Ghost Club 2 Read online

  About the Book

  Angeline and Edgar have to go to their Senior School Sleepover, but Angeline is dreading having to talk to the other kids.

  The night goes wrong when a ghost appears in the dormitory where they are camped out. Their classmates are terrified – and Principal Prim is not happy!

  With the aid of Ghost Club, Angeline and Edgar must find out who the ghost is so they can help her. But first they have to convince their principal that kids can be ghost-catchers too, and they have to avoid Travis the bully, who is spying on them – and causing trouble wherever they go.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Got a Problem with Ghosts?

  Chapter One: The Dead Headmistress

  Chapter Two: A Spot of Spectral Bother

  Chapter Three: A Gloomy Arrival

  Chapter Four: Trouble Underground

  Chapter Five: An Unsettling Revelation

  Chapter Six: School Sleepover

  Chapter Seven: A Matter of Trust

  Chapter Eight: A Scary Tale

  Chapter Nine: An Unexpected Visitor

  Chapter Ten: The Crying Girl

  Chapter Eleven: Back at the Ghost Club

  Chapter Twelve: An Unfortunate End

  Chapter Thirteen: A Terrifying Proposition

  Chapter Fourteen: A Stern Warning

  Chapter Fifteen: A Desperate Plea

  Chapter Sixteen: A Visit to the Past

  Chapter Seventeen: An Accidental Discovery

  Chapter Eighteen: A Gloomy Departure

  Chapter Nineteen: A Dark Intruder

  Chapter Twenty: A Spooky Revelation

  Chapter Twenty-One: The True Story of Bridie Wallace

  Chapter Twenty-Two: A Difficult Revelation

  Chapter Twenty-Three: A Fitting Farwell

  Ghost Club The New Kid Advert

  Copyright Notice

  More at Random House Australia

  To Oskar, Monet and Scarlett Simmons –

  three of my favourite book-lovers

  ‘The school is not quite deserted,’ said the Ghost. ‘A solitary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still.’

  A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

  The silhouette of Dismal Downs Boarding School sat ragged against the night sky, the moon struggling beneath grey, suffocating clouds. Inside, a huddle of children shivered in their pyjamas. They’d pushed a trunk against the door, stacking it with chairs while they hid behind a barricade of beds. ‘Where’s Ms Pennyworth? Why isn’t she here protecting us?’

  The corridor echoed with heavy, dragging footsteps. They moved in jagged bursts, one leg clomping towards the classroom, the other scraping against the floorboards.

  Clomp, scrape, clomp.

  From the other side of the door, a raspy whisper warned, ‘You will be mine.’

  A trembling voice rose from the darkness. ‘Maybe the Dead Headmistress came for her first.’

  There was a small whimper. ‘I thought that was just a story.’

  ‘They say she was riding alone in the moors when she fell from her horse. She rolled into a ditch and caught her leg in a rabbit trap. No one found her until years later.’

  The wind howled against the building in bursts. Branches clawed at the windows.

  The wheezing intruder spoke again, but this time she was louder, closer than before. ‘You will be mine!’

  Clomp, scrape, clomp.

  The children huddled together, quivering.

  When the footsteps stopped.

  They waited.

  ‘Do you think she’s gone?’ the youngest whispered, her voice filled with the hope of escape.

  ‘Maybe . . . After all, we are just kids, and who would –’

  There was a fierce jolt against the door, forcing it open slightly, stopped only by the trunk and chairs, which began to slowly shift forward, inch by inch.

  ‘She’s coming inside!’ A small girl with two long plaits ran to the window. ‘We have to get out.’ She flung it open and a harsh wind reached inside. She looked down into the cold, misty darkness beneath their third-floor window.

  ‘No, Beatrice – it’s too dangerous,’ a voice cried behind her, just as another thump landed against the door.

  ‘We have no choice!’ Beatrice took a deep breath and climbed outside. She clung to the wobbling lattice attached to the wall, her fingers pricked by the thorns of creeper vines as she descended. The air was bitter, her eyes stung, and the blackness of the night swallowed her whole, as if she was stepping into a wretched, bottomless pit.

