Directly above, a hole gaped open to the night sky. The ceiling, rafters, and thatch had been blown off. Scorched thatch blackened the hole’s edges. Will was sitting in a puddle with rain drumming on his head.
“William Moraine! Are you all right?”
Aunt Effie burst into the room, followed by Meg and Ariel. Both girls looked dry and perfectly normal.
“Oh, Will!” said Meg. “I heard the noise. I was so scared!”
“Well, thank heavens!” said Aunt Effie. “Gave us a real fright.”
In an instant, she’d scooped up Will and settled him on top of his dry bed. She inspected the hole, sent Meg for a bucket, then turned back to Will. Peering into his eyes, she felt his pulse, stripped his pajama top, and pulled up the crumpled bedding. Then she wrapped a dry blanket around Will’s shivering shoulders.
“There now! That’s better,” she said. “First step in getting dry is to get out of the rain, I always say. What on earth were you doing on the floor—right in the worst part of it?”
Aunt Effie shook out another blanket and wrapped it around Will’s still-trembling form. Something fell from the blanket and clattered to the floor. Ariel’s eyes grew wide and her face exploded into a smile. She ran across the room and plucked the object from the tangled blankets.
“There you are!” she said, clutching her lost doll to her chest. “Ooh, you’re all wet,” she added, climbing onto Will’s bed. She wiped the doll’s face with the corner of a blanket, then cleaned water droplets off the silver lion that still hung from the doll’s waist. Uncle Ben nosed onto the bed, and Will opened his arms to welcome the great furry head.
“He’s the one who saved me,” he said, patting Uncle Ben’s back and rubbing his ears vigorously to say thank you.
“That or good luck,” said Aunt Effie. “You were inches away. Must have given you a real jolt.”
“Not inches. She was right there,” said Will. “All light and energy. And so bright I couldn’t see.”
“Not surprising,” said Aunt Effie. “Look at the roof! You were smack-dab in the middle of that lightning strike.”
Will bunked the rest of the night with Meg in the girls’ room. No one slept well at first except Ariel. After watching the excitement of Aunt Effie setting up buckets to catch rainwater under the hole in Will’s room, Ariel returned to her cot, fiercely hugging Gillian, and slipped into a deep, still slumber.
“It wasn’t lightning,” said Will. He’d changed into dry clothes—a T-shirt and sweatpants—since his pajamas were soaked. Now he and Meg were lying in her big bed, propped up by pillows. “It wasn’t lightning,” he said again. He’d tried to tell her before, but she kept shushing him until they could hear Ariel’s steady breathing.
Meg swallowed hard. “I knew you’d say that. And I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Meg, I saw her this time.”
“You saw her?” Meg’s eyes widened. “Like a person? What’d she look like?”
“Horrible.” Will buried his head in his hands and wouldn’t say more. When he tried to explain, green velvet and aching cold flooded back, and he could feel those silver eyes boring into him again.
“Forget it. Doesn’t matter,” said Meg. “We’ve got to tell Aunt Effie.”
“Are you crazy?” said Will. “She’d never believe us. She thinks it’s lightning! She doesn’t believe in ghosts, remember?”
“The police?”
“You think the police are going to come out for a ghost story?” asked Will.
“Tell me what happened.”
So Will told his story, skipping the physical description of the ghost, and Meg fidgeted with her curls as he talked.
“But the roof . . . ,” Meg said when he finished.
“Must have gone out that way,” said Will. “When Uncle Ben hit her. Or rather, when he hit me. I think he knocked her off somehow and the energy just sort of went up. That’s not a lightning hole, that’s a fast exit for a ghost.”
“Oh!” Meg shuddered and tightened the blankets around her chest. “It’s strange, though. She was nothing like Shep said, a chatty ghost having conversations. And she didn’t care that you’re a boy. The child she lost was a girl. Even the clothes you’re wearing didn’t bother her. She couldn’t tell the difference between a boy in plaid pajamas and her own child wearing a dress from one hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Or didn’t want to.”
“What do you mean?” asked Meg.
“Maybe she’ll go after any of us. You might be safe—you might be old enough—we don’t know. But Ariel definitely isn’t, and we know I’m not.”
