Ghost Club 2

by Deborah Abela

  At the end of the laneway, they were delivered into the forecourt of a stately, double-storeyed building.

  ‘I didn’t even know this existed.’ Angeline stared at the imposing doors and grey stone walls that were slowly being consumed by creepers.

  ‘No one’s been allowed down here for years,’ Edgar said, ‘except for general maintenance and the annual sleepover.’

  ‘What is it?’ Angeline asked.

  ‘The old boarding school.’

  ‘Students used to live here?’

  ‘Consider yourself lucky that you only have to stay one night.’

  Angeline eyed her brother. ‘Lucky is not a word I would use to describe anything about tonight.’

  Ms Gently lifted a clanking set of keys and unlocked the front doors. Principal Primm and her bright red tracksuit strode beneath the threshold. ‘Follow me,’ she sang. Inside, their footsteps echoed over the tiled foyer and up the staircase to the second level. The air smelt musty and the last of the afternoon light sent long, orange shadows over the walls and glinting off the honour boards and glass cabinets that held trophies and pennants for everything from debating and horse riding to judo. When Angeline looked closer, she saw that the gold lettering of the children’s names had dulled, the cabinets were glazed with a layer of dust, and the silver trophies were tarnished with black stains.

  Further down the hall, Principal Primm stopped and turned towards the group like an overly enthusiastic tour guide. ‘Many of you may not be aware, but Gravesend College was once a very prestigious boarding school.’ Her voice echoed around them as if she was being mimicked by some invisible spirit. ‘The daughters of the most important people in the country were sent here to be educated. Now, of course, we are a day school for fine young boys and girls like yourselves.’ She gave them a wide smile that should have made Angeline feel welcome but instead gave her the distinct feeling of being invited to step into an oven, Hansel-and-Gretel style.

  Principal Primm pointed to a narrow set of stairs that seemed to disappear into a murky shadow above them. A chain was strung from one banister to the other, blocking the entrance with a sign that read ‘No Entry’.

  ‘I expect every student, as usual, to respect any area that is marked out of bounds, of which this is one.’

  A little further down the hall she swung her hand to the right. ‘Here is the bathroom and . . .’ She moved to a set of double doors on her left. ‘This is where the boarders used to sleep, which will be your home for tonight.’

  She pressed down on a brass doorhandle and, with some effort, the large wooden doors opened.

  She switched on the lights. The room’s interior looked more like a church, with an imposing arched roof and tall windows sitting at the end of two rows of neatly made beds.

  ‘These are the original beds – with fresh sheets and pillows, of course. Boys on that side, girls on the other. We’ll meet you all down in the dining hall in five minutes.’

  With a relieved humph of a job well done, Principal Primm left the room with Ms Gently and the other teachers following close behind.

  Angeline watched sets of friends scramble, giggling and dragging each other by the hand to beds so they could sleep side by side. She dumped her bag on the bed closest to her and sank down onto its springy mattress. ‘Is it time to go home yet?’

  ‘Not quite.’ Edgar sat beside her. ‘I wonder why they closed the school to boarders?’

  ‘Because parents realised that sending your children to school twenty-four hours a day constitutes torture,’ Angeline offered.

  Lila leant in from her bed beside Angeline and whispered, ‘They closed it because of the murder.’

  ‘Murder?’ Charlie overheard and came closer. ‘What murder?’

  ‘The one that happened right in this very building.’

  ‘Is this another one of your stories?’ Ravi asked before sneaking a look under his bed.

  ‘My grandpa told me.’ Lila sat cross-legged and had that look in her eye that she always got when she was about to tell a story. The others instinctively gathered around.

  ‘There was a groundsman called Robert Thompson, who had worked here for years. He looked after the gardens and did the repairs on the buildings. He lived nearby and was a bit of a loner. He’d grown up in this town before he went off to war, but when he came back and tried to get work, no one would hire him.’

  ‘Why?’ Ebony asked.

