The Griffins of Castle Cary

by Heather Shumaker

  “Well, the manor ghost has lived a hundred years in the manor. I guess one more night in the Griffinage is all right,” said Meg.

  “That’s easy for you to say,” retorted Will. “You try sleeping with her in the house.”

  Meg reconsidered. He was right. She had no idea what it was like to sleep with a ghost when your body could sense it. Probably like a bad dream that wouldn’t go away when you woke up.

  “Okay,” said Meg. “Then we’ll find it ourselves. The Griffinage isn’t that big. We’ll move the chest before tonight.”

  A hush settled over the house. Ariel looked about her. Will and Meg had finally gone away. They’d been hovering around the stairway and bedrooms all morning. That was why Kay Kay hadn’t come. Ariel only ever saw her when she was alone. She heard Aunt Effie in the kitchen, pushing Uncle Ben out the back door. “You and those great paws can muck about outside,” she said. Then the back door slammed, and a few minutes later the front door banged behind Meg and Will.

  Normally, Ariel would have run after her brother and sister, but today she’d been waiting for this moment. Hoping to be alone.

  Ariel propped Gillian, the doll, next to her on the floor by the sofa. She looked around expectantly, willing Kay Kay to come. She knew she didn’t have to go to the attic to see Kay Kay now. Yesterday, Kay Kay showed up in the orchard. Ariel traced her finger around Gillian’s nose and wondered what to give Kay Kay for a present.

  “Don’t forget my birthday.”

  Ariel looked up. There was Kay Kay herself, standing by the fireplace smiling with her beautiful silver eyes. Aunt Effie crashed a pan in the kitchen, and Kay Kay jumped. She flicked her eyes back to Ariel, and they seemed clouded, not so beautiful.

  “I can’t stay. But don’t forget. The party’s tomorrow.”

  Ariel bounced on her knees. She loved parties, especially ones with balloons and candy prizes. She hoped there’d be a red balloon. Then a thought occurred to her.

  “Where do I go? Where’s your party?” Usually Mama took care of that, the driving and getting there.

  “Outside,” said Kay Kay.

  “Where outside?” asked Ariel. She liked backyard parties too. One party she’d been to even had an obstacle course.

  “Outside by the well.”

  “The well!” said Ariel. “That’s a funny place for a party. I thought you were afraid of the well.”

  “I am,” said Kay Kay. “But it has to be there.”

  “But I don’t know where it is,” said Ariel, pouting and trying to imagine a wishing well with a little roof on top. “There is no well.”

  “ ’Course there is,” said Kay Kay. “I’ll take you there. I’ll show you. Just come and meet me by the walnut tree. You know where that is.”

  Ariel nodded. Aunt Effie crashed another pan and Kay Kay jumped again. From the hall they could hear the clock chiming eleven.

  “Tomorrow, remember,” said Kay Kay. “Listen for the church bells. Come when you hear the bells chime three.”

  Ariel blinked. She was alone in the living room. Kay Kay must have run away again. She was always doing that, so she wasn’t surprised. She squeezed Gillian in an excited hug. A private party! She’d go find Meg now and ask her about a birthday present.

  Ariel found Meg by the garden shed. She was watching Will dig through piles of burlap sacks inside the shed, so Ariel stood and watched too.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “Looking for something,” said Meg.

  Will emerged with burlap dust in his hair and shook it off, which made Meg sneeze. “Not here,” he said, discouraged. “You’d think something as big as the chest would be easy to find.”

  “Let’s look inside again,” said Meg. “Maybe we missed something.”  They’d already looked in the broom closet, Aunt Effie’s bedroom, and her office. Will had also checked the Mini.

  “I’ve seen it,” said Ariel.

  “The chest from the manor? You know where it is?” asked Will. His eyes looked eager, and he smiled at Ariel.

  “In the basement,” she said.

  “Don’t be silly. The Griffinage doesn’t have a basement,” said Will. His eager look disappeared, and he turned away from her, slapping his pants to shake the burlap fibers off.

  “It’s in the basement, and I seen it when Aunt Effie took me there to get pickles.”

  “Show us,” said Meg.

