She stared at his eyes and nodded without saying anything.
‘He’s your brother, isn’t he?’
She nodded again, transfixed.
‘Do you play?’ The boy had a warm, impish smile. He tilted his head and the sun caught his eyes, making them twinkle.
Angeline nodded slowly, then frowned and shook her head.
‘If you’ve got even an ounce of the talent your brother has, you should think about playing. Soccer’s a great game.’
Angeline felt as if her lips had been glued shut.
‘I’m Harley.’ He held out his hand.
Angeline stared at his open hand. She was frozen to the spot, willing every ounce of herself to do something – anything.
‘What’s your name?’
In situations like this, Angeline’s dad told her to simply imagine she was with people she loved, like her family or her fellow Ghost Club members, and that if she took a deep, calming breath, everything would feel okay.
And maybe one day she could make that work. But it wasn’t going to be today.
‘Harley! Are you coming?’
He turned to see a group of boys calling him. One was walking towards them.
Angeline’s blood was already racing through her veins, but now it ran cold as well.
The boy walking towards them was Travis. The same Travis from her school who used any opportunity to make her feel like a freak, when she was perfectly capable of doing that by herself.
‘Better go,’ Harley said.
Say something, anything, Angeline pleaded silently to herself.
But all she did was nod.
‘It was nice talking to you.’
‘Harley?’ Travis stood between them and slung a casual arm around Harley’s shoulder. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Just chatting.’
‘Chatting?’ Travis flicked his blond shaggy hair from his eyes, his lips filling with a sneer. ‘Good luck getting her to talk – she barely says a word. For the first few years I thought she was mute.’ He gave Angeline a smile that made her feel as if she was shrinking. ‘See you at school.’
The ref blew the final whistle and the entire park erupted into cheers.
Except for Angeline, who felt the strength drain from her legs. She sank to the ground and sat with her arms around her knees.
Edgar’s team formed a circle and sang their song. Arthur and Lily waited patiently for their son to finish before smothering him in hugs, smudging their clothes against his muddy jersey. Grandma Rose stooped to give him a kiss before congratulating the others.
The only one missing was Angeline.
Edgar saw her sitting on the sideline by herself. He sat down beside her and wiped a splodge of mud from his face.
‘How do I look?’
‘Disgusting.’ Angeline’s smile was small and lacked any of the happiness a smile usually has.
Edgar had seen that look before. ‘It happened again, didn’t it? Someone tried to talk to you.’
Angeline’s chin fell to her knees. ‘It was worse this time. Usually I manage to mangle every word that comes out of my mouth, but this time I couldn’t make anything come out.’
‘You sound perfectly articulate to me now.’
‘You’re my brother. You’re supposed to say that.’
‘It happens to be true.’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t before, and just as I was thinking things couldn’t get any worse, Travis came over.’
Angeline looked longingly at kids kicking soccer balls, families chatting and crowds lined up and laughing in queues for the kiosk. It all looked so easy for them.
‘Are you okay?’ Edgar leant over.
‘Yes.’
‘That was a no,’ Edgar said, ‘flimsily disguised as a yes.’
‘Why can’t you be like a normal boy and not notice stuff like that?’
‘It was during my first chess game with a ghost that I learnt to accept I wasn’t normal.’
Angeline laughed but her smile quickly faded. ‘Why can’t I even pretend to be normal?’
‘Because you’re terrified of not displaying the appropriate social behaviours that will enamour you to your peers, which ironically leads you to act in ways that go against your usual confident nature.’
‘And makes you act as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ An old man with wispy grey hair and glowing white skin appeared by her side.
‘Grandpa!’ Angeline looked over both shoulders. She caught sight of a woman who’d just left the kiosk, staring wide-eyed at the place beside her that was empty and was now occupied by her grandfather. Angeline scanned the park further. Apart from a young baby in a pram, no one else seemed to notice what had happened.
‘It’s great to see you again,’ Angeline said, ‘but I think you need to adjust your energy status.’ She pointed at the woman by the kiosk, who rubbed her eyes and looked again.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll lower it now, it’s just that when I heard what you were talking about, I got all worked up and wanted to add my opinion.’
The woman’s drink slipped from her fingers and splattered to the ground as the old man she’d seen appear a few moments ago was now disappearing. She felt her forehead, shook her head and scooted off to her car.
‘Your Grandma Rose was shy with people she didn’t know, but that didn’t make her any less beautiful on the inside and out. Just like you.’
‘He’s right,’ Edgar added. ‘And you’re my favourite sister.’
‘Because you have so many to choose from?’ She raised an eyebrow.
‘You’re perfectly adorable,’ Grandpa said. ‘And that young fella Harley was thinking the same thing.’
‘Travis didn’t. He makes it his aim in life to pick on me on a very regular basis.’
‘He just hasn’t realised yet how truly beautiful you are,’ Grandpa said.
‘It’s true. You’ve seen Travis at school,’ Edgar argued. ‘He needs time to grasp important concepts.’
‘See?’ Grandpa Huffman said. ‘I rest my case.’
