Baby-Sitters' Haunted House

by Ann M. Martin

  At that moment a clap of thunder startled Claud. She was even more startled when the thunder was followed by a male voice announcing, “Big storm coming. Stay away from the windows.” Claud looked up and gasped. Elton Cooper was standing in front of her. She clapped her hand over the image that looked so much like him and said, “Thank you, I will.” Then she gathered up her papers and clutched them to her chest. “I’ll check on the kids.” Hurrying from the room, she wondered if he had seen what she was doing.

  “Dawn, Dawn — where are you?”

  Jill ran into the kitchen and threw her arms around me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “What is it?”

  “I’m scared,” she said.

  Another clap of thunder rattled the air. I felt Jill shudder. “It’s only a storm,” I told her. “You’re safe inside with us. Come on, we’ll find the others.”

  Within minutes, the late summer afternoon became so dark that we had to turn on the parlor lights. And because the storm was so violent and close, we unplugged the TV and VCR. Then we tried to start up a game of Junior Pictionary, but the kids were distracted by the crashes of thunder and bolts of lightning, and by the window-rattling winds and torrential rains.

  “What about Lionel and Jason?” Martha asked. “They’ll get wet.”

  “They will get very wet,” Karen added. “Completely soaked.”

  “They’ll be all right,” I assured the girls. But I felt more worried than I let on. I hoped Lionel knew that they shouldn’t walk home from the softball field during a lightning storm.

  Finally, the girls and Andrew started paying attention to Pictionary. Kristy took Mary Anne and Claudia out to the hall to tell them what we’d found in the Coopers’ rooms. A few minutes later Mary Anne and Kristy came back and Kristy whispered to me, “Claud has something to show you.”

  In the hall, Claud handed me a picture. I looked at it and asked, “Where’d you find this drawing of Elton? Is it from a wanted poster?” I was more afraid of Elton than ever. “Is he wanted by the FBI?”

  Claud explained that what I was looking at wasn’t Elton Cooper, but one of the Randolph ancestors. The evidence was mounting that Elton Cooper really was Charles Randolph, Mr. Menders’ cousin.

  “While you were with the kids just now,” Claud told me, “we made three rules to follow till we can tell the Menderses about the Coopers. One, don’t go anywhere alone in the mansion. Two, don’t leave any of the children alone — even for an instant. Three, don’t act suspicious of the Coopers. We don’t want them to know how much we know about them.”

  I agreed to obey the rules, then asked, “What time did the Menderses say they’d be back?”

  “After dinner,” Claud reminded me.

  “Maybe they’ll come early,” I said hopefully, “because of the storm.”

  A clap of thunder preceded a crackling flash of lightning. Then the lights went out. Claud and I rushed back into the parlor to help Kristy calm the kids down.

  “It’s dark,” Andrew said. “Is it night, Kristy? Do I have to go to bed? I’m not tired.”

  While Kristy explained to Andrew that even though it was dark it wasn’t night, Claud and I told the girls that we were going to have a great adventure. “We’ll pretend this is long ago, before people had electricity,” Mary Anne said.

  “Just like the characters we’re going to play on the float,” I added.

  “Goody!” Karen said. “Let’s find some flashlights and pretend they’re candles.”

  Claud and I left Kristy and Mary Anne with the kids while we searched for flashlights. “I wish Lionel and Jason were back,” I told Claud as we made our way down the darkened corridor. At that instant a zigzag of lightning illuminated the figure of Margaret Cooper. She was tiptoeing toward us, carrying an unlit flashlight. Claud and I were so startled we didn’t say anything at first.

  Margaret silently turned the flashlight on and handed it to us. In that dull yellow light it was hard to tell if she was smiling or sneering.

  We thanked her and returned to the parlor to give the flashlight to Kristy. Then we made our way to the kitchen to put together a snack for the kids as best we could in the darkened house. We were fixing peanut butter and crackers when we heard a knock on the outside kitchen door. I was expecting Lionel and Jason, but it was Georgio. A powerful gust of wind came into the room with him.

  “Is everyone okay?” he asked.

