The Great Ghost Rescue

Only Walter the Wet had been a bit doubtful. ‘It’s with it being sea water, you see. Salty like. I’m not used to salt water. What if I curdle?’

So they all came down to the shore to watch and very, very carefully Walter the Wet put his left big toe into the water and took it out again. Then they all crowded round and poked it and held it against the light and it seemed to be all right. So he put his whole foot into the water and when that was all right too he gave a sudden whoop and plunged into the sea.

‘Smashing,’ he said, surfacing. ‘But tingly-like. But bracing. I feel years younger. What I reckon is,’ said Walter the Wet, ‘water’s water when all’s said and done. That’s what it is. Water.’ And he disappeared again beneath the waves.

When everyone was settled in they had a party. It was a celebration party because they’d found their sanctuary but also a farewell party for Rick who was going back to school in a few hours so that happiness and sadness were a bit mixed up. The Hag hadn’t had much time to get things ready but she’d done wonders all the same. The old Banqueting Hall was decorated with cobwebs and the crossed thighbones of dead rats which made a delightful pattern on the slime-covered walls. Everyone had a roast toad wrapped in henbane leaves and the Hag had made an excellent drink by mixing the scum of an old water barrel with crushed Mugwort. (Rick had to do with sardine sandwiches and chocolate biscuits which the lorry driver had given him, but he didn’t mind.)

Then the Gliding Kilt made a beautiful speech about Rick, calling him all sorts of things like ‘brave’ and ‘resourceful’ and ‘clever’ and said he thought the sanctuary should be called the Henderson Sanctuary because Henderson was Rick’s second name. And he said that ghosts all over the world would come to know Rick’s name and be grateful to him for the rest of eternity.

‘To Richard Henderson,’ said the Gliding Kilt, raising his glass of scum, and all the ghosts stood up and said: ‘To Richard Henderson.’

After this everyone felt quite het up with emotion so they played games. They had Vanishing Races to see who could vanish quickest and Aunt Hortensia won which put her in an excellent mood. Then they played something called Curse as Curse Can to see who could make up the best curses and the Gliding Kilt won that. though Rick had second prize with one which began ‘Cursed be the Creepy Crawlers, Cursed be their Son...’ After that they played Hunt the Slipper only instead of a slipper they used Aunt Hortensia’s Head. It was great fun but after a bit her head got so giggly that you could hear it even when it was hidden.

And then at last it was time to say good-bye to Rick. It was a bad moment for all of them but for Humphrey it was almost unbearable.

‘Humphrey,’ said the Hag sternly as they all clustered round Rick to see him off. ‘Ghosts groan. Ghosts wail. Ghosts moan and scream and gibber. But ghosts never, never cry.’

It was the sort of stupid remark that even the nicest grownups make sometimes because Humphrey quite obviously and plainly wasn’t just crying, he was practically floating away on his tears. ‘I’ll come back often and often,’ promised Rick, who wasn’t feeling too dry-eyed himself.

The last few moments after the lorry driver hooted down on the causeway, were just a flurry of handshakes, hugs, curses and thumps from the Shuk’s three tails. Then, with a last pat of Baby Rose’s head and a whiff of rotten sheep’s intestines which the Hag had been keeping specially for the occasion. Rick, squeezing Humphrey’s skeletal little fingers for the last time, was gone.

For the first few miles of the drive through the bleak Scottish countryside Rick’s eyes were too misted up for him to see anything at all. Then, as they drove over an old stone bridge and came in sight of a small copse of hazel trees, something caught his attention.

‘Would you mind stopping for a moment?’

He got out and walked over to the wood. It was as he’d thought. A wavering bit of ectoplasm which, as he spoke to it, became fully visible...

‘Cursed be your name,’ said Rick politely. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Cursed be yours,’ said the ghost, pleased to be addressed correctly. He was a knight in armour and looked fagged to death. ‘I was wondering – you don’t know anything about a new sanctuary in these parts? A ghost sanctuary? I’ve had a dreadful time – my place has been turned into a hotel and—’

‘You’re on the right road,’ said Rick. ‘Just keep gliding till you come to a causeway across a strip of beach and then there you are.’

‘Thank you. I’m most grateful. It’s a good place they tell me?’

‘Not bad,’ said Rick carelessly, and then he turned and went back towards the waiting lorry.

He had only gone a few steps, however, when the spook glided after him and tapped with his withered hand on Rick’s shoulder.

‘I’ve just realized who you are,’ he said, raising his visor. ‘You must forgive me. What a pleasure! What an honour!’

‘Who am I?’ said Rick. surprised.