Aunt Effie didn’t eat a thing at breakfast, but the children and Shep made up for that. Ariel insisted on sitting on Shep’s lap and calling him “uncle” at every opportunity.
“He’s not our uncle yet,” said Will.
“Well, he’s our almost-uncle,” said Ariel.
“It won’t be too far off,” said Aunt Effie. “At our ages, there’s no sense in waiting. I’ll be forty in May, and that’s old enough to marry. Just think! I’m going to be a June bride.”
Will plowed into his eggs. He was pleased Shep was joining the family, but all the wedding talk was distracting him from his breakfast. Weddings were fine, but not like the adventure of ghosts, and if he heard Shep say, Effie, love, one more time, or Aunt Effie say, Shep, my dear, he might lose his appetite.
Meg tugged him out the door after breakfast. “For our good-bye tour,” she said. “Plus, you know, one more thing to do.”
Together they climbed the familiar path through the pasture. Ariel came too, carrying violets in one hand and a paper bag in the other. She tripped over her shoelace before they reached the first stile, but Will didn’t mind. He stopped and tied it for her. They waved to the sheep (“Even Caesar,” said Ariel. “Especially Caesar!” answered Will), and looked once more at the manor and its towers. Their last stop was St. Giles. They stood for a moment by Lady Mendip’s tomb, then entered the Chapel of Innocents. A wash of rainbow colors from the stained-glass illuminated the chapel.
“Ooh,” whispered Ariel, who was seeing the little chapel for the first time.
“Funny that Shep and Kay Kay are cousins,” said Will. “I bet he’s the one who usually puts flowers here.”
Meg nodded, then turned as Ariel tugged her sleeve.
“Meg?” she asked. “Can you still be friends with someone when you can’t see them?”
“Yes, I think you can,” said Meg, giving Ariel’s hand a squeeze. “I think it happens all the time.”
The three children turned and solemnly looked at the small slate grave in the corner. Ariel placed a bunch of purple violets she’d picked from the Griffinage garden on the grave, next to a bouquet of bell-shaped lily of the valley that was already there. They all watched the word “missing” deepen to a royal blue as the sun pulsed through the tinted windows.
“Good-bye, Katherine,” said Meg. “I’m glad we found you.”
Next, they faced the manor girl’s tomb. For a moment they watched the stained-glass window turn the angels shades of red and orange. Then Meg rustled in the bag. She took two steps forward and placed a wedge of cake on Gillian’s grave. “For your birthday,” said Meg. “From your mother.” She laid more violets beside it. “And this is from us.”
The cake looked warm lying on the grey stone. A crumb broke off and skittered down the side. As they watched, the cake began to shimmer. Then it rose in the air and sank gracefully into the grave.
Back at the Griffinage, Aunt Effie greeted them dancing at the door. She held a teakettle in one hand and an oversized envelope in the other. She waved them into the kitchen.
“Listen to this!” Aunt Effie cried, setting the kettle down on Uncle Ben’s water dish, which was up on the counter to be refilled. She caught Will in a bear hug until he grunted.
“Is this what love does?” Will groaned to Meg as he escaped. “If it is, I think I’ll go back to St. Giles and play the piano.”
“From Mrs. Carmichael!” said Aunt Effie, doing a little spin. “She liked it! The Griffinage won. We won the grant!” She waved the envelope in front of them and produced a single sheet of paper. There it was: an official letter from the Somerset Historical Society, Mrs. P.M. Carmichael, chairperson. At the end of the letter was a personal note written in blue ink. Congratulations—your historic value combined with authentic ghosts made you the clear winner.
“Eighteen thousand pounds!” Aunt Effie cried. “For historic renovations! That’s the new thatch and windows and more! Wait till Shep hears this.”
The next morning was a bustle of bags and suitcases. Ariel kept running over to pat Uncle Ben one last time and to gaze at the new doll Aunt Effie had given her to replace the ghost one. Shep leaned on a set of crutches, grinning ear to ear, and shook David Griffin’s hand. Their father grinned back, the same overwide Griffin grin that Will had inherited. Their mother, Marie, kept flitting from one child to another and ruffling their hair with kisses, then wringing her hands and saying, “Oh!” every time she looked at Shep or Aunt Effie.