Will slept late into the next morning, despite thinking he’d never close his eyes at all. He woke groggy, with a blistering headache. The others were in the kitchen. Aunt Effie jumped up when he came in and hovered about him, smoothing the hair on his forehead and saying, “Thank goodness!” every two minutes.
“I’ve already called your parents,” Aunt Effie said, patting his head again. “Told them about the storm. Left a message that you’re safe and sound.”
All this head patting made Will feel worse. He ate a few spoons of oatmeal, poked at his egg, and left his toast getting cold on the side of his plate. It was one thing to be lucky and thankful about a near miss with a lightning strike, it was another to know it wasn’t a lightning strike, but something much worse.
“Rain’s clearing up,” said Aunt Effie. “That’s a relief, anyway. I’ve already emptied those buckets three times.” She looked at the children, patted Will’s head and kissed it this time, then moved on to Uncle Ben, who was prowling about the kitchen and had barely nibbled his breakfast. Aunt Effie gently cupped Uncle Ben’s cheeks in her hands and gazed into his eyes.
“Oh, Ben,” she said. “You and this house together are going to be the death of me. I’ve got a broken window, a hole in the roof, an ill child, and now a dog who’s poorly.”
“I’m not sick anymore, Aun’ Effie,” said Ariel. She was cheerfully spooning brown sugar–slathered oatmeal into her mouth. The raisin box was empty, but the brown sugar jar wasn’t. She’d been up first and had her breakfast long ago, but decided she needed a “second breakfast” when she saw Will eating. Aunt Effie ran her hand over Ariel’s forehead to check for fever, and smiled.
“I believe you’re right,” said Aunt Effie. “That’s one cheerful thing about today. You’re the picture of health and rest. Good, we don’t have to worry about you.” Aunt Effie kissed her, then disappeared down the hallway. A short time later they heard snatches of conversation like “oh, this house!” and “splendid, splendid, three o’clock.” Will poked his egg again. If Aunt Effie was making more plans for the Griffinage, he couldn’t worry about it. There was a ghost to get rid of. A ghost intent on loving him to death.
“You’re taking forever!” cried Meg, pulling his plate away. “Come on, we’ve got to go to Shep’s. Shep will believe us. He’ll know what to do.”
Will nodded, his head still aching, and tugged on his boots. Ariel was safe for the moment. She was coloring outside Aunt Effie’s office, with Gillian propped beside her and Uncle Ben lying at her feet. What could happen? It was daylight, and she had a dog and a grown-up.
The little ghost danced above them in the branches of the walnut tree. Today was the day. Her day. Her special birthday—or was it deathday?—she always got those two mixed up. Both involved going in and out of the earthly world.
She waved as she saw the older two children walk off across the fields, and hopped to another branch. The walnut was tipped at an odd angle today, not quite the same as usual. She studied it, then shrugged and turned her attention to the house. The little one must be inside somewhere. She’d wait. Oh, yes. It wouldn’t be long now. After enduring so many Aprils, it was easy to be patient until three o’clock. She skipped a bit, and then fluttered down to peek in the east room’s window. Where was she? Not there. She laughed and dropped down to spy in a lower window. There she was. Her friend. Ariel was hold
ing some sort of waxy blue pencil and drawing a picture. How much fun they’d have. Always together. Already, she could feel the dark weight on her soul lightening. Soon it would lift right off. She flew to the top of the walnut tree. After today, she’d never be lonely again.
Shep’s house was dark. The door stayed shut and locked no matter how much they pounded. They checked behind the house, where Shep usually parked his Jeep. It was gone.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back,” said Meg. “We just have to wait till he returns.”
“Who knows when that will be!” groaned Will. He kicked the dirt in the driveway and nervously glanced toward the Griffinage.
“We can leave a note. Or come back—it’s not far. Maybe Aunt Effie can call him.”
“What does he really know?” said Will, exasperated. “He seems to know a lot about ghosts, but he thinks they’re only grumpy! He doesn’t know anything about a ghost that pulls people out of their beds and tries to kill them!”
“Why was she even at the Griffinage?” asked Meg, as they trudged back home. “We moved the chest.”
