Ghosts on Board Read online

  I jump. ‘What!?’

  ‘What?’ says Eric.

  ‘OW! Victor!’ says the voice in my other ear.

  ‘That. Didn’t you hear it? A voice?’ I stick my finger in my ear and waggle it. ‘Surely you must have done?’

  ‘And hearing things,’ says Jacob. ‘Second sign of madness.’

  ‘Yeeeooooww!’ something completely invisible squeals by Eric’s feet.

  ‘That,’ says Eric, ‘is weird. What’s going on?’

  We all stare hard into the air.

  ‘Can you see anything?’ I ask.

  ‘No – but I can sort of feel something,’ says Eric, dabbing his arms at thin air.

  ‘This is, at last, something interesting,’ says Jacob, leaping upright. ‘If there’s anything there, I’ll get ’em. I CAN SEE YOU!’ he announces, circling Eric and me, protectively. ‘AND I’M A SUPERHERO SO I CAN DEFEAT YOU!’ He takes the sweatshirt tied across his middle and flaps it like a cape, before throwing the arms around his neck and tying them together. A huge cloud of faintly glittery dust escapes, briefly filling the air and catching the sunlight.

  For a second, three figures and a cat appear caught in the dust. Their shapes shimmer in midair, hovering above the model village, and then they disappear, just as fast.

  Eric and I stand silent, mouths open.

  I try to speak, but all I can do is squeak at the back of my throat. I know that the dust that came from Jacob’s sweatshirt is the magic dust from under the castle, but I’ve never seen it do anything like that before. Not create people out of nowhere.

  ‘But,’ says Eric.

  Jacob leaps forward to embrace the empty space where the figures were. ‘Hey,’ he hisses back at us. ‘Aliens! They must be aliens.’ Then, turning to address the air, he says, ‘Where are you from? What planet?’ He strikes a Napoleon-pose and says, ‘Do you realise how utterly awesome I am?’

  The empty space says nothing. No one replies, not even the cat, but something cold brushes my cheek and I notice Eric shiver.

  Chapter 3

  ‘Chips,’ announces Jacob. ‘What we need after an extra-terrestrial experience like that is chips.’

  Jacob joins the queue outside the fish and chip shop. Eric hovers nearby, not exactly joining, not exactly walking away. He’s almost certainly thinking about birds.

  I stand midway between them, thinking 3 per cent about birds, 3 per cent about theme parks, but mostly thinking about the cold and the mist and the odd people looming out of the glitter. I can’t get Eric to concentrate on them – he’s miles away with the seagulls.

  ‘Hello boys.’ Grandma appears on the pavement, a basket of shopping on her arm. She prods the huge melted plastic ice-cream cone with her toe. ‘Nice,’ she says. ‘Jacob?’

  I nod.

  She stares at Eric. ‘Anything the matter?’

  ‘No,’ I say.

  ‘Yes,’ says Eric. ‘Everything. They want to build a theme park on the bird sanctuary. It’s – it’s abominable.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ says Grandma. ‘Don’t worry, it’s a long way from happening. Surely they can’t start until the whole town has agreed.’

  Jacob stumbles out of the chip shop, two packets in his hand. ‘One for me and one for you two to share – don’t say I’m not generous.’ He looks up at Grandma. ‘You don’t want any do you?’

  She waves the suggestion away and watches as Jacob squeezes past some railings, rolling his stomach in and out. A sort of tsunami of belly fat that crashes over the top of his jeans. He catches her staring. ‘I’m not fat – just well built.’

  Grandma shakes her head as if to get free of the vision of Jacob’s gut. ‘I wonder,’ she says. ‘I’m sure that the theme park won’t be allowed. Everyone loves the bird sanctuary. But I’ll have a word with the Worthies – perhaps we need to get a campaign together.’

  Jacob stares at her as if she’s talking Martian. ‘Speak for yourself,’ he says. ‘I’d much rather have a theme park. Just imagine the possibilities! We could have a daredevil ride, lit with real sparklers, and a roller coaster that takes people right through the sea, underwater with sharks and jellyfish and stuff and exploding hot dogs and boil-in-the-mouth toffee apples and giant inflatable dogs and … what are you all staring at?’

  I point at his feet. In his enthusiasm he’s melted the tarmac, and is now standing ankle deep in the road, squidgy blobs of asphalt bubbling around his trainers.