“Kiss Uncle Ben, too, Mama,” said Ariel. “And my new doll. You forgot the doll. I’ve named her Kay Kay.”
“Kay Kay,” said their mother. “That’s an unusual name.”
“I named her after my ghost friend, see,” said Ariel and launched into a story about the ghosts. Will nudged Meg. They’d already decided the best policy would be to let Ariel tell the truth. Then it would be up to their parents whether or not to believe the story.
“My, that sounds exciting, Ariel,” said Mama. “You can tell me more about your little friend later. Now, where’s your suitcase?”
But when the bags were actually packed, and their father had slammed the trunk shut, it was suddenly hard to leave. The Griffin family stood awkwardly around the rental car from London, and no one made a move to get in. Will scuffed his feet and sank his fingers into Uncle Ben’s thick brown coat. Ariel sat cross-legged on the ground and said she missed her alcove. Shep stood silent, and Meg began to cry.
“Well, here’s a gloomy lot!” said their father. Aunt Effie came up to Meg and put her arm around her.
“You’ll be back before you know it,” she said, giving her a squeeze. “It’s April, and June’s just around the corner. I talked to your mum and dad, and you’re all coming back for the wedding. As I said, no sense in waiting. Took us this long to hold hands; we can’t be shy of the altar. Besides, if we wait, who knows what might happen? Shep here might fall down a badger hole before I’ve even squirmed into my wedding dress. What a pity that would be,” she said, looking at Will. “No cake for you lot to eat!”
“Now,” said their father, when they were all packed into the car, and Ariel was still waving to Uncle Ben long after she could see him, “I’m sure you kids are tired of the country. What do you say to a couple of days seeing the sights in London? Tower of London? Madame Tussauds? Plenty of history, and they even say some places are haunted. . . .”
Ariel stopped waving. Meg gasped and Will suddenly sat back. The whole back seat became silent.
“What?” their father asked. “Why are you all so quiet?”
“Perhaps they’ve had enough history for the moment,” suggested their mother.
“Ah yes, I forgot,” said their father. “Effie probably had a heyday stuffing their heads with tales of British battles and revolutions. Don’t you want to go to the London Dungeon and learn tales about ghosts?”
“Uh . . . ,” said Will.
“Sounds scary,” said Ariel.
“It’s just that . . . ,” Meg said.
Their mother turned around and scanned the three faces in the back seat. “How about the beach instead? Weston-super-Mare is close by, and it has a Ferris wheel and pony rides.”
“Yes!” shouted Will, punching his fist in the air. “Weston-super-Mare, Dad. Let’s go there! We might even find some cool rocks in the sand.”
“Thank you, Will, but I don’t need rocks wherever I go,” said their father, chuckling.
“Pony rides! I love ponies,” said Ariel.
“They’re donkeys, actually,” said her father.
“I love donkeys!” cried Ariel.
“Frivolity over history,” said their father. “Whose offspring are these?”
“They look as if they could use a rest,” said their mother.
“Right then, to the Grand Pier!”
An hour later, they’d reached the coast and tumbled out of the car. “Two days at Weston-super-Mare! Can you believe it?” Will asked Meg. “The ghosts were good, but I can�
��t wait to ride the Super Looper.”
“There’s the donkeys!” cried Ariel. She slipped her hand away from her mother and reached out for Meg’s instead. Meg felt a warm glow rush through her insides as they headed toward the beach. Ever since they banished the ghosts, she’d been surprised by how much she liked holding Ariel’s warm little hand and listening to her chatter. Being a big sister seemed like the most wonderful thing in the world.
“And then home,” said Meg. “I’ll be glad to be home. No ghosts there.”
“Not exactly,” said Will.
Meg stopped walking and looked at him. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” she demanded. Ariel was tugging her hand, and the smell of salt and seaweed beckoned.
