, imagine that!’
Henry yelled again. ‘God’s bodkins! I’ve never seen the like of it!’
‘Atishooo!’ went Jonny, just a fraction too late.
‘There! Again! I can hear something,’ said his mum.
‘I sneezed,’ said Jonny.
‘No, that shout,’ she said.
‘Next door?’ suggested Jonny.
‘Wait, what’s that sound?’ she said, staring at the kitchen door.
There was sort of whooshing noise. Coming up the hall. From the living room. They could both hear it.
Jonny gulped hard as Henry appeared in the kitchen. He winked at Jonny, then pointed with his ringed finger at the fridge before hovering towards it.
‘Er, let’s go and check in the living room,’ said Jonny, grabbing his mum’s hand and dragging her up the corridor. ‘Oh look, the TV is still on. That must be what we heard.’
Jonny snapped the TV off. His mum looked confused and slightly suspicious. Then Henry reappeared with another yoghurt. Jonny wasn’t sure how this ‘only you can see me’ thing worked with Henry. What if Henry was invisible to his mum but the yoghurt wasn’t? His mum was definitely not going to miss a mysterious floating yoghurt, and might have something to say about it too … Uh oh …
‘I must go and get dressed,’ said Jonny, racing past his mum and through Henry, who sort of ghosted around him like mist and then re-formed. Jonny grabbed the yoghurt as he went and held it up.
‘Mmm, yoghurt!’ he said. ‘I’ll eat it in my room!’
Then he jerked his head in a ‘let’s go’ gesture to Henry and the regal phantom followed, drifting out through the living room wall and up through the ceiling. By the time Jonny made it to his bedroom, Henry was already there.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A DAY OF FUN – TUDOR-STYLE
Henry hover-sat on the swivel chair by Jonny’s desk and spun round and round. He ate the yoghurt, which splatted through him and out on to the seat. Then he burped loudly and lobbed the pot over his shoulder. It hit the window and clattered to the floor.
‘So we’re going to be brothers,’ said Jonny, sounding decidedly unsure. It had been a nutty few days, and now brother swapping seemed to have got even weirder.
‘Why not?’ said Henry, smiling. ‘Are you ready for some brotherly fun? Two chaps up for a lark! What say you? The weather is fair. Shall we ride out?’
‘On our bikes?’ asked Jonny.
‘Bikes? What? On our horses!’ said Henry. ‘Where are the stables?’
‘We don’t have stables or horses, sorry, Your Amazingness,’ said Jonny. Henry glowered. Jonny shrunk back a little.
‘No matter,’ said Henry. ‘We shall devise some other sport. How about archery?’
Henry disappeared through the bedroom wall and ghosted off towards the park. Jonny skipped downstairs, pulled on his shoes and quickly ran after him. Henry was the king, after all. You just kind of had to.
Using branches from a tree, the two fashioned a bow and then Henry whittled an arrow with a small knife he kept tucked inside his robes.
After seeing the king turn from jolly to angry and back again faster than Widget could eat ham, Jonny was surprised at how calm and patient Henry was. Jonny began to relax and enjoy himself. Soon he was shooting cans off a bench.
‘Egad!’ Henry roared as Jonny struck another one. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Jonny felt proud of Henry’s praise – Ted always said he was rubbish at everything – and he felt cared for too. It had proved hard work being the older brother, looking out for Mervyn and trying to guess what Hari needed. But Henry was large and in charge, as only the ghost of a dead king from the sixteenth century can be.
In the afternoon Jonny took Henry to the Common, his favourite place. Henry knew lots about nature and hunting. He showed Jonny how to creep up on a duck, and explained how Widget might be trained to flush out deer. Ted just liked building dens here, which was good too, but an afternoon with Henry was much more adventurous. Before they left for home, Jonny showed the dead king the dreaded Hanging Pants of Doom.
‘There is nought to fear in those breeches,’ snorted Henry when he saw them. ‘Shoot them down with an arrow. Go on, lad!’
At first Jonny felt uneasy even looking at the pants, but soon he was pinging arrows at them. He didn’t manage to shoot them out of the tree but it felt good to be facing up to them for once.
‘Thanks for a lovely time, Your Spectacularness,’ said Jonny as they sat in the kitchen in the late afternoon.
‘It was enjoyable, wasn’t it?’ said Henry, his ghostly hand flying through Jonny’s shoulder as he attempted to slap him heartily. ‘Perhaps tomorrow we could joust, eh, Jeffrey?’
