What a rotten trick! No wonder Ellie screamed.
“Did you plan this, Gwendoline?” said Mrs. Twelvetrees crossly.
“It has nothing to do with me,” said Gwendoline innocently.
“Get this big lump off me,” gasped Olivia, because Martha had squeezed all the breath out of her.
“What big lump would that be?” asked Martha. “I can’t see a big lump.”
“Get off, Martha, thank you,” said Mrs. Twelvetrees. “And as for you, Olivia, from now on you’ll sit next to me.”
Martha got up and Olivia crawled around to sit by Mrs. Twelvetrees. She sat there rubbing her ribs and making a fuss and we didn’t care.
“Are we telling more ghost stories?” asked Ivy.
“No,” said Mrs. Twelvetrees strictly. “What we are going to do now is keep very quiet and listen. Every time we hear a noise, we’re going to figure out what it is. Ready? Then shhh . . .”
We all held our breath and listened.
There was a little creaking from high up above us.
“That’s just the roof,” said Mrs. Twelvetrees. “The wooden timbers are very old, and they make a little noise when they heat up or cool down or the wind blows on them.”
Next we heard a car going past, so that was a bit boring.
Then we heard a strange bubbling noise followed by a few little squeaks.
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Twelvetrees. “What can that be?”
We all laughed because we knew it was Martha’s tummy rumbling.
“Sorry,” said Martha. “I didn’t have much for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, no?” said Olivia, making a face. “I bet you had ten helpings at least.”
“Shhh!” said Mrs. Twelvetrees. “Let’s see what else we can hear.”
“How can we see what we can hear?” asked Ivy.
“Shhhh!” said Mrs. Twelvetrees.
It was quiet for a few minutes.
But then . . . Cullink—Clang!
“Eeeek!” squeaked Miss Pingle. “What was that?”
It was just Motley putting his bucket down somewhere in the hall!
Slop splosh splupp!
Motley was doing some mopping.
Tooty toot toot!
It was Motley whistling a little tune. We all got the giggles.
“See?” said Mrs. Twelvetrees. “All these noises can be explained.”
Suddenly the lights came on in the hall and a bright blast shone in through the auditorium door—DAZZLE, DAZZLE. It ruined the atmosphere.
“AWWW!” we all moaned.
“Miss Pingle, could you go and ask Mr. Motley if he could work with the lights off?” asked Mrs. T.
So Miss Pingle went to speak to Motley, and by the time she got back, the lights were all off again.
After that, it was quiet for a long time. Mrs. Twelvetrees looked at her watch, then finally took a deep breath.
“I think we’ve waited long enough,” she said. “It’s just a nice old building, and there is no . . .”
“ARGHHHHHH!”
A horrible scream came echoing down the hall. We all jumped out of our skin. Mrs. Twelvetrees dashed over to the door and clicked the lights on. Motley staggered into the auditorium, looking as white as a sheet.
“I saw it!” wailed Motley.
“Really?” said Mrs. T. “Where?”
“In the coatroom,” said Motley. “I’d just gone in to fill my bucket up in the sink in there, and it was dark, so I was feeling around for the faucet. And then I got this horrible feeling I was being watched! So I looked around, and there it was, staring at me!”
“What was staring at you?” asked Mrs. T.
“The ghost,” said Motley. “It was glowing in the dark. It was hideous.”
“It must be someone playing a joke,” said Mrs. T.
“That would be Olivia,” said Martha.
“Yeah, she’s hideous,” said Ivy.
But Gwendoline and Olivia were both there. In fact, everybody was there. Nobody else had come in or gone out.
“I tell you, there was somebody else in the coatroom,” said Motley. “Somebody . . . or something!”
“We’ll just see about THAT,” said Mrs. T. She marched over to the sports supplies cabinet and pulled out a chunky old tennis racket, then gave it a few practice swipes—SWISH SWOTT!
“All right, follow me!” she said. We all set off down the hall with Mrs. T. marching along in front, waving the racket around her head. “Come out, come out, whoever you are!” she shouted. Then she stomped into the coatroom.
