The Ghostly Ghastlys Book 6: The Lost Reindeer

by Barbara Godwin

  Ahead were boxes with wooden buttons on them. Puff pressed a red button. The box gurgled, rattled and then gave a little jump. Out of a rectangular shaped hole on top gushed sheet after sheet of red, orange and blue wrapping paper with pictures of Father Christmas and reindeer drawn on them.

  Excited, the little Ghastlys watched the tumbling paper pile up until it was as high as the rafters.

  Puff pressed a green button. The box clunked and the paper started rolling back inside. She peeped into the rectangular hole and was whooshed, giggling, into the box.

  It was dark in there. She was shaken from side to side. She felt levers going up and down. She giggled even more.

  Suddenly everything stopped. She floated out to find that Bubble and Trouble had pressed all the buttons, stopping hers and setting off the other boxes. Printed paper giving the “Rules for The Pickler Game,” instructions about “Washing Doris Duckling,” and “How to build a Purple Spaceship” glided about the workshop.

  “Proper fun!” said Puff, as paper fluttered about like bird wings.

  The hammer started to jiggle on its clip. It got itself loose and zoomed round the room, stirring up paper and making it fly and flap and twist and turn like tiny whirlwinds. Laughing delightedly the little Ghastlys flew in and out of the spinning paper until exhausted, they collapsed onto the workbenches.

  “There’s a double door over there,” said Bubble, pointing to the far end of the room.

  “It’s huge,” said Trouble, jumping up.

  “Yay!” cried Puff, jumping up and buzzing off down the room. “Let’s find more magic!”

  Chapter 5. Happy Birthday

  The doors were high and wide. The Ghastlys twisted through a gap, and found themselves in another room. It too was enormous and filled to the top with boxes marked in tiny wobbly letters.

  “Teddy Bear ears,” read Bubble.

  “Striped suits, blue,” read Trouble. “Yellow bus wheels. Tom-tom-kits.”

  “Helicopter blades. Skates, size 7,” read Puff. “Building blocks, green.”

  They poked inside the boxes. They were empty apart from one full of yellow bows with white spots. The box jolted, turned itself upside down and bows floated down like large flakes of snow.

  They formed into a cloud which followed the little Ghastlys about the room. The cloud stopped when they stopped and dodged round them when they tried to catch it. The Ghastlys chased it and it whizzed away.

  The little Ghastlys were sure the bows were laughing at them. It was like a weird game of tag.

  The Ghastlys tried harder to catch the cloud, but it was no good. After a while they gave up, and giggling, flew to the far end of the room. They heard the sound of gentle whistling and snoring.

  There was another huge door to one side, but the snoring was coming from behind a low door further down. They drifted through a crack in that door which led into another room. Little beds stood in rows and in each one was a small elf. They were sleeping soundly under patchwork quilts and red blankets.

  The little Ghastlys floated past the sleepers and out through a door at the side. They were in a stable. There was straw on the floor, water troughs, and food trays full of carrots with bites taken out of them.

  Huge double doors faced outside. Snow had fallen through a gap where the doors were not quite closed.

  This room looked like a stable but there were no animals.

  An elf sat in a chair. His eyes were closed, his arms were folded and he was snoring gently.

  He too was fast asleep.

  A banner was stretched across the ceiling. It read:

  “Happy Birthday Roddy Reindeer Born Here 18 December.”

  A half-eaten mince pie was on the floor under it.

  “Do you think that’s our baby reindeer?” asked Bubble.

  “His mum isn’t here,” said Trouble. “She’ll be with Father Christmas, delivering presents.”

  “That elf must have been too tired to look after him,” said Puff. “Could we bring Roddy back here?”

  Bubble shook her head. “I don’t think he can fly,” she said.

  “No,” said Trouble, “or he wouldn’t have fallen off the roof. I expect he is too young to fly.”

  “Let’s wake the elves up and tell them where Roddy is,” said Puff. “They’ll send Father Christmas to get him.” She floated down and tweaked the nose of the elf in the chair. He grunted but didn’t wake up. They shouted and poked the other elves, and even fetched the twisted trumpet and blew it in their ears.

