by Gene Kemp
‘ “Exorcizer guarantees to rid you of pests, black beetles and all unnatural phenomena for a moderate fee. Apply: Rid-a-Ghoster, Telephone 0000007. All correspondence answered.” ’
‘How silly!’ said Harriet. ‘I bet he can’t do it!’
‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Meadie. ‘We love our ghosties, so they are safe with us, but hatred is very dangerous. It destroys. And I don’t believe that Mr Rid-a-Ghoster is a true exorcist or he wouldn’t do it for money. A real exorcist helps our friends into another world with love and tenderness, if they really want to go. He does it with their consent and co-operation. This man is just out to make money.’
‘Well, he shan’t have my little ghost, or William’s!’ said Harriet firmly.
The bus shook and jolted. William’s skeleton got out of the bag and sat beside him on the seat, since there were very few passengers. The baby slept contentedly in Harriet’s basket. She kept peeping at it to see if it was awake or not.
‘What have you got in there, love?’ asked the woman sitting next to her. ‘Is it a kitten?’
‘No,’ said Harriet, going red.
‘Is it a bunny, then?’
‘No!’ said Harriet, furious with herself for having made loving noises to the baby ghost. ‘It’s nothing at all!’ she added firmly.
The lady was too inquisitive to let that pass. She leaned across Harriet as if to peer inside the basket. The baby woke up and cried.
‘Look! It’s nothing at all!’ Harriet repeated defiantly. She thrust the basket under the lady’s nose and saw the look of surprise that came into her face when she realized that, in fact, it appeared perfectly empty. William, who had been dozing, woke up with a jerk.
‘Why’s it crying?’ he asked loudly.
The skeleton kicked him.
‘Ouch!’ William said, rubbing his shin. ‘You didn’t have to do that! I wish I hadn’t brought you!’
The lady sat back, looking perfectly astonished, and the bus, arriving at a bus stop, ground to a halt. William, still rubbing his shin, was avenged when a new passenger sat down solidly on top of his skeleton, though only Harriet could see its indignant limbs sticking out on either side of the tweed-coated gentleman who had almost obliterated it.
And suddenly she noticed that the newcomer himself was not without his attendant sprites. His pockets were full of small poltergeists, busy unpicking his buttons, unravelling his pipe tobacco and making holes in his handkerchief. The man seemed to be only half aware of them, but Harriet could see that he was a worried person.
Before the bus restarted, a cloppetting of hooves down the road brought Harriet’s head round with a jerk. A man was running at full speed to catch the bus, holding by a rope an enormous grey mare with fiery eyes and the sort of transparency about it that Harriet had long since learned to associate with phantoms. William looked round too, but when the man had leapt on board he took no further notice. He was stroking the skeleton’s hand as it clung to his knee for reassurance. Harriet saw that the horse was attempting to board the bus as well.
‘Step along please!’ the conductor said, as the man stopped to buy his ticket.
The horse reared up and came down with one of its forefeet fair and square on the conductor’s toe. Harriet winced, but the conductor went on punching the ticket as if nothing had happened, and then moved away down the bus, while the man tied the horse’s rope to the rail inside the door and sat down on the other side of Harriet, breathing heavily. The horse’s hooves pounded along behind, breaking into a gallop as the bus gathered speed.
The horse’s owner was staring across at William and William’s neighbour as if his eyes would pop out of his head. Harriet realized that the man had noticed something, but just how much she could not tell. To test him, she opened the basket, and the baby began to cry. Harriet took it in her arms.
‘Cor! Nice little kid!’ said the man admiringly, and then, in a tone of relief: ‘You going to Miss Meadie’s party, then?’
Harriet realized that her neighbour too had the gift of seeing Other Things. She nodded.