She prodded at all the coats—PROD PROD PROD!
In the end, it was kind of boring. There weren’t any zombies or skeletons or anything.
Motley was waiting out in the hall with Miss Pingle.
“You’ve been having too many late nights, Mr. Motley,” said Miss Pingle. “You need a break.”
“There WAS something there,” said Motley. “All horrible and wrinkled. And ugly.” Motley was looking a bit wobbly.
Me and Martha took hold of his arms to steady him.
“We’ll help him down to his office,” I said. “Don’t worry, Mr. Motley, we’ll look after you.”
“Good plan,” said Mrs. T., coming out of the coatroom. “And in the meantime, we’ll check the rest of the school. Follow me, gang!”
Off she went, waving her tennis racket, and everybody followed her, shouting, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Poor little ghost! All it wanted to do was drift around making a few ghostie faces. It didn’t need to be whacked into ghost fries by Mrs. Twelvetrees with a tennis racket. I was starting to feel quite sorry for it.
The THING in Motley’s Office
If you go down to the school basement, there’s a door with a sign on it that says WARNING! KEEP OUT! DANGER!
You’re getting all excited now, aren’t you? I remember the first time I saw it. I thought it’d be like a mad science laboratory with big blue electric sparks zapping across the roof and chopped-off heads in jars with their mouths moving and stuff like that. AWESOME!
Don’t get your hopes up. The sign is a big lie. It’s actually the storeroom for all the old school junk, like soccer nets, broken musical instruments, and costumes from school plays. There’s also a table with a kettle and tea stuff on it, and a battered old armchair. The only thing that might be a teeny bit dangerous is the half bottle of milk that has probably been sitting there for 150 years and is turning blue around the edges.
Welcome to Motley’s office! This is where he comes for a nice little nap while we’re all stuck upstairs learning 4 x 7 = 28 and all that stuff.
UNFAIR.
Motley was still shaking a little when me and Martha got him into his chair. His kettle and his cookies were on the table, and next to them was a Fishpopz box.
“I’ll have some of these fishy chews,” said Motley. “That’ll steady my nerves.”
He shoved his hand in the box, but it was empty.
“Oh, dear,” he said. “I must have finished them. Pity. They were nice.”
“Never mind Fishpopz,” I said. “What you need is a cup of tea.”
“And some cookies,” said Martha. Then she ate one just to test it.
I put a tea bag in Motley’s mug, but the kettle wasn’t plugged in. There was a row of sockets, but they were all being used. One wire was running off to a lumpy black thing sitting in Motley’s red bucket.
“What’s this?” asked Martha.
“It’s a heater for Tony,” said Motley.
“But he’s not in here,” said Martha, looking in the bucket.
“I know,” said Motley. “I had to put him somewhere else. I needed my bucket for mopping.”
Motley reached over to the sockets to unplug Tony’s heater and suddenly everything went black . . . and that’s when we saw it.
EEEEK!
Actually, we didn’t shout—we were so freaked, we couldn’t breathe or even make a noise. The ghost was there,
right in front of us, glowing in the dark!
“Sorry,” said the ghost. “I must have unplugged the light. Hang on, I’ll get it back.”
The light came back on. There was Motley, looking perfectly normal again.
“Motley, is that really you?” I asked.
“Of course it’s me,” said Motley.
I turned to Martha. “It looks like Motley, and it sounds like Motley.”
Martha gave Motley a prod in the ribs.
“It feels like Motley,” said Martha.
“What was that for?” asked Motley, rubbing where Martha prodded, because Martha prods quite hard.
“Answer me one question,” I said. “Which is your favorite bucket?”
“My red one, of course!” said Motley, and a big warm smile flashed across his face. “We’re old friends, me and that bucket. We can even do a magic trick together.”
Martha and me looked at each other. “It IS Motley!” we said. Of course it was. There was only one person in the universe who loved buckets as much as Motley. (If you want to know about Motley’s bucket trick, it’s on page 145.)
