Ghosts on Board

by Fleur Hitchcock

  ‘There’s also a cat,’ says Tilly. ‘Called Jim or something?’

  ‘Shipwreck James,’ says Flora Rose. ‘He’s Victor’s cat. Horrible creature, aren’t you?’ Flora Rose’s voice goes silly, and although I can’t see her I imagine she’s doing that cootchy-coo thing that people do to babies. Something on the floor makes a laid-back yowling sound. ‘Tiddly tiddles. Yes, I’d like to eat sardines too … ’

  If you pretend it’s on the radio, it’s OK. If you imagine it’s a ghostly girl talking to a ghostly cat in your grandma’s kitchen, it’s less OK.

  ‘So the thing is,’ Tilly’s talking again, ‘I want to go – and Tom, you can take me.’ Her lower lip is jutting out so far that she could balance a whole box of chocolates on it.

  ‘Where?’ I ask, wondering what she’s been talking about.

  ‘Mystery Smoke Island, stupid,’ she says. ‘It’s where they come from.’ She waves her finger in the air.

  We all turn and stare at Victor.

  ‘Is this true?’ I say. ‘Are you really a ghost?’

  ‘Piffle! Stuff and nonsense! Don’t believe a word of it,’ he says, shaking his head.

  There’s a long silence.

  ‘Victor,’ says Flora Rose.

  ‘Oh – all right. Yes, I suppose I am. I was. And I lived on the island with her, and him.’ He waves his hands in the air. ‘Wherever they may be.’

  His words echo round the kitchen. I stand, blinking, trying to think what he said and what that means.

  ‘And I want to go there,’ says Tilly, folding her arms.

  ‘Why, my sweet, would you want to go there?’ asks Victor. ‘It’s dark and dismal, and … ’ – his face falls – ‘ … gloomy. Although … ’ He gazes out of the window as if something has occurred to him.

  ‘Because it’s spoooooooooooooky,’ says Tilly. ‘I’ve never been anywhere full of ghosts, and I want to go and, Tom, as an older brother, my protector, you should want to come with me. In fact,’ – she jabs me with her finger – ‘if you don’t come, I’ll go anyway, and I’ll probably die there and you’ll wish you’d come because you’ll be haunted by eternal guilt.’ She smiles. ‘I’ll make a raft and go there all by myself – and drown all by myself, forlorn and lost on the wild stormy seas.’

  I’m thinking of ghosts, but Tilly won’t let me admit it. She always says these things in public, so I have to answer her. ‘I don’t even know where Mystery Smoke Island is!’

  ‘I do,’ says Jacob. ‘I can take you on my Speedmaster 2000 if you like. It’s down by the lighthouse. Yip yip!’ He races around in a circle making engine noises and swinging an imaginary wheel. ‘We’re going to a haunting!’

  ‘Really?’ Tilly looks at Jacob. ‘Does it go fast?’

  ‘Mega fast,’ says Jacob.

  ‘And can you steer it?’ asks Tilly, doubtfully.

  Jacob doesn’t exactly answer.

  ‘And – you see, Tom,’ says Tilly, looking back at me, ‘I was hoping you and your swotty friend might come along too,’ she says, pointing at Eric. ‘If he can stop staring at the sugar.’

  I turn around to see Eric examining the tabletop, his forehead creased into lines. ‘I cleaned this up a minute ago. What’s going on? There’s a D and possibly … ’

  ‘It’s Billy,’ says Flora Rose’s voice from the middle of the room. ‘He’s writing something.’

  Eric pulls his arm back as if he’s been electrocuted. ‘Where is he? What does he want to say?’

  ‘Oh la, la, la – silly Billy – let’s not worry about that,’ says Victor, loudly, sweeping his arm through the sugar. ‘Let’s get outside in the fresh air. I’ve an idea.’

  ‘What is it? Have you thought of a solution?’ asks Eric. ‘Can we save the bird reserve?’

  ‘Dear boy, these things take time. The best plans cannot be hurried. My mind needs to mull and mingle and process the ideas. I think I could take a productive look at the existing bird salvation, wherever it is. And I’ll come along to Mystery Smoke Island – it might aid my thinking process. And while we do that, you can tell me all about the lovely things you can all do, or Flora Rose can, if she knows on which side her bread is buttered,’ he says, glaring into space.

