Grandma Rose stood from her chair. She paused briefly and Angeline gave her hand a squeeze. ‘You’ll be great,’ she whispered.

  The audience cheered as the inventors climbed to the stage and Finkman took the microphone. He lowered a bag to the ground and wiped his brow with a hanky. ‘Now to our first invention.’ He reached inside and drew out a shimmering, almost see-through net. ‘Here we have . . .’ The net almost slid from his grasp. He stumbled forward and caught it. Fleischmann gave him a reassuring look and Finkman tried again.

  ‘We’ve all had times when what we’re after nearly slips through our fingers.’

  The audience laughed and he instantly felt calmer.

  ‘Which is when you may need this: I call it the Aura Net. It’s made from a combination of hi-tech synthetic fibres, and up close, looks similar to the chain mail of the Middle Ages but it is infinitely lighter. Let me demonstrate how it works.’

  He looked into the air above the crowd and cried, ‘Ready, Hortenso?’

  The floating figure of an old man dressed in a white robe nodded.

  ‘Excellent.’ Finkman drew a deep breath and flung the Aura Net into the air. The audience flinched as it sailed over them, before it stopped midair and hung in the shape of a human. There was a chorus of oohs and ahhs, and after a few moments the net fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

  ‘It works in the same way that a memory stick saves a file. It “captures” the ghost by absorbing it into its fibres so it can be released at a later time in a reinforced, vacuum-sealed observation chamber, where the ghost can be safely interviewed.’

  Dragos picked up the net and delivered it back to Finkman, who again held up his palm. ‘And with very little fuss, we have captured ourselves a ghost.’

  Applause and excited muttering filled the hall. Finkman let a smile lift into his lips.

  ‘I have got to have one of those,’ Angeline said.

  ‘I’ll have anything that means I don’t have to get too close to a ghost,’ Dylan agreed.

  Finkman continued with more confidence. He held up a small, bright-blue rectangular device. ‘And here we have the Ghost Reader, for those ghosts who refuse to tell you why they’ve returned to cause trouble. Simply plug it into your Tracker, point it at the ghost, use the dial on the side to find the right frequency, and it will reveal what the ghost is thinking.’

  Finkman held the Ghost Reader near the microphone, while directing it at Dolores Smiggins. Her thoughts echoed through the hall. ‘That’s right, I’ll just sit here ignored and alone, with no one to talk to, while everyone else –’

  Dolores looked up at the sound of her amplified voice and noticed the entire hall looking at her.

  ‘That’s okay, Dolores.’ Finkman smiled gently. ‘We hear you loud and clear.’

  The audience clapped while Dolores blushed and smiled – something she hadn’t done for almost 100 years.

  ‘And now over to one of Ghost Club’s brightest jewels, Professor Rose Usher.’

  Finkman stood aside, almost bowing as Grandma Rose approached the bench.

  ‘Firstly, we have these.’ She took two scuffed boots from behind the bench. ‘A pair of old Ghost Club boots – strong, sturdy, super-warm when our ghostly visitors make the temperature drop – but now they have a very new feature. Observe.’

  A screen above the stage filled with black-and-white security camera vision from an underground station. Wind whipped rubbish through the air and turned bins and benches upside down, while three kids stood on the edge of the platform.

  ‘That’s us!’ Angeline whispered.

  ‘As you can see, ghost-catchers Dylan Fleischmann and Angeline and Edgar Usher are struggling against the winds created by a powerful vortex that had taken over Gravesend Railway Station.* In the past, they would have needed to find shelter, but in this instance they face the vortex head on.’

  ‘I love this part,’ Angeline whispered to Dylan, who nodded, hoping the terror of that day wasn’t showing on his face.

  A burst of white light filled the screen and the three catchers’ bodies were pushed backwards, while their boots kept them firmly planted to the ground. The audience cooed with delight when Angeline shouted, ‘Atomise!’

  Bright streaks of light struck the vortex with loud cracks until eventually exploded in a brilliant flash. The station fell into silence amid smoky clouds when Angeline cried, ‘I love this job!’

  The audience broke into raucous applause. When the smoke cleared, they saw one of the catchers lying on their back, knees in the air, their boots still suctioned to the floor.

  ‘Great.’ Dylan’s head fell into his hands. ‘Now everyone knows that you and Edgar dealt with the vortex while I was busy passing out.’

