Ghostsitters (2 page)

“Hello, Uncle Drac,” I said in a cheery-uppy kind of voice. “I bet you are really excited.”

“No,” said Uncle Drac.

“But you are going to see the giant bats of Transylvania,” I told him. “You
love
giant bats.”

“Do I?” asked Uncle Drac.

“You know you do,” I told him. I crawled carefully along the rafter. “Come on, Uncle Drac,” I said, “I'll help you pack.”

“Sometimes, Minty,” said Uncle Drac, “you remind me of Tabby.”

I asked Uncle Drac what he wanted to put in his suitcase.

“Bats,” said Uncle Drac.

“How many?”

“All of them,” he said. “I can't leave any behind; it would not be fair.”

You would be amazed at how many bats you can squeeze into a suitcase, and I thought we had done really well, but Uncle Drac did not agree. There were still loads of bats flying around his turret. “I'll get you another suitcase,” I said.

“Tabby says we are only allowed one each, and she won't have any bats in hers.”

Well, that did not surprise me, given what she felt about goldfish. “Maybe Barry would let you use his?” I said.

“I already asked him,” said Uncle Drac gloomily. “He said he hasn't even
got
a suitcase. Brenda needs at least two for all her stuff, so she's taking his.” He sighed and looked really miserable.

It was time for some straight talking.
“Look, Uncle Drac,” I said. “You know what you told me about slugs?”

Uncle Drac looked puzzled. “I don't think I need any slugs in the suitcase, Minty,” he said.

“Oh,
you
know what I mean, Uncle Drac—the slugs in the lettuce sandwich of life. Well, not being able to take all your bats is the slug. And like you said, there always is one.”

“So where's the lettuce sandwich?” asked Uncle Drac miserably. I sighed. Sometimes Uncle Drac is hard work. Suddenly the little red door flew open and Aunt Tabby poked her head into the bat turret. She was so excited that she did not notice me hidden behind the bulging suitcase of bats.

“Good news, Drac!” said Aunt Tabby. “Your mother has agreed to come and look after Araminta and Wanda for the week.”

I was so shocked that I nearly fell off the rafter straight down onto the bat poo far below. Uncle Drac's mother—the dreaded Great-aunt Emilene—for a
whole week
? Half an hour was bad enough. I couldn't think of anything worse. It would be
horrible
—and I could say good-bye to any birthday party plans. It was the biggest, ugliest, slimiest slug in my lettuce sandwich of life
ever
.

Y
ou would be amazed at how heavy a suitcase full of bats is. I grabbed Wanda, who was coming upstairs stuffed full of Choco-Drop Krackles, and I made her help Uncle Drac and me bring the bat suitcase downstairs. We had to be careful because we did not want to bump the bats and wake them up.

“What's in here?” asked Wanda.

I looked around to make sure that Aunt Tabby was not lurking like she does sometimes. Aunt Tabby is even more nosy than Wanda, if that is possible.

“Bats,” I whispered.

“Bats?”
yelled Wanda.

Aunt Tabby appeared out of nowhere—how
does
she do it? She looked at me, Wanda, and Uncle Drac very suspiciously. “What about bats?” she asked.

“We were just talking about them, Aunt Tabby. Won't it be
amazing
to see all those giant Transylvanian bats?”

Aunt Tabby did not seem that excited. She looked at her watch and said, “Hmm…unless your Great-aunt Emilene turns up soon we won't be seeing any giant Transylvanian bats whatsoever. She's leaving it
very
late.”

“We don't need Great-aunt Emilene to
take care of us,” I said. “We can take care of ourselves, can't we, Wanda?”

Wanda nodded very hard, just like the toy dog that Brenda bought Barry to put in the back window of his van.

Aunt Tabby took no notice. “Nonsense, Araminta,” she said. “You and Wanda are much too young to be left alone for one night, let alone a whole week. If Great-aunt Emilene doesn't arrive, we will
not
be going.”

I saw Uncle Drac suddenly look hopeful, but not for longer than about two seconds, because just then the doorbell rang. Aunt Tabby yelled, “At
last
!” and rushed off to answer it.

In Spookie House when someone rings the doorbell it gets stuck and keeps right on ringing until you open the front door and unstick it. Barry keeps saying he is going to fix it, but he hasn't yet. The doorbell makes a really terrible teeth-on-edge noise. We all dropped the suitcase and put our fingers in our ears—which was a mistake. The suitcase shot off down the stairs on its little wheels, and as Aunt Tabby threw open the door and tried to unstick the doorbell, Uncle Drac's suitcase full of bats hurtled out and rattled off down the path.