  Ariel proudly led them around the back of the Griffinage kitchen to a slanted trapdoor in the ground. There were two doors with handles, and after that a set of stone steps leading down under the house. Ariel showed them where the light was, and Will flipped it on, then they all trooped down. The air was cool and smelled like apples and sawdust. They were standing on an earthen floor in a small room lined with wooden shelves. Most were empty, but some had rows of glass jars and there was a tub of potatoes on the bottom shelf. Ariel looked and saw more pickle jars.

  “A root cellar,” said Meg.

  “See, lots of pickles,” said Ariel.

  “There’s the chest,” said Will, and he grinned.

  Will and Meg hurried over to the chest and began to talk. They seemed to have forgotten her. Ariel eyed the pickles and wondered if Aunt Effie would notice if one of the jars had a pickle missing, but when she tried the lid it was sealed too tightly to open. Then she remembered the reason she’d come to find Meg. She walked over to the chest and tugged at Meg’s arm.

  “I need a present,” she said. “For Kay Kay. Something special for her birthday.”

  “Why don’t you draw her one of your pictures?” asked Meg. “Those make good presents.”

  “No, something really special,” said Ariel.

  “Here, take this.” It was Will. He was fishing around in his pocket. He put something heavy in her hand, and Ariel gasped with delight. It was silver and old-fashioned, the sort of thing Kay Kay would love. She looked at the silver circle with its dancing lion.

  “What is it?”

  “Dunno. We think it’s a piece of a belt. Came from the manor long ago. Meg and I found it down by the creek.”

  Ariel took the treasure and fastened it around Gillian’s waist with her hair ribbon. It looked like a shield or huge royal belt, and it made Gillian appear extra fancy and important. She hugged Gillian tightly, and again the warm, comforting feeling spread over her. Gillian was unlike any doll she’d held. She was special. Whenever Ariel loved her, she could feel the hollow-missing-mother places inside her disappear. She could feel the doll loving her back.

  At the other end of the root cellar, Will and Meg were lugging the chest over to the steps. When they got to the foot of the steps, they stopped. A sound was coming from the open trapdoor that sounded like the rumble of a car engine.

  “Shoot, that’s the buyers,” said Will. “They’ll be crawling around everywhere in a minute.”

  “At least we know where the chest is,” said Meg. “We can get it later.”

  “What buyers?” asked Ariel. Nobody answered her, so Ariel stuffed Gillian down her shirt in case the strange people might want to buy dolls. The silver circle felt cold against her tummy. She poked her head down her shirt’s neckline to check on Gillian. “You’ll be safe in there,” she whispered in the doll’s china ear. “Okay? Now go to sleep. There’s a big party tomorrow.”

  The ghost stirred, newly energized. There it was at last. A clear and strong signal calling her. That’s why she hadn’t been able to feel a well-defined direction before. There’d always been two directions, muddling their signals, crossing them, keeping her aimless and worried in this peasant house. Now she knew exactly where she must go. She glided toward her target.

  CHAPTER TEN

  House and Garden

  Meg peered around the hedge as footsteps crunched up the Griffinage walk. A branch obscured her full vision, but she could see a pair of legs appearing, then another, then a third. She felt Will’s elbow knock her knee. Ariel’s shoe pressed into her back. They were squatting behind t
he hedge outside the kitchen.

  “Can you see anything?”

  Meg poked her head farther out. There was Aunt Effie waving and calling out cheerful hallos and welcomes. Her back was to Meg, but a moment later she turned and came striding back to the house, straight toward the hedge. Meg ducked and bumped into Ariel, who’d stood up next to her. Ariel squealed.

  “Shh,” said Meg at once. “Get down.”

  “You stepped on me!” protested Ariel, still standing.

  Will yanked Ariel out of sight. She scowled and scooted into a girl-sized cavity in the yew bush next to Meg. Meg glanced down at her sister, wishing she could explain what was going on. Ariel probably thought this was a simple hide-from-the-grown-ups game. But the stakes were higher. If Aunt Effie wanted to sell the Griffinage to these people, it was up to her and Will to try to stop it from happening.