  He felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see Angeline’s smiling face. ‘There’s not one person here who hasn’t been scared during a catch.’

  ‘You’ve never been.’

  ‘During my first call-outs I was. Ripley says, “It’s okay to be afraid, it’s what you do with your fear that matters.”’

  Dylan didn’t seemed convinced.

  ‘It’s natural to feel fear. We’re only human.’ Angeline’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘Humans who happen to have the world’s most amazing job.’

  From behind the bench, Grandma removed another invention. ‘These are Ghost Gloves. Padded and warm for those cold ghost-catching nights, but they also allow the wearer to take hold of a ghost no matter how weak their spectral core. To demonstrate, I too will need some help.’

  An older man came into view beside her.

  ‘It’s Grandpa Huffman.’ Edgar smiled.

  ‘He never told us he was helping out.’ Angeline sat up for a better view.

  ‘You rang, my little chicken?’ Huffman beamed.

  ‘Please stand over there,’ Grandma instructed, ignoring the little chicken reference.

  ‘Anything for you, my cutie patootie.’ Grandma gave him a warning look. Huffman’s smile fell. ‘I mean, Professor Usher.’

  Giggles rose from the audience.

  ‘Ordinarily,’ Grandma said, ‘ghosts cannot be touched by human hands, so over the years we’ve created devices to capture them, like the Spectrovac, which acts like a ghost vacuum-cleaner, but now we have something else. To show you how they work, I need another volunteer.’

  ‘Huh?’ Huffman frowned.

  Grandma Rose turned towards the back of the stage. The curtain ruffled a little before it was thrown aside and a handsome grey-haired man sauntered out.

  A frantic cry rose from the audience. ‘It’s Ripley Granger!’

  ‘It’s really him.’ Angeline fumbled for her Tracker and began recording.

  ‘The great catcher himself,’ Edgar admired.

  The entire hall leapt to their feet in a burst of cheering. There were screams and whistles. Ripley waved and bowed, even blew a kiss. Someone fainted. Trackers, cameras and phones flashed and filmed.

  Everyone was excited to see him – everyone except Grandpa Huffman.

  It took quite some time for the audience to calm down.

  ‘Welcome, Ripley Granger,’ Grandma said. ‘Would you mind demonstrating what would happen if you tried to handle our ghost just as you are?’

  ‘I’d be delighted.’ Ripley walked towards Grandpa with his arms outstretched and stepped straight through him.

  The crowd cheered wildly.

  ‘Big deal,’ Huffman mumbled. ‘Like no one’s ever walked through a ghost before.’

  Ripley bowed and again basked in the crowd’s adoration.

  ‘And now,’ Grandma offered the gloves to Ripley, ‘try it with these.’

  Ripley carefully pulled on each glove. He fixed the velcro strap around his wrists and turned towards Grandpa Huffman. This time when he approached, his hands made contact, as if with a solid object. Ripley’s gloved hands tightened around Grandpa’s shoulders, while Grandpa struggled in vain to free himself.

  ‘Once you have your ghost firmly secured,’ Grandma continued, ‘you can attempt to communicate with them. If they refuse, keep them securely held until you transport them to your nearest lab or –’

  Finkman squeezed up to the mic. ‘Or use the Aura Net to capture their essence in a lightweight, no fuss manner.’

  ‘Yes.’ Grandma offered a tight smile. ‘I guess you could.’ She turned back to the audience. ‘Some ghosts also wish to communicate but have trouble making it through to our side; you can now use the gloves to help them.’

  The clapping was instant. Ripley released Huffman and waved.

  Grandmaster Fleischmann approached the microphone. ‘Please join me in thanking two of our most brilliant minds for their exceptional inventions and for the assistance of our special guest, Ripley Granger.’

  The audience rose to their feet and the room filled with exuberant clapping and calls of ‘bravo’. Huffman watched as Ripley took Grandma Rose’s hand and they bowed together. Ripley whispered something into her ear and she laughed a girlish laugh Grandpa hadn’t heard in years.

  All eyes were focused adoringly on Ripley.

  All, that is, except two.

  From behind the curtain, through a slim gap in the fabric, someone peered, surveying the audience, searching each table of Ghost Club members, until they came to rest on one.