“Did you know your head glows in the dark?” I asked.
“It does WHAT?” said Motley.
So we showed him.
In a corner of the basement was the props box where they keep all the stuff from the school plays. Last year Miss Bunn’s class did Sleeping Beauty, so I went and dug out the magic mirror.
I held it up in front of Motley, and then Martha turned the light off.
“Oh, dear!” said Motley, looking at the greeny-white head glowing in the mirror. “Is that really me?”
“That’s you,” I said. “By day you are kindly Mr. Motley, the school custodian. But when night falls, you are . . . the Odd Street School Ghost!”
“But what was that horrible thing I saw upstairs?” said Motley.
“It was your reflection in the coatroom mirror!” I said.
Motley stared at his green head a bit more, then made a few faces and winked at himself.
“Actually, I was wrong,” he said. “This ghost isn’t horrible at all. In fact, I’d say it’s rather handsome.”
Ha ha ha!
“So why are you glowing?” asked Martha.
“Just a natural talent, I suppose,” said Motley.
But then we noticed some glowing dots on the floor. I picked one up, and Martha turned the light on to see what it was.
“It’s one of those Fishpopz,” I said. “There must be something in them that makes you glow in the dark.”
“Ha ha!” Martha laughed. “No wonder Mrs. Twelvetrees didn’t find anybody else in the coatroom.”
“I feel like a bit of a fool,” admitted Motley. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “But what about the ghost we all saw last night?”
“You said it wasn’t you,” said Martha.
Motley got very quiet and made a little guilty face.
“It was you, wasn’t it, Motley?” I said. “You were going up to the clock tower to make the bell stop ringing.”
“Isn’t there a switch to turn it off in the office?” asked Martha.
Motley shook his head. “It’s clockwork,” he said. “There is a switch, but that’s just to wind it up. The only way to keep it from ringing is to get up there.”
“But Miss Barking has locked up the ladder!” I said. “So Motley had to climb the bookcase. And he dropped a bit of Fishpopz on the top.”
At last, it all made sense. Motley had gone up to stop the bell, and we had seen him climbing down. Then he must have lost his grip and slipped and shouted out, just like Ivy did!
“But why was he in the dark?” said Martha.
“If he turned the lights on and somebody saw him through the window, he’d have been in trouble!” I said. Then I gave Motley my HARD STARE. “Well? That’s right, isn’t it, Motley?”
Motley nodded. “Mr. Tutt said I’d lose my job if I didn’t stop the bell,” said Motley. “And Miss Barking said I’d lose my job if I climbed on the furniture.”
“We don’t want you to lose your job, Motley!” we both said.
“So you promise you won’t tell?” said Motley.
“Of course!” We nodded, and to seal the deal, he gave us both another cookie.
Martha was just about to swallow her cookie in one bite when she paused and put her finger to her lips. She’d heard something outside the door. Very quietly she went over and pulled it open. Gwendoline was there!
“Well, this is very cozy, isn’t it?” said Gwendoline. “Keeping little secrets, are we?”
“Have you been listening?” demanded Martha.
“I just want to know why Motley is going to lose his job,” said Gwendoline. “Is it for pretending to be a ghost? Well, he doesn’t scare me!”
“He wasn’t pretending anything,” I said.
“Oh, so you’re telling me there’s a REAL ghost, are you?” sneered Gwendoline.
“Yes, I am!” I said. “But it isn’t Motley. It’s NOSY ROSIE!”
Gwendoline’s big mouth dropped open in shock. “Nosy Rosie?” She gasped.
“That’s right. Ellie was telling the truth, so you better watch out, Gwendoline!”
“You’re pathetic, Agatha,” said Gwendoline. “Really, I mean it. SO pathetic.”
Then she went away—THANK GOODNESS.
“What did you say that for?” asked Martha.
“I couldn’t stop myself,” I said. “Gwendoline really bugs me, and then I remembered I’d seen a mask in the props box.”
“And . . . ?” said Martha.