  When she reached the ground, she called up to the others. ‘It’s safe to climb down!’ she cried. ‘Come on, I’ll help you!’

  Beatrice called out again, louder, ‘Harry, Susanne, Wendy?’

  No one called back.

  The young girl turned and ran into the night, stumbling over the tangle of tree roots and hidden rocks. She grazed her legs and once fell so badly she received a gash to the head. She dragged herself to her feet. She was dizzy and her body was drenched in a cold sweat, but she had to keep going. She had to get help.

  When she reached the village, her small hands pounded and clawed at the door of the police station. Splinters dug into her delicate skin, but she wouldn’t give up. Finally a light switched on.

  ‘All right, all right – stop your pounding. I’m coming.’

  The officer wasn’t happy at being disturbed, but when he saw Beatrice’s battered face and looked into her eyes, he grabbed his keys and coat and followed her outside.

  Beatrice sat quietly in the back of the police car all the way to Dismal Downs. Her knees were tucked beneath her chin and her red, scraped hands were clenched into fists.

  But when they arrived at the school, every room they searched was empty. The beds were made. The trunk and chairs were where they should be. Everything was in its place, as if nothing had happened.

  The other children, however, were never seen again . . .

  Lila looked up from her story. ‘What do you think?’

  She was surrounded by an eager cluster of her classmates.

  ‘Did it really happen?’ a smaller boy with round glasses asked.

  ‘It’s a story I made up, Charlie.’ Lila pulled a sandwich from her lunch box and took a bite.

  ‘Yes, but are ghosts real?’

  Angeline sat on a bench nearby eating her lunch, trying as she usually did at school to be as invisible as possible. Grandpa Huffman sat beside her, eating a baguette. ‘Wouldn’t they like to know?’ He smiled.

  Angeline turned and whispered, ‘You shouldn’t be here!’

  ‘What?’ He held out his hands. ‘I can’t have lunch with my granddaughter?’

  ‘Ghosts aren’t normally allowed on the grounds during school hours.’ Angeline grinned.

  ‘Well, I was never one for rules,’ he hurrumphed. ‘Even when I was alive.’

  Lila finished her mouthful and answered. ‘Some people say ghosts are very real.’

  ‘There’s no such thing,’ a boy called Ravi declared. ‘That’s what my dad says.’

  ‘Only so you’ll stop waking him up at night.’ Travis wasn’t much taller than the others, but he had a way of talking to people that made them feel much smaller. ‘Daddy, daddy, the bad ghost is after me.’

  He nudged Ravi, who turned his gaze t
o the ground.

  ‘My grandmother said she’s seen ghosts,’ said Ebony, a girl with a perfectly straight fringe and a bob that skittered around her shoulders.

  ‘Lots of people say they have,’ Lila said. ‘There are very famous ghosts that many eyewitnesses have seen. Like Anne Boleyn at the Tower of London and the ghosts on the Queen Mary.’

  ‘Oh, I love that story.’ Grandpa shuffled closer to Angeline, who gave him another silencing look.

  ‘There are ghosts on a ship?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘They say there are on this one.’ Lila leant forward. The others gathered closer, eager for another one of her stories. ‘The Queen Mary was said to be bigger, faster and more powerful than even the Titanic. She carried royalty and important world leaders between England and America. When the Second World War broke out, they used her to transport troops, but she had a terrible accident and ran into another ship. The Queen Mary was still seaworthy but she wasn’t able to stop to help because lingering in war-torn waters was too dangerous. After that, she became a cruise liner again until she was retired. The ship is now berthed in California for tourists to visit, but,’ Lila added with a small grin, ‘many of those visitors claim to have seen the ghosts of crewmen and guests. Telephones ring with no one on the end of the line. Doors slam and lights mysteriously turn on and off.’

  ‘Is that true?’ Charlie held his sandwich in the air.