  ‘None of this sounds like a good idea,’ I say, but slightly too late as I watch Victor, Tilly and Jacob stomp out of the front door.

  ‘Flora Rose?’ says Eric. ‘Are you there?’

  But there’s no answer, not even the creak of a door or the yowl of a cat, and wherever the invisible Billy is, apparently he’s not playing with the sugar any more.

  Chapter 10

  ‘I do hope his plan is good,’ says Eric, jamming his foot into his trainer.

  I grab my Field Craft backpack and rush outside, watching to see where the others have gone. ‘This trip doesn’t feel like a good idea to me,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to go there, but Tilly’s insistent, and I don’t think we should leave Victor here on his own – so he’s going to have to come too.’

  Eric fiddles with his laces.

  ‘Do you think he’s really going to help?’ I ask.

  ‘I think we have to give him the benefit of the doubt. I can’t stress how serious this is, Tom,’ he says. ‘Without the bird sanctuary, Bywater-by-Sea will become an ecological desert.’

  ‘But he hasn’t actually suggested anything.’

  ‘No – but what have we got to lose? It’s just a little trip to the island. What can go wrong?’

  Jacob and Tilly have raced on down towards the lighthouse, and Victor is following more slowly, apparently examining everything as he passes.

  Catching up with them means passing through the bird reserve. We clamber over the low fence and Eric stops to look at a pile of twigs that might possibly be a nest, although it might equally be random rubbish.

  ‘Little Tern nests,’ he says, pointing at the twigs.

  ‘How interesting,’ says Victor, glancing at the sticks, his eyes quite cold and uninterested, before looking up towards Jacob and smiling. He strides out over the shingle to catch up. Leaving Eric and me behind.

  A large shiny car crackles over the stones and comes to a slow halt on the other side of the reserve. It’s the man and the woman from the library. They’re obviously drawing up plans because they sling a long tape measure between them and spend a lot of time staring at a map.

  ‘Oh look,’ says Eric, gloomily. ‘We’ve had it. There’s no point in your grandma protesting now. They’re already practically building the wretched thing. Victor really is our last chance.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, watching the man struggling on the cobbles in his town shoes and then looking round towards Victor, who, far from looking at the birds, is chattering away to Jacob and Tilly. ‘I’m sure he’ll think of something.’

  ‘Hmmm, let’s hope so,’ says Eric, speeding up and almost running down to the lighthouse. I watch him jog awkwardly over the stones. I wish I could think of a way round the redevelopment. It’s making him so miserable and he’s been such a good friend. But most people in the town will want a theme park, and in all honesty only a handful of people have any idea about the birds. And a theme park would be fun. I let myself think about the thrill of whizzing down a roller coaster and feel immediately guilty.

  Eric really loves his birds and I’m sure he’s right, they’re almost certainly worth preserving. It’s just that I can’t think how and I don’t for one minute think Victor’s going to help.

  It turns out that Jacob doesn’t really know how to steer the Speedmaster 2000. After we’ve packed ourselves in to it, and it really isn’t a very big boat, we immediately bump into the angry water-taxi driver, and while reversing out of that one, we clunk a small white yacht leaving a long red streak down the side.

  ‘Oops,’ says Jacob, pushing away with the boathook.

  ‘Shouldn’t we leave a note? Explaining?’ says Eric. ‘Offering to pay for the damage?’

  ‘Why on earth would we do that?’ says Jacob, heading for clear wate
r.

  We chug out of the harbour mouth. I’m braced for more scrapes. The nearest object is a small lump of concrete marked by a tall green stripy pole. It’s the only thing in front of us and, I would have thought, quite easily avoided, but Jacob heads straight for it.

  ‘Jacob!’ I yell over the sound of the straining engine.

  ‘What?’ he shouts.

  I point frantically at the fast approaching pole. This looks as if it could be about 95 per cent bad.

  ‘Scaredy cat!’ he shouts back and throws the wheel to the right, veering violently and throwing Eric and me right across the boat. The manoeuvre bounces us so that a wave caused by our own wake washes over the side and soaks me and, a millisecond later, Eric. Tilly hoots with delight.

  ‘Faster, faster!’ she shouts.

  I honestly didn’t think the boat could go any faster, but it picks up speed and we lurch from side to side until we’re properly outside the harbour.

