The Griffins of Castle Cary

by Heather Shumaker

  “Like the West Tower,” added Meg.

  “Right,” said Shep. “Like the West Tower. The lady of the manor died with a great longing unfulfilled, and that longing was strongest in the tower, so she hovers around there. I think it’s because the tower overlooks the creek.”

  “A ghost can move if its longing moves?” Will said.

  “That’s it. The longing is usually attached to a place, but it can also be attached to an object.”

  “So if someone moves the object . . .” Meg was feeling excited. It made sense now. The ghost might actually be the manor ghost. A ghost at the Griffinage didn’t feel like a nightmare anymore, not sitting here snugly with Shep. It felt more like an enchanted story.

  “The ghost moves too,” said Shep. “That’s right.”

  “But what is the object?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Shep. “Has to be something she’s attached to. Something she really cares about.”

  Will had been silent for some time. He stirred his tea, not drinking it, simply stirring.

  “Shep, is there a way to make a ghost go away?” Will finally asked. “I mean completely away?”

  “Only one way. Fulfill their longing.”

  Moving around following objects for hundreds of years seemed so lonely. Meg felt a sudden urge to help the ghost. What brought her here? What object was she following? What if she, Meg, could find her longing? Of course, that wasn’t possible, because they all knew she wanted her daughter. Still, there had to be a way to help.

  “But if she’s here—at the Griffinage, I mean,” Meg said, resorting to logic, “why doesn’t Will have hiccups all the time?”

  “Gone dormant,” said Shep.

  “You mean sleeping?”

  “In a sense. Ghosts are mostly dormant. That’s why no one sees them much. Just once in a while they get stirred up, when their longing drives them to it. Not dangerous, mind you, just sort of restless. So Will here only senses when she’s awake. That’s when she’s most powerful, driven by her longing.”

  “But not dangerous,” repeated Meg.

  “Only times I ever saw her as a kid she was just grumpy. Fact is, I’ve never heard of a dangerous ghost, except in fairy tales,” said Shep. He stood up and collected the tea mugs. Meg saw him glance at the kitchen clock. They had been talking for some time. Aunt Effie might be up any minute and find them missing.

  “You’d best be getting back,” Shep said, echoing her thoughts. “I’ve got work in town, but I’ll stop by later on and see about that window. Your aunt told me there was a freak wind yesterday that did some damage.” He winked and walked them to the door. Will zipped his coat and stepped outside, but Meg lingered with another question.

  “What about Gillian?” asked Meg, still thinking about the manor ghost’s daughter. “Is she a ghost too? I mean, couldn’t we just sort of reunite them?”

  “No such luck,” said Shep. “That child went peacefully to her grave. There have never been any hauntings by the manor child.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Meg.

  “Pretty sure. Ghost children aren’t like grown-up ghosts. Ghost children like to play, so they show themselves to age-mates, you know. No Castle Cary child has ever seen the manor child, not in 150 plus years. Just because she died, doesn’t mean she died with longings. She was a happy girl, they say. Loved animals, especially her horse.”

  “Oh,” said Meg.

  Will was ahead of her on the short walk back to the Griffinage when Meg caught up.

  “What’d you ask him?”

  “Just if Gillian might be a ghost too,” said Meg.

  “And she’s not?”

  “She’s not,” said Meg. She purposefully walked ahead of Will and concentrated on not feeling bitter. It was a hard blow to learn Will was the only one who could sense ghosts. Just because he was younger and there was something special about his birthday. Why wasn’t she the one born on Sow-in, or whatever it was called?

  “Should we tell Aunt Effie there’s a ghost in her house?” Will spoke in a low voice. They were standing in the entry hall shucking their boots as quietly as possible so they wouldn’t wake Aunt Effie.

  “Why bother? You know she’d never believe us,” said Meg.

  “Yes, but you know, what if something goes wrong?” he persisted. He had one boot on and one boot off and was looking anxiously at Meg. Meg reconsidered. Maybe being special like Will wasn’t such a good thing. Perhaps a December birthday like hers was just fine. It was all very well for Shep to wink and tell stories. He was a grown-up and couldn’t see ghosts anymore. Sometimes grown-ups forgot that being a kid was difficult, not all fun.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “Remember, ghosts aren’t dangerous.”