  ‘My grandpa said there were a few reasons. Some said the violence and horror he’d seen in the trenches made him act a little strange, so people wouldn’t go near him, but others were upset that he returned home while their sons had died.’

  ‘That doesn’t seem fair,’ Charlie said.

  ‘People were upset,’ Lila said. ‘There were a lot of things about the war that weren’t fair. The school principal took pity on him and gave him a job. He was very grateful and repaid her by working very hard, but one night he snuck into the building.’

  ‘This building?’ Ravi hugged his pillow to his chest and looked over his shoulder.

  Lila nodded. ‘He became convinced it was haunted by the souls of those he’d grown up with, those who’d never made it back from the war, taunting him for having survived. He worked up the courage to ask the principal if she saw the ghosts too. She’d been the principal of Gravesend for many years and assured him that the school wasn’t haunted.’

  ‘What happened?’ Ravi asked.

  ‘My grandad told me he kept seeing the men, and on this one particular night he decided he’d had enough. So at four in the morning –’

  ‘The witching hour,’ Ebony whispered.

  ‘What’s the witching hour?’ Ravi asked.

  ‘The time of the night when the wall between this world and the next becomes wafer thin and ghosts are most active.’

  ‘It’s not just at four,’ Angeline whispered to Edgar.

  ‘Is that true, Ebony?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘That’s what my grandmother used to say.’

  ‘What happened next?’ Ravi asked. ‘With Mr Thompson.’

  Other students gathered closer to hear Lila’s story.

  ‘He crept up the stairs. Everything was completely still. He silently walked along the corridor, letting each step land gently on the floorboards so as not to make any noise. He headed towards the sound of voices, coming from inside this very room. They were laughing, and he knew they were making fun of him, teasing him. His fury overwhelmed him and he began running towards the door. He threw it open and burst inside when –’

  ‘Ahhhh!’ The room snapped to black and filled with a fiendish scream.

  Children were sent scrambling under beds and covers, and panicked cries rang out as a wild laugh pierced the darkness.

  Angeline and Edgar calmly took their torches from their packs and searched the room. The beams of light hovered over beds and the frightened faces of huddled children, until they came to rest on one face that was anything but frightened: Travis.

  He was standing by the light switch with a delighted smile on his face. ‘Welcome to the Senior Student Sleepover!’ He doubled over in laughter.

  Edgar walked to the door and switched the lights back on. ‘I didn’t know you wanted a career in comedy.’

  Travis could barely stand, he was laughing so hard, and he fell onto a nearby bed. ‘You should see your faces.’ He pointed and clutched his stomach. ‘All shivering and scared as you bundle together, talking about your little ghosties.’

  Ms Gently ran into the room, followed by the other teachers and, lastly, Principal Primm. ‘What happened? Is everyone okay?’

  ‘We’re okay, thank you.’ Edgar stared directly at Travis. ‘We think we saw a rat.’

  Lila giggled.

  ‘A rat?’ Principal Primm clutched her arms to he
r chest and searched the floor.

  ‘I’m sure there are no rodents here,’ Ms Gently quickly added. ‘I personally oversaw that the rooms were thoroughly cleaned for our arrival. Now come on, children, everyone down to the dining hall so we can begin tonight’s festivities. When we come back later tonight, I’m sure you’ll find there are no rats anywhere.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that.’ Angeline turned off her torch and followed the others downstairs.

  ‘Someone wake me up. I’m stuck in my own worst nightmare.’ Angeline leant against the wall of the dining hall, which, after dinner, had been converted into a games area.

  ‘It’ll be over soon,’ Edgar assured her.

  ‘Really? Because it feels like it’s never going to end.’

  ‘Even nightmares end.’

  All around them teachers had set up stations for egg-and-spoon relays, three-legged races and blindfold challenges. Teachers wore tracksuits and matching caps with ‘Trust Me’ written in red.

  Principal Primm stood at the centre of the room, loudspeaker in hand. She was sorting the students into groups by pulling names out of a hat that Ms Gently held out beside her. Each time Principal Primm called out a name, the students were sent into fits of hysterical glee.

