by Angie Sage
After that she nailed a load of planks across it so that I couldn't go in it anymore, which I thought was mean. So I stepped onto the platform and pulled on the rope, just as I had before. The platform kind of groaned a bit, but noth- ing happened. I put my flash- light down and used two hands to pull the rope really hard--and the platform moved! I guess that bit was a little scary, as the platform started going down into what felt like a dark chimney, and I wasn't sure where I was heading.
I was pretty pleased when I saw the top of an old door appear. I stopped the platform outside the door. I could tell it was a very old door, as it had big iron hinges across it and looked as though it had come out of a castle or something. But I couldn't see a handle and, when I pushed it, it wouldn't move. Stupid door. I gave it a really big push, I even kicked it, but nothing happened. It just wouldn't budge.
Fitt Then I remembered what it said on the all Doors. " label on the little brass key--"Doth
I didn't really believe the key would fit, as it was so small compared with the door, but when I looked carefully I saw a small brass keyhole, just like the one on the door to the secret passage.
The key turned easily, and the door swung open. I shone my flashlight through the doorway, and it lit up a tiny room. The room had a small fireplace, some very dark and dusty pictures, and some big old candles in brass holders on the walls. In one corner there was a broken old chair with some tattered books piled up on it, and on the floor in front of the fireplace was an old rug. I just stood there for a moment, kind of holding my breath. It was so quiet that I hardly dared go in. But I did. I tiptoed in and swung my flashlight around the walls, looking for a door to the balcony.
Of course there were no windows, but you wouldn't expect any in a secret room in the very middle of a house, would you? But sure enough, there was a door. Great, I thought. It took me three steps to cross the room. I put the small brass key in the door and it swung open. I nearly walked straight out, as I really wanted to get to the balcony by then, because time was getting on, but I knew that you always have to look where you're going in a secret passage. It's a good thing I did, as the door opened out into nothing. A great big deep hole, in fact. Scary. A gust of warm, musty wind blew up from the hole. It smelled kind of sooty and damp at the same time. I shone my flashlight and saw that there was an old wooden ladder leading down to . . . Where? But I didn't want to go down the ladder; I wanted to find the balcony.
So I went back into the room and did all the things you have to do to make a secret door appear. I tried to turn the brass candlesticks, but they wouldn't Q move. I looked behind all the old pictures, but there was nothing there. I even kicked the old fireplace, but it felt as solid as a rock. There was no way out to the balcony--that was for sure. So I decided to climb down the ladder. It was a bit scary getting onto the ladder. It wobbled and creaked a lot, but I knew that you have to expect these things in a secret passage. Then the door slammed, and I nearly fell off. That was really scary. I set off down the ladder, which was quite difficult, as I could only hold on to it with one hand since I had my flashlight in the other hand--and the ball of string in my teeth.
I don't like the taste of string. The other thing I didn't like very much was the way the air was getting hotter and hotter. I remembered about how it gets hotter as you get near the center of the earth, and the more I climbed
down the ladder, the more I won- dered if I was getting too close to that bit in the middle where all the rocks melt. But just as I was wondering whether to go back up, I got to the bottom of the lad- der and stepped onto the ground.
It seemed pretty solid to me, so I figured I hadn't got to the molten rock just yet. I was in a real tunnel now, with brick sides and a sandy floor. I decided to follow the tun- nel just for a while, in case the balcony was around the next corner. The tunnel twisted and turned all over the place, and the air became even hotter, which didn't make any sense to me, as I wasn't going down any- more. And then I heard it--a really horrible, teeth-grating, toe-curling, clanging noise. The exact kind of noise that you get when a ghost drags a ball and chain behind it. I have heard that those ball-and-chain ghosts are not nice ghosts to meet. I suppose they are grumpy -55- because they have to drag all that stuff with them wherever they go. I stopped where I was and switched off my flashlight so that the ball- and-chain ghost would not see me, but being in the dark didn't make me feel any better. In fact, it made me feel a whole lot worse, so I switched the flashlight on again. That was when the screaming started. Horrible, spine-chilling screaming. It filled up the secret passage and echoed all around me. It was the scariest sound I had ever, ever heard. And the worse thing was, I knew for sure what it meant--that the ball-and-chain ghost was coming to get me.
