The Beasts of Clawstone Castle

But the ghosts never became smug. Before every Open Day they worked out new ways of scaring people, and now, though they would have liked to linger in the open air, the ghosts and the children made their way back to the castle for another run-through.

They were crossing the courtyard when a brown van drew up at the gate. Painted on the van were the words ‘Veterinary Enterprises’, and three men in white coats got out.

One was small, with a black, pointed beard, thick, black-rimmed glasses and a foxy face, and he wore a stethoscope round his neck.

The second one was tall and shambling with a sticking-out Adam’s apple, and he carried a black bag like a doctor’s.

The third man had been driving. He had slicked-down hair, full lips and highly polished shoes, and he was holding a clipboard.

Inside the van, as the doors opened, the children could see all sorts of instruments: syringes and coils of rubber tubing and thermometers and flasks.

The ghosts vanished. The children came closer.

‘Good morning. Can we help you?’ asked Madlyn politely.

‘We want to see Sir George Percival,’ said the foxy man, and he handed her a card which said ‘Veterinary Enterprises (Northern Branch)’.

‘I’ll tell him.’

She ran off and returned with Sir George.

‘I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place,’ he said. ‘We haven’t called out any vets.’

The foxy man looked offended. ‘My name is Dr Dale,’ he said. ‘And these are my assistants, Mr Blenkinsop and Mr French. We’re from the Special Branch of the Ministry of Animal Health and we’re doing a routine survey of farm animals in the area. It’s part of a government initiative. You should have received a pamphlet.’

‘Well, I haven’t,’ said Sir George shortly. He was not very fond of men from the ministry. ‘Perhaps you had better speak to my warden, Mr Grove. He lives in the village.’

‘We have already tried to contact Mr Grove. Apparently he’s been taken ill; they suspect a diseased appendix, I’m told.’

Ned made a noise of surprise. ‘I didn’t know my uncle was ill,’ he said.

The men in white coats ignored him.

‘But we can perform the tests perfectly well without help. Indeed, we prefer to work alone. So if you will unlock the gates of the pa…We shall only be here for a few hours.’

Sir George was not at all pleased. ‘It would be very unwise for you to go into the park. The cattle are not usually vicious but if they are disturbed by strangers...’

Dr Dale smiled – a smug and knowing smile. ‘We are quite familiar with animals of all sorts.’

He glanced at the pile of shiny instruments in the back of the van.

Rollo, standing next to his great-uncle, drew closer and Sir George took his hand.

‘I imagine you would like to see our authorization,’ said Dr Dale.

‘I certainly would.’

Dr Dale turned to the man with the slicked-down hair, who produced a whole sheaf of forms and papers, all stamped at the bottom with red letters and the initials ‘VE’ for ‘Veterinary Enterprises’.

‘Very well,’ said Sir George reluctantly. ‘But please understand that you go in at your own risk.’

‘There’s nothing to worry about, I assure you,’ said Dr Dale. ‘It’s just a matter of taking blood tests and saliva samples and skin scrapings and getting them analysed in the laboratory. We do it every day. It’s because of our work that the fine herds of this country are kept in perfect health.’

So Sir George, looking morose and angry, went ahead to unlock the gates, and the van disappeared up the track in search of the herd, who had moved on to the high ground by the waterfall.

The men were gone for a couple of hours. When they returned they were brief but reassuring. ‘We should have the results in a couple of days. Our laboratory is in the south so we’ll have to send the samples by special courier, but I’m sure we’ll be able to give your fine animals a clean bill of health.’

And they drove off in their brown van.

‘I’m sure it will be all right, dear,’ said Aunt Emily, putting her hand on her brother’s arm. ‘Don’t you remember when they tested the sheep at Greenwood for liver fluke and then they turned out to be perfectly all right?’

But Sir George only frowned.

‘Where’s the boy?’ he said.

But Rollo had disappeared, and no one saw him for the rest of the day.

They tried to carry on as though nothing had happened. The ghosts worked harder than ever and came up with more and more ideas. Brenda had decided to swoop out of a picture in the banqueting hall. It was a painting of a lady with fair ringlets wearing a crinoline and she thought that when her face changed and she turned into a Bloodstained Bride it would give a very good effect. Mr Smith practised something he called ‘The Somersault of Death’ and The Feet had learned to dance a tango inside Sir George’s riding boots.

But no one could quite hide their anxiety. Ned and his mother went to see his uncle in the cottage hospital. The warden had had bad stomach cramps and the doctors wouldn’t let him go home till they found out what had caused them.