‘Okay, now you’re both getting embarrassing.’
Angeline’s pocket began chiming. She took out her Tracker and pressed her thumb against the screen. Endora’s smiling face appeared before them. ‘Please tell me you’ve come to save me from my soppy grandfather and brother?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do much about that,’ Endora said. ‘You’re stuck with a couple of softies there, but I have looked at the vision you emailed me this morning of the headless horseman.’
‘Do you know who it is?’ Edgar asked.
‘I’ve done some investigating and narrowed it down to a few suspects, some of whom I think you may find very interesting. How soon can you get here?’
Angeline perked up to her usual self. ‘As soon as my grubby brother has cleaned himself up, we’ll be there.’
*
‘That was a magnificent goal!’
‘Yes, Dad,’ Edgar said as they pulled into their driveway. ‘You’ve said that twenty-seven times.’
‘I know, I know, but I’m just so proud of you. It was truly –’
‘Magnificent,’ the whole Usher family chorused and laughed – until they spied two men in uniform standing on their veranda.
‘I wonder what they want.’ Grandma Rose squinted through the car window. ‘They’ve never come here for Ghost Club business before, but I guess there’s always a first.’
‘Maybe it’s something else.’ Lily Usher saw the serious looks on their faces.
Arthur pulled to a stop and turned off the engine. ‘As long as none of us has robbed any banks lately, I think we should be okay.’
The Usher family stepped out of the car. Arthur strode over to the men and offere
d his hand. ‘Good afternoon, officers. What can we do for you today?’
‘I’m Constable Watson and this is Constable Doyle.’
Lily Usher stood behind her two children with her hands on their shoulders. Grandma Rose joined them with her arms firmly crossed.
The officers looked at Edgar’s dirt-smeared shirt and shorts, and the muddied fronts of Arthur and Lily. ‘Been out . . . digging?’ Constable Watson asked warily.
‘Digging?’ Arthur laughed. ‘We’ve just come home from soccer. The rain last week has made the field very soggy but, even in those trying circumstances, my son kicked the winning goal.’
‘Dad!’ Edgar blushed beneath the mud splattered on his face.
‘He’s the best on the team,’ Angeline said.
‘That’s enough now, everyone.’
‘It’s true.’ Angeline nudged him playfully.
The Ushers all smiled and nodded proudly.
The officers didn’t smile or nod – in fact, they looked increasingly like they had bad news.
‘You didn’t come to talk about soccer, did you, officers?’ Arthur asked carefully.
‘Ah, no.’ Constable Watson took out his notepad and flipped it open. ‘We’ve had a complaint.’
‘A complaint?’ Grandma Rose stepped forward. ‘About what? From who?’
Constables Watson and Doyle exchanged quiet looks. ‘Maybe it’s best if we talk about this inside.’
‘Ridiculous!’ Grandma Rose blustered as she careened through the scraggly archway of trees that led to the Ghost Club. ‘Absolutely ridiculous!’
Her driving was more erratic than usual. Dead branches scraped against the car like claws, and possums only just managed to scamper out of the way before she hurtled past.
‘The police only gave us a warning,’ Angeline said. ‘There were no charges. All we have to do is be more discreet.’
‘But we’re doing a great service to the community. We’re protecting people from troublesome spirits. We’re making the world a safer place!’
‘And the police know that,’ Edgar reasoned, ‘but they have to take complaints from the public seriously.’
Grandma Rose slammed her foot on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop in the courtyard of the mansion – but not before crashing into a large wheelie bin and spilling cans and plastic bottles all over the ground.
‘We can’t expect everyone to understand what we do,’ Angeline said. ‘You told us that when we first started.’
‘Yes, but for someone to make a complaint about your parents! Human beings can be an untrustworthy lot!’
Edgar kissed Grandma Rose. ‘We have brilliant parents.’
Angeline leant forward from the back seat and kissed her too. ‘And when the police realise that, the complaint will be dropped. You’ll see.’
‘You’re right,’ Grandma sighed and calmed a little. ‘It just burns me up when someone says something untrue about my family.’
‘And that’s one of the many reasons we love you,’ Angeline said.
‘Better go.’ Grandma Rose revved the engine as her two grandchildren climbed out of the car. ‘Thanks to our law-enforcing visitors, I’m late for rehearsals. Have fun!’ She waved goodbye and disappeared in a cloud of dust and skidding wheels.
After Edgar and Angeline made a quick clean-up of the yard, they hurried up the mottled front stairs, over the bridge, across the moat and into the foyer to find Myra at the front desk enveloped by a gloom of dim lighting and bad attitude.
‘Good evening, Myra.’ Angeline beamed.
Myra had her head tilted to the side and was focused on transferring information from a recent case into the computer. ‘It looks like all the others to me,’ she flatly intoned.
‘We’re here to see Endora,’ Edgar said. ‘We’re working on another catching.’
‘That’s great.’ Only Myra could make the word ‘great’ sound like something you should run from. ‘Master Dylan is expecting you too.’ She nodded towards the stairs. ‘He’s in the Depository.’