“I got this silly idea,” I said. “We chop off the nose and turn it upside down. Then we cover the mask in Fishpopz to make it glow. Then one of us puts it on with a hat and waits in the dark for Gwendoline.”
“That is AWESOME!” said Martha. “Oh, please, let me do it! Please?”
To be honest, I thought it was so silly, I wished I hadn’t mentioned it, but Martha was already looking through the props box and Motley was collecting the loose Fishpopz off the floor.
One minute later, Martha was dressed up and ready, so we switched the light off. It was really freaky! All you could see was the green face and the hat. It didn’t look like Martha at all.
Next to me, Motley was still glowing too, or at least I hoped it was Motley! People look very different when their heads light up. And that’s true.
“Okay, Martha,” I said. “Sneeze and throw your hat off.”
“Aah-tishoo!” went Martha, and then something hit me in the face.
EEEK!
Even though I knew Martha had tossed the hat at me, it was a lot creepier than I’d thought it would be.
Just as we turned the light back on, Mrs. Twelvetrees shouted down the stairs.
“All clear!” she said. “Come on out—it’s quite safe.”
Martha took the mask off and slipped it under her shirt.
“You sneak around to the kitchen,” I said. “I’ll arrange for Gwendoline to come and find you.”
“I’ll go first and make sure the lights are off.” Motley grinned. “Good luck!”
Nosy Rosie Gets a Helping Hand
Everybody was in the office getting ready to go home while Motley went around the rest of the school, turning the lights off.
The only person missing was Martha, so I told Ellie and Ivy and Bianca what she was up to, because I didn’t want them to be freaked out. Of course Gwendoline came over, demanding to know what we were whispering about.
“I warned you,” I said. “Don’t forget what happened to Nosy Rosie.”
“You don’t scare me,” sneered Gwendoline.
“Suit yourself,” I said. “But you wouldn’t catch me walking past the kitchen at this time of night. Not in the dark.”
“Why not?” asked Gwendoline.
“That’s where Nosy Rosie got her nose cut off,” said Ellie.
“Gwendoline’s pretending s
he’s not scared,” said Ivy.
“That’s because I’m NOT!” said Gwendoline.
“We don’t believe you,” said Ivy. “Scared, scared, scared!”
“Just watch me!” said Gwendoline, and she went off down the dark hall.
We all held our breath, waiting for her to scream. It was going to be SO fabulous, especially after what Gwendoline had done to Ellie! Just for once, it would be nice to see the smug smile wiped off her face . . . but then Martha came running up the other way.
“Agatha, we left the hat downstairs!”
Oh, drat! I KNEW it had been a silly idea.
Gwendoline came back down the hall, laughing.
“So what was all that about, Agatha?” she said. “I thought you were going to have someone up there to shout ‘WOOO!’ or something. Like I said, you’re pathetic.”
What a ROTTEN way to end the night. URGHHHH. I was really mad at myself.
“Come along, gang,” said Mrs. T. “Let’s go home and leave Mr. Motley to lock up.”
“Hang on,” said Gwendoline. “I’ve left my coat in the coatroom.”
“But it’s dark,” said Mrs. T.
“Do I look scared?” said Gwendoline.
So Gwendoline dashed back to the coatroom and then . . .
“ARGHHHH!”
Gwendoline came screaming back out of the darkness. “It’s in there! I SAW it!”
She was completely babbling, and her eyes were like tennis balls!
“Do you mean the ghost?” Mrs. Twelvetrees demanded.
“NO!” yelled Gwendoline. “The crawling HAND! It was trying to climb out of a sink . . . and it had horrible little stumpy fingers glowing in the dark! ARGHHHH!”
She pushed past Mrs. Twelvetrees, shot out the door, and disappeared up Odd Street, still screaming her head off.
AWESOME!
And that’s where this chapter ends, so you can shut the book now and save the rest until tomorrow. Tum tee tum.
Nice and relaxed, are you? Excellent.
Agatha Parrot and the Odd Street School Ghost Page 4