  I look around to Victor. He’s crouching on the floor of the boat, his coat pulled up over his shoulders. I can’t actually see his face. I don’t think he likes water much.

  ‘Go, Jacob,’ shouts Tilly again. ‘Faster!’

  There isn’t any faster, but it’s about then that I realise that the water around my ankles is coming from the bottom up, rather than the top down, and that the little boat is sinking.

  ‘Dad’ll kill me,’ shouts Jacob, swimming hard for the shore and waiting for no one.

  ‘We’ll drown first,’ I splutter, groping for a wooden oar and hanging on. ‘Are you all right there, Eric? Tilly? Victor? And is that cat with us?’

  ‘No, Shipwreck James stayed on shore,’ calls Flora Rose from above.

  I tread water, watching the boat turn over and rest, upside down. I’m not sure, but there appears to be a hole in the bottom, which is odd, because there can’t have been one when we set off, or we would have sunk much earlier. Tilly’s clinging to the side, but her head is only just above the water.

  ‘Tom,’ she wails. ‘Help me!’

  ‘You can swim can’t you?’ I say, helping Eric to get to the oar.

  ‘Yes, but I’m weak, and not as strong as you, and I’ve never been in a boat accident before – I need rescuing. I feel faint and feeble and … ’

  I reach out for her hair with my free hand. It’s not that I want to hurt her, but it is a ready-made rope – lots of it and well attached.

  ‘Ow! Tom!’ she screams, batting at me and suddenly remembering how to swim.

  ‘Can’t you use your powers?’ shouts Victor, bobbing up and down, clinging to his battered top hat. ‘Can’t you do anything? Jacob, you must be able to do something?’

  But Jacob’s already too far away to hear him.

  I think for a moment. I don’t imagine that there’s anything helpful that I could do, and Eric would only make us wetter.

  ‘Oh, I could do something,’ says Tilly, puffing along beside me.

  Which is how we end up swimming back into the harbour on a giant pink sparkly oar.

  ‘So it’s not just Jacob who can do remarkable things,’ says Victor, dripping onto the quayside. ‘And exactly what gives you the power?’

  ‘Oh that’s easy,’ answers Tilly. ‘We all caught meteor—’

  I deliver a sharp kick to her shin. I don’t agree with physical violence, but sometimes it’s necessary. Especially with someone as dense as Tilly.

  ‘To-om!’ she says. ‘Ow-wa! That really hurt.’

  I smile at her. ‘Sorry, I must have missed my step. Gosh – look, Jacob’s breaking in to the Marigold Tours boat. We’d better hurry or we’ll miss the trip.’

  Tilly narrows her eyes. ‘What are you up to, Tom?’

  ‘Did you say meteorites?’ says Victor. ‘What –?’

  But I don’t give him time to ask, bundling Tilly along the jetty in front of me and pushing her onto the boat. ‘Shhhh,’ I say, in the split second that Victor takes to follow us. ‘Don’t tell him – he’s really –’

  ‘Untrustworthy?’ she interrupts. ‘Yes, I know – isn’t it fun?’

  Chapter 11

  About a minute after the engine starts, it stops again. It won’t work, and we reassemble on the quayside, dripping. I’m actually getting quite cross with this and sit soggily on Tilly’s giant inflated oar – which is by now not so giant, nor so inflated – watching a puddle form around my feet.

  ‘Perhaps we’re not meant to go,’ says Eric, squeezing water out of his T-shirt. ‘Perhaps we’re supposed to be organising the campaign for the preservation of the bird sanctuary back here with the Worthies and your grandma.’

  ‘A helicopter?’ asks Jacob. ‘Anyone got one?’

  ‘What a shame! I haven’t – whatever a helicopter is,’ says Victor. ‘Why don’t we go back to your house, Tom, and you can all show me your wonderful abilities?’ He nudges me. I don’t much like being nudged by a ghost, even if he looks like a man. A grey grubby sort of man, with slightly see-through skin. I shuffle further along Tilly’s giant oar until I’m teetering on the edge. It tips, spilling Victor onto the ground.

  ‘But I thought you had an idea?’ says Eric. ‘And that going over to the island would help crystallise that idea?’

  ‘Nice use of vocabulary, my boy,’ says Victor. ‘But here, or there, I can think, and garner and gather and put together all the little details of your lives – I mean, the life of the town, so to speak.’