  “Right,” said Will, and gave her a smile. “Just grumpy. I’m sure glad Shep knows everything about ghosts.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ghost at the Griffinage

  Meg and Will padded upstairs, avoiding the seventh step that always squeaked, and slipped back into their rooms. Aunt Effie’s light was on in her bedroom, but the door was still closed.

  “Maybe she hasn’t missed us,” said Meg.

  “Make some bumping around noises,” advised Will. “You know, early morning sounds as if you’re just waking up.” Pretty soon Meg could hear loud thumps coming from Will’s room and the sound of a drawer being banged in and out. Will reappeared in the hall the next instant stretching his arms and groaning in a series of exaggerated yawns.

  “Uhhh . . . yiiuuuaa . . . Gosh, I’m tired,” he exclaimed. “Good morning, Meg.” He flashed her his signature Griffin grin.

  “I think you’re overdoing it,” whispered Meg.

  Will yawned again, this time a genuine yawn, and stomped down to the kitchen. From around the corner, Meg heard Ariel stir. No wonder she’d woken up with all that banging. Meg peeked in and saw she was sitting up in bed, her hair tousled and her cheeks flushed. Meg hoped she wasn’t really getting sick. She’d been sick herself on vacation once when they went to Wisconsin, but of course, her mother and father had been there, which made it all right.

  “Feeling better?” Meg asked.

  Ariel didn’t seem to hear. Her face remained blank as she stared out the window toward the walnut tree. Maybe she really was sick. Ariel usually dashed out of bed the instant she woke up. Uncle Ben was still beside her cot, fully awake, and nosing the covers by her waist. Noodles, her stuffed cat, lay facedown on the wide floorboards. Ariel didn’t bend down to pick him up, and she didn’t reach over to pet Uncle Ben. Instead, she reached for the doll and hugged it tightly to her chest. Meg watched. A slow smile spread across Ariel’s face, and her eyes began to sparkle. That doll sure seemed to be a new favorite. Soon she hopped out of bed with the doll in her arms, looking bouncy and cheerful. Not sick at all. Maybe this was a good time to ask her what she knew.

  “Have you ever seen a lady at the Griffinage?” Meg asked, trying to make the question sound casual. No need to mention ghosts. No need to alarm her.

  “You mean like Aunt Effie?”

  “No, a fancy lady with a big green gown.”

  Ariel was definitely the right age. What if Will and Ariel could both see ghosts? Then she’d be the only one left out. The ghost would still be here, but she wouldn’t know where it was. Too creepy.

  “No lady,” said Ariel.

  “Okay, good,” said Meg, relieved. She only felt mildly better knowing Ariel hadn’t seen a lady wearing a green dress. Will hadn’t exactly either. A ghost for him was hiccups, whooshing, and bits of light. She might as well ask about that, too.

  “Any funny lights, or, you know, something sort of weird and different since you got here?”

  “Kay Kay’s different!” said Ariel. “She’s the most differentest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh, right,” said Meg. “Never mind.” She didn’t need an earful about Kay Kay. But it was too late. Ariel’s face broke into a radiant smile.

  “Oh,
Megsy,” she cried. “Guess what? Kay Kay’s having a birthday party and I’m the only guest!”

  “A birthday party, how nice,” said Meg. She yawned. She was sleepy after staying up half the night with Will, and it was hard to follow the gist of Ariel’s chatter. Imaginary friends led such complicated lives.

  “How old is she going to be?” Meg asked, trying to show interest.

  “Kay Kay doesn’t do numbers. She just has a party.”

  “Okay. Uh . . . have fun at the party today.”

  “Oh, it’s not today,” said Ariel, scrambling into the clothes she’d worn yesterday. “But it’s soon. Kay Kay told me.”

  Meg was the last to come down to breakfast. Ariel had run downstairs after talking about the birthday party, and now Meg could hear voices drifting up from the kitchen. “Porridge is better than oatmeal,” said Ariel’s voice, followed by Will’s. “You’re nuts. It’s the same food.” “It’s better.” “You can’t like one better; it’s the same.” “Kay Kay only likes porridge. . . .”