Chapter Six
EDMUND
Aunt Tabby may think it is a big joke to go around frightening people who are exploring secret passages, but I do not. In fact, I think it is in very poor taste, as Uncle Drac would say. It did not take me long to realize that ball-and-chain ghosts do not scream, "DRAT THIS BOILER!" In fact, I don't think that ball-and-chain ghosts are even a little bit interested in boilers.
"DRAT THIS BOILER! I HATE THIS GRATE!" I could hear Aunt Tabby yelling through the wall of the secret passage as clearly as if I was standing next to her. I was glad I wasn't standing next to her, as I could also hear her kicking the coal scuttle and throwing the shovel at the wall. But time was running out. Soon a whole bunch of people who liked haunted houses would be walking around my house, deciding that they were going to live there instead of me. And if I was not careful, I would be stuck in a secret passage and not able to do a thing about it. I decided I had to give up on the balcony idea and go back and plan a Slimebucket Surprise. It was better than nothing.
Since Aunt Tabby had given me a really big fright, I wanted to give her one back before I went. I looked for a chink in the wall to shine my flashlight through so that she would think there was a ghost in the boiler room--and that was when I saw him. I saw a ghost. He was sitting in a dark corner a bit far- ther down the secret passage. At first I was so surprised that I thought he was just an ordi- nary boy, so I said, "Hey! What are you doing here?" But when he looked up at me, there was something about his face that made me shiver, and I knew he must be a ghost. He had watery, ghostly eyes, and his face was kind of transparent and glowed with a pale light. I thought he was probably a ghost from long ago, as he had a funny bowl hair- cut and wore a tunic with a long hood.
He had a dagger tucked into his belt too, which I thought looked pretty good-- Aunt Tabby won't let me have a dagger, however much I ask her. In fact, I felt as though I had seen him some- where before, as he looked just like the pic- tures of medieval pages in my knight-time storybook. I was pleased that he wasn't a nasty ball- and-chain ghost. I went up to him and asked, just to make sure, "Are you a real ghost?" He didn't answer--in fact he looked scared, like he had seen a ghost.
It was a bit disappointing, really, as that was kind of backward. I was meant to be scared of him. "So what's your name?" I asked. He still didn't answer, which I thought was rude. Aunt Tabby would have told him it was rude too. He looked away and stared at the floor, and I could tell he was hoping that I would just go away. But there was no way I was going to walk away from the very first ghost I had ever found, especially after I'd been looking for one for such a long time. "You must have a name, " I told him. I had expected a ghost to be more fun than this one was turning out to be. But then I heard some- thing that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A weird, hollow whisper filled up the air all around me.
"Edmund . . . " the whisper said. It was him--the ghost boy--talking. And it was spooky. Edmund floated up from the floor and drifted over toward me. I took a step back, as I suddenly wasn't so sure that I wanted to talk to a ghost after all. And then Edmund said something really odd--he said, "Are you the Tabitha?" He
spoke with a strange accent that reminded me of some French people who had once turned up at the house, thinking it was a guesthouse. They hadn't stayed long. "No, " I told him, "I'm the . . . I'm Araminta. " "Good, " said Edmund, and he sort of walked up the wall and began to wander upside down along the ceiling.
"I do not like the Tabitha, " he said in his funny accent. "The Tabitha is noisy. " He had a point, I thought. There were times when I didn't like the Tabitha either, and the Tabitha was most definitely noisy. In fact, just as Edmund was saying that, I could hear Aunt Tabby angrily shoveling coal into the boiler and banging the door closed with a loud clang. I figured Edmund must have heard a lot of Aunt Tabby's tantrums over the years. Then, just as I was beginning to like Edmund, he said, "You must go now. " "What?" I asked him. "You must go. You may not come any closer. " "Why?" He didn't answer. He just floated up and down in front of me with his arms out- stretched, as if he could stop me from going past him.