  None of the elves even stirred.

  The Ghastlys looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “What do we do now?” asked Bubble.

  “Go home,” said Trouble.

  They floated through the room of boxes. The cloud of bows was clinging to the ceiling. It whizzed after the little Ghastlys, and followed them through a gap between the doors into the workshop.

  The workshop was still full of paper. The bows quickly got mixed up with it.

  “Let’s have one more go!” cried Puff. She pressed buttons and the little Ghastlys chased after the papers as they swept back into the boxes.

  The bows flew in and then out of the boxes.

  All the paper was soon gone and some of the bows now had a mangled look about them. They went off in a cloud together to hover about in the rafters.

  The hammer came bouncing across and jumped into the rectangle opening of one of the boxes. It was too big to get inside, and wriggling and twisting it stuck in the hole.

  “It wants to get in,” said Bubble, “or out.”

  “I’ll switch the box off,” said Trouble, pressing a wooden button. The box became still but the hammer didn’t. It still squirmed and jiggled with its handle inside the opening and its head stuck out.

  “Pull it,” said Puff, and they did, on the count of three, all together. They fell backwards as the hammer soared out, and bounced across the room to its clip. It wriggled inside, and then it too became still.

  The workshop was now as quiet as when they had found it. Only the cloud of bows was out of place.

  The little Ghastlys floated out of the door, up past the flagstaff and into the moonlit sky.

  The building vanished into snow. The Ghastlys zoomed away until the world was a globe beneath them. They turned south and flew on until they saw the British Isles below with Ireland next to it.

  They flew down and there were the woods, the castle and the Town Hall.

  Then, at last, there was Alfonso’s Restaurant, and next to it the Ghostly Ghastly House.

  They floated into the long room.

  The ghostly fans had already returned. They were shaking their heads.

  No-one had found Father Christmas.

 

  Chapter 6. It’s Magic

  Princess, Branwing and the skeletons were playing with the little reindeer.

  He saw the ghosts, started crying and hid under the table. Princess reached across and licked his face until he calmed down.

  “They’re only ghosts. They won’t hurt you,” said Branwing.

  “We went to the North Pole,” said Bubble.

  “We found the workshop and the reindeer stable, but everyone was asleep. There were no reindeers and Father Christmas wasn’t there,” said Trouble.

  “We won’t ever find him,” said Puff.

  The baby reindeer started crying again. The skeletons crawled under the table and tickled him. He shook away his tears and giggled and snuffled back at them.

  Then he peeped out from under the table and saw the little Ghastlys.

  “Whaaaaa!” he cried.

  “He doesn’t like us,” said Bubble. She did some flying somersaults and cartwheels which made the candle flames wave about.

  “Wha….” The reindeer started to say. He stared at her.

  “Do that again,” said Trouble.

  Bubble did a backward roll.

  The reindeer watched, open-mouthed.

  “H
e likes it,” said Puff. She and Trouble joined in, twirling upside down in mid-air.

  Then all together they flew in through the tops of the stockings and out through the holes, making the stockings bulge, flatten and wriggle like sock puppets.

  The reindeer looked on with big round eyes.

  Next Bubble popped her head round the table leg and shouted, “Boo!”

  The reindeer did a single snorting gurgle that was nearly a laugh.

  Trouble hung his head over the table top and yelled, “Boo!”

  The reindeer gave a double giggle and skipped up and down.

  Puff jumped out from behind the skeletons and all the ghostly fans cried, “Boo!” with her. Then they clapped and popped up from behind chairs and cupboards and cushions going, “Boo! Boo! Boo!” one after another.

  The reindeer giggled so much he rolled over onto his back, his little legs dancing in the air. Still the ghosts bounced about shouting, “Boo!”

  “My dear,” said Mr Ghastly, looking on, “I suppose our fans mean well, but I have never seen them behave in such a very undignified way.”

  “Indeed,” said Mrs Ghastly, “but they are keeping that dreadful reindeer amused. The sooner he goes the better, but magic is unreliable, as you said. I can’t believe that Father Christmas will ever come back for him.”