“We must have moved the wrong thing.”
They were both silent. There was no need to say the obvious truth: If the chest wasn’t right, they’d have to discover the right object before the ghost came back.
The first thing they saw as they reached the Griffinage was Aunt Effie standing outside staring at the walnut tree. The giant tree had split. One branch was snapped, bent double and hanging half suspended along the stone wall. A fresh line of splintered bark traveled from high in the top branches, snaking its way down until it disappeared into the ground. Besides the gash, the entire tree tilted on its side.
“Now the walnut!” Aunt Effie cried as they came running up. “My beautiful old tree. She’s alive, but damaged. Quite unbelievable that lightning struck twice, so close together last night.”
Meg and Will exchanged glances. Had there also been a lightning strike? It looked like the kind of scar lightning made, but maybe it was a ghost track. Shep would know. Or might know, Will corrected himself.
The three of them walked closer to inspect the tree damage, but before they’d reached the tree’s canopy, Aunt Effie stuck out her arm to ward them off.
“Not too close. Stay away from the tree today, my dears,” Aunt Effie went on. “Not safe to be around. Branches might fall, or the ground could be unstable. See how it’s tipping. Who knows what the tree roots could unearth after a jolt like that. Old ruins. Roman lead mines. Buried wells. I’ll have to get the tree trimmers in. Oh, my. Another expense. What a week we’re having here at the old Griffinage.” She wiped her hands on her pants. “Only thing to do is soldier on.” She ushered them toward the house.
“Aunt Effie, do you know where Shep works?” asked Meg.
“Shep? He’s always out and about. Goes where the computer bugs are. But today I know where he is.”
“Where?” Both Meg and Will spoke at once.
“Why, he’s in town getting a new glass pane and roof supplies for me. I called him this morning and told him about our rainstorm.”
“That means he’ll be back soon?” asked Meg.
“I certainly hope so. Might be more rain tonight, and I do want to get that hole patched. The Griffinage feels its age with a gaping hole in its head.”
Meg cornered Ariel in the bathroom to ask her about the manor ghost, but Ariel spoke before she could open her mouth.
“I saw her,” said Ariel. “The lady you said.”
“You really saw her?” asked Meg. She caught her breath. Of course, she knew there’d been a ghost in the Griffinage, the way Uncle Ben had pounced and gone crazy, and Will’s terror last night and all the damage to the house. She knew it logically, but it was another thing to have your little sister matter-of-factly state that she’d seen a ghost.
“When did you see her? Today?”
“No, yesterday, when all those people were here. She was outside by the big tree.”
“What did she look like?”
“Just like you said. A lady wearing a green dress.”
“Was she . . . scary?”
“No, but she’s no fun. I like Uncle Ben and Kay Kay better.”
“Me too,” Meg assured her. “If you see her again, come tell us right away, okay? Don’t wait. It’s important.”
She hurried off to find Will and reported the news to him. “But I don’t think it changes anything,” Meg concluded. “We know we have a ghost to get rid of. It’s just that you two are the only ones who can see her.”
Will had slept so late that the rest of the morning was short. Aunt Effie took them for a walk, but Uncle Ben growled when she fetched her coat and refused to chase the squirrels. Lunch was egg sandwiches and water, accompanied by Aunt Effie sighing a lot. After lunch, she announced she was taking Uncle Ben to the vet.
“I’ve never seen him like this. Agitated, aggressive, no appetite. I hope it’s nothing serious. Lucky the vet can fit us in today.” She cradled Uncle Ben’s furry head in her hands and rubbed his ears. “Oh, Ben, I’d rather have you than a thousand Mrs. Carmichaels.”
Waiting by the gold Mini, Meg and Will shuffled their feet and tried not to look as uncomfortable as they felt inside. Will kept glancing at his watch and staring helplessly at Meg as the day inched by, ever closer to nightfall. Meg swallowed her own growing fear. If only Shep would come home. Maybe they could even sleep over at Shep’s for the night, or get a hotel or something. There was sure to be a hotel in town near the vet’s. The tricky part was how they could convince Aunt Effie that they needed to spend the night away from the Griffinage. Meg pictured herself saying, It’s a ghost emergency, Aunt Effie. We need to rent a hotel room.