  ‘Maybe they’ll forget we’re here,’ Angeline said hopefully, ‘and we can sneak away somewhere safer, like a lion-infested jungle or the middle of a six-lane highway.’

  ‘And I thought I was the optimistic one?’ Edgar smiled.

  Principal Primm announced more names.

  ‘Or maybe we’ll get lucky and be called away to a ghost-catch.’ Angeline perked up even further. ‘Dealing with an attention-seeking poltergeist would be a much more pleasant way to spend the night.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Edgar said, ‘but Grandma told the Ghost Club not to call us unless there’s an emergency.’

  ‘But this is an emergency!’ Angeline pleaded. ‘I’m in danger of losing my mind. How much more of an emergency do you need?’

  It was at that exact moment that Edgar and Angeline’s names were read out – followed shortly after by Travis’s.

  ‘Maybe that?’ Edgar winced.

  Angeline’s head fell into her hands.

  ‘Aren’t we lucky, eh?’ Travis slung an arm over their shoulders. ‘Looks like me and the weird kids are getting the chance to bond.’ He mimicked Principal Primm’s rather proper voice, ‘And get a glimpse of who they truly are deep down inside. Ready to have a whole lot of fun?’

  Angeline felt as if a spider had been dropped down the neck of her shirt.

  He slapped their backs and moved towards the rest of their group.

  ‘Has no one looked up the definition of fun lately?’ Angeline dragged herself over to the others.

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Angeline,’ Edgar began, ‘I admire you for many reasons, but if there is one thing you’re lacking it’s trust. I think you are one of the most interesting people I know, now you just need to believe it yourself.’

  ‘Okay, most of the time I can understand what you’re saying, but that didn’t make any sense to me at all.’

  ‘And that is everyone.’ Principal Primm looked very pleased with herself. ‘As you can see, set up around the room are a series of activities to explore trust. It is only by having faith in yourself and your peers that you will be able to succeed in these challenges and avoid being hurt.’

  ‘Hurt!’ Angeline brightened. ‘That’s it! I could break an arm or fall out of a window, then they’d have to send me home.’

  ‘That’s a little drastic, isn’t it?’ Edgar asked.

  ‘As opposed to leaving my life in Travis’s hands?’

  ‘There are activities,’ Principal Primm continued, ‘where you will fall backwards into people’s arms, be thrown into the air by a fireman’s blanket and blindfolded as you work your way through a mini maze of obstacles with only the instructions of your group to guide you.’ The principal’s eyes widened as if she’d just spotted Santa climbing through the window. ‘You are all going to have such fun.’

  ‘There’s that word again,’ Angeline mumbled as she made her way to their first activity.

  ‘Let the games begin!’ Principal Primm blew a whistle hanging around her neck and the hall instantly filled with the squeals of excitement as pairs of legs were tied together, blindfolds fitted and eggs balanced on spoons.

  Angeline’s first station was the Fireman’s Blanket. She stood back, trying to disappear into the group, which unfortunately didn’t stop Ms Gently calling her name first.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’m not very good with –’

  ‘It won’t hurt,’ Ms Gently said and pointed to her cap. ‘Trust me, remember? All you have to do is lie down and let go of all your fears.’

  Angeline couldn’t help but feel that Ms Gently’s enthusiasm would have been more suited on a football field or backstage before the opening night of a play, because on her it was wasted.

  Lila found a place next to Edgar. ‘You can do it, Angeline,’ she said.

  Angeline looked about awkwardly and stammered, ‘Th-th . . . thanks.’ She stumbled forward and lay down in the centre of the blanket.

  ‘Your fellow students will now grab the edges of the blanket and throw you in the air.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You have nothing to fear.’ Ms Gently coaxed her back down. ‘Trust us.’

  The circling kids grabbed the blanket and, at Ms Gently’s whistle, began swinging it up and down. Angeline’s arms and legs splayed everywhere. She desperately tried to stifle her screams – when she saw a gleaming smile glued to Travis’s face.

