Dial a Ghost

Chapter Seventeen

Miss Pringle arrived at Helton late in the afternoon. Addie and Oliver were out for a walk, but Aunt Maud was waltzing about on the head of the man trying to strangle a snake and she came down at once.

‘Why if it isn’t dear Miss Pringle,’ she said. ‘What a pleasure to see you. We should have let you know before how very happy and grateful we are.’

Grandma, who was having a little nap on one of the benches, now sat up and said, ‘Yes that’s right. It’s a lovely place here; we’re as snug as anything. It just seems like a bad dream now, that time in the knicker shop.’ She called to Eric. ‘Eric, here’s Miss Pringle from the agency come to see how we’ve settled in.’

You can imagine how poor Miss Pringle felt. How she blushed and stammered and had to dash away her tears when she told them the dreadful news.

‘A mistake?’ said Uncle Henry, who had come to join them. ‘What sort of a mistake?’

Miss Pringle blew her nose and explained about Ted and the colour blindness.

‘You were meant to go to some nuns down in the West Country. Ever such nice people. And some quite different ghosts were ordered for up here. Rather fierce and horrible people but… suitable for such a big place.’

It was Uncle Henry who understood what she was trying to tell them.

‘You mean you want us to leave here? To go away again?’

Miss Pringle nodded. ‘The gentleman who ordered the ghosts for here was very angry and upset.’

The Wilkinsons could make no sense of this. All they knew was that they were not wanted.

‘Of course we aren’t headless,’ said Aunt Maud hopelessly.

‘I told you,’ said Eric. ‘I told you no one would want me. If Cynthia Harbottle didn’t want me, no one else will either.’

‘Now, Eric,’ said Grandma. He’d hardly mentioned Cynthia since they came to Helton and here it was starting up again. ‘It isn’t you, it’s me. It’s because I’m old.’

‘No, no, no!’ cried Miss Pringle. ‘It’s just that Mr Boyd wanted fierce ghosts and he’s very cross. It’s to do with attracting tourists.’

But she looked round at Helton in a very puzzled way. There didn’t seem to be any notices saying that the hall was open to the public.

Uncle Henry’s ectoplasm had become quite curdled with shock, but he spoke with dignity. ‘If we’re not wanted here, we must leave at once. Go and catch the budgie, Maud, and I’ll get our things.’

‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ Miss Pringle was getting more and more flustered. Still, she was running an agency; she had to be businesslike. ‘Where is Adopta?’ she asked, for the little girl was a special favourite of hers.

‘She’s out with Oliver,’ said Aunt Maud — and when she thought of saying goodbye to the child they had grown to love so much, she could no longer hold back her tears.

‘Oliver? Is that Mr Boyd — the man who owns Helton?’ asked Miss Pringle. ‘Because if so perhaps I’d better stay and apologize to him myself.’

But just then the children came running down the path. Oliver had found another letter from Trevor in the Troughton Post Office and his face was alight with happiness. At least it was till he saw the ghosts.

‘What is it?’ he asked, suddenly afraid. ‘What’s happened?’

Miss Pringle came forward and introduced herself. ‘I’m afraid I’ve had to tell them that they aren’t wanted here at Helton. That they were sent here by mistake.’

The next minute, she stepped back a pace because the most extraordinary change had taken place in the little boy.

He had seemed to be a gentle sort of child and not at all bossy or strong-minded. Now his chin went up and his eyes blazed.

‘Not welcome at Helton?’ he said furiously. ‘Not welcome! How dare you say such a thing! They’re the most welcome people I have ever known. They’re my friends. They’re my family and they’re not going away from here ever. I’ll… I’ll kill anyone who tries to take them away.’

The effect of Oliver’s words was incredible. The ghosts’ ectoplasm seemed to thicken and grow stronger. Grandma’s whiskers, which had faded almost to nothingness, stood out clear and sharp again, and Eric smiled.

‘Oh you good, kind boy,’ said Aunt Maud, and came to put her arms round him.

Miss Pringle, though, was completely muddled.

‘You see, dear, the man who owns this place—’

Oliver, usually so shy and never one to interrupt, broke in.

‘I am the man who owns this place,’ he said — and it seemed quite reasonable that this little boy, who scarcely came up to Miss Pringle’s shoulder, should talk of himself as a man. ‘I didn’t want to but I do — you can ask anyone — and I hated it here till the Wilkinsons came and I will not let them go.’

Miss Pringle stared at him. ‘But the person who came to the agency was a grown-up — a tall man with a long face and a moustache. And he said he wanted a very particular kind of ghost—’

‘That wasn’t the owner. That was my cousin, Fulton Snodde-Brittle, and it was very nice of him to order some ghosts because I was lonely. But whatever he ordered, these ghosts are mine.’

Miss Pringle had turned pale. She had just taken in what Oliver had said. ‘You mean you really own this place? And you live here all the time? You sleep here at night?’

‘Yes.’

Miss Pringle’s hand flew to her mouth. Mrs Mannering had found the Shriekers cursing and raging in the meat store and told them they could go to Helton.

And the Shriekers had sworn to destroy any child that they could find!

‘Oh heavens!’ said Miss Pringle. ‘How dreadful. Oh whatever should I do?’