Toby Ibbotson - Mountwood School for Ghosts

‘Not in this village. What do you want to go there for anyway?’

‘It’s part of a school project.’

‘Do your project somewhere else, if you’ve got any sense.’ And he hung up.

There was nothing for it but to walk.

The first mile went well enough. As the light faded and the shadows lengthened Percy appeared faintly beside them, chattering away about the buses and the train they had travelled on. He was already feeling much more grown-up and couldn’t understand how he had mistaken a removal van for a bus.

‘Oh, what a lot I shall have to tell Mother and Father!’ he said excitedly.

The further they walked, and the later it got, the more cheerful Percy became. Of course for a ghost the night is the time to be up and about, whereas Charlotte and Daniel were almost asleep on their feet.

‘Can we go faster? I want to get there soon,’ said Percy.

‘No, we can’t. In fact I need a rest,’ said Charlotte. She sat down at the side of the road with her back against a drystone wall. It had been particularly hard for her, making up a story to tell her mother. She would have her hands full the whole weekend with the children, and no one to help her. They had told some silly story about a school project on castles and spending the night with a friend who had moved to Carlisle. Charlotte had hated having to do that. Now the sun was setting, they had miles to go and she was dog-tired.

‘I suppose we’d better wait a bit then,’ said Percy. ‘You’re probably not very strong, you’re only a g—’

‘Percy!’ Daniel almost shouted. ‘Now you shut your mouth, and keep it shut.’

Percy vanished.

‘You’ve hurt his feelings, Daniel,’ said Charlotte. ‘He’s only a little kid.’

‘Stuff him,’ said Daniel. ‘He’s a pain in the neck. The sooner we get shot of him the better. A ghost who’s too scared to scare people, I mean, honestly.’

They went on. A big fat moon rose over the moor.

At last they found the turning and trudged down the eerily moonlit track towards the dark building that loomed at the end of the valley.

‘This should be the place,’ said Charlotte. ‘It’s certainly creepy enough.’

It was a bit unnerving walking into that dark valley, where the fir trees cast inky-black moon shadows and strange rustles and squeaks could be heard from the grasses and bracken that lined the track. Percy did not reappear, although Daniel called out and apologized for shouting at him. The little ghost seemed to be still in a sulk, and Daniel and Charlotte began to wish he was around to give them an introduction when they arrived. They were not the kind of children who got all hysterical about just any ghost, but they knew that there were things in the invisible world that were a lot nastier than Percy, and if he wasn’t with them, they might not be very welcome.

Goneril was in charge of the evening session. It was not going well. The students had been at Mountwood for almost a week, and they seemed to be making no progress at all. They made heavy weather of even the simplest exercises, basic stuff like materialization and sudden scary noises. Class discipline was lax to say the least. The Phantom Welder had decided to be the clown of the group and cracked stupid jokes that made the sprites titter. The Stinking Druid was so unhappy and unsure of himself that he just stood at the back and sighed, and this evening he hadn’t even turned up. But worst of all were the couple who had mislaid their son; they were so droopy and half-hearted that they were driving Goneril mad. She had had great hopes for them. She was an experienced judge of these things, and could tell that Iphigenia was a skilful professional at heart, and Ronald a real worker. It is very upsetting for any teacher when pupils simply cannot or will not make the best of themselves.

‘Please, Mrs Peabody, could you try to put a bit more energy into the moaning. We are looking for the hair-raising effect,’ said Goneril.

But it was no good. Iphigenia came to the front of the class and produced a weary whimper which would not have raised a single hair on the head of a nervous five-year-old.

Then a foul stench filled the air, and the Stinking Druid appeared. But instead of sneaking in at the back of the class as he usually did, he glided forward and spoke.

‘Excuse me, Miss Goneril, but I think we have visitors.’

At that moment the front doorbell rang, a loud clanging that echoed through the castle. All the ghosts instantly vanished.

‘What on earth…?’ said Goneril, and strode to the foot of the stairs.

‘Fredegonda, Drusilla,’ she called, ‘there’s someone at the door. I think we should deal with it.’

Daniel and Charlotte stood before the great door of Mountwood and listened to the fading echoes of the bell. They were cold, tired, and more than a little uneasy. The castle seemed to be completely deserted.

‘If we are wrong, and the place is empty, then we are in for a rough night,’ said Daniel.

‘And even if it isn’t empty…’ Charlotte replied.

‘It isn’t,’ said Daniel, and Charlotte too heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

The door creaked slowly open and three extremely large ladies stood looking down at them.

‘Children!’ exclaimed the middle one.

‘What are you doing here? At this time of night?’ asked the one on the left.

‘Are you lost?’ asked the third.

‘Er… er…’ said Daniel.

‘Speak up, boy. Has the cat got your tongue?’ thundered Fredegonda.

Charlotte found her voice. ‘Sorry to bother you, but we are looking for the Great Hagges of Mountwood.’

‘The what? Pure gibberish,’ rasped Goneril. ‘We are simply three pensioners who have no wish to be disturbed by little brats. We were just on our way to bed.’

‘But…’ stuttered Daniel.

Before he could say more a small clear voice rang out. ‘Mother, Father, I’m here, I’m back. I was in a removal van but now I’m here. I’ve been on a bus, and on a train.’

The next half-hour or so was one that Daniel and Charlotte would never forget. A spectral light filled the courtyard and ghosts of all shapes and sizes started to appear around them, screeching, wailing, waving ghostly limbs about and then putting them back on again. Severed heads bobbed about, bleeding happily and smiling like idiots.

In the midst of the crowd, as though in a private place of their own, Iphigenia stood hugging Percy to her breast, while Ronald stood and patted him on the head and said in a voice filled with fatherly pride and love, ‘Well done, lad, what a boy you are, you made it, a chip off the old block.’

Daniel and Charlotte were forgotten. They sat down a bit out of the way, with their backs to the wall of the castle, partly because it is a bit odd having ghosts passing through you all the time, and partly because the Stinking Druid had joined the happy throng and neither of them wanted to vomit in front of the Great Hagges.

At last Fredegonda, in a voice like the foghorn of an ocean liner, brought the joyful crowd to their senses.

‘Enough!’ she roared. The ghosts started to quieten down. Fredegonda stepped up to Percy, who looked up at her shyly.

‘Well, you seem to have been found. I presume our Missing Ghost alert got through to someone.’

‘No, Miss Hagge,’ said Percy. ‘I don’t know about that. It was them. It was Daniel and Charlotte who helped me,’ and he pointed at the two children sitting quietly by the wall.

‘They’re the best friends ever.’

‘Humans?’ Fredegonda’s voice was terrible. ‘You were helped by humans? You are FRIENDS with HUMAN BEINGS?’

‘Bleeding ’eck,’ whispered the Phantom Welder to himself. ‘That’s torn it.’