Eustace

by Catherine Jinks

  Michelle and I think differently. We think that he might have found Michelle’s bracelet. Why not? He’s disappeared. He’s left no trace. Maybe we’ve got rid of him – driven his spirit back to the spirit world, the way Eglantine’s was driven back. I certainly hope so, because Michelle really was busted when she got home. Her mum won’t let her wear proper jewellery any more, not the stuff made of gold and silver. Just fake stuff, which Michelle won’t wear. I feel a bit bad about that. Michelle’s jewellery has always been very important to her. If Abel’s spirit has been laid to rest, however, she won’t have made her sacrifice in vain.

  And even if it hasn’t been laid to rest – even if he shows up again – I’m still sure that he’s a ghost. How could I not be, after what Samantha found out from the family history records at the Hill End Museum and Visitor Centre? Richard and Delora never visited the museum, you see. Delora was too ‘drained’, after the Golden Gully incident, to do anything but go straight back to Sydney. So I had to ask Samantha if she would check the museum for any information on the Harrow clan. Perhaps Abel Harrow might be a relative of Evie and Eustace; could she find out, please? If it wasn’t too much trouble.

  I wasn’t expecting much, to be honest. I thought Samantha would say ‘yes, yes’ and forget about the whole thing. But I was wrong. She went up to the museum one day and discovered that it contained a whole room full of family history records. When she checked these records, she uncovered the fact that there had been at least one miner called Abel Harrow (died 1889), but that no one else in the Harrow family tree had been named after him. Evie’s husband’s name had been Claude James. Her brothers’ names had been Cyril George, Albert Edward and Thomas Lynton. Her nephews had been called Bernard, Philip and Thomas, her cousins Ernest and William, her sons Gilbert and Eustace. There wasn’t another ‘Abel’ to be seen.

  ‘It’s very odd,’ Samantha wrote to me, ‘because you’d think that two people called Harrow would be part of the same family, wouldn’t you? Especially when they’ve been living in the same area. It’s not really a common name. I have to say I was convinced that Abel must be Evie’s brother or cousin, but there’s no trace of him in the family tree. So I don’t know. Maybe there’s another branch not mentioned in the files. That’s certainly what Karen Smythe thinks. She’s the NPWS officer who’s been helping me, and she says a lot of their records are incomplete. She also says that the Abel Harrow who hangs around Golden Gully might not be named Abel Harrow at all. People have been calling him that for years, but she doesn’t know why – because as far as she’s aware, no one in town has ever talked to him. So perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding, and only one Abel Harrow has ever existed. He was Eustace’s great-great-uncle, by the way – Evie’s father-in-law’s uncle. According to Alf, he died in a mining accident before Evie’s husband’s father was even born.

  ‘Oh – did I tell you that we’re on good terms with Alf, now? I was so sad to hear about what he’d done for Evie that I couldn’t stay angry with him for long, poor man. I mean it’s pitiful, really, when you think about it. So I’m making a little grotto in the garden called “Evie’s grotto”, which I’m filling with her favourite flowers, and a sculpture of a little boy, and a plaque embedded with glass (representing water), pebbles (representing earth), burned wood

  (representing fire) and hollow pockets (representing air). I told Alf he was welcome to come over any time and sit there, so he could meditate on Evie’s memory. He hasn’t, so far – at least, he says he hasn’t. But I found a funny little pile of nutshells and bottle tops there the other day, so even though he insists he hasn’t “set foot on our property” since Richard surprised him, that night, he must have.

  ‘Mustn’t he?

  ‘By the way, I have to tell you about the odd thing that happened when I was up at the museum, the other evening. I thought it might interest you because of your haunted house experience. Karen was letting me use the little records room after hours, since I was still chasing down Abel Harrow, and I thought I was alone in the building. But then I heard boards creaking! Well – you can imagine how alarmed I was. I went to see who was walking around in the hallway, and there was no one there. There was no one in any of the rooms, either. But when I went into the Hospital Room, it was freezing cold, as if an airconditioner was running, even though the rest of the place was stinking hot. When I told Karen about this afterwards, she said I must have run into Granny Evans, the hospital ghost!

  ‘Of course, after our experience with “Eustace” I am very sceptical about so-called ghosts, but I must admit it was very creepy . . .’

  Interesting, eh?

  I told Peter and Michelle about this letter, and they reacted quite differently. Michelle got all excited, and tried to make her mother promise that they would go to Hill End during the school holidays, even though the chances of that happening are pretty slim; Michelle’s mum prefers beach holidays. Peter was more sceptical. He’s still undecided about Abel, let alone Granny Evans, and pointed out that creaking boards and cold draughts aren’t unusual in old houses. I suppose he’s hard to convince because he never had anything to do with Eglantine – he just hasn’t developed a nose for the supernatural, the way I have. He doesn’t know the signs. But he remains open-minded, and keen to hear about anything else that I might dig up on the subject of paranormal apparitions.

  As a matter of fact – and I know you won’t believe this, I know you’ll think I’m fooling myself (don’t laugh, please, I realise how ridiculous it sounds) – but as a matter of fact, I think – I think – that Peter Cresciani might have a little, tiny bit of a crush on me. Just a little one. Of course, I might be wrong. I probably am. Maybe it’s just the ghosts that he’s interested in, and that’s why he follows me around all the time. He’s certainly interested in Eglantine. He keeps asking about her, and about my house, and about Bethan, and about the PRISM people. To be honest, he’s quite a good person to talk to. Funny, you know? Intelligent. Enthusiastic. Not like Jesse Gerangelos.

  Isn’t it odd how you can put so much energy into a fake, when all the while there’s something much, much more promising practically staring you in the face?

  At least I know enough, now, not to make the same mistake in the future.

  PRAISE FOR ALLIE’S GHOST HUNTERS:

  ‘[Eloise] is a very addictive book, and I recommend it to anyone who wants an original mystery story.’ Ambrose, Year 8, YARA

  ‘[Eglantine] is a delightful spine-tingler and a great read . . .’ Sunday Tasmanian

  ‘An original twist on an old, old theme . . .’ Sunday Age on Eglantine

  ‘Full of mystery, ghost-busting and humour . . .’ Townsville Bulletin on Eloise

  ‘[Eloise is] gripping, creepy and unputdownable.’ Queensland Times

  ‘Anyone who says they don’t believe in ghosts just might be encouraged to think again.’ Reading Time