  As she passed Aunt Effie’s office, an enormous sigh made Meg stop. She poked her head in and saw Aunt Effie hunched over her desk. She was surrounded by piles of papers, her elbows propped on the desktop, her fingers buried deep in her tight curls.

  “Ah, Meg. Good morning,” said Aunt Effie. “Bit of a mess, isn’t it? My office always looks like this, even when windows aren’t blowing themselves up. . . .” She sighed again.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, just the house, dearie,” said Aunt Effie. She smiled. Meg recognized that smile, and didn’t trust it. It was the sort of smile grown-ups put on when they’re feeling troubled but don’t want children to know. She said nothing but didn’t move from the doorway. Aunt Effie looked up at her, and her face softened. “It’s the house. The thatch needs repairing, the plaster’s crumbling, there’s a wall that wants propping up, and now there’s the side window to fix. I’m trying to sort it all out. Old houses aren’t easy. If I had any sense, I’d sell this place and move into a normal house with no thatch fluttering off the roof.”

  “But you can’t sell the Griffinage!” said Meg. The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Of course she could; Aunt Effie was the owner. But the very thought of selling the Griffinage made Meg’s heart feel tight and sore. It didn’t matter that a few days ago she’d never even been here. The Griffinage was more than a house. It seemed like part of the family.

  “You love it too, don’t you, dear?” said Aunt Effie. “I know. Still, one person in an old house that keeps breaking . . .” She stopped and swiveled her chair, looking directly at Meg as if a new thought had just occurred to her. “You were early risers this morning, you and Will.”

  Meg opened her mouth and closed it again. There was nothing she could say. It felt horrible to hide something as important as a ghost, but it would sound even sillier to talk about ghosts in front of Aunt Effie.

  “Mmm,” said Aunt Effie, still looking at Meg intently. “Next time, leave a note on the table. After all, it is my job to look after you. Your parents want you back safe and sound.”

  After breakfast, Meg and Will convened a meeting. They met on the stairs, a choice location where they could see Ariel who was playing in the living room, but not be overheard. Meg told Will what Ariel had said, that she’d never seen a green lady. “But I still think we should watch her,” Meg said. “I know Aunt Effie’s in charge of looking after her, but she’s our sister.”

  They watched Ariel arrange her stuffed animals around Gillian from their vantage point on the landing.

  “You know it wasn’t a bird,” said Will.

  “The window? After you hiccupping all night long? Yeah, I know,” said Meg.

  “I wish we could get the manor ghost to go home,” said Will. “Shep thinks ghosts are great, but maybe he’s never had to live with one in his house. Or his bedroom.”

  Will was hiccupping again this morning. It was one thing to be staying in a seventeenth-century cottage and listening to ghost stories; it was another thing to be staying in the same cottage and living with a ghost who broke windows and kept everyone awake at night.

  “We might have to make her go home,” said Meg.

  “What do you mean?”

  Meg told him about her conversation with Aunt Effie, about how the Griffinage cost so much money to fix with the thatch roof and crooked walls, and how she’d even talked about selling it. “Will, we can’t have a ghost here! If the manor ghost keeps breaking things, it’ll cost even more, and she’ll have to sell it!”

  “Sell the Griffinage?”

  Meg nodded. She thought of the bedrooms with their slanted ceilings and big black timbers. She thought of the swooping thatched roof, the little red door, the fox weather vane, and the stately walnut tree. If Aunt Effie moved and sold it, they’d never see any of it again.

  “She can’t sell,” said Will. “She just can’t. It won’t even be the Griffinage anymore! The new people would have a different last name.”

  “Yeah. It’ll just be a house,” said Meg.

  “A house with a ghost in it that destroys stuff.”

  Meg twirled a loop of hair around her finger. Shep was wrong. Ghosts were dangerous—at least this one was to the Griffinage. If the manor ghost kept wreaking havoc, and Aunt Effie moved, they would lose the cottage.