  ‘It is,’ Grandpa said to Angeline. ‘I’ve chatted to most of them. Even played cards with the captain.’

  ‘Some say it is.’ Lila bit into an apple.

  ‘I don’t think it’s true,’ Ravi said, even though he didn’t seem so sure.

  ‘Of course it’s not,’ Travis huffed. ‘They’re stories made up by a few tour operators to make sure the crowds keep coming back.’

  ‘Lots of people don’t believe in things they’re afraid of.’ Angeline flinched and bit her lip after the words left her mouth. She’d heard her grandmother say the line so many times; it was instinct to repeat it. But why did she have to say it out loud?

  Travis looked over to where she was sitting. ‘What was that?’

  Angeline stayed silent.

  ‘Did the strange girl who sits by herself and has no friends actually say something?’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Lila said. ‘She’s allowed to speak.’

  Angeline stopped. Apart from her brother, Edgar, no one had ever stuck up for her before, especially where Travis was involved. She looked up just as Lila turned away.

  Travis slowly got to his feet and moved towards Angeline with slow, deliberate steps. ‘Oh, I know she’s allowed to speak.’ He sat beside her. ‘I just don’t think I’ve ever heard her before, and now that she’s said something I’m curious to know what it was.’

  ‘I never liked this kid.’ Grandpa Huffman sniffed as if there was a bad smell. ‘What makes him think he’s so very special?’

  ‘So?’ Travis asked. ‘You think ghosts are real?’

  ‘I . . . I . . .’

  ‘Go on,’ Grandpa said. ‘Tell him. He might as well know since he’s so keen.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘You can’t what?’ Travis asked. ‘Tell me? Sure you can.’

  ‘You want me to sort him out?’ Grandpa sat up and pushed his chest out. ‘Prove to him ghosts are real?’

  Angeline turned her head and frowned at her grandfather to be quiet.

  ‘No one can say they’re definitely real,’ Ravi said. ‘Maybe it’s just a few wild imaginations.’

  ‘But how do you explain different people seeing the same ghosts at different times?’ Ebony asked.

  ‘The power of suggestion,’ Ravi answered. ‘You hear a story often enough you think it’s true.’

  ‘Are there ghosts at our school?’ Charlie looked around.

  ‘Sure are, kid,’ Grandpa said.

  ‘I doubt it.’ Ebony shrugged. ‘Nothing exciting ever happens around here.’

  Travis leant in closer to Angeline. ‘You know something, don’t you, Usher?’

  ‘It burns me up that he uses your last name like that.’ Grandpa floated into the air so that his nose almost touched the boy’s. ‘Why can’t you call her Angeline?’

  ‘Because if you do know something, Usher, you can tell us. We won’t think you’re strange.’ He laughed and looked at the others. ‘No stranger than we already think you are.’

  ‘I have to go.’ Angeline packed the rest of her lunch into her bag. ‘I have to . . . to . . .’

  ‘Teach him a few lessons,’ Grandpa suggested.

  The loudspeaker above them crackled to life. ‘Excuse me, staff and students, would Angeline and Edgar Usher please come to the office immediately.’

  ‘Go to the office.’ Angeline swung her bag over her shoulder and hurried away.

  ‘We’ll deal with you next time.’ Grandpa pointed a transparent finger at the annoying schoolboy and flew after his granddaughter, whose every retreating step was carefully watched by Travis’s piercing gaze.

  ‘Do you know what this is about?’ Angeline met Edgar in front of the office of Gravesend College.

  ‘No, I was hoping you would. Any ideas, Grandpa?’

  The ghostly figure hovered beside them. ‘No, but being a ghost means I’m not always informed.’

  Angeline looked around, making sure no one could see, and slipped a slim, red, phone-like device from her pocket. It was against the rules to bring phones to school, and even though this wasn’t exactly a phone, she couldn’t be caught with it. She pressed her finger against the screen and it came to life. ‘There are no call-outs for us on the Tracker.’ She tucked it back quickly.