  Meg studied the cluster of grown-ups at the Griffinage stoop. There were three of them, an odd assortment for a family. First came a tall, balding man holding a tweed cap in one hand. He stood on the front walk, eyeing the child-sized red door as if calculating how far he’d have to bend to enter. The other two were women. One a squat, square shape. The other a tiny birdlike figure, hardly taller than Meg. The two women held notepads and were busily writing. The tall man was turning in every direction, snapping photos. The children froze as he pointed his black lens directly at the hedge.

  “From 1660,” Aunt Effie was saying. “Originally a shepherd’s cottage. The family raised sheep, and later the women used to cook up at the manor. Cook’s Cottage, they called it then. . . . Mind your head, yes, come in, come in.”

  “Let’s go,” said Will. Meg nodded and tugged Ariel to follow as the last legs disappeared inside. There was another good hiding spot by the living room window.

  Meg and Will retreated to the garden wall. They’d learned nothing from their hideout under the window. Only a murmur of voices. Just enough to know the visitors sounded pleased. That was the opposite of what they’d hoped. Meg imagined exclamations of delight as the interlopers poked around upstairs and into the alcove. It made everything seem hopeless.

  Ariel was crouched by a clump of heather, talking to her doll. She’d lost interest in the spy game. Meg twisted her hair around her fingers. She let it spring back and twisted it again. Will scraped a rock against the stone wall. They sat waiting. Then the voices grew louder and a beaming Aunt Effie opened the back door and led the unwanted visitors into the garden.

  “Stone wall from the Fosse Way built at the time of the original cottage, and near it you’ll see the pride of the garden. Our walnut tree is at least two hundred and fifty years old.”

  “Incredible!”

  “Simon, take a picture of that tree.”

  “Look at the size of it.”

  “Yes,” said Aunt Effie, obviously pleased. “It’s been part of the Griffinage since the time of George II. Ah, Meg, there you are. Can you and Will take our visitors round the garden a moment? I’m just going to pop in and see about those scones.”

  Meg slid down from the wall and plastered on her polite smile. It was the smile she used for grown-ups she was forced to be nice to, but didn’t like. Will hung back and did not join her. Fine, she thought. Don’t come. Don’t think I want to do this either. The visitors were standing at the base of the walnut tree, oohing and aahing, running their hands up and down the trunk. Meg tried to ignore the tight knot in her stomach. It clenched each time one of the strangers touched the grand walnut. Hands off our tree! she wanted to cry. Instead she opened her mouth to say hello.

  Her mouth stayed open.

  Instead of “hello,” she gasped.

  Uncle Ben was tearing out of the house, barking deep throaty cries. He flung himself at the walnut tree. The birdlike lady screamed. The squat woman jumped back and swung at Uncle Ben with her clipboard. The tall man yelled, lost his balance, and his hat flew off as he tipped over into a prickly holly hedge.

  “Beast!” he cried. “Call off your beast!”

  Uncle Ben charged around the tree again. The next instant, he changed course. He sprinted toward the garden toolshed. The shed leaned against the back stone wall, far back, near the walnut, its door partly open. A blur of fur went by. Ariel stood stock-still. Will made a lunge for Ben as he flew past.

  “Uncle Ben!” Meg called, but no one heard her, especially not Uncle Ben, who’d reached the toolshed. He wedged himself through the doorway, and the door swung fully open. Inside, they could see Ben collide with a rake and tools crash down. The impact dislodged a row of flowerpots from a shelf. The pots smashed to the ground.

  Out of the din and damage, Uncle Ben sprinted away. Fragments of broken flowerpots clung to his fur. Clay shards skittered in his wake. Bits of pots scattered into the gardens, and some struck the visitors’ feet. The birdlike lady paused, took a breath, and renewed her scream. Uncle Ben answered with a bark. Then he barged at the back door and ran smack into Aunt Effie, who was hurrying out with a tray of blackcurrant jam and hot scones.

  Uncle Ben’s furry mass hit her at full force. Aunt Effie fell, and the plateful of scones—jam side down—tumbled into the dirt.

  Suddenly, everything was still.

  Uncle Ben vanished inside. The kitchen door vibrated from its final slam. The birdlike woman shut her mouth midscream and pressed her lips in a tight line. The stout woman retrieved her clipboard. The tall man carefully replaced his hat. They all looked at Aunt Effie, who lay sprawled in a patch of tulips and lily of the valley. In those awkward, awful moments, Meg noticed Will was hiccupping fiercely, one huge belchy hiccup followed by another.