  “Maybe we can get her a child,” said Meg out loud.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “If the manor ghost had a child, she’d leave,” said Meg.

  “Get her a child? Are you loony? What are we going to do—snatch one off the street in London? ‘Oh, her mother won’t mind. It’ll make the manor ghost happy.’ ”

  Meg looked hurt. “Of course not. Nobody’s snatching kids off the street.”

  “Well, then . . .”

  “I’m just saying,” said Meg, her voice mollified. “That’s the only way she’ll go away. Remember what Shep said? She has to fulfill her longing, or follow something. We don’t even know what the object was that brought her here.”

  “I bet I know,” said Will.

  “What?”

  “It was the chest.”

  “You mean the chest itself?” Meg felt a flicker of hope rise inside her.

  “Yeah, it’s big enough. And my hiccups got louder after the chest arrived, and more crazy stuff started happening. Remember how Uncle Ben went nuts when we took off the lid? I bet she came inside the chest from the manor.”

  But when they went downstairs to ask Aunt Effie where the chest was, they found her striding out of her office room at a clipped pace, looking distracted. “The chest? Yes, it’s here. No time to show you where it is now. I’ve just had a phone call. In here for a minute, all of you.”

  Meg and Will followed her into the living room. Ariel looked up from her spot on the floor and placed the doll in her lap.

  “Now, I know I promised you an outing to Wells today to see the cathedral and watch the swans ring the bell in the moat, but I’m afraid we’ll have to put it off, dearies. I’ve just learned some people are coming to tour the Griffinage this afternoon. Rather important visitors. It’s just been arranged.”

  “You mean a house tour?” Meg stiffened. She knew people generally didn’t tour other people’s houses unless they were house buyers. Surely Aunt Effie wasn’t thinking of selling the Griffinage already?

  “Yes, they’ll want to tour the cottage and the gardens. I’ll need you lot to help out. . . .” Aunt Effie went on asking them to tidy up their rooms, sweep the hall, and stay outside while the visitors were here.

  Will leaned over to Meg and said in a harsh whisper, “I bet they’re buyers!”

  “Of course! Shhh!” Meg whispered back.

  “You can play in the garden. Oh, the garden! That’s right. I haven’t finished mulching the roses or pruning the lavender. Need to tidy that up before they come. And bake. Let me see. Scones. Nothing like fresh buttered scones to sway the human heart, and tod
ay the Griffinage will certainly need to sway some hearts.” She paused as Will made a choking sound.

  “You all right, Will? You don’t mind about the swans, do you? We can go tomorrow. This just came up suddenly. Could be a very good chance.”

  “Okay about the swans,” Will croaked out.

  Meg swallowed hard. If Aunt Effie was trying to bribe people with food, she must be really serious. Meg couldn’t stand the thought of watching strangers tromping around the Griffinage, poking into each bedroom and talking about prices and sales contracts. Aunt Effie had already vanished into the kitchen. Will trailed after her, and Uncle Ben immediately followed, growling at the woodpile.

  “What about the chest? Can we see the chest now?” Will asked.

  “Good gracious! I’m not getting that dirty thing out today, not with visitors coming. Later, Will. The chest can wait. Now, Uncle Ben, what’s wrong with you?” She tapped his dog dish with her foot, where his breakfast lay untouched. A dust ball of fur whirled up as she tapped. “Lost your appetite, have you? If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

  Aunt Effie spent the rest of the morning tidying things up about the cottage and mixing flour and butter. The children could hear snatches of song drifting from the Griffinage kitchen as she worked:

  She wheeled her wheelbarrow,

  Through streets broad and narrow,

  Singing cockles and mussels,

  Alive, alive, oh!

  “She sure seems happy about selling the Griffinage,” said Will in a dark voice. They were upstairs cleaning their rooms, which for Will meant stuffing a mix of socks and music books under his bed, then sauntering down to the girls’ room, and for Meg it meant helping Ariel make her bed properly and tuck the tea set, pinafore, and other toys away in the cabinet by the window.

  “What next? We can’t do anything until we move the chest,” said Will. “And by the time these stupid people go home, it’ll be late, and we probably can’t move it until morning.”