‘Come on, Grandma.’ Edgar helped her to her feet. ‘Let’s get you home.’
‘Yes.’ Grandma offered her tear-soaked tissues to Principal Primm. ‘Thank you for being so understanding.’
Principal Primm quickly reached for the bin and held it out at a safe distance. ‘You’re welcome.’
On the way to the car, Edgar held his arm around his grandmother’s hunched frame while Angeline held her hand.
‘You outdid yourself in there,’ Angeline whispered.
‘You are a masterful performer, my flower.’ Grandpa floated beside them.
‘I’d never turn down the chance to practise the noble art of acting.’ Grandma raised an eyebrow. ‘Ready for our final farewell?’
She dabbed at her eyes and, with their most solemn faces, they turned and waved to Ms Gently and Principal Primm, who waved back uneasily, especially Principal Primm, who feared they may all be about to come back.
Once inside the car, Angeline asked, ‘Do we even have a cousin Percy?’
Grandma started the engine. ‘He’s your father’s third cousin twice removed . . . or is it his second cousin three times removed?’ She shoved the car into gear. ‘Either way, as far as I know he’s as fit as a fiddle.’
She slammed her foot on the accelerator and sped out of the school car park, but not before running over Principal Primm’s prized rosebush and ‘Keep Off The Garden’ sign.
‘So, apart from practising your very fine acting skills,’ Angeline asked, ‘why are we here?’
A small red light on the dashboard started flashing.
‘Looks like Endora is about to answer that,’ Grandma said.
Angeline opened the glove box and inside was a small video screen. She pressed her thumbprint against a control panel and the smiling face of Professor Endora Spright, Head of Spectral Research at the Ghost Club, greeted them. ‘Hello, my lovely ghost-catchers. Sorry for the intrusion at school. We try to avoid taking you away from your studies, but we’re short on catchers today.’
‘That’s never happened before,’ Edgar said from the back seat.
‘No, indeed, there has been quite a bit of activity of late and at times it’s been hard to keep up.’ Endora’s brow furrowed. ‘And now there’s a spot of bother at Gravesend Railway Station.’
‘Someone didn’t buy a ticket?’ Grandpa joked.
‘It’s more a spot of spectral bother, I’m afraid.’
‘My favourite kind.’ Angeline rubbed her hands. ‘What have you got for us?’
‘Take a look.’ Endora’s face disappeared and the screen filled with images of passengers on an underground railway platform. Her voice wafted over the top. ‘This is security footage from Platform Six. As you can see, everything seems quite orderly – passengers chatting, texting, reading books and tablets. Nothing out of the ordinary for a train station, but then this happens.’
At the sound of an approaching train, passengers look up, close their books and slip away their computers. The mouth of the railway tunnel is illuminated with the train’s headlights. The guard steps from his booth, an orange flag in hand, ready to signal the driver. Everyone is waiting, watching, when . . .
Instead of the expected train, a spiralling column of bright light swirls out of the tunnel like a tornado. Passengers fall to the ground, hold onto benches or each other as they’re dragged backwards by the force of the wind.
Angeline’s eyes widened. ‘A vortex!’
A station sign is ripped from the wall and sucked into the tunnel.
Grandpa frowned. ‘And it looks like a powerful one.’
‘Some passengers were close enough to the exit to make a quick escape, but police and emergency services had to guide the others out with harnesses and ropes.’
‘So they managed to rescue everyone?’ Edgar asked.
‘Everyone except the stationmaster, a Mrs Marjorie Smythe.’
Grandma swerved the car sharply into a roundabout. It mounted the kerb and bounced back onto the road before screeching out the other side. Angeline and Edgar were thrown back and forth but didn’t seem to notice the bumpy ride.
‘Where is she?’ Angeline regained her balance and stared at the screen.
‘She’s locked in the booth,’ Endora answered. ‘If you look closely you can see her.’
Angeline and Edgar studied the screen and saw a figure cowering in the small room.
‘Police used crowbars and truncheons to try to break through the windows and door, but nothing has worked. It’s as if the booth has become unbreakable,’ Endora said.