  Angeline Usher.

  * (See Ghost Club Book 2: The Haunted School)

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Angeline leant into Dylan so that he could smell the scent of her shampoo, like a warm breeze. He tried to focus on looking casual, something that he found increasingly difficult to do with Angeline so close. ‘Yes,’ he squeaked.

  Angeline lowered her voice even further. ‘Promise you won’t laugh?’

  ‘I promise.’

  She paused. ‘Do I look okay?’

  Dylan stared at Angeline’s large, dark eyes, her long lashes and pale, flawless cheeks. He wanted to tell her she looked perfect, that he couldn’t think of another girl in the world who had ever looked as perfect as she did right at that moment, but all he said was, ‘Sure.’

  Sure? He silently told himself off. You couldn’t think of a better answer than ‘sure’?

  ‘I think what Master Dylan meant to say,’ Mr Gloom interrupted, ‘is that there is none other in this room who comes even close to matching your beauty.’

  ‘That’s a little overboard, Gloom, but thank you.’ Angeline combed her fingers through her hair. ‘I want to make sure I look my best when I ask Ripley to sign my book.’

  Her eyes swept to the stage, where Ripley was talking to Grandmaster Fleischmann. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to meet the greatest catcher of all time.’

  Myra adjusted the microphone to suit her small stature. ‘If I could have your attention –’ the unmistakable monotone of her voice crashed through the room like an icebreaker ‘– it’s time to draw the winners of this evening’s lucky door prize.’

  Angeline clasped her hands and begged. ‘Please, please, please be us.’

  ‘What’s the prize?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘The pleasure of hosting Ripley Granger at your table,’ Edgar answered.

  ‘Now we’re in real danger of indigestion from Ripley overload,’ Grandpa Huffman grumbled.

  Ripley stood to the side of the stage and waved at a fan in the audience. There was a piercing scream.

  Myra held out a hat and Grandmaster Fleischmann reached inside.

  ‘Ripley is almost among us,’ a voice behind the Ushers squealed.

  ‘If I faint, can you pick me up?’ Angeline asked. ‘I’d hate Ripley to see me in a heap on the floor.’

  Dylan nodded. ‘I’ll catch you.’

  Angeline, Lily and Grandma Rose took a deep, combined breath, as if they were getting ready to meet the Queen.

  ‘And the winners are . . .’ Grandmaster Fleischmann pulled a piece of paper from the hat. ‘Table thirteen!’

  There was a polite round of applause accompanied by heavy sighs – even a few disappointed sobs – as the Usher family leapt to their feet.

  ‘We won!’ Angeline jumped up and down.

  ‘Oh, how lucky!’ Lily Usher cried.

  ‘What a tremendous opportunity,’ Arthur added.

  Gloom nodded. ‘One that will remain with us for a very long time.’

  ‘You mean like pins and needles or a stomach cramp?’ Grandpa Huffman mumbled and slumped into his seat.

  Ripley sauntered through the bustle of flashing cameras and Trackers, shaking hands and blowing kisses.

  ‘He’s quite the charmer,’ Arthur said. ‘You can see why he’s so adored.’

  Grandpa Huffman huffed. ‘I don’t quite get it myself.’

  Arthur shook Ripley’s hand. ‘Mr Granger! Welcome to our table, this is an incredible privilege for us all.’

  ‘Please, call me Ripley, and the privilege is all mine. The Usher family have quite the reputation among the Ghost Club community and, of course, are some of my favourite people in the world.’

  He took Lily’s hand. ‘And you, Lily, are still as beautiful as when we first met.’

  ‘Oh, Ripley.’ Lily’s face flamed red.

  Ripley stepped closer to Grandma Rose and took both her hands. ‘ “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”, but this Rose has to be the sweetest of them all.’

  ‘That’s from Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet,’ Edgar pointed out.

  ‘Yes, my lad, and it is nothing short of the most romantic play ever written, befitting the beauty that is before me.’

  Grandpa Huffman sank lower into his seat. ‘Oh please.’

  ‘Come now.’ Grandma Rose blushed and waved Ripley away.

  ‘No! I refuse to be silenced on the truth!’

  The Usher family laughed.

  Except for Grandpa Huffman, who looked like a man who’d just swallowed a very nasty-tasting bug.