“My bats!” yelled Uncle Drac and raced after it. Luckily Aunt Tabby was having some trouble unsticking the doorbell, so she did not hear him—although I heard her scream as the suitcase shot past her.

Suddenly the noise from the doorbell stopped. Aunt Tabby was still in the doorway and I wondered why she had not let Great-aunt Emilene in. I began to feel hopeful. Maybe the sight of Great-aunt Emilene, with
her double-headed dead ferret wrapped around her neck and her little beady eyes that stared right into you, had made Aunt Tabby think again and she had decided to let us stay on our own after all.

But something told me it wasn't that, because even though all I could see was Aunt Tabby's back, I could tell she was mad. I am very good at telling when Aunt Tabby is mad—I have had lots of practice. She suddenly gets prickly like a hedgehog; her hair stands up, the tips of her ears turn red, and her shoulders get a kind of pointy look to them. And right then Aunt Tabby's shoulders looked very pointy indeed.

Wanda and I crept downstairs to see what was happening. “What do you mean, ‘unavoidably delayed'?” Aunt Tabby was saying. We peered out, and instead of Great-aunt Emilene there was Perkins, who drives Great-aunt Emilene's hearse for her.

“I mean that Madam is
delayed
in an
unavoidable
fashion,” said Perkins in his weird voice that sounded like he was locked deep inside a haunted vault.

I made a thumbs-up sign to Wanda and she grinned. Things were looking good.

But then Perkins—who looked even more like a skeleton than I remembered—said, “Madam has asked me to inform you that she will arrive tomorrow.”

Wanda made a thumbs-down sign. I made a face.

“Tomorrow!” Aunt Tabby exploded. “That's no good. We are leaving in”—she looked at her watch—“ohmygoodnesshalfanhour.”

But all Perkins said in his voice-from-the-tomb was, “I shall return with Madam tomorrow. Good day to you,” and he walked away down the path. But Perkins did not know Aunt Tabby. If he had bothered to ask Wanda and me, we would have told him he would not get away that easily, but he hadn't—so he found out the hard way.

Aunt Tabby ran after Perkins like a polecat after a tiny baby bunny.

Perkins must have heard the thud of Aunt Tabby's boots rushing down the path behind him because he sped up—but he was not fast enough. Aunt Tabby
scooted in front of him and stood barring the driver's door.

“
Mr.
Perkins, before you go I have an errand for you.”

“I do not do errands, madam,” said Perkins in his voice-from-the-tomb. “
Excuse me
, you are blocking my way.”

“Indeed I am, Mr. Perkins,” said Aunt Tabby. “And I shall continue to do so until you go and fetch Nurse Beryl Watkins.
She
will look after Araminta and Wanda tonight.”

“Oh no!” gasped Wanda. “Not
Nurse Watkins
.”

I groaned. There are not many people in the world who make Great-aunt Emilene look like a cuddly pussycat, but Nurse Watkins is one of them.

Perkins was standing his ground. “I am not a taxi service, madam,” he said sniffily. He pushed past Aunt Tabby, pulled open the driver's door, and hopped inside.

Wanda grinned. “Good old Perkins,” she whispered. “He won't do it.”

I shook my head; I knew better. Perkins was a novice when it came to Aunt Tabby—he hadn't won yet. I was right. In a split second Aunt Tabby had opened the back door and was sitting right behind him, in the little flip-down seat especially for people who want to sit beside the coffin. And as she slammed the door I heard her say, “Catheter Cottage, Perkins—and
fast
!”

 

We watched the hearse drive away, its tires squealing on the road, and we knew it would not be long until Nurse Watkins was here.

“What are we going to
doooo
?” wailed Wanda.

“Don't worry,” I said. “I have an ANW Plan.”

“What's an ANW Plan?” asked Wanda.

“An Anti–Nurse Watkins Plan of course.”

Wanda looked impressed. “That was very fast, Araminta.”

“I know,” I said. “My brain is like that—I just think fast. I can't help it.”

“So what
is
your ANW Plan?”

“Well, we can't stop her from coming,” I told Wanda.

“I
knooow
,” she wailed.

“But we
can
stop her from staying.”

“Really? How?”

“I will ask Sir Horace to scare her away. I will say the secret word and he can walk around carrying his head under his arm, moaning and clanking, and Edmund can do some of his horrible singing. Even Nurse Watkins won't like that.”

“You are
so
smart, Araminta.”

“I know.” I smiled and went to find Sir Horace. Things always look better when you have a Plan.