  The little Ghastlys stopped in mid-air. They looked at each other. In the excitement they had forgotten about Father Christmas.

  Princess jumped up and gave a string of barks.

  “Princess knows how to contact Father Christmas,” said Branwing. “Send a message. That’s how children do it!”

  “But how will he get it?” asked Mr Ghastly, doubtfully.

  “It’s magic,” explained Branwing, as Princess barked some instructions.

  “Ah, magic again,” said Mr Ghastly, even more doubtfully.

  “I’ll write the message,” said Branwing. “Then we’ll send it up the chimney. Princess told me that’s how they used to send lists to Father Christmas. Children post their letters now, but the old way will work just as well.”

  Branwing started writing:

  “Dear Father Christmas,” he wrote. “A baby reindeer dropped out of your sack. He is lost. He is here with us at the Ghostly Ghastly House. He wants his mummy. Please come and take him home. Branwing.”

  He threw it into the fireplace. Sparks hissed like fireworks. Everyone watched the message soar up the chimney.

  They waited.

  Nothing happened.

  The baby reindeer snuggled up to Princess.

  Mrs Ghastly sang “Jingle Bells,” and “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” The ghostly fans joined in.

  The fire burnt low.

  The little reindeer suddenly remembered his mummy and cried. Princess curled round him. Mrs Ghastly sang “Twinkle, twinkle little star” quietly and the ghostly fans hummed along until he fell asleep.

  “Father Christmas isn’t coming,” said Bubble.

  “He’s too busy tonight to get messages,” said Trouble.

  Puff shook her head. “Maybe it’s to do with this being good thing,” she said.

  The moon moved behind the clouds. Princess changed back into a person. She stood up and stretched, and tucked cushions round the sleeping reindeer.

  “Magic needs patience,” she said.

  Just then came a scraping, and a scuffling and a scratching from somewhere up the chimney.

  Chapter 7. Ghosts?

  The little Ghastlys looked at each other. Could this really be…?

  It was. Father Christmas puffed his way down the chimney. His beard shone bright and white in the candlelight as he climbed out into the long room.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” he said.

  “Hello, Father Christmas,” said Princess, beaming.

  “Hello,” said the ghostly fans.

  “Hello,” said the skeletons.

  “Errrr – how many of you are there?” asked Father Christmas, peering around. “Ah, I know you, Princess,” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied. “This is Branwing, my husband, and here are the…”

  “…skeletons,” said Father Christmas. “I saw you from the sleigh.” He shook hands with them and they grinned bony grins at him. “But it sounds as if there are lots more people here.” He spotted the baby reindeer. “I had a message about this young scallywag,” he said.

  He picked the reindeer up. The reindeer snuffled sleepily into his beard.

  “So you sneaked into that bag, did you, you rascal?” he said, laughing deeply.

  “Ghosts,” said the reindeer, waking up.

  “Ghosts?” said Father Christmas, looking around. His eyes twinkled. “Aah! Now I see you. So that’s it!” He gave a deep gurgling laugh that made everyone smile. “I don’t always know where ghosts are.”

  “This is Mr and Mrs Ghastly,” said Princess. “These are their ghostly fans from the concerts in the woods, and here are their children, Bubble, Trouble and Puff.”

  Father Christmas looked at the little Ghastlys and winked. “Children! So I was wrong! There are children here. It’s the beard. It doesn’t twitch for ghost children. Works very well with other children. That’s how I normally know that there are children in the house.”

  “Funny ghosts!” said the little reindeer, and snuggled into the red coat.

  “Well, well,” said Santa to the little Ghastlys, “have you been good?”

  “Oh yes,” said Bubble. “We tried to find you because Roddy wanted his mummy.”

  “We went to your workshop at the North Pole,” said Trouble.

  “We left everything tidy,” said Puff. Then she remembered the cloud of bows. “Well almost,” she added.