  Georgio was dressed in yellow raingear and high, black rubber fireman’s boots. As we talked he pulled out of his pockets three flashlights, a bundle of storm candles, and a transistor radio.

  “Do you think the kids’ parents will be able to drive home in this storm?” Claud asked.

  “I had hoped they were already back,” Georgio said. “I doubt they can drive from Boston in this weather,” he told us. “The safest thing for them to do would be to stay in Boston until it’s over.”

  Elton came into the kitchen while Georgio was telling us that the storm was going to last for several hours and could cause local flooding. “You’re on high ground so there’s no danger of flooding up here,” Georgio explained. He added that as an auxiliary volunteer fireman, he’d be keeping an eye on flood levels and checking that the residents of Reese were safe.

  We told Georgio that Lionel and Jason weren’t home. “I’ll go look for them,” he said. “And I’ll check on you and the kids again as soon as I can.”

  “You don’t need to worry about them,” Elton said. “They’re safe with Margaret and me.”

  Ha, I thought.

  Before Georgio left, he squeezed Claud’s hand and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Be careful, Claudia,” he warned. Then he opened the door and went back out into the storm.

  I wondered if Elton was thinking he could use that kiss as evidence that Georgio was “fooling around with a sitter.”

  For the next hour we kept the children busy with games and singing. We all felt a little better when Lionel and Jason returned. Georgio, true to his word, had gone to the playground to look for them, and found them in the rec barn with a few other kids. He had taken all the kids home, then gone out into the storm again to help more stranded people. Claud was very proud of him.

  Kristy and Mary Anne made sure to tell the Coopers that since it was their day off, we could manage our own dinner. When the Coopers protested, saying this was an emergency, Kristy told them that making dinner by candlelight would be a fun, distracting activity for our charges. But the real reason we’d decided to make dinner ourselves was that we simply didn’t trust the Coopers. What if they tried to poison us or something?

  We tried to keep our spirits up while we put together a cold supper of salads and sandwiches. Lionel was a terrific sport and told the kids funny stories. Every once in awhile we’d turn on the transistor radio and listen to the emergency storm reports. Each report included a warning to stay at home and not to drive. I was pretty sure that the adults would not be home that night.

  “I’m cold,” Karen complained.

  “Me, too,” Jill added.

  They were right. The temperature was dropping. Kristy and Mary Anne went off to find sweaters and sweatshirts for everyone while the rest of us cleaned up the kitchen.

  While we were working, Margaret and Elton Cooper came into the kitchen from upstairs. “It’s getting nippy,” Elton said. “I’m going to make a fire in the parlor. You all come in there as soon as you’ve finished in here.” Had he been listening in on our conversation? Had he been spying on us? And wasn’t there something about fire on the list the Coopers had made?

  Half an hour later we were warming ourselves in front of a wood fire in the big front parlor.

  “Let’s tell scary stories,” Jason said.

  I didn’t think that was a very good idea, but Karen and the others did, and Mr. Cooper jumped at the opportunity.

  “I know a true story,” he said. “It’s about the people who used to live in this house.”

  He then told the
story of Reginald and Mary Randolph — the one we’d read in Millicent Ellsworth’s so-called history of Reese. But he added another episode that even Millicent wouldn’t have had the nerve to invent.

  “In 1879, twenty years after Reginald’s boat sank,” Elton said, “a fishing vessel from Reese named First Catch was out at sea when a sudden summer storm threatened the lives of all on board.”

  Elton told his story with dramatic touches worthy of Lionel, but this was the basic plot. As the boat, First Catch, was being dangerously tossed by the waves, another boat, apparently untroubled by the storm, appeared beside it. The second boat led First Catch and its crew safely to shore. But instead of seeking safe harbor itself, the beacon boat headed back to sea.

  In a flash of lightning, the captain of First Catch saw the name of the other boat painted on its side: Mary. The captain knew that Mary was the name of Reginald Randolph’s vessel, the one that had sunk twenty years earlier. He realized that what he’d suspected during their miraculous rescue was true. He and his crew had been saved by a ghost ship with a ghost crew. In his last glimpse of the phantom ship, the captain of First Catch saw a woman standing beside the captain. The woman was dressed in white.