  They climbed the sandstone stairs and stepped into the office foyer, with its trophy-filled cabinets and children’s artwork, and were immediately met with the sound of muffled crying.

  Ms Gently, who ran the office, tiptoed towards them. Her hair was swept up in a tidy bun and her head was tilted to one side. The pitying look she gave them seemed to say that she was terribly sorry.

  There was another burst of weeping.

  ‘I know that person.’ Grandpa’s eyes widened and he speedily disappeared through the wall towards the unhappy crier.

  ‘Oh my.’ Ms Gently led them to a door marked ‘Principal’s Office’. ‘Please, go straight in.’

  She patted Angeline on the head like she was a pet about to visit the vet for the last time. When she opened the door, the wailing became louder.

  Principal Primm sat behind her desk with her face twisted into a scowl, as if someone had just stepped on her toe.

  Angeline and Edgar stopped suddenly. Their usually cheerful, sprightly Grandma Rose was slumped in a chair with her nose buried in a tissue, crying.

  ‘What troubles you, my sweet?’ Grandpa Huffman was crouched at her feet. ‘You can tell me.’

  The twins dropped their bags and hurried to her side.

  ‘Grandma Rose, what’s wrong?’ Angeline asked.

  She waved a hand as if she was finding it hard to speak.

  ‘I’ll make everything right again,’ Grandpa promised and patted her arm. ‘Your snookums has come to the rescue.’

  Principal Primm stood up, held her perfectly manicured hands clasped before her perfectly pressed suit and solemnly declared, ‘I’m sorry to say, children, but there has been a death in the family.’

  Edgar, Angeline and Grandpa all looked up.

  ‘A death?’ Edgar asked. ‘The death of who?’

  ‘As yet,’ Principal Primm said carefully, ‘your grandmother has not said.’

  ‘Who was it, Grandma?’ Angeline asked.

  Grandma Rose sniffed and blubbered. ‘It was . . . It was . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ Principal Primm grabbed a box of t
issues from her desk and held them out as far as she could without getting too close to the weeping woman and all her unruly tears. ‘It was . . .?’

  Grandma plucked several tissues. ‘Cousin . . . Percy.’

  Edgar shot Angeline and Grandpa a quick who’s that? look. They both gave a small shrug.

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ Principal Primm said in as concerned a voice as she could muster. She touched her immaculate beehive hairdo, pushing some invisible strands back into place. ‘Were you close?’

  ‘He was like a brother to me.’ Grandma Rose began crying anew.

  ‘I’ve never heard of any Cousin Percy,’ Grandpa said.

  Grandma Rose blew into her hanky but not before sneaking her family a quick wink.

  Grandpa’s hand went to his heart. ‘Oh, thank heaven. I thought something was really wrong and it almost gave me a heart attack.’

  Edgar’s shoulders fell just slightly while his face remained a picture of careful concern. ‘There, there, Grandma. Death is merely the cessation of biological processes that keeps a living being alive, but nothing will ever erase our memories of . . . Cousin Percy.’

  ‘Yes, yes, it’s true.’ Principal Primm, not someone at ease with other people’s displays of emotion, was keen to do anything that would make the entire situation go away.

  Angeline gave her grandmother a hug. ‘Everything will be okay – you’ll see. We still have each other.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Principal Primm said, pleased that the children seemed to be calming her down. ‘That is very true.’ She held a finger in the air. ‘The bonds of family can help overcome any misfortune.’

  Grandma Rose wailed even louder.

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Principal Primm winced.

  ‘Family is all we really have.’ Grandma Rose blew her nose so it sounded like a loud, badly played trumpet.

  ‘Such fine acting skills,’ Grandpa admired. ‘You should have been a star.’

  The principal flinched and snuck a quick look at her watch, hoping this would all be over very soon. ‘Yes, and as it’s so important for family to stick together, you children may be excused from the final session of the day. I’ll have Ms Gently send a note to your teacher explaining everything.’