  “Hmmm,” said Father Christmas. He held up one hand and seemed to be ticking things off. “Alfonso’s Restaurant, but that ended well.” He nodded. “Princess’s wedding?” he beamed. “That was very good, leading the wolf away. Hmmm. The Ball of Balls.” He shook his head. “Dear me! Oh dear me. Hmm. Maybe someone else should have won that raffle.” Then his face crinkled up as he smiled. “You meant well and sorted things out for everyone. And tonight you helped again.” He laughed his deep laugh. “You’re little fixit ghosts.” He turned back to the fireplace. “Merry Christmas to you all,” he said. Then he and the reindeer slipped up the chimney.

  Everyone hurried into the garden. The sleigh was on the roof, its bells tinkling. The leading reindeer turned as Father Christmas climbed out of the chimney. She gave a cry of delight and pawed the roof. The baby reindeer wobbled across. She nuzzled and licked his face. Then, Father Christmas popped him onto the sleigh, and the Ghastlys, the skeletons, Branwing and Princess, and all the fans waved as it took off.

  Father Christmas, the sleigh and the reindeer were soon whizzing through the clouds and up into the sky.

  “Still no presents,” said Bubble.

  “That’s okay,” said Trouble. “Perhaps he doesn’t have any presents for ghost children.”

  “Would have been good though,” said Puff.

  They floated back into the long room.

  And stood stock-still in mid-air.

  The stockings were bulging. They had grown to the size of sacks and so stretched that the holes were much bigger than before.

  The little Ghastlys dived into them, and out tumbled odd shaped presents wrapped in coloured paper with pictures of Father Christmas and the reindeer on them.

  It was just like the paper they had seen in the workshop.

  “Wow!” cried Bubble, pulling out a silver trumpet.

  “Look!” cried Trouble, tugging out a violin.

  “Listen to me!” cried Puff, unwrapping a set of drums. She did a very loud drum roll that made the spider webs wobble.

  Bubble and Trouble joined in. The noise was deafening, but there was nothing bent or out of tune with these instruments.

  The ghostly fans put their hands over their ears. They flew out of the Ghostly Ghastly House and back to their own homes.


  Mr Ghastly led Mrs Ghastly outside.

  “You know, my dear,” he said, “perhaps our children are musical after all.”

  “Not if they play like that!” snorted Mrs Ghastly.

  The horrible sounds died away, and for a moment there was quiet. Then came a tune they recognised. It was “Jingle Bells.” Mrs Ghastly sang the words as she and Mr Ghastly glided back indoors.

  The little Ghastlys were soaring round the long room playing their instruments together perfectly.

  “Brilliant!” said Bubble, when they came to the end of the song.

  “We’re naturals,” said Trouble.

  “We’re never going to play that cat-wailing Opera stuff,” said Puff. “We’re only going to play proper music!”

  They grinned at each other and struck up “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” Mr and Mrs Ghastly nodded and smiled, and then, as Princess and Branwing and even the skeletons hummed along, they joined in and led the singing.

  When they had finished the little Ghastlys clapped each other hands and grinned.

  “Yes!” cried Bubble. “Father Christmas came! And now we’re the fixit ghosts!”

  “See, we’re mostly good!” said Trouble.

  “We’re very, very good,” said Puff.

  “Of course you are!” cried Princess. “I never thought anything else, did you, Mr and Mrs Ghastly?”

  “Well…,” said Mr Ghastly.

  “Indeed they are,” said Mrs Ghastly. “And that dreadful reindeer has gone at last.”

  “Yes, my dear, you are right as always,” said Mr Ghastly, and both parents beamed at the little Ghastlys.

  Then they played “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and the house felt magical.

  See what happens next. Book 7 is called The Skeletons and the Snow.

  Here are the books in the Ghostly Ghastly series so far:

  THE GHOSTLY GHASTLY SERIES

  Book 1 Finding A Home

  The Ghastly family are thrown out of the castle by the other ghosts who live there. The little Ghastlys are just too mischievous. Can the family find somewhere to live where no-one will mind the tricks they play?

  Book 2 Branwing

  The Striped-Suit Man wants to pull down the Ghastlys’ new home, and clear away the skeletons. The little Ghastlys and their new friend Branwing try to stop him, but can they really succeed when he keeps coming back with more and more people to help him?