‘Didn’t see you there last year,’ the man went on conversationally. ‘Is that your brother across the way? He’s like you. That chap beside him, what’s sitting on all those bones, he’s a funny one, he is. He’s stark staring terrified of those little tiddlers playing up and down his weskit. He brings ’em every year hoping Miss Meadie will get rid of ’em for him, but she loves ’em, bless her heart. Now I wouldn’t mind a snuff-out powder for my horse! He’s a right nuisance, kicking his stall to pieces when the moon is full and when hounds go by – well! You can’t hold him! He’s after ’em, and every dog of ’em puts its tail between its legs and hares for home! No wonder all the foxes run straight for my place! You can see ’em laughing! But the Hunt thinks I does it on purpose.’
‘Bad luck!’ said Harriet.
‘Anyway, I’ve had enough,’ said the man. ‘This year I’m getting rid of him. There’s a chap coming to Miss Meadie’s party that can settle things for good and all. An exorcist, he’s called. I believe he’s a dab hand at ghosts.’
Harriet was just opening her mouth to say that Miss Meadie would never invite anyone like that to her party, when the bus stopped again, a new passenger got on, and immediately, in front of Harriet’s very eyes, every ghost went out like a light.
The baby, which had been kicking and chuckling, began to cry bitterly, and Harriet rocked it to and fro to comfort it.
Opposite, the skeleton somehow eased itself out from beneath the body of the man on top and folded itself back into William’s bag. The little poltergeists became as flat as shadows and disappeared inside various pockets. Their patron, who seemed to have even less awareness than William, remained staring straight ahead of him with his hands on his knees, while the newcomer walked quietly to the very front of the bus and sat down. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat, and a long black coat. His ears stuck out slightly, and he had a long, thin nose.
Harriet was acutely aware of something wrong about him. He looked just horrid. The horse owner suddenly noticed him too.
‘That’s the bloke!’ he muttered to Harriet. ‘That’s the Rid-a-Ghost man! He’s going to do quite a bit of business at the party, he told me. I’m not the only one wanting to get rid of a ghostie. Just look at my old grey mare there! Her’s got the message!’
Outside the bus, in fact, the grey mare, with her ears laid flat back against her head, could be seen straining against the rope that pulled her. Faintly, at William’s feet, the skeleton’s teeth could be heard chattering inside the carrier bag.
While the horse’s owner moved down the bus to speak confidentially to the uncanny stranger, Harriet noticed that the knot securing the horse’s rope to the rail was on the point of coming undone.
‘Hold the baby a minute!’ she said to William, dumping it on his knees.
‘It’ll wet,’ said William gingerly.
‘No, it won’t, you twit! It will only feel as if it does!’ said Harriet, dashing up the bus. She seized the rope just as the horse was about to break away, and tied it securely to the rail.
‘Hey!’ shouted the conductor. ‘Don’t get off before the bus stops!’ But the bus was already slowing down.
Nearly everybody got off at the stop nearest to Miss Meadie’s. Harriet got off first. She flew up the drive to warn Miss Meadie about the unwelcome visitor who was about to invade the party. But Miss Meadie, busy receiving a score of invited guests, had little time to listen to what Harriet was saying.
Patron after patron, ghost after ghost, were being welcomed into the hall and shown to their seats at a long table which was piled with all kinds of delicious food. When everyone was in their places, Harriet saw to her great relief that the Rid-a-Ghoster was not, after all, among them. Perhaps his courage had failed him in the face of such a happy throng of friends and phantoms, now raising their glasses to toast Miss Meadie, and drinking to the Past, the Happy Past and the Past Again.
Wa
tching the enthusiasm of ghosts and patrons alike, Harriet found it hard to believe that any of these loyal guests could be planning to jettison their phantom friends before the evening was out. She clutched the ghostling baby more closely to her, and noticed that William and his skeleton were fondly sharing a dish of trifle, and clinking spoons.
The evening passed with feasting and music, the excitement growing more intense as one phantom after another burst into song, and everybody joined in. The horse neighed after every verse, the skeleton danced a fandango on the table, the poltergeists pelted everyone with popcorn and Miss Meadie called them her naughty little piglets.
Then at last she clapped her hands, and silence fell.
