Dial a Ghost

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Think of roast kidneys dipped in icing sugar,’ said Adopta. ‘Or marshmallows fried in Marmite. Go on, think of them,’ she ordered the snake.

But the python didn’t. He was still draped over the towelling rail and he wouldn’t be sick whatever she said to him. She could see the bulge where the budgie was, and since the python had swallowed him whole she was hopeful that he might be all right, like Jonah inside the whale, but whatever she said to the wretched snake he just hung there with a blank look in his eye, refusing to throw up.

Addie had spent a lot of time in the bathroom since the Shriekers came, because her long-lost parents were driving her mad. They popped up behind bushes begging her to call them ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’, or crawled about in the flower beds asking her to forgive them. Sabrina called her ‘Little One’ and Sir Pelham wanted her to sit on his knee. But what made Addie really angry was the way they kept on snubbing the Wilkinsons. They called Uncle Henry ‘that tooth puller’ and sneered at Eric’s woggle, and they thought it terribly funny that Aunt Maud had been a Sugar Puff.

And she was missing Oliver badly. She knew it was right that he should be out of the way till they had dealt with Fulton, but life was not the same without her friend.

Uncle Henry now came in, as he had done each morning, to look at the snake.

‘I could operate, I suppose,’ he said, ‘but there’s always a risk.’

‘Let’s wait a bit longer,’ said Addie. She was cross with the python, but it was hard to think of a hole being cut into his side. ‘I’ll go and see if Mr Jenkins wants any help.’

It was the farmer who was in charge of making it look as though Oliver had drowned. He saw to it that Oliver’s shoes bobbed up occasionally, and that there were footmarks leading into the water such as might be made by a boy running in terror from something evil. Mr Tusker had been quite certain that Oliver lay at the bottom of the lake, and the ghosts were sure that Fulton would think the same.

But when she reached the water, Addie found Lady de Bone dripping bloodstains on to Oliver’s torn shirt, and at once the fuss began.

‘Ah there you are, darling Honoria,’ she cried, trying to rub her nose stump against Addie’s cheek. ‘Have you come to tell your mother that you love her?’

‘And tell your father that you love him?’ said Pelham, rising from the bullrushes.

‘No, I have not,’ said Addie. ‘Where’s Aunt Maud?’

The de Bones looked at each other. ‘She’s in the walled garden smelling the flowers,’ sneered Lady de Bone.

But Aunt Maud was only pretending to smell the flowers. What she was really doing was trying not to cry.

‘Have they been beastly to you?’ asked Addie. ‘Because if so—’

‘No, no. Not really. It’s just… I mean, it’s very silly of me not to know what a lobster claw squeezer is, but you see we never had them at Resthaven. And I didn’t realize it was common to say “toilet”. One should say “loo” but I never have, Adopta. And honestly I think it might be better if I just gave up and let them have you. I’m not really grand enough to haunt a place like this.’

‘Now, Aunt Maud.’ Addie was very cross indeed. ‘That’s enough. If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times that I’m a Wilkinson. You and Uncle Henry are the only parents I want and if they go on sneering at you, I’ll do them in.’

But when they started to rehearse the attack on Fulton and Frieda, even Aunt Maud had to admit that the Shriekers were impressive. When they stopped grovelling to Adopta and did their proper haunting, the de Bones were something to watch. It wasn’t just the flickering tongues of light and the evil stench with which they kept tradesmen and passers-by from coming to the Hall. Sabrina could raise her skinny arms and decayed owls came tumbling down the chimney in droves, and when Sir Pelham cracked his lethal whip, the hardiest person felt his skin crawl and the flesh shrivel on the bones.

And since they expected to ambush Fulton by the lake, when he came to make sure that Oliver was dead, they had their special outdoor effects. They could make great branches crack and fall; they could bring up a swirling fog that would blind any man, and call up shapes that writhed and snatched and gibbered in the undergrowth. The Wilkinsons meant to help, of course, but when it came to punishing Fulton Snodde-Brittle once and for all, they couldn’t do without the Shriekers.

But it wasn’t Fulton who came next to Helton Hall.

The ghosts were all in the drawing room having a sing-song. Grandma had brought Mr Hofmann down the day before with Pernilla and the jogger, and he’d been resting ever since, but Aunt Maud thought they should have a bit of a party to show him how welcome he was. He couldn’t eat — his intestines had gone completely to pieces in the bunion shop — but he loved music. Pernilla knew some splendid songs about mad trolls and screaming banshees, and though she would rather have been outdoors roaming in the woods, she stayed and sang to them in her lovely mournful voice.

Of course the Shriekers thought that sing-songs were vulgar — they didn’t have them in de Bone Towers — but that didn’t mean they stayed away and left the Wilkinsons in peace. Even the farmer had come up from the lake. Only the ghoul still slept on his tombstone in the church: every other ghost at Helton was gathered in that room.

No one looked out of the window. No one saw a red van with some dreadful words painted on the side draw up in front of the house. No one saw the people who got out: a woman with white hair, a youth with an ugly scar on his face; a man with pop-eyes and long black hair.

No one saw what they took out of the van: hose-pipes with nozzles, face masks, canisters of liquid gas… no one saw anything until the door opened — and then it was too late.