  ‘Jolly good,’ says Grandma. ‘Just make sure you take those shoes off before you go through your front door.’ She sets off up the hill to the house.

  ‘Grandma.’ I catch her up.

  ‘Yes, Tom, dear?’

  ‘Grandma – do you believe in visions?’

  She walks another three paces, stops and turns to face me. ‘Visions? Tom – what makes you ask?’

  ‘Hypothetical – I mean, I just wondered.’ I’m now wishing I hadn’t asked – Grandma’s got that poking around inside your head expression on her face. She’s not going to let it go.

  ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘No – nothing.’ I can’t actually look her in the eye.

  ‘If by visions you mean ghosts … ?’

  I say nothing and draw a circle in the dust with my toe.

  ‘Because ghosts can be very unpredictable,’ she says slowly.

  ‘Oh?’ I ask.

  Grandma waves the words away. As if she hasn’t said them. ‘Well – I believe they can be. I’ve heard it said. Obviously I don’t know anything first-hand.’

  ‘Hey! Tom!’ shouts Jacob from down the road. ‘Don’t you want these chips?’

  ‘Remember you can talk to me anytime,’ says Grandma. ‘Don’t do anything foolish though … ’

  ‘I won’t, Grandma,’ I say, turning and trotting down the hill. ‘I promise.’

  Chapter 4

  I find a purple frisbee sticking out of a bin and we take it with our chips down to the castle green.

  Eric’s terrible at playing any game that involves missiles. So’s Jacob. They throw hard but in the wrong direction, and if it’s coming towards them, Eric runs away from it, and Jacob just stands there expecting it to stop in his hand.

  ‘Oh come on, you two!’ I shout, running the full length of the castle green for the tenth time. ‘Make an effort.’ But by the time I’ve reached them, Jacob’s thrown himself flat onto the grass and is stuffing chips in his mouth.

  ‘That business in the model village – those people appearing – was great. I loved it,’ says Jacob. ‘Hey Snot Face, can’t you work out what it was?’

  Eric takes off his glasses and hangs them over his knee, rubbing his face with his palms. ‘I’ve no idea what caused it – perhaps some change in the temperature causing an alteration of the molecular structure of the air? A hologram?’

  ‘Or perhaps someone around here’s got powers we don’t know about,’ I say.

  Jacob sits up. ‘Really? Awesome. Who?’

  ‘Half the village has powers from catching meteorites,’ says Eric. ‘But I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone conjuring people.’

  ‘Well, I think we should check for strangers. Perhaps someone here on holiday has managed to develop powers.’

  Eric nods. ‘Good idea.’ He holds a chip in the air, halfway to his mouth. ‘But there hasn’t been a meteor storm recently. So no one could have picked up a meteorite.’

  ‘Exactly,’ says Jacob, a look of incomprehension crossing his face. ‘What?’

  I listen while Eric explains to Jacob for the millionth time that the person who catches the meteorite develops the powers, but only inside the boundaries of Bywater-by-Sea. And that each meteorite only works for the person that catches it.

  While he’s droning on, I put my hand up, so that my finger and thumb make an O and frame Jacob’s chips. They’d look dead cute, small. I could use my own shrinking power to make a packet of mini chips, but as I look through the gap between my fingers, one of Jacob’s chips rises and
falls all on its own.

  ‘Did you see that?’ I ask. ‘One of Jacob’s chips moved on its own. I’d swear it.’

  Next to me, Eric leaps up and backs towards the castle wall.

  ‘Do you think we’ve got an invisible alien here?’ Jacob hauls himself to his feet, staring hard at nothing. ‘That would be awesome.’

  I scrabble back, stumbling upright, watching the pile of chips. They don’t move again.

  ‘Um,’ I say. ‘Perhaps it was the wind or something. Anyway, suddenly I don’t fancy any more chips.’

  ‘Funnily enough, nor do I,’ says Eric. ‘And d’you know, you’re right. I saw it too. I can’t explain it and I don’t like it.’

  Chapter 5

  We play frisbee with false enthusiasm.

  ‘Aaaaaarghghghghghghhhhhhh!’

  ‘What was that?’ yelps Eric, chucking the frisbee over the castle wall. Even Jacob turns pale. We’ve tried to get rid of the creepy feeling by running around even harder in the sunshine. But no amount of sun has driven it away. I should feel 99 per cent good today, but I don’t – it’s more like 50 per cent good, 20 per cent bad and 30 per cent slightly worried.

