Dial a Ghost

Oliver nodded and she unpacked her tooth-cleaning things. Then she took out the fish and put it down on the counterpane, where it lay looking peaceful, but not at all energetic. ‘I tried to find a friend for it when we were living in the knicker shop. I haunted every fishmonger in London – you know how there are always rows and rows of dead fish on the slabs – but not one of them had become a ghost to keep him company. Not a single one.’

‘He doesn’t look unhappy,’ said Oliver.

‘No.’ Addie repacked her bag. ‘But I don’t understand; we were supposed to come to a convent and this can’t possibly be a convent. Nuns don’t have little boys and they wouldn’t have those awful rude words carved everywhere.’ She pointed to the head of the bed and the words ‘I Set My Foot Upon My Enemies’ carved into the wood.

‘No – that’s the motto of the Snodde-Brittles,’ said Oliver.

‘They sound awful. I bet the feet they set upon their enemies have yellow toes with hair on them and bunions.’

Oliver began to explain about Helton, but he was interrupted by the most extraordinary sound: a gurg ling, guggling sort of noise ending in a hiccup.

‘Good heavens, what’s that?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s only Aunt Maud. She’s practising wailing woefully or moaning muffledly, you can’t be sure. She’s terribly worried, you see, about not being dreadful enough for you. All of them are. Shall I tell them it’s all right?’

‘Yes, please do. And Adopta, could you just make it clear that muffled moans are not at all big with me?’

So one by one the Wilkinsons came and Addie introduced them. As soon as she saw Oliver all the nonsense about being horrible went straight out of Aunt Maud’s head and she glided over to the bed and gave him a big hug. Being hugged by a ghost who cares about you is a most wonderful feeling, like resting inside a slightly bouncy cloud. Not since he had left the Home had Oliver been so comfortable.

‘Well, this is a big room for a small boy,’ said Aunt Maud. ‘And I can’t see the point of all those nasty people hanging on the wall, but never mind – we’ll soon have you shipshape.’

Grandma then came down from the curtain rail where she had been hovering.

‘I said I wouldn’t curtsy,’ she said, ‘and I mean it. But the dust up there’s shocking and if you find me a nice feather mop in the morning, I’ll give it a good going over.’

Eric had been standing by the door. Going to new places always made him shy and brought out his old worries about his spots and being unhappily in love, but now he came forward and gave the Scout salute, and then the budgie fluttered his wings and said ‘Open wide’, and ‘My name is Billie’, and even ‘Ottle’ which was the nearest he could get to saying Cynthia Harbottle, this not being an easy thing for budgerigars to say.

But Uncle Henry now took charge. ‘I think we should make ourselves known to your parents. It would be polite and they might have orders for us.’

‘I don’t have any parents,’ said Oliver. ‘I’m an orphan. I lived in a Home till three weeks ago and they brought me here. I’m...I’m actually...I mean, I seem to own this place,’ he said, and blushed because it really embarrassed him, having this huge house when so many people had nowhere to live.

The ghosts stared at him in amazement. This small boy who had welcomed them so warmly was the owner of Helton Hall!

‘Well, in that case we had better speak to your guardian or whoever is in charge of you.’

‘There’s no one here, Uncle Henry.’ Calling this manly ghost ‘uncle’ made him feel less alone in the world. ‘I’ve got some cousins but they’re away, and so are the servants. There’s no one here at all except me.’

Aunt Maud couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You mean you’re all alone in this great barrack of a house?’

Oliver nodded. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I was a bit frightened before you came. But now...’ He looked up and gave her the most trusting and delightful smile.

‘Well that’s it then, isn’t it?’ said Grandma. ‘We wanted something to do and we’ve got it.’ She gave Oliver a prod with her umbrella. ‘I can tell you this, little sprogget, while there’s a spook called Wilkinson left on this planet, you aren’t going to be alone again.’

An hour later, the ghosts were settled for sleep. Grandma was in the coffin chest, Eric was curled up on top of the wardrobe, and Uncle Henry and Aunt Maud lay side by side on the hearthrug.

As for Addie, she’d made it perfectly clear where she was going to spend the night.

‘That bed is far too big for you,’ she said to Oliver. ‘We’ll lie head to feet and if you snore I’ll kick you.’

It was when she came back from cleaning her teeth that Oliver noticed a dark patch on her arm where the sleeve of her nightdress had rolled back.

‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘You mean that mark on my ectoplasm? It’s a birthmark. I’ve always had it.’

‘Goodness! They have them in fairy stories and then people come and say: ‘‘You must be my long-lost daughter the Princess of So-and-So!’’ ’