Will grinned, his broad, goofy Griffin grin which stretched from cheekbone to cheekbone. “You know when we walk over the Water Street Bridge? I always get hiccups.”
“Hiccups!” cried Meg. “I guess this won’t be the end of the ghosts.”
“Race you!” called out Will. Then the three Griffin children ran toward the ocean waves crashing on the ancient Somerset beach.
Author’s Note
Castle Cary is a real town in Somerset, England. You can take the train there and step out on the same railroad platform where Meg, Will, and Ariel met Aunt Effie. But the resemblance ends there; I’ve created a fictional version of the town for this story. Castle Cary has been moved north and west, and I’ve generally rearranged things. If you visit, you will find a ruined castle and an old manor house in Castle Cary, but the manor is quite different from the one the Griffin children explore. As for the ghosts, you’ll have to see if you start hiccupping.
Acknowledgments
Hugs to my first readers, the children who read early versions of the manuscript, added ideas, and told me exactly what they thought: Tess Barker, Alexander and Elizabeth Fey, Emerson and Charlie Hammersley, and Amabel and Ellen Schwaiger. Also to Alexander Shumaker, who was eight when he first met the ghosts and Uncle Ben, and had to wait until he was quite old to hold a published copy in his hands.
Special thanks to the lovable Mosey Brown. Her giant furry brown head and drooling tongue inspired the character of Uncle Ben. The idea for the rest of the story came to me while I was out cross-country skiing.
Deep thanks to Krista Vitola, editor at Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers. You are an honorary member of the Griffin family. Thanks also to Catherine Laudone and the whole team from the book-lined walls of Simon & Schuster.
Thanks go to the parents, teachers, and children’s librarians who read early chapters, sometimes reading ahead at the spooky parts: Kathy Fey, Kate Madigan, Mary K Montieth, Michele Rudd, Ana Ruesink, Zane Schwaiger, and Aaron Stander. Thanks to the Inkhearts, Powerfingers, and other writing critique partners: Karen Anderson, Patrick Fairbairn, Ann Finkelstein, Bronwyn Jones, Mardi Link, Jillian Manning, Stephanie Mills, Cari Noga, Anne-Marie Oomen, Teresa Scollon, and, of course, Angie Treinen, writer and pumpkin farmer extraordinaire. Thanks to Jen Costello of My Brown Newfies for all things Newfoundland, and to my intrepid trio of UK readers: Hannah Hiles, Nicola Keller, and Kay Weetch who made the whole book better by reading with British eyes. Hugs to the hardworking folks at the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, on both sides of the pond, and heartfelt thanks to my agents, Jacquie Flynn and Joëlle Delbourgo, who guided me from writing about children to writing for children.
As always, love to Rick, Xander, and Luke. Finally, to my parents, who read aloud to me all my life, shared the wonder of words, and introduced me to crumbly old castles.
About the Author
Heather Shumaker grew up always wanting to be an author. She began writing books in elementary school and is now an award-winning author of several books for adults, including It’s OK Not to Share, It’s OK to Go Up the Slide, and Saving Arcadia. Heather has tried many jobs, including sailing on tall ships, leading llama treks, and recycling at the South Pole, Antarctica, but she likes writing best. Today Heather lives up in northern Michigan with her husband and two children. The Griffins of Castle Cary is her first book for children.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by Heather Shumaker
Jacket illustrations copyright © 2019 by Yaoyao Ma Van As
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Shumaker, Heather, author.
Title: The griffins of Castle Cary / Heather Shumaker.
Description: First edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, [2019] | Summary: “Siblings Meg and Will must uncover the haunted history of their aunt’s quaint town in order to save their younger sister, Ariel, from a ghost intent on keeping her as a friend”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018015659 | ISBN 9781534430884 (hardcover : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781534430907 (eBook) | Subjects: | CYAC: Haunted places—Fiction. | Ghosts—Fiction. | Brothers and sisters—Fiction. | Aunts—Fiction. | Racially-mixed people—Fiction. | Americans—England—Fiction. | England—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S518 Gri 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018015659
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