O
ne awful hour later, Nurse Beryl Watkins was watching like a hawk as Wanda and I said good-bye to everyone. She stood at the top of the steps at the front door of Spookie House in her nurse's uniform and nearly filled up the whole doorway. Nurse Watkins is all muscle. She has legs like tree trunks and hands like a baseball pitcher's mitt. I reckon she was a professional wrestler before she got
hold of her nurse's uniform.

The Batty About Bats! limo was parked behind the hearse, which was still there. I think Aunt Tabby must have made something blow up, as there was a lot of steam coming out and Perkins was messing around under the hood muttering rude words.

Uncle Drac was helping the driver of the limo stuff his flowery bat case into the trunk. Aunt Tabby looked annoyed because Brenda and Barry had grabbed the best seats. They looked really excited. Brenda had her best pink sunglasses on and Barry was wearing a new blue bowler hat.

Brenda was saying good-bye to her cat, Pusskins. “Look after my ickle-wickle pussy-catkins, Wanda,” she said in the little girly voice she uses when she talks about Pusskins, and she dropped Pusskins into Wanda's arms. Wanda staggered under the weight because the one thing that Pusskins definitely is
not
is ickle-wickle.

“Would you like me to take care of your frogs, Barry?” I asked helpfully, since Wanda does not like frogs very much.

Barry looked at me suspiciously, just like he always does when I mention his frogs. “No thank you, Araminta. Wanda is taking care of them, aren't you, Wanda?”

“Yes, Dad,” said Wanda.

“
And
Pusskins,” said Brenda.

“Yes, Mom,” said Wanda.

At last the trunk of the car was closed and Uncle Drac got in. “Take care of my bats, Minty,” he said gloomily.

“Yes, Uncle Drac.”

Aunt Tabby poked her head out of the window and I wondered what she was going to tell me to take care of, but all she said was, “And do as you are
told
, Araminta.”

I did not reply.

“Bye, Dad. Bye, Mom,” said Wanda a bit sadly.

“Mwa, mwa!” Brenda made kissing noises out the window. “One for Pusskins and one for you,” she said—then all the windows went up.

Suddenly I saw Uncle Drac banging on his window trying to make it go down again. Uncle Drac is not good with things like electric windows. Aunt Tabby looked irritated and pressed the button for him.

Uncle Drac stuck his head out of the window. “Minty, Minty,” he said, beckoning me over.

“It's all right, Uncle Drac. I will remember to watch the bats. I promise.”

“No, no, it's not that. Happy Birthday for Thursday, Minty,” he said, and gave
me a small squashy present wrapped in cute paper with spiders all over it.

For a moment I did not know what to say. And then I said, “Ooh. Oh,
thank you
, Uncle Drac.”

Uncle Drac smiled his beautiful smile that shows his long pointy teeth at the edge of his mouth and said, “I'll be thinking of you.” Then he managed to press the right button for once and the window zoomed back up.

The hearse moved slowly away, coughing and spluttering, and the Batty About Bats! limo followed. Wanda and I stood at the gate and waved good-bye.

The sun was setting and the road looked nice and spooky. I guessed that Uncle Drac had let a few of his bats out in order to get the suitcase into the trunk and they were fluttering around the limo as it followed the hearse. It looked like a funeral party. I could see Uncle Drac's round white face looking back at Spookie House; he waved and looked as gloomy as if he really was going to a funeral. But I figured that even he was not as gloomy and Wanda and I were just then.

“Right, girls!” barked Nurse Watkins as soon as the bat cortège had rounded the corner. “Inside.
Now!
”

 

It was time for the ANW Plan. Sir Horace had agreed to lurk in the dark corner beside the clock, and when I wanted him to do his haunting bit I would say the secret word. It was a really good plan, but the only trouble was…
he wasn't there
.

“Ahem,” I coughed, “ahem, ahem,
ahem
,”
just in case he was lurking in the wrong dark corner—because Sir Horace does get confused sometimes—but there was no sign of him.

“That's a nasty cough,” said Nurse Watkins. “You need some medicine for that.”

I knew that Nurse Watkins's medicine would taste horrible, so I stopped coughing at once. “No thank you,” I said. “I am fine now.” Coughing wasn't working—I would have to try the secret word.
“Cockroach,”
I said loudly, as Sir Horace is a bit deaf.

Nurse Watkins jumped a mile. “Where?” she screamed.

But there was still no Sir Horace.
“Cockroach!”
I yelled. Wanda joined in too.
“Cockroach, cockroach!”
But still Sir Horace did not appear. Where
was
he?

We left Nurse Watkins in the hall looking for cockroaches and went to find some cheese and onion chips and gummy bears. On the way to the basement stairs we saw the light on in Uncle Drac's broom cupboard.