  ‘And –’ Ripley fixed Grandma Rose with a steady gaze ‘– your inventions are the products of a simply brilliant mind.’

  ‘She is amazing,’ Angeline boasted. ‘I can’t wait to try out the new equipment. Can you?’

  Dylan noticed Ripley’s smile falter for the briefest of seconds before he threw his arms out wide. ‘Who wouldn’t?’

  ‘These are my children,’ Arthur continued with the introductions, ‘Angeline and Edgar.’

  ‘I know very well who they are.’ Ripley grinned at them like a proud uncle. ‘Youngest members of Ghost Club with 135 catches, the latest being the haunting of your own school.* That is quite an accomplishment. I suspect they’ll outdo my record before long.’

  ‘I hardly think we’ll even come close to your 932 catches,’ Edgar said.

  ‘We’re just happy to help make the world a safer place.’ Angeline’s cheeks flushed.

  ‘And modest!’ Ripley laughed. ‘Always a good sign in a catcher.’

  ‘We are very proud of them.’ Grandma Rose hugged them both.

  ‘This is Mr Gloom,’ Arthur said. ‘Poet and groundskeeper for the Gravesend Ghost Club. If we’re lucky, he’ll recite some of his verse tonight.’

  ‘It’d be an honour.’ Gloom shook Ripley’s hand.

  ‘And this is Dylan Fleischmann, our newest Ghost Club member.’

  Ripley shook Dylan’s hand firmly, and the boy tried not to wince.

  ‘Fleischmann? Are you related to the grandmaster?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dylan nodded and wished Ripley would let go of his hand. ‘He’s my grandfather.’

  ‘And we have no doubt he will be every bit as outstanding,’ Lily said. ‘He has already impressed us on his first two call-outs.’

  ‘I still have a lot to learn.’ Dylan blushed and wriggled out of Ripley’s grip.

  ‘Oh, but my boy, we all do,’ Ripley said. ‘Even when you have been in the business for as long as I have, there is always more to learn. In fact, “the moment a person feels they know it all –” ’

  ‘ “– is the moment they need to learn more than ever.” ’ Angeline finished his sentence.

  ‘It’s from your fourth book, My Life at the Top,’ Edgar said.

  ‘Quite so.’ Ripley held a finger in the air as if he was about to conduct an orchestra. ‘Believe in yourself, be ready to learn, and you will become as bright a star as your grandfather.’ He winked. ‘Perhaps even brighter with the right amount of confidence.’

  ‘Which you have in bucketloads.’ Everyone was so in awe of Ripley that no one heard Grandpa Huffman’s complaints or bothered to introduce him.

  Waiters spilled into the room, and everyone took their seats for the first course of tomato soup served with toast cut into the shape of ghosts.

  ‘How’s the cooking, Arthur? Still whipping up those masterpieces?’ Ripley asked.

  Angeline and Edgar swapped puzzled looks.

  Arthur laughed modestly. ‘I’m still practising. “A true expert never abandons the quest to be even better.” ’

  Angeline held her spoon up high. ‘Page fifty-five of your book A Ghostly Life.’

  Ripley smiled. ‘Do you know every page of my books?’

  ‘Not every one.’ Angeline shook her head.

  ‘But it would have to be close,’ Edgar explained. ‘We’re all big admirers of your work.’

  ‘Have you been involved in any catches lately?’ Angeline’s eyes glimmered.

  ‘I have just returned from a holiday in Greece, where I dealt with a ghost who was tearing great holes in fishermen’s nets as part of a family feud stretching back 200 years.’

  Angeline sighed. ‘Even on holidays you are busy saving the world.’

  ‘Yes, but the life of a catcher is wonderful, isn’t it? As is Greece! What a magnificent country. Sunshine, delicious food and the people are so generous.’ He twirled a string of blue beads in his hand, the centre of each one painted with the image of an eye. ‘These are called evil-eye beads and are found dangling from almost every building and person, even pinned to the clothes of babies.’

  ‘Why is it called the evil eye?’ Angeline asked.

  ‘Many people believe that evil spirits can attach themselves to envious words or looks and bring bad luck,’ Edgar explained.

  Ripley smiled. ‘Exactly right. The evil eye wards off those spirits and keeps the wearer safe from harm.’ He stared at the beads. ‘They have become very precious to me.’

 

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