  ‘Aaaaaarrrrghghghghghghgh!’ the scream comes again.

  It’s an awful sound. Long and distant and old.

  ‘It’s the undead,’ whispers Jacob.

  ‘Aaaaarghghghghghghghgh. Ow!’

  ‘Where’s it coming from?’ I ask.

  ‘The castle, the castle!’ Jacob whoops and prances.

  ‘I think he’s right,’ says Eric. ‘Although, it sounds like it’s hurt itself,’ he says. ‘I don’t think the undead can hurt themselves.’

  ‘In that case I was right in the first place – it’s an alien,’ says Jacob, letting off an arc of sparks. ‘Let’s go into battle, engage them now. It’s always much harder to fight aliens once they’ve established a food source.’ He races, dog-like, in a circle. ‘Troops, we need a plan of attack. We need to attack the castle. ONWARDS!’ He charges ahead, bouncing over the grass and lunging at buttercups.

  ‘We don’t need to attack the castle. The gates are wide open. We just need fifty pence to get in,’ says Eric, swiping the hair out of his glasses.

  ‘OK then, let’s go and investigate.’ I shake the last chips out for the seagulls and fold up the paper before jamming it in my pocket.

  ‘You shouldn’t do that, you know,’ says Eric.

  ‘What? Put chip paper in my pocket?’

  ‘No, give chips to the seagulls. It encourages them to raid bins, which can be a real problem, and besides, chips have no nutritional value. They’re not at all good for seabirds.’

  ‘So what are you supposed to feed them?’ I say, picking up the chips and jamming them into my pocket too.

  ‘Ideally, hard-boiled eggs and watercress.’

  The castle courtyard is empty, except for a small workman’s hut and a pile of hazard-warning vests. No one’s even on duty in the ticket booth.

  ‘Aaaaarghghghghghghghgh, OW! OW! Blasted cat!’ We jump as a strange voice wails across the courtyard.

  ‘We’re closer then,’ says Jacob.

  ‘Doesn’t sound much like aliens,’ I say. ‘Sounds human.’

  ‘You’re right,’ says Eric. ‘Unless aliens speak English.’

  We stop and listen again.

  ‘Oooooooooooooh, I think I’ve broken my toe,’ the voice wails.

  ‘It’s definitely,’ I say, ‘coming from the entrance to the dungeons.’

  We cross the courtyard and stand at the top of the stone steps that lead into the bowels of the castle. Dungeons. Please be careful, it could be slippy, says the handwritten sign. It’s sunny and warm out here. Inside it’s black, and it smells of moss and earth and cold.

  ‘Right,’ says Eric, looking at me.

  ‘Yes,’ says Jacob.

  ‘Oooooh,’ calls the distant voice.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ I say.

  ‘Perhaps we should get an ice cream before we go down,’ says Jacob.

  ‘Good idea,’ says Eric. ‘Let’s get one from the café upstairs.’

  Ten minutes later we’re standing in exactly the same place, but this time with ice-cream cones. Ice creams make you feel bolder, like you’ve got a weapon. At the very least you could buy yourself a split second by jamming it in someone’s face.

  ‘One, two, three … go!’ Actually, Jacob and I go and Eric follows a little later.

  For the first couple of minutes, I can’t see a thing, so I have to run my fingers down the damp walls. But gradually my eyes get used to it and I realise that there are occasional dim, moody lights set into alcoves over small snippets of information. I stop and read one out: ‘The Bywater-by-Sea Castle dungeon was used to imprison notorious pirate One-Footed Jack. His boot is said to haunt the corridors.’

  ‘Great,’ says Jacob. ‘Bywater-by-Sea’s such a dump that it’s haunted by a boot.’

  ‘Blast!’ comes the voice from the tunnel.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I say.

  The other two don’t answer, but we stand together, waiting in the gloom before inching forward again.

  Eric stops by a dim red lamp and reads out another notice, extra cheerily: ‘Mad Angel was a redheaded smuggler who died in the cells, apparently unintentionally poisoned by her gaoler, Josephine Perks.’ He glances at me. ‘One of your ancestors?’

  I think about some of Grandma’s less lovely cooking. ‘Probably.’

  We venture on down the passage. My ice cream has nearly gone. If I met the voice now it wouldn’t be much of a weapon.