‘We have now come to the climax of our feast!’ announced Miss Meadie. ‘I shall bring in the dish of the Wishing Bean. You all know what to do! Each one will serve himself with as large a portion as he is still able to eat, and in one of the portions will be found a small, round bean! Whoever finds it can wish one wish aloud, and that wish is bound to come true. Blessings on you all, and may the lucky one’s dreams be realized!’
There was a burst of applause as she rose to leave the table, followed by the phantom butler and several dogs and cats, some quite transparent and others with the normal complement of heads, tails and whiskers. Harriet watched her go with mounting excitement. The great moment of the day had arrived! And everyone, everyone, had a chance to win. Even the baby would have to be woken up to taste its portion.
But when she looked back again at the table, the Rid-a-Ghoster was sitting in Miss Meadie’s chair. Where he had come from nobody could say, but he did not give them time to wonder.
‘Friends!’ he shouted, leaping to his feet. ‘The fun and games are over! The phantoms have had their day! Life is not a party for the dead-and-gone before! Life goes on, tomorrow and the next day and the next, and the one after! Do we want to remain in the thraldom of our hauntings? Do we want to hear again the cryings in the dark, the knockings on the door, the trippings-up and the trippings-in? Do we want our cats’ fur standing on end? Our dogs crouching in corners with their tails between their legs? Our plates and cups and saucers hurled about our heads? Do we want to be controlled all our lives long by these wretched manifestations we call ghosts, for want of a better name for them? No! No! Many of you have already come to me for help in ridding you of these pests. Many of you have asked me to meet you here tonight in order to destroy these – these black beetles! Pah! But I am your friend! Trust in the Rid-a-Ghoster and you shall be freed from your fears! Five pounds please, paid in advance!’
Harriet sat horrified. She saw some of the patrons, looking sheepishly at each other. Two or three put their hands into their pockets, searching for money. A few notes were already passing into the Rid-a-Ghoster’s greedy palm.
The kitchen door was flung open and Miss Meadie appeared, bearing a steaming dish. She gave one look at the Rid-a-Ghoster and banged the dish down on the table in front of him.
‘My seat, if you please,’ she said curtly.
Unwillingly, the Rid-a-Ghoster gave it up to her. ‘I remain at your service!’ he announced to the table at large. ‘Whoever wishes to avail themselves of my powers may come with me into the next room. Bring your phantoms with you. Those who have already paid will be served first.’
He was about to retire when he saw that the attention of the whole company was riveted on the Wishing Dish. Nobody wanted to lose their chance of finding the wonderful bean. Those who wished to be exorcized decided to have it done afterwards.
Reluctantly the Rid-a-Ghoster sat down among the rest, and before he could be prevented, he snatched an ample portion of the dish’s contents as it circled the table.
The bean was too small to be seen with the naked eye, but Miss Meadie assured everyone that they would know it when they found it on their tongues.
An atmosphere of intense expectation filled the room. Everybody wanted to find the precious bean, and one could almost see the shadows of the various wishes flitting round the table.
Harriet was terribly anxious. There were at least forty chances to one against her winning the bean. She did not even expect to get it. Supposing William got it? If he were sitting nearer to her she could tell him what to wish for, but that was not allowed.
Suppose the horse got it? Nobody would even know. It had swallowed its portion already, and the bean might have gone down with it as far as anyone could tell. Suppose one of the poltergeists got it? They were bound to do something silly with it – they were that sort of person. Suppose the baby got it? But, after the first mouthful, it went back to sleep and Harriet ate its share herself.
The company chewed on. The hall was very quiet now, everyone glancing covertly at his neighbour, dreading any hesitation that might signal the finding of the bean.
The worst thing that could happen, Harriet decided, was that the Rid-a-Ghoster should get it. He was quite capable of destroying every phantom in the room if he did. He ate with concentration, carefully chewing every mouthful to the end and sometimes looking up to catch Harriet’s eye upon him.