He need not have bothered, as there was no way I was going to walk through a ghost. Brrr. No way at all. "Well, I don't want to go any farther, so there, " I told him. "I only came to look for the way to the balcony. " "The balcony is not down here, " said Edmund, who had begun slowly spinning around for some weird reason--don't ask me why. "So you must leave. Farewell. " It sounded to me as though Edmund knew where the balcony was, so I asked him if he would take me there. "If I take you to the balcony, will you go away?" he asked. I don't hang around where I'm not wanted. I have better things to do. "Well, I don't want to stay down here, do I?" I told him. "Don't you?" said Edmund. "Oh good. Follow me. " So I followed him.
Chapter Seven
THE BALCONY
Edmund glowed really brightly, so I switched off my flashlight to conserve the batteries. Conserving your batteries is something you should always think about in a secret passage, as you never know how long you might be there, and it is the worst disas- ter ever to be in a secret passage with no light.
I followed Edmund floating along the passage, and I thought about Aunt Tabby on the other side of the wall and how she would have a fit if she knew what I was doing right then--but not as much of a fit as she was going to have when I sprang my Awful Ambush from the balcony. Soon I was climbing back up the rickety old ladder while Edmund just floated up in front of me. I thought how much easier it was for a ghost to go up ladders than a regular person. It didn't seem fair somehow, espe- cially as I had to carry my flashlight and wind up my ball of string as I went. When we got to the top, Edmund stopped outside the door. "Go on, " I told him. I couldn't see why he had stopped, as everyone knows that ghosts can go right through doors.
"This door is difficult, " he said. "I should not come here. It is not my room. " "It's all right, " I said. "I've got the key. " Edmund sounded surprised. "You have the Q key?" he kind of murmured, and he began to shimmer and flicker. Then suddenly he was gone--straight through the door. And I was left stuck at the top of a horrible old ladder in the dark. Great. After fiddling around with the key for ages, I unlocked the door and kind of fell into the room. Edmund was floating there, just looking at me in a really unhelpful way. "So where exactly is the balcony then?" I asked as I picked myself up. Edmund pointed to the fireplace. "It is through there. " "Well, that's just stupid, " I told him.
"How do I get through a fireplace? It's all very well for you. You're a ghost, but I can't just walk through a sooty old fireplace just like that--" "You talk just like the Tabitha, " said Edmund. "You make my ears hurt. Where is the key?" "What key?" I asked crossly. "The key to the balcony, " he said as though I was really stupid or something. "The one you carry upon your person. " "Upon my what?" I said, and then I realized what he meant and fished the key out of my pocket. "Here you are, " I said, and gave it to him. Of course, it just dropped straight through his hand and fell onto the floor. Duh. I had forgotten for a moment that Edmund was a ghost, since he was being just -69- as irritating as a real boy. "Place the key in the keyhole, " said Edmund, and he waved his hand at a small keyhole in the middle of the fireplace that I hadn't noticed before. "For it opens the way to the balcony. Farewell. " Then he shot off through the door and disappeared. I put the key in the keyhole and turned it. It worked! The fireplace slid sideways, and a bril- liant beam of sunlight pierced the room. I squeezed through the opening and there I was at last--on the balcony. It was weird standing miles above the hall. Everything looked so small and far away. I suppose that is what birds feel like all the time when they hang around in the big old trees out in the garden. I was so pleased that I was on the balcony at last that I very nearly yelled out to Aunt Tabby to come and see where I was--luckily, I stopped myself just in time. But the best thing of all was that when I looked down, I could see the balcony was right above the floor in front of the doormat where people who have never been to the house always stop and stare. They often have their mouths open too, although they never seem to say much--and I have known them to stay like that for quite a long time. It was perfect. Araminta's Awful Ambush was going to be the best.
I zoomed back up in the dumbwaiter and along the secret passage, but when I pushed open the little door under the stairs, some- one was waiting for me.
Chapter Eight
SIR HORACE
Guess who it was? No, not Aunt Tabby. No, it wasn't Uncle Drac, either. It was Sir Horace. "Good morning!" he said in a really strange, booming voice that came from somewhere inside his suit of armor. It sounded so spooky that I got covered in goose bumps all over and my knees felt funny. "Ger-good morning, Sir Horace, " I gulped.