Angeline and Edgar knew this was as far as Myra went with small talk. They raced to the top of the stairs and along the Hall of Dedication until they reached the Depository.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ Angeline huffed. ‘We were – what’s wrong?’
Dylan was hunched over the long study table, wearing white gloves and breathing into a paper bag, while Endora stood by, fanning him with her coat.
‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I was sharing a few of my favourite ghost stories, but I think I may have said too much.’
Dylan took a few more breaths into the bag. Angeline attempted a bit of humour to try to calm him down. ‘You must go through a lot of bags.’
‘Lately more than usual.’ His head hung low.
‘At least I know what to get you for your birthday.’
A small smile appeared on Dylan’s face – the first one Angeline had seen since he’d become a member of the Ghost Club.
‘That’s more like it,’ Angeline said. ‘Now let’s hear about this ghost.’
They gathered around Endora’s table, which was covered in birth certificates, parish records and crime reports.
‘We’ve had another call from Mr Griswold, who has moved out of Castle Koszmar. In the last twelve hours the haunting has become much more intense.’
‘More intense than a screeching headless horseman trying to run us down?’ Dylan clutched his paper bag.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
‘What happened?’ Edgar asked.
‘After you left, Mr Griswold’s ghost circled the castle on his horse, cracking his whip and laughing into the early morning, making sure to stop beneath Griswold’s window for especially loud whip-cracking. He then began stomping through the corridors, dragging and clanking the horse harness behind him.’
‘And that drove Mr Griswold away?’ Angeline asked. ‘From what he told us, that was pretty typical of this ghost’s behaviour.’
‘It was the axe embedded in his bedroom door that was the final straw.’
‘An axe?’ Dylan squeaked.
‘Yes,’ Endora said, ‘but from what we know so far about this ghost, I don’t think he means to cause any harm, just a lot of chaos and noise, and our job is to work out who he is and what he wants.’
She moved to the computer and replayed the vision from the night before. The camera image shook a little before straightening. From the darkness of the castle grounds, the horse appeared, ridden by the headless rider and heading straight towards them. It seemed to pass straight through the camera before the image spun round to follow the ghostly apparition as it disappeared into the foggy night.
Endora searched back through the vision and stopped on an image of the horseman in full flight.
‘From this footage, I have ascertained that our ghost’s clothing is from the late 1700s. His scream is that of a young male who, as you saw from his riding skills, is very good on a horse. What else do you notice?’
‘He appeared very soon after we arrived, and he was obviously upset we were there,’ Angeline said.
‘Maybe he’s someone who has a sense of ownership of the castle and wants to drive intruders away,’ Edgar suggested. ‘Was he one of the owners?’
‘Perhaps,’ Endora replied.
‘Maybe he’s unhappy that the castle is now being used as a bed and breakfast,’ Angeline offered.
‘But why now?’ Dylan asked. ‘It’s been a B&B for over ten years.’
‘Very true, Master Dylan.’ Endora nodded.
‘So, something has changed,’ Angeline said. ‘Something that’s made him angry.’
‘Good,’ Endora said. ‘What else?’
‘His clothes are too big.’ Edgar studied the image. ‘Like they don’t bel
ong to him.’
‘Not only that,’ Endora said, ‘he’s wearing a very expensive outfit.’
‘So they’re not his clothes.’ Edgar frowned.
‘And that means he could be a thief,’ Angeline said. ‘Or in disguise, or a person wanting to be someone else.’
‘Or someone who is jealous of the Griswold family,’ Edgar added.
‘But that doesn’t mean he’s not a Griswold himself.’ Dylan looked as if he may even be having fun. ‘Maybe he was someone in their family who felt overlooked.’
‘So in driving Reginald Griswold away,’ Angeline followed his train of thought, ‘is the ghost angry with him in particular or the Griswold family in general?’
‘Not sure, but he’s annoyed about something,’ Dylan concluded.
Endora smiled proudly at her ghost catchers. ‘Very clever thinking, all of you, which leads me to my main suspects.’
She opened a wide, rectangular book and carefully turned the pages with her gloved fingers. ‘Here we have the ledger from the local parish that traditionally kept the records of births, deaths and marriages of the local townspeople. Matching the parish records with people from the castle who died around that time, there are a few likely candidates.’
She picked up several fragile, discoloured pieces of paper encased in protective plastic sheets. ‘And here they are: Wesley Griswold, the younger brother of Lord Marley, the master of the castle. He was a good son and student as a young boy, but as a teenager Wesley disgraced the family with his drinking and lazy ways. The family tried to help him but then turned their backs, and he died poor and alone.’
‘So he may be coming back for revenge?’ Dylan asked.
‘It is a possibility.’ Endora carefully handled another certificate. ‘Next we have Lord Marley’s son, Wilfred Griswold. He spent a lot of time at the stables and was quite the horseman. The castle tutor kept records saying he was an excellent student and was well loved by the staff. There’s even a clipping from a church newsletter retelling the story of how he saved a young girl from drowning. When his father passed away, he took over the running of the castle. Wilfred died of yellow fever in his twenties and was very much mourned.’
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