  ‘Quite,’ I begin, but I stop. Something’s, or somebody’s, writing a message in water on the stone by my feet. Don’t – but then it runs out, because the D starts to evaporate.

  It’s a most peculiar feeling. I watch as the letters form again. It must be Billy. He must be trying to tell me something, but I’m not getting enough at once.

  ‘We could swim,’ says Tilly, watching the giant oar shrink back to its usual size. ‘I could make a giant rubber ring.’

  ‘Or we could build a raft?’ says Jacob.

  ‘How come you ghostly people can’t summon a shipwreck from the bottom of the sea? One that would take us over the water?’ says Tilly.

  ‘Yeah, that would be neat, with a skeleton crew!’ Jacob sits down on the quayside. Gentle steam rises from his shoulders and I notice that his clothes are almost dry.

  ‘Why don’t you, Tom and Eric take Tilly to the island?’ says Victor. ‘Flora Rose and Billy can go with you and I can stay here with Jacob.’

  ‘What about the bird reserve in all this?’ asks Eric.

  ‘No,’ says Tilly firmly. ‘We all go.’

  ‘Yes. We’re a team,’ says Jacob, putting his arm out in front of him and galloping around behind it.

  Something flickers at the side of my vision.

  ‘Billy?’ I say quietly.

  A Y appears on the stone.

  I look back down at my feet. ‘Dang,’ it says.

  ‘Danger?’ I whisper.

  I feel a cold finger against my skin, and once again the letter Y appears, on my arm this time. And despite the sunshine that should be warming my back, a shiver as cold as anything I’ve ever felt races down my spine.

  ‘I can’t believe they’re really ghosts,’ I say to Eric as we huddle inside the bow of the Trusty Mermaid alongside the day trippers.

  We’re sheltering here because about a minute after we’d all decided to go home, the Trusty Mermaid pulled into the pier quay and Jacob and Tilly raced off to climb on board. We had to follow. Unfortunately.

  ‘They can’t be,’ says Eric. ‘But you’re right, they are. And that Victor – I’m beginning to think he’s stringing us along. He’s got no intention of helping out with the bird reserve, has he?’

  I nod, desperately grateful to see that Eric is finally getting the point. ‘How did Grandma know he was a ghost? And she seemed to be able to see Flora Rose and Billy – she knew they were there.’

  Eric sighs. ‘She’s either an Indigo – a person who can see ghosts – or she can smell them or something. I don’t know. I don’t k
now everything – OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I say. I can tell that he’s cross, that he feels let down, that he’d rather be back in the village waving placards about bird sanctuaries, but I’m glad he’s here.

  I look around to see if I can see any sign of Billy and Flora Rose, but if they are with us, they’re keeping very quiet and invisible. Jacob’s up on the bow of the ship, studying the horizon. He looks very excited. I am not very excited. If it wasn’t for the presence of Victor, Grandma’s warning and Tilly’s emotional blackmail, I wouldn’t be here.

  I squeeze some water from my shorts.

  Eric sighs, staring past a squabbling family to the waves beyond.

  ‘He definitely made a hole in the bottom of the boat,’ I say. ‘There was one when we sank, but nothing beforehand. And why did that other boat start and stop? I’m guessing it was Victor pouring water in the tank or something.’

  Eric doesn’t answer.

  ‘Have you had the messages on your arm?’ I ask.

  Eric nods.

  ‘Creepy, aren’t they?’ I say.

  He nods again.

  ‘Eric, are you listening?’

  ‘Hmm, yes.’ He turns to me. ‘Messages, creepy. Victor bad – that sort of thing.’

  ‘But you’re thinking about birds.’

  He sighs. ‘I was remembering a Cormorant, diving into the shallows off North Beach early last August. It was stunning.’

  ‘Right,’ I say. ‘Well, I was thinking about Victor. It’s only a matter of time before he discovers that there are loads of people in Bywater-by-Sea with strange powers and I can’t imagine that he’s going to use that for any good at all.’

  I look over to Victor. He’s hunched against the wheelhouse, watching a snotty baby eat a chocolate ice cream. The disgust on his face is so strong that I’m surprised the baby hasn’t burst into tears. A woman hands him a camera and asks him to take a picture of her and the baby. At which point the baby notices Victor and begins to scream.