‘If he gets it,’ Harriet thought, ‘I know he will get rid of the baby and I’ll never see it again. I couldn’t bear it! I’d just die! And Miss Meadie will die, too, if he destroys all the darling ghosts that she loves so much …’
Even Miss Meadie was chewing desperately, keeping her eye meanwhile on the Rid-a-Ghost man. She was almost willing him not to find the bean.
All of a sudden, the Rid-a-Ghoster stopped eating, and choked.
The whole table froze, stopped their own chewing, and looked at him. The Rid-a-Ghoster leaned over the table, coughing and spluttering while the skeleton kindly beat him on the back between the shoulder blades.
The Rid-a-Ghoster searched for a handkerchief in his pocket and put it to his lips.
‘He’s got it!’ Harriet said to herself, feeling quite faint. ‘He’s got it … he’s got the bean!’
At that moment her own tongue met something hard inside her mouth. She pushed it impatiently aside and was about to swallow it when the piercing realization of what it might be, of what it actually was, arrested her in the middle of her swallow. Quickly she put her hand to her mouth and removed a tiny, hard round bean from the back of her tongue. Even when she saw it lying in the palm of her hand, she could hardly believe it.
‘I’ve got the bean!’ Harriet announced.
Her first feeling was of such pure relief that she wanted to burst into tears. The Rid-a-Ghoster, whatever else he might do, could not now destroy them all. Then all the wishes that she had ever wished for came crowding into her head, wishes for her family, wishes for herself, wishes for the people.
But the wish that came bursting from her lips even before she found words to say it went ringing round the table, and everyone stared and listened, and listened and stared again, as Harriet shouted:
‘I wish that all the ghosts in this room were real people for ever and ever and ever!’
A hush fell upon Miss Meadie’s table, and one by one each guest looked at one another. Nobody said a word, until the horse’s owner got to his feet, remarking: ‘That’s a good horse, that one is! And I reckon it’s about time he carried me home!’ He left the room quietly, and they heard him clopping away down the drive!
There came a popping sound from the direction of the gentleman with the poltergeists, followed by another and another, as if small fireworks were exploding. He got up from the table and left, quite alone. There wasn’t a sign of anything fussing about in his pockets and he seemed much calmer.
‘Exactly!’ murmured Miss Meadie half-aloud. ‘I never did understand about poltergeists …’
The cavalier with the feathered hat was now a smartly dressed Member of Parliament. He said goodbye to Miss Meadie, explaining that he had to be in the House in the morning. The drowned lady was talking about sailing to someone who had looked very much like a pirate a few moments ago. They were arranging to sail round the world toge
ther. A tonsured monk was now a bishop, returning thanks for the meal they had all received, while a small grey lady left early, saying she had duties in the Public Library and would put Miss Meadie’s books on psychic research on one side for her to collect in the morning.
The strangest transformation of all was William’s skeleton. It had completely disappeared. By William’s side was a charming young woman who was cuddling Harriet’s baby. ‘It is my baby,’ she told Harriet. ‘It always was. But you can come and play with it whenever you like.’
Harriet realized that this was for the best. A real live baby that everyone could interfere with was much less convenient than a phantom. Besides which, a real live baby would be even more enchanting to play with than a ghostling.
‘Do you mind about your skeleton being a her?’ she asked William.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘If it can’t be a skeleton I don’t care what it is,’ and he turned away.
The Rid-a-Ghoster was escaping through the door when several people prevented him, and took back their money. He did not even have enough left for his bus fare, and had to walk back to the town.
Harriet turned to Miss Meadie. She was feeling very guilty at the ways things had turned out. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said. ‘I seem to have taken away all your friends at once.’
Suddenly she noticed that Miss Meadie herself looked quite different from the Miss Meadie she had known before.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Miss Meadie said quietly. ‘I was really getting tired of being a ghost myself. I’d rather be a human being. I’m going to have a home for cats and dogs that people have deserted. Goodnight, Harriet! I’m glad you won the bean. Come and see me sometimes, and I hope you enjoyed the party.’
And Harriet and William went home by bus, quite alone.
The Veldt
RAY BRADBURY
‘George, I wish you’d look at the nursery.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, then.’