‘Paranormal force field?’ Angeline turned to her brother.
‘Highly likely,’ he answered.
‘Oh, I haven’t seen one of those in a while.’ Grandpa was impressed. ‘They’re hard to crack but I know you kids can do it.’
Endora continued. ‘I’ve analysed the rest of the footage and there doesn’t seem to be any other spectral entity involved but, of course, a vortex can be highly unpredictable, so you need to take extra care.’
‘Don’t worry, Endora,’ Angeline said. ‘We’ll be back at the Ghost Club in no time to hand over our report.’
‘I’ve arranged for Dylan to meet you at the station. I think this will be a good opportunity for him to learn about the more pesky elements of paranormal activity. I’ll be in touch if I discover anything more. Good luck.’
The screen went blank and Angeline closed the glove box.
‘Better get yourselves ready.’ Grandma smiled. ‘Looks like you might have a feisty one on your hands. Your equipment and clothes are in the seat beside you, Edgar.’
‘Excuse me, Grandpa.’ Edgar reached straight through his grandfather and lifted up the seat. He retrieved a pair of Ghost Club boots, a coat and a satchel, and handed them to Angeline. They kicked off their school shoes and began lacing up their boots.
Edgar also noticed a brown paper bag. ‘What’s this?’
Grandma saw the bag in the rear-view mirror. ‘Your dad asked me to give you that in case you get peckish.’
Inside was a container of green mush. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask again: what is it?’
‘He called it, “Spinach Surprise”.’
‘Because we’ll be surprised if we survive eating it?’ Angeline sighed.
‘He means well,’ Grandma Rose said.
‘Who would have thought ghost-catching would be safer than eating Dad’s well-meaning cooking?’
Angeline and Edgar lurched sideways as the car screeched around another corner. Up ahead, a crowd of onlookers, TV crews and journalists were jostling behind hastily erected barriers that blocked entry to Gravesend Railway Station. Immediately out front, ambulances and police cars were raggedly parked.
An officer stepped into the centre of the road and held up his hand. Grandma Rose slammed on the brakes and the car came to an abrupt halt only inches from the policeman’s shoes.
‘I’m sorry, madam, but this is a restricted area, you can’t –’
Grandma held up a badge. ‘Professor Rose Usher, the Ghost Club.’
The officer sighed in relief. ‘I’m Constable Nickleby and am I glad to see you . . .’ He threw a nervous look over his shoulder at the agitated crowd and leant closer to her window. ‘Not much has changed since we called, I’m afraid. We’re monitoring the situation via the platform security cameras. It’s quiet now, but each time we attempt to rescue the stationmaster from her booth, things . . .’ He paused. ‘Flare up.’
‘Don’t you worry,’ Grandma Rose said. ‘I’ve brought the best. I’d like you to meet Angeline and Edgar Usher. Ghost Club members with 133 spectral catchings.’
The two young catchers stepped out of the car. Angeline held out her hand. ‘Good afternoon, Officer.’
The of
ficer frowned and turned back to Grandma Rose. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Very sure. One hundred and thirty-three exactly. We keep very strict records of that sort of thing.’
The officer leant in even closer and spoke quietly. ‘No, I mean, are you sure about sending in kids?’
Edgar and Angeline slipped on their coats.
‘Don’t worry, sir,’ Edgar said. ‘Most people underestimate the efficacy with which they think we can carry out our duties.’
The policeman had no idea what Edgar had just said.
‘He means we’re very good at what we do,’ Angeline explained. ‘Trust us.’
They threaded the straps of the leather satchels over their heads and across their chests.
‘Yeah.’ Grandpa drifted out of the car and hovered beside his grandkids. ‘And if he wants this haunting over with, he really needs to stop wasting time and take our word for it. You kids are the best!’
Angeline snuck a secretive look at her proud grandfather.
‘Well, it’s true!’
The officer looked up and saw two journalists scuffling for a better view. ‘Yes, but I’m not sure –’ A gasp rose from the crowd. The officer’s ashen face took on an even more deathly hue. ‘I’d better go.’