Jonny heard a key in the front door. ‘That’s my mum,’ he said. ‘Please, Your Royal Epicness, if you could just stay quietly upstairs for a while, I would be humbly grateful and everything, thank you so much, Your Lordship Sir.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Henry. ‘You know me … quiet as a mouse!’
He roared with laughter then clapped his hand over his mouth.
‘Sorry!’ he whispered and winked at Jonny.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KING OF CHAOS
Jonny’s mum appeared in the kitchen carrying some shopping bags.
‘Did I hear a laugh again, or am I going mad?’ she said, glancing around the room.
‘Mad, I expect,’ said Jonny.
Then Widget trotted into the room. He had an apple strapped to his head. Jonny’s eyes grew wide at the sight. Henry hadn’t stayed upstairs at all! In fact, there he was, ghosting along behind the dog, taking aim with the bow and arrow they’d made. Jonny shook his head, grimacing, trying to make Henry stop.
WHHEEEE!
The arrow flew across the room and straight out through an open window.
‘Gah!’ roared Henry.
‘Who said that?’ shrieked Jonny’s mum. She grabbed a baguette from a shopping bag and brandished it like a sword.
‘What’s going on? Where are you?’ she gasped, swinging the baguette. ‘Get the phone, Jonny. I’m calling the police!’
‘The police!’ shrieked Jonny. ‘I don’t think we need to bother them, do we? They’re probably busy.’
‘There is somebody or something in here!’ hissed Jonny’s mum. ‘Forget it! I’ll use my mobile. You keep watch!’
She handed the baguette to Jonny while she rummaged in her bag for her phone. She had gripped the bread so hard there were nail marks in the crust.
While she spoke to the police, Jonny looked for Henry. Where had he gone?
‘Hey nonny, nonny!’ came a cry.
Jonny’s mum dropped the phone and stared wildly around the room. Jonny could see Henry, of course. He was sitting on the kitchen table. And then Henry began to speak.
‘Good day to you, madam,’ he said. ‘I can see you’re rather alarmed, but no need to be upset. Awestruck, maybe, but not upset. Allow me to introduce myself.’
Then Jonny watched, horrified, as Henry did a sort of shiver, like a wet pigeon shaking off the rain, and turned from a faded ghost to a glowing, lifelike and extremely splendid figure – one that Jonny’s mum was now staring at. His rich velvet robes glimmered, his jewels sparkled, his red hair gleamed. He was grinning too, and his teeth, Jonny noticed, were surprisingly white for someone over five hundred years old.
&
nbsp; Jonny’s mum gawped like she’d seen a ghost – which, to be fair, she had. Then she spluttered something that sounded like ‘Agaaarrgg’ and fainted.
‘See? What did I tell you!’ said Henry, looking disappointed. ‘People tumble like plague victims at the sight of me.’
‘Why did you have to do that?’ Jonny screeched. ‘Why did you have to make yourself visible to Mum?’
Henry had no time to answer. There was a hammering at the door.
‘OPEN UP, IT’S THE POLICE!’
‘The pope’s niece?’ said Henry.
BANG, BANG, BANG!
Jonny froze.
‘We have received a 999 call from this address. Open up,’ a policeman yelled through the letterbox.
Jonny tried to push Henry towards the back door, but his hands simply drifted through the king’s ghostly form.
‘Please leave!’ said Jonny. ‘You’re amazing and it’s been so cool meeting you and I’ll really miss you, but you just made my mum faint and …’
BANG, BANG, BANG!
‘Now the police are here – the law! They’re in charge, kind of. They sort out crime and bad stuff and take you away in handcuffs if you’re naughty. If they see you, which they could now that you’re all glowing and shiny, I’ll be in all kinds of trouble,’ said Jonny, very fast and very urgently. ‘They’ll be shocked and scared and then it will be in the news and my mum will probably go mad at me and I’ll get told off by the head teacher and we’ll have TV crews and photographers and all sorts of people here and –’
‘Peace, boy, I see your difficulties,’ said Henry, smiling. ‘I’ll disappear again. You can trust me. Silent and invisible from three, two, one … Now!’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AN INSPECTOR CALLS
Henry faded back to grey and ghosted off through the wall. Jonny took a deep breath, smoothed his hair and opened the door.
‘We received a distress call from a woman at this property,’ said the policeman.
‘My mum fainted,’ said Jonny.
‘Dear, dear,’ said the policeman. ‘Not really my specialism, fainting.’