But she said nothing and watched glumly as Aunt Effie loaded Uncle Ben’s dog bed in the Mini’s back seat, then added his water bowl and leash. The next moment, her despair deepened.
“There’s only room for Ariel, one driver, and one dog, I’m afraid,” said Aunt Effie.
“We’re not coming?”
“Not you two. A Mini can beat world records, but not where Newfoundland dogs are concerned. A Newfie’s not like an umbrella, you know. He won’t fold up.” She smiled, but Meg and Will didn’t smile back. They trailed after her as she returned to the house and reappeared shaking a box of Bowzer’s Bones.
“He never can resist these,” she said. “Fish sticks for dogs.”
But it seemed today he could. Uncle Ben did not budge. Instead, he backed up and gazed at Ariel, who was skipping rope on the flagstone walk.
“I think he doesn’t want to leave Ariel,” said Meg. “Or what I mean is, leave any of us.” If only Aunt Effie would change her mind and take them all. Or if Uncle Ben wouldn’t get in the car, then they could all stay home.
“Ah, that’s a good idea,” said Aunt Effie. “He does love that little girl. Must think she’s his puppy. Right, then, Ariel, you pop in first.” Ariel stopped skipping and climbed in the Mini. Once Ariel was tucked in, Uncle Ben obligingly walked into the Mini and lay down. Aunt Effie shut the door behind his great shaggy rump with a click.
“Right. Won’t be long.” said Aunt Effie. “Sorry, dears, this isn’t much of a vacation for you, is it? We’ll go to Wells tomorrow, I promise. It’s just Ben’s got me worried, and the vet only had one appointment left—I’ve got to take it—and I do love the old fellow. . . .”
Suddenly Meg felt an urge to tell Aunt Effie everything. It didn’t matter if she believed them or not. What if Aunt Effie didn’t return until late? What if her car broke down and they had to spend the night at the Griffinage alone? What if . . .
“Aunt Effie . . . ,” she began.
“What is it, Meg? You look pale. You can’t be taking ill too, I hope.”
“No, I’m fine. It’s just that . . .” She started again. “Well, we’ve been . . .”
“What she means is, is the vet close by?” asked Will, helping her out.
“The vet? The vet’s in Yeovil. Wha
t’s on your mind, William Moraine?”
“When will you be back?”
“Oh, that’s it!” said Aunt Effie. “You’re thinking about supper. You’ll find apples and cake in the larder to start. I’m picking up lamb chops for supper.”
“So you’ll be back before dark?” asked Meg.
“Sure to be back long before dark. Now I must be off—the vet won’t wait. Is that all you wanted to know?”
“Yes,” said Meg. She wanted to say no. She wanted more answers, lots of answers. How do you make a ghost go dormant? How do you find the object a ghost’s attached to? What should they do if the ghost comes again? Meg wanted to cry out: Don’t go! There’s nothing wrong with Ben except a ghost! The vet can’t fix him! Stay with us.
Instead, she found herself waving good-bye to Aunt Effie and Ariel. At least Ariel would be out of harm’s way, Meg thought. She watched with a sinking heart as the Mini started down the drive.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Prelude to a Party
The Mini had rolled only a short distance when Ariel sat bolt upright and cried out. “What time is it, Aunt Effie? What time is it?”
“Half past two or thereabouts.”
“Is that close to three o’clock?” asked Ariel.
“Yes, dear. Quite close to three.”
“Will we get home for three o’clock?”
“No, we’ll be at the vet’s then.”
“Then I can’t go!” cried Ariel, grabbing the door handle and opening the Mini door. They were still on the long Griffinage driveway. They hadn’t gone far. “Kay Kay’s birthday party is at three. She said so.”
Aunt Effie, however, didn’t want to let her go. She kept talking about responsibility, and how old everyone was. Ariel was getting impatient. Meg and Will often looked after her at home; why not here? Finally, Aunt Effie took out her cell phone and called Shep.
“There,” she said. “Shep’s just around the corner at the hardware store. He’ll stop by.”
The Griffins of Castle Cary Page 12