In front of the police barrier, coming to a slow stop, was a sleek, black hearse.
A tall man with silver hair and a slightly hunched back stepped out of the hearse. He flashed a badge at the waiting police and they exchanged a few words. The man tweaked his moustache, donned a tall hat and made a show of adjusting the cuffs of his long, black coat. The crowd scrambled forward, journalists held out microphones, and cameras flashed as everyone waited to see the unfortunate victim who the undertaker had come to collect.
The stately man walked to the back of the hearse with careful steps punctuated by a small limp. His hand adjusted a carefully hidden axe wedged into his belt. He twisted the handle of the car’s rear door and raised it without a sound.
A pall of silence fell over the crowd. Not a whisper or a shuffle of a shoe could be heard.
From out of the hearse climbed a small, pale boy. His coat was identical to Angeline’s and Edgar’s, and he seemed a little shaky in his boots.
‘Dylan!’ Angeline’s excitement was in no way matched by the boy who stood by the hearse and its tall, forbidding owner.
Who closed the rear door with more force than necessary.
The boy flinched and for a brief moment lost his balance.
‘Looks like the gang’s all here.’ Grandma Rose started the engine. ‘You’ll be great, as always,’ she said to her grandchildren. ‘Or I’ll eat my own head!’
Grandpa Huffman flew inside just as it swung into a sharp U-turn. ‘Knock ’em dead!’ he shouted as they sped away.
Angeline and Edgar raced over to the newly arrived visitors. ‘So you’ve decided to join us again?’
‘It seems.’ Dylan was only now starting to get some colour back into his cheeks. ‘I wasn’t terrified enough by our last ghost-catch, so I’m back to see if this one can do it.’
‘There’s that sense of humour again, Master Dylan.’ The tall man laughed and slapped the boy on the back, sending him stumbling forward. ‘It never fails to tickle me.’
‘Nice to see you, Gloom,’ Edgar said.
The man clutched his hands to his chest. ‘It warms my heart every time the world needs our help.’ He turned to Dylan. ‘Sorry that you had to ride in the back. I’m getting the passenger seat fixed,’ he explained to the others. ‘And Dylan was very understanding about it.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ Angeline asked.
‘I spilt a little . . . something . . . on it.’ Gloom leant forward so that the sun glinted off the axe blade in his belt. ‘And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t scrub it out.’ He shot Dylan a look that strangled the breath out of the boy. ‘The least I could do was make it up to him by reciting some of my poetry as we drove here.’
‘Oh.’ Angeline smiled. ‘That’s very sweet, Gloom.’
Dylan’s sour-lemon face looked as if the experience had been anything but sweet.
Gloom doffed his hat. ‘As pleasant as it is to see you all again, I must make my goodbyes. I’m off to see a man about a piranha.’ He turned to leave but stopped, whipping his axe from his belt and holding it within an inch of Dylan’s nose.
The young boy stopped breathing.
‘I almost forgot. I wanted to lend you this. In case things get,’ Gloom’s eyes widened theatrically, ‘out of hand.’
Dylan’s heart had officially stopped beating. ‘No, thank you. It’s a very generous offer, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ Gloom tucked the axe back into his belt. ‘I love a can-do attitude.’ He bowed. ‘Good day to you all – and happy catching.’
Mr Roderick Gloom, Ghost Club member, groundsman and occasional chauffeur, closed the door of his hearse and drove away in a flare of camera flashes.
‘I think Gloom really likes you,’ Angeline said. ‘He’s never offered anyone his axe before.’
‘You don’t think he’s weird?’ Dylan had only just started breathing again.
‘What do you mean?’ Edgar asked.
‘He made me travel in the back of a hearse.’
Angeline shrugged. ‘His passenger seat is being repaired.’
‘While reciting poetry about young children who fall off cliffs and meet terrible ends at the hands of monstrous beasts.’
‘I know.’ Angeline sighed. ‘He has the most amazing imagination.’
‘And now he’s off to buy a piranha!’