  Angeline clamped her eyes shut, knowing this wasn’t going to end well.

  ‘If you keep your eyes closed, you’ll miss the full effect.’ Grandpa Huffman floated above her.

  ‘I’d prefer not to see the exact moment when my life ends.’

  ‘Your life won’t end. If you relax a little you may even find –’

  ‘I’m having fun,’ she said, finishing Grandpa’s sentence a little too loudly.

  ‘Good for you!’ Ms Gently called. ‘I knew you would.’

  When the next whistle blew, Angeline was lowered to the floor, where she lay for a few brief seconds, relieved that she hadn’t died after all.

  But her relief was short-lived when, at the next activity, she was paired with Travis.

  ‘Welcome, troops, to the Falling Test,’ said Mr Marksman, the PE teacher. There were rumours he’d been an SAS army officer who’d killed enemy agents with his bare hands. Most of this was based on the fact that he always seemed to be in a bad mood, called students ‘troops’ and constantly squeezed a rubber ball. This, he said, was to exercise his muscles or, as other rumours had it, to calm his murderous mind.

  He aimed his beady, black eyes at each student and explained the challenge. ‘You and your buddy are to stand facing due north, one behind the other. The trooper in front falls back to be caught by the trooper behind.’

  ‘You want us to fall backwards?’ Angeline asked. ‘Why can’t we just stay standing?’

  ‘There wouldn’t be any challenge in that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Travis smiled. ‘No challenge at all.’

  Angeline was desperate. ‘Mr Marksman, can I be excused? I don’t feel well.’

  ‘If you’re excused you’ll miss the valuable lessons that tonight has in store. It’s natural to be a bit nervous, but Travis is a strong lad – you’re in safe hands there.’

  Travis nodded. ‘Very safe.’

  On anyone else, Travis’s smile would have been reassuring, but on him it looked like the smile of an executioner.

  ‘On your marks?’ Everyone got into position. Angeline stood, hoping the floor would collapse beneath her.

 
‘Get set?’ Mr Marksman called. ‘Go!’

  Angeline could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she slowly fell back, knowing that any second she’d be crashing to the floor. But, to her great surprise, Travis caught her.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad now, was it?’ he asked like he was suddenly a reasonable, likeable person. He helped Angeline upright and moved in closer. Angeline instinctively leant away.

  ‘I’m sorry for what I did before,’ Travis whispered. ‘Everyone was getting so freaked out by Lila’s boarding school story; I thought turning off the lights would be funny. I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I guess sometimes I can go too far.’

  Angeline struggled to know what to say. The boy in front of her looked like Travis, sounded like Travis, but nothing about what he’d just said was anything like Travis.

  ‘Okaaay?’ She felt suspiciously like she was standing on a cliff being told it was safe to step off the edge.

  ‘I don’t blame you for not believing me. My dad had a big talk to me before he dropped me off,’ Travis said. ‘He talked about focusing on my talents and doing my best.’ He looked down. ‘And that my fooling around will achieve nothing.’

  Angeline tensed, waiting for the smart-alec answer that would surely come next, or the stinging insult or name-calling.

  But it never came.

  The whistle sounded to rotate activities.

  ‘We better move on,’ Travis said, whistling as he walked to the next station.

  Edgar peered over at Angeline, looking her up and down. ‘No broken bones, no visible scars – everything seems to be all right.’

  ‘Travis apologised for turning off the lights in the dorm.’

  ‘Maybe the trust games are having a positive effect.’

  ‘So why do I feel so suspicious?’

  ‘Trusting regular humans isn’t something that comes easily to you.’

  Angeline kept a close eye on Travis as she moved through the rest of the games. She saw no teasing, no bullying and no snide remarks, but something bothered her about his sudden transformation to Mr Nice Guy.

  She didn’t have to think about it much longer when Principal Primm blew the final whistle and declared the night an unqualified success and, more importantly for Angeline, officially over.