  The next morning the captain of First Catch learned that Mary Randolph had perished the night before, “hurled to her death by the violent winds of the storm,” (as Elton put it), on the very night that the phantom ship saved the captain and his crew.

  While Elton was telling the story, Margaret left the room. I wondered what mischief — or worse — she was up to. Would we soon hear screams and creaking noises? Would a ghostly vision in white pass by the open parlor door? Just as Elton finished, Margaret returned carrying a tray with cups of hot chocolate.

  There was a hush in the room. The children seemed frightened by Elton’s story. And the baby-sitters were afraid of the Coopers.

  Karen broke the silence. “Oh, goody!” she exclaimed. “Hot chocolate. I love it.”

  Margaret smiled what I used to think of as her “pretty smile.” Now I thought of it as her “fake smile.” What if she’d put poison in that hot chocolate? I jumped up and took the tray from her. “I’ll serve it,” I offered. “And you sit down, Margaret. It’s your day off, remember?”

  Clever Claud understood what I was doing and why. She stood up, too. “I’ll help,” she said as she handed the first cup of hot chocolate to Margaret. “Could you tell us if it’s cooled off enough for the children to drink?”

  Margaret took a sip of the cocoa, smiled, and made the okay sign. Now that Margaret had had some, we served the others.

  “What splendid baby-sitters you girls are,” Elton said. “Worrying about the cocoa being too hot. You think of everything.”

  Was he on to us?

  After the children had finished their cocoa we wished the Coopers good night, though I, for one, didn’t mean it. Jill took my hand as we climbed the stairs. “Dawn, I’m scared,” she whispered. I noticed that Jason was staying as close as possible to his big brother and each of the other kids was holding a sitter’s hand. We had no trouble convincing the kids that it was the perfect night for a “sleepover party” in Kristy’s and Mary Anne’s rooms.

  But before settling down for the night we all sat around in Kristy’s room to talk. We wanted to make sure the children understood that the story Elton told them was make-believe. Lionel was a big help. He demonstrated how Elton had changed his voice and used pauses to make the story scarier.

  “But I saw the lady in white,” Jill whispered fearfully.

  “When?” I asked.

  “Last night. Spooky jumped on my bed and woke me up. I wanted him to sleep on my bed, but he ran away. I tried to catch him. That’s when I saw her. I thought it was Claudia or Mary Anne practicing for the parade. But the lady didn’t turn around when I said your names.”

  I knew who “the lady in white” was, but I was determined not to tell the kids that the Coopers were trying to scare them. However, I didn’t want them worrying about ghosts either. I didn’t know what to say.

  All the kids were listening to Jill. “Then the lady in white opened the door and went upstairs to the attic.”

  “Was it a ghost?” Karen asked.

  “I think so,” Jill said.

  “I don’t like ghosts,” said Martha.

  “It wasn’t a ghost,” Kristy said firmly. “It was Mrs. Cooper in her nightgown or something. Maybe she was checking on us.”

  “It wasn’t a nightgown,” Jill said. “It was a fancy dress, like the ones in the attic.”

  “I bet it was Mary Randolph’s ghost,” said Jason.

  “I’m sure it was Mrs. Cooper, Jill,” I said. “She must have a very fancy nightgown. Maybe even an antique one. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Well, I’m scared anyway,” Jill said. “I hate it here. I want to go back to Boston.”

  “Me, too,” Martha said.

  I looked around at my friends. How would we ever calm these kids’ fears? How would we calm our own? I couldn’t wait for morning to come.

  “Jessi,” I shouted into the phone a couple of hours after our Friday meeting, “I’ve had a great idea. I know what we can do with the kids we’re sitting for on Celebrate America! Day.” I realized that Jessi was probably holding the phone about three feet from her ear by then. I lowered my voice. “We can be the ‘BSC on Wheels’ and decorate the kids and their wheels in red, white, and blue. Those wheel-shaped Chuckles inspired me.”

  “You mean the kids will ride bikes?” Jessi asked.