‘He’s always had a deep fondness for animals.’ Edgar nodded.
‘A fondness for animals? He –’
‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ Constable Nickleby said, ‘but would you mind if we got started? We’re very keen to wrap this up quickly. We’ve got a lot of upset commuters and journalists very keen to be the first to deliver a breaking story.’
One reporter clonked another over the head with a microphone.
‘And I’m not sure how much longer we can keep it all under control.’
‘Certainly, Officer.’ Angeline almost saluted. ‘We’re on our way.’
Constable Nickleby escorted them past the crowd as a slew of questions were shouted.
‘We’ve heard reports of an attack. Is this true?’
‘What’s happening down there?’
‘What can we tell the people of Gravesend!’
A team of police in flak jackets guarded the barriers to the station, making sure no one broke through, while two officers posted at the entrance slid open the clanking metal gates.
‘Good luck.’ Nickleby waved them off.
An officer with a bandage across his brow muttered, ‘You’re going to need it.’
‘Need it?’ Dylan asked as the gates were slammed shut behind them. He held onto the bars. ‘Why will we need it?’
‘He’s just wishing us luck.’ Angeline gently pulled him away. ‘Now, let’s go get this vortex.’
She stepped onto the escalator and the three began to travel deep into the dim heart of the station and its labyrinth of platforms and tunnels. Fluorescent lights flickered in grubby covers and created a yellowish, murky glow.
‘You must be excited to be on another call-out so soon after your first catching,’ Angeline said.
Dylan’s eyes were focused on the bottom of the escalator and what might be lying in wait for them. ‘“Excited” isn’t exactly the word I’d use.’
‘I know,’ Angeline cried. ‘This is like excitement times infinity.’
Sometimes Angeline knew exactly what Dylan was thinking. This wasn’t one of those times.
‘It’ll be good to get a
chance to practise your ghost-catching skills again since you were so brave on our last call-out.’
Dylan seemed to relax a little. ‘I wasn’t that brave,’ he mumbled.
‘Are you kidding?’ Angeline’s eyes widened. ‘If it wasn’t for you, we may never have stopped the haunting of Castle Koszmar.’[1]
Dylan blushed. ‘Maybe I helped a little, but it was ahhh!’
A horde of rats frantically scrambled up towards them, hundreds of little feet tapping against the metal stairs as they rushed past.
‘That’s a good sign,’ Edgar said. ‘Animals are petrified of ghosts.’
‘They aren’t the only ones.’ Dylan clung to the side of the escalator.
‘Are you okay?’ Angeline asked calmly, like a person who hadn’t almost been trampled by filthy, germ-carrying rats.
‘I thought I was until the ride in the back of the hearse, the stampeding rats and the news about the vortex.’
‘So you’ve been briefed?’ Edgar asked.
‘Endora called me on my Tracker,’ Dylan breathed. ‘She said vortices can be very dangerous and that we should take extra care.’
‘No disrespect to Endora,’ Edgar said, ‘but she can be overly cautious.’
‘Overly cautious?’ Angeline asked. ‘If we lived in a house made of cottonwool, she’d still worry we’d get hurt.’
‘Yes, but –’
A deep, resonating moan echoed from the tunnels beneath them.
‘Button up, everyone,’ Angeline instructed. ‘This one sounds big.’
Dylan whimpered as his fingers struggled with the buttons on his coat.
‘Now remember,’ Edgar said, pulling on his hood, ‘your Ghost Coat is specially lined to withstand any kind of attack or temperature drop, and it’s reinforced with a shock-absorbing lining if you fall or the spectral entity gets a bit nasty.’
‘That maths test I’m missing is sounding more exciting by the second,’ Dylan mumbled.
‘They don’t normally call us out of school,’ Edgar said, ‘but it seems everyone else was busy.’
‘Everyone?’ Although it seemed impossible, Dylan’s face became even paler. ‘But the Ghost Club is one of the largest paranormal organisations in the world. Grandpa said there are over 200 catchers.’
Ghost Club 2 Page 2