  “That dog,” Aunt Effie said with a forced smile as she struggled to sit up. “Always underfoot.”

  The tall man coughed and inspected his camera. From her spot close to the house, Aunt Effie sighed and picked up a scone that had rolled in the tulips. She brushed the dirt off with her sleeve, then reached for another scone among the jonquils.

  Will skirted past the scene of the crash and walked to the far side of the garden, approaching the group by the walnut tree.

  “It was actually a ghost,” said Will, in a low voice. “The manor ghost. We kind of share her here.”

  “A ghost, you say?” The tall man cocked an eyebrow at Will.

  “Yeah, the manor ghost. She comes here when she’s not hanging out at the manor.”

  Meg stared. What on earth was he doing? Then it dawned on her. This was what they’d been hoping for. The perfect chance to scare buyers away from the Griffinage. Will was telling the truth. Whether or not these grown-ups believed it, right now they were definitely shaken up enough to be disturbed by a ghost story.

  “That’s right,” she said, stepping forward. “The ghost must have spooked the dog. You know, dogs can sense things like that.” It sounded good, anyway. She flashed her best polite smile. “Not everyone could take living here.”

  “My aunt didn’t want to tell you,” Will said. “She’s not big on ghosts.” He filled in a few more details, punctuating the end with a loud hiccup.

  The stout woman nodded and scribbled something on her clipboard. The other visitors exchanged looks. Then all three of them marched up to Aunt Effie, who was kneeling in the garden bed, a scone in each hand.

  “Thank you for your time today, Ms. Griffin. I believe we’ve seen enough.”

  “Is there . . . won’t you . . . ?” began Aunt Effie.

  “Thank you, no,” said the tall man, who came up rubbing his shoulders.

  “We have another house to see,” said the birdlike woman.

  “All very interesting . . .” The stout lady stopped and cleared her throat as Aunt Effie extended a slick, jam-slimed hand to shake. “Yes,” the lady said, stepping back. “Splendid,” she said, gripping her notepad with both hands. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

  The next minute, the car door slammed and the visitors’ car jounced down the Griffinage driveway.

  “Well!” said Aunt Effie. “That was
a disaster.”

  She stood up from the flower bed, shaking off dirt and dabbing at her butter- and jam-streaked forehead. A cloying scent like a bottle of spilled perfume spread over the garden from the crushed lily of the valley. “I wonder what startled Ben? I’ve never seen him go berserk like that before. And he’s off his food. Oh, Uncle.”

  Ariel had stayed rooted to her spot during the commotion, but now she walked up to Aunt Effie and took her hand. Meg and Will were still back at the walnut tree. Gillian the doll was out of her shirt hiding place, and she hugged her close. She didn’t know exactly what had just happened in the garden, but her tummy felt funny and she knew she had to tell a grown-up.

  “It was the lady, Aun’ Effie,” said Ariel quietly. “Uncle Ben didn’t like her.”

  “What’s that, dearie? I must call the vet. I’m sure I haven’t missed one of his booster shots; maybe it’s his thyroid or his hips again. . . . Oh, look at this mess!” She kicked a scone with her toe and watched it tumble down the garden path.

  “The lady was here,” Ariel said again, tugging on her sleeve.

  “Yes, I know, two ladies and a gentleman. They’ve gone.” Aunt Effie patted Ariel’s head distractedly.

  “We’re sorry, Aunt Effie,” said Meg, rushing up a minute later with Will beside her. She meant it, though she wasn’t exactly sure how guilty she should feel. After all, they hadn’t moved the ghost into the house on purpose. It was true they’d wanted the buyers to run away, but all the ruckus started before she and Will said anything to scare them. She was sorry simply because Aunt Effie’s face looked so stricken and bewildered.

  “Oh, it’s just me and my great galumph of a dog,” Aunt Effie said, and sank heavily down on the back steps. Her body sagged with a mixture of grief, embarrassment, and defeat. Meg looked down at her shoes.

  “I don’t understand it,” Aunt Effie continued. “Everything was going along fine indoors. They seemed to really like the Griffinage. And then . . . Chaos, Disaster, and Consternation. Not even a good-bye,” she added.