Something Strange in the Cellar

by George Chedzoy

  Chapter 10: GHOST ON THE CELLAR STEPS

  At ten minutes to eleven that evening, Jack rode quietly into Lou’s drive. She had left the gate open and was looking out for him.

  She grinned. ‘All set?’

  Jack nodded. ‘We found a dusty white bed sheet that hadn’t been used for years. It had a hole in it already which could be used as a mouth and Emily cut out a couple more circles for eyes. In the dark it will look quite effective.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lou. ‘I’m not sure that the sheet I used was particularly old, it might just have been a spare so I’ll probably get into trouble for that with mum, but I’ll worry about that another day. Let’s go.’

  Jack already looked suitably white-faced. His insides were knotting up at the prospect of a further ghostly encounter. And this time, they were actually planning to join in the haunting themselves! As they cycled up the steep hill towards Mynytho, his heart beat faster, and not just from the exertion.

  He hoped Lou knew what she was doing. He was learning more about the girl about whom he had become so fond. She was brave and incredibly sharp-minded but she was also a risk-taker and a thrill-seeker. That could sometimes be a dangerous combination. What would his parents say if they knew he had sneaked out after bedtime to see her two nights running? They would wonder what the pair of them were up to – and they would hardly find the truth reassuring. But a voice inside him told him to get a grip and keep faith with her. Lou had not let them down so far; not in their first holiday at Abersoch, nor in their camping trip to Staffordshire. She had been their guiding light and natural leader.

  They reached the small car park near the hill. The moorland lay beyond, lit again by a bright, round moon at its zenith. They left their bikes alongside the tree next to the picnic area as before and made their way past the village school, then along the grass path skirting the moors.

  Jack did his best to sound calm and matter of fact as he and Lou chatted. It wasn’t easy. The sense of foreboding was growing in him, as he glanced across his left shoulder at the dark heather and gorse stretching out westwards to the coast.

  ‘Look, Jack,’ said Lou, following his gaze. ‘Do you see how the moon is reflecting across the sea. It’s making it all silvery. Isn’t it strangely beautiful?’

  Jack agreed, although he wasn’t in quite the right frame of mind to notice the beauty of the nocturnal landscape.

  Lou could sense that he was struggling to keep his nerve for a second night and probably missed the company of his brother and sister.

  ‘Remember that we are doing this for Mrs Owen,’ she said. ‘We are going to give that lady back her peace and quiet and stop her being hounded out of her own home. She’s a lovely old thing and I think people like her deserve looking after.’

  Jack nodded. Lou was right. This time, they were not seeking out hidden riches which might possibly carry some reward for themselves. Their sole aim was the noble one of rescuing an elderly woman from the torment of a drugs gang led by her own great nephew.

  They slunk to Mrs Owen’s house with the utmost care, in case anyone was about. No-one was. They couldn’t be sure that Idwal and his band of pretend ghosts would turn up that night, but it was a safe bet that they would. If Jack’s theory was right, Idwal would wish to carry on taking advantage of the full moon. He would know that like many superstitious country folk, his great aunt believed that supernatural, unexplainable things happened at this point in the lunar calendar. It was the perfect opportunity to give her a good scare.

  Lou and Jack tiptoed through the garden gate and round to the back of the house. Lou quietly turned the key in the stiff lock. After a good shove, the door creaked open. The kitchen looked unfamiliar in the dark, with a slanting rectangle of moonlight across the oak table. They could not see the trapdoor leading to the cellar. Lou pulled her rucksack off her shoulders and dug out her small pencil torch which would give a discreet beam of light.

  ‘Here, Jack, hold the torch and shine it at me so I can see what I’m doing,’ said Lou as she slipped the bed sheet complete with holes for her eyes and mouth over her head.

  ‘How do I look?’ she whispered.

  ‘Ghostly,’ replied Jack, passing the torch back. ‘Right, my turn.’

  Jack slipped on his sheet and adjusted it so his eyes could see through the holes.

  ‘How do I look?’ he asked her.

  ‘Very spectral. Best-looking ghost I’ve seen all day,’ said Lou, chuckling. ‘Ok, down to business. Let’s put our plan into effect. You go outside and hide somewhere, I’ll wait for Idwal to let himself in. Fingers crossed!’

  After Jack had gone back outside, Lou locked the back door and went to hide behind the full-length curtain at the far end of the kitchen. She pulled out her mobile phone to check the time and to make sure it was on silent. It was nearly midnight and the ‘ghosts’ could be along at any minute.

  A shivery thought struck her, what if she was wrong and Idwal and his friends had nothing to do with anything? What if the ghosts were real and she was taking on a force beyond her comprehension, a force which could easily sense her presence behind the curtain?

  She would soon find out. The ghosts were punctual this time. As the grandfather clock struck twelve in the hall a series of bright flashing strobe lights could be seen rising through the kitchen window on the other side. Lou saw them clearly as she peeped out from behind the curtain.

  She thought she could hear the sound of a key turning in the back door lock, and what sounded like the door juddering as it was opened – as it had juddered for her. Was that the soft tread of footsteps across the stone floor? She would soon know. She had noted earlier how the trapdoor gave an unmistakeable creak as it was lifted back.

  Lou did not dare peep out again, but she thought she saw a flicker of light in the kitchen, as if from a torch, then there came a distinct metallic jangle! That was unmistakeable. Somebody was standing in the kitchen fiddling with a bunch of keys.

  Groan! A spine-chilling, unearthly one like you might hear in a horror movie. Lou shuddered, but she knew it was the trapdoor being pulled back. She reached into her inside pocket and took out her pencil-thin torch and Mrs Owen’s spare key. She itched to go across and slam the trapdoor shut but resisted the temptation. Idwal had to be given time to go down the steps and switch the sound effects on.

  It was all a matter of timing, and Lou had to get it right – there would be no second chances. If she got caught it would most likely be her locked in the cellar or spirited away by Idwal and his gang. It was not a pleasant thought.

  Then the wailing started – with the same unsettling cadences as before when David had inquisitively switched the CD player on. The noise reverberated through the floor, making the curtain pole rattle and the fabric itself vibrate.

  Idwal might come straight back up, Lou had not a moment to lose. She must not delay. She ran from her hiding place and over to the trapdoor, flicking on her torch to see what she was doing. To her dismay, as she prepared to fling the trapdoor shut, she saw a terrifying sight: something resembling a ghost slowly ascending the steps!