  Every now and again, Jacob lets off a spark, which crackles on the moss, but otherwise we’re silent.

  Eric touches my arm and I stop.

  There’s talking coming from down in the darkness in front of us – a man and a girl.

  ‘But you haven’t got any bones,’ says the girl’s voice. ‘You’re a … ’ Then there’s a pause and she says, ‘That isn’t supposed to happen.’

  ‘Who is that?’ Eric whispers to me.

  The hairs on the back of my neck leap to attention.

  ‘Stop whispering in my ear.’ It’s the man this time.

  ‘Can you see us?’ asks the girl.

  ‘I can hear you. Where’s that idiot Billy gone? Why can’t I see you?’

  We stop in the shadows just before the end of the passage. In front of us are the dungeons, lit with dull red lighting that’s supposed to be scary firelight and which is actually just not quite bright enough to see anything properly. They’re ancient, drippy, mossy stone rooms with heavy bars across the front designed to stop anyone getting in or out. All the mined dust and rocks from Professor Lee’s attempt to steal the castle meteorite are locked inside. Grandma holds the key – she’s even heaped the dust up so that it can’t be reached from outside the bars. She’s thought of everything. It’s impregnable. The bars are solid, the padlock’s enormous.

  But right now there’s a man inside.

  A man with staring red eyes and a battered top hat. He’s holding the bars as if he’s arrived inside them by accident, and talking to himself.

  ‘Wow!’ whispers Eric.

  ‘Oh!’ is all I can think to say. ‘Oh,’ and, ‘How did he get there?’

  Chapter 6

  We skulk in a doorway opposite. ‘I’m sure he’s the same man I saw for a second down on the beach and again in the model village,’ I whisper. ‘He looks like someone out of a film.’

  ‘A really old film,’ says Jacob. ‘A black-and-white one.’

  ‘He shouldn’t be in there,’ says Eric. ‘It’s dangerous.’

  ‘Well, let’s get him out,’ says Jacob, marching out of the shadows, his flip-flops slapping on the cobbles. ‘Hey!’ he shouts. ‘That’s off limits, that is.’

  Although it’s gloomy I can see that for a moment the man behind the bars seems to panic, but very quickly he pulls his face into a picture of charm. ‘Goodness. People. And you can see me? Oh! How delightful …
boys.’

  ‘How did you do that?’ I ask. ‘You’re not supposed to be there.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Eric. ‘Do you have a key?’

  ‘Like this,’ says the man, pulling himself tall and jamming his arm and shoulder through a gap in the bars. He strains against the bars, ramming his face into the space between them and wriggling. His head is not going to fit through, one of his ears squishes forward and his top hat crumples but he stays firmly his side of the bars. ‘Ow!’ he says, pulling himself backwards and rubbing his ears.

  ‘I could have told you that you wouldn’t fit,’ I say. ‘What were you expecting?’

  ‘I don’t understand. I just walked in,’ he says, shaking the bars. ‘A moment ago. It was easy. This is impossible, quite impossible – something ridiculous has happened.’

  Jacob laughs. ‘Ridiculous? You’re ridiculous. Fancy imagining you could get through those bars. Fancy thinking we were so stupid we’d believe you!’ He whirls around, his arms outstretched. Sparks scatter from his fingertips and bounce through the dull red glow illuminating everything. They reflect from the puddles on the floor and the dripping walls. They bounce into the darkest corners and everyone looks demonic in the light, especially the man in the cage who can’t take his eyes off Jacob.

  From nearby, I hear a sharp intake of breath, but there’s no one standing there. Once again I get the prickly neck feeling.

  ‘I’m not ridiculous,’ says the red-eyed man, grinning madly. ‘I’m delighted you’ve found me. How serendipitous.’

  Jacob stops. The sparks stop. He eyes the man in the cell with great care.

  ‘You’re really weird, you are,’ he says in the end, letting drop a single spark that floats on the air, dancing like a firefly before snuffing out on a puddle with a tiny crackle.

  ‘Marvellous!’ says a voice in my ear. ‘Marvellous!’

  ‘Flip!’ I say. ‘Did you hear that? It’s that voice again.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Eric.

  ‘Come out, wherever you are!’ Jacob shouts, spinning around and spraying more sparks across the passage. ‘I can see you – hear you – whatever.’

  Strange shapes emerge briefly in the light of the sparks, and a reflection glimmers on the puddle. Almost human shapes.