I considered making a run for it back down the secret passage, but I didn't think my legs would work very well. Sir Horace loomed over me and looked very wobbly. I edged away, as I didn't give much for his chances of staying in one piece for very long--since it was me who had put him back together--and I could do without a rusty chunk of armor landing on me just then. I thought that perhaps I had better try and explain things. I know explaining things doesn't always help, especially if the person you are explaining to is Aunt Tabby, but I thought Sir Horace might be different. So I said in my best polite voice, "Er . . . I'm very sorry, Sir Horace. But I . . . Er . . . I thought you were just a . . . Um . . . "
"A moldy old rust bucket, " Sir Horace fin- ished my sentence for me, which Aunt Tabby says is very rude. "Ah . . . " I mumbled, trying to remember what else I had called Sir Horace when I was putting him back together. In fact, I still thought he was a moldy old rust bucket, but I hadn't expected him to be a talking rust bucket. I thought I had better check out the ghost situation with Sir Horace, so I asked him, "Are you a ghost as well?" "As well as what?" he boomed. "Ah--as well as being a knight of the realm, you mean. Why yes, Miss Spookie, indeed I am a ghost. The ghost of Sir Horace Harbinger of Hernia Hall, at your service. " He made a sweeping bow. Three bolts fell from his neck and rat- tled down the stairs. Wow. That meant he was my second ghost that morning--what were the chances of that? Of course, it was typical, I thought. I spend years looking for a ghost and then two come along at once, and just as Aunt Tabby is about to throw me and Uncle Drac out of the house, too.
But it all made sense to me now. Sir Horace never stayed in the same place for very long, and I had always thought that Aunt Tabby moved him around at night as a sort of joke. It would be just the sort of stupid joke that Aunt Tabby would like. But now I under- stood--Sir Horace moved himself around. "I'm really sorry about your helmet-- er . . . I mean, your head, " I said, trying not to remember how I had kicked it all the way down the stairs. I hoped he didn't remember either. "Got a terrible headache, " said Sir Horace. "Oh. Yes, well I suppose you would have, " I said sympathetically. "Walking's not too easy either, " he said. We both looked down at his left foot, which was still jammed on back to front.
"Er . . . No, I can see it might not be, " I said in my best helpful voice. "But"--he boomed and kind of rattled at
the same time--"that is not what is bothering me. What is bothering me is this house-selling business. " "Oh, good, " I told him, "because that's bothering me, too. " Sir Horace swayed a bit, and I dodged an old spring as it flew off his neck and pinged onto the floor. "And this . . . Cycling thing, " he said. For a moment I was confused, as I was sure I had never seen Sir Horace out on a bike. And then I realized what he meant. "You mean recycling, " I told him. "Do I ?" he boomed. "Well, don't like the -79- sound of it whatever it's called. Never did care for tins myself. Impossible to open. Can't stand cat food. " And then, with a horrible teeth-on- edge creaking noise, Sir Horace stood up as straight as he could--which was not very straight at all--and took a deep breath. "Something, " he boomed so loud that I was afraid Aunt Tabby would hear, "something must be done. This house must not be sold!" "Exactly!" I agreed. "And I've got a really great idea. I'm going to do my Awful Ambush from the balcony and--" "From my balcony?" he interrupted. "In my room?" Oops--so it was Sir Horace's room. And it seemed like he didn't like anyone going in there. I could understand how he felt, as I don't like Aunt Tabby going into any of my bedrooms either.
She always manages to mess something up. I thought I ought to explain. "I'm sorry, Sir Horace, but I found the key in your foot, and--" but he interrupted again. "I know, " he said, wiggling his left foot about as though he had pins and needles in it--which I knew for sure he didn't, as I had already emptied it out and all I had found was the key. "I remember that very well. I had my head back on by then. " "I'm really sorry, " I said. "Would you like your key back?" Sir Horace shook his head very slowly, and it made a horrible grinding noise, like a pep-per mill.