  “Not just bikes,” I said. “Whatever they want that’s on wheels. Skateboards, Rollerblades, Big Wheels, anything. And we’ll make a sign.”

  Jessi loved my idea. We spent forever on the phone making plans. When we hung up we both had a lot of kids to talk to — fifteen to be exact.

  I started with my brothers and sisters by making “BSC on Wheels” the subject of conversation at dinner.

  Adam, Byron, and Jordan wanted to skateboard in the parade. Since you can’t do much to decorate a skateboard they promised that first thing the next morning, which was Celebrate America! Day, they’d help Vanessa, Nicky, Margo, and Claire decorate their bikes.

  My dad said since he was going to the parade anyway, he’d be an extra sitter and help out, especially during the parade. Good old Dad.

  After dinner I helped my brothers and sisters pick out red, white, and blue clothes. I lent Vanessa my favorite T-shirt, which is red and white striped, with blue stars around the neck and sleeves. Adam said he’d wear a red baseball cap, Byron could wear a white one, and Jordan, blue.

  Next I called the Rodowskys. Mrs. Rodowsky thought it was a great idea for us to “roll” together in the parade. But I knew it was more important that the Rodowsky kids like the plan. So I asked to speak to each of them, starting with Jackie.

  “Sure,” Jackie the walking disaster said when he heard the idea. “I haven’t had an accident in a long time. And my bike’s not busted anymore.” I decided to ask my dad to keep an extra close watch on Jackie, the rolling disaster.

  Shea, who’s nine, said he’d be in the parade if the triplets would. When he found out that they were going to be skateboarding, he was triple excited, because he skateboards, too. Archie, who’s only four, didn’t quite follow what I was talking about, but his mother understood and said he could ride his Big Wheels in the parade. She also said she’d help the boys decorate their wheels first thing in the morning and give us an extra hand during the day if we needed it.

  Jessi, meanwhile, went to the Braddocks’ house. She invited Becca to go along with her.

  “Can we Rollerblade there?” Becca asked. “You can teach me on the way.”

  “I don’t want to start by teaching you on the street,” Jessi told her sister. “Besides, we have to be back home before it gets dark. We should bike to the Braddocks’ and back.”

  Becca is good friends with Haley Braddock, so she went with Jessi, even though she was angry about
not being able to Rollerblade. And she pouted the whole way.

  Seven-year-old Matt Braddock is deaf, which is why Jessi didn’t just call the Braddocks on the phone. She could have called and talked to Haley and Mrs. Braddock, but she wanted to discuss “BSC on Wheels” with Matt, too. Matt communicates with American Sign Language (ASL), and Jessi’s good at signing. (The rest of us sitters have learned some ASL too, but Jessi’s the best.) When she signed to Matt about our idea for the parade, he signed back: “Good idea. I’ll Rollerblade. I can wear blue jean shorts and a white shirt with a red sweatband around my head. Is that okay?”

  Jessi signed, “It’s better than okay. It’s perfect!”

  Haley liked the idea, too. She said (so Becca could understand) and signed (for her brother), “I think being in the parade will be a lot of fun, too. I’ll ride on my skateboard and wear red tights and a big white T-shirt with a blue sash.”

  Biking home, Jessi was pleased with how well her visit to the Braddocks had gone. But she wasn’t pleased with Becca, who continued to complain about not being able to Rollerblade in the parade.

  “You can ride your bike,” Jessi said.

  “Haley’s not riding her bike,” Becca shot back. “She’s skateboarding.”

  Jessi reminded Becca that Vanessa Pike would be on a bike. But Becca wasn’t listening (or was pretending not to listen). She pulled ahead on her bike and stayed about a half a block ahead of Jessi all the way home.

  Back at home, Jessi didn’t even have time to talk to Becca, much less give her a Rollerblading lesson. She had to call the Marshalls. They were going to be Jessi’s biggest baby-sitting responsibility during Celebrate America!

  Nina is four and Eleanor is only two years old — young enough to require constant supervision. Nina could ride her two-wheeler with training wheels. But Jessi realized she’d have to push Eleanor in her stroller. She made a mental note to dress in red, white, and blue herself.