I was
so
pleased. I rushed into the broom cupboard. “Uncle Drac, you're back!” I said—very quietly so that Nurse Watkins did not hear. But it wasn't Uncle Drac sitting in his old chair—it was Sir Horace. And he was reading the newspaper
with his feet up, just like Uncle Drac does.

“I said the secret word but you didn't come,” I told him. “That was not very good, Sir Horace. Now we probably will have Nurse Watkins here
forever
.”

Sir Horace jumped.
“What?”
he said. I could see he had been so busy reading the paper that he had not heard a word I said.

Wanda, who is nosy and always wants to know why people are doing things—even boring things like reading the paper, said, “Why are you reading the paper, Sir Horace?”

Sir Horace waved the paper in the air.
“Look at this, Miss Wizzard. The dastardly FitzMaurice is knocking my castle down.”

You may not know, but a very long time ago our ghost Sir Horace lived in a castle not far away from Spookie House. There is not much of his castle left now. Recently it has been a mushroom farm and even more recently a theme park called Water Wonderland. Old Morris FitzMaurice owns it and he is not nice. He is a descendant of the really horrible Jasper FitzMaurice who stole Sir Horace's castle from him.

Wanda took the paper and looked at it. The headline said:
FISH FLATTENED!
and there was a picture of a bulldozer flattening a bunch of old sheds with pictures of fish on them. I would have thought that was a good thing, but Sir Horace did not.

“Let me read it,” I said to Wanda and grabbed the paper.

Wanda snatched it back. “No,” she snapped. “
I
will read it.” And then we waited while Wanda worked out the words. “Mr….
FitzMaurice pre…pares site for…auction of well-known tourist attrac…tion, to be sold as seaside…develop…ment site.”

Wanda gave Sir Horace back his newspaper. Sir Horace looked at the picture again.
“Those foul FitzMaurices are knocking down my castle and selling it,”
he groaned.

“But there wasn't much of your castle left,” I told him. “It was only a bunch of rotten old sheds.”

“That is not the point, Araminta,” said Wanda. “Sir Horace loves his old castle. Don't you, Sir Horace?”

Sir Horace's only reply was to groan once more and put the newspaper over his head. It was just like Uncle Drac had come back to the broom cupboard.

 

When we finally got down to the third-kitchen-on-the-left-just-past-the-boiler-room, Nurse Watkins was waiting for us. She made Wanda and me look for cockroaches while she boiled our dinner—disgusting parsnip and tuna soup, which would have scared off any self-respecting cockroaches anyway.

We poured our soup into Aunt Tabby's spider plant when Nurse Watkins wasn't looking, but there wasn't anything else for dinner. Nurse Watkins said it wasn't good to eat too much before going to bed, as it gave you bad dreams. But it is not eating that gives you bad dreams, it is people like Nurse Watkins.

Then Nurse Watkins said it was bedtime,
even though it was much too early. We had to remake our beds with what she called hospital corners, then fold up all our clothes and line up our shoes while she searched under the beds for cockroaches. She didn't find any but she did find a lot of dust and candy wrappers.

Wanda and I squeezed into our hospital-corner beds and Nurse Watkins said, “Lights out, girls!” She switched off the light and we listened to her sensible nurse shoes clumping all the way down through the house.

I switched on my reading-in-bed flashlight and shone it on Wanda.

Wanda stared into the light with big eyes, just like a scared rabbit. “What if she comes back up and sees the light?” she whispered.

“We'll have plenty of warning. You can hear those hospital shoes miles away,” I said. “Do you want some cheese and onion chips?”

Wanda sat up excitedly. “Ooh, yes please.”

I threw Wanda a bag of chips (I always keep an emergency stock under my pillow).

Wanda was not a bit grateful. “They're all in tiny pieces,” she moaned.

I was not surprised, as Nurse Watkins had thumped the pillow as if it had said something really rude. “Well, that's all I've got,” I told her.

Wanda grinned. “But it's not all
I've
got,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah
aaa
…”

I shone my flashlight right in Wanda's face just like they do in the movies when detectives
are asking really important questions. I was a detective once on an important frognapping case, so I knew exactly what to do.

“Ooh,
stop it
, Araminta. That light's really bright.”

I put on my creepy detective voice. “Tell me, Wanda Wizzard,
what…have…you…got
?”

Wanda dived under her covers and came up with a squashed-looking bag that I had seen Brenda give her before she left. Wanda waved the bag around and said, “One hundred Swedish Fish, two bars of chocolate, and a packet of popcorn!” She patted a space beside her. “Come on, Araminta,” she said, “I can't eat them all on my own.”