Ghost Club 3, page 6
He seemed to be lost in his thoughts until he looked up and laughed. ‘In fact, that reminds me of the time when I was on a call-out in Helsinki, Finland, and I was faced with one of the most fearsome pairs of eyes I’ve ever encountered.’
Dylan slowly sipped his soup while Ripley retold his ghostly tale. Everyone around the table was transfixed, especially Angeline, who looked as if every word Ripley said was like a breath keeping her alive.
‘He’s quite the hero, isn’t he?’ Grandpa Huffman whispered.
‘He does seem very brave.’ Dylan noticed that the guests at the tables around them were leaning in and listening. ‘And popular.’
‘There are a lot of people here who are just as brave as he is, your grandfather included.’
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Dylan said.
‘Is it about Ripley?’
‘No.’
‘Good,’ Huffman said. ‘I know I’m dead, but if I have to listen to much more about him I think it might finish me off a second time.’
Dylan lowered his voice. ‘Have you ever liked someone who you thought would never feel the same way back?’
Grandpa Huffman nodded. ‘There was a woman I knew once, who was the most wonderful person I’d ever met, but she was in love with someone else.’
‘What happened?’
‘After a lot of patience, I managed to make her see who was the better man. She forgot all about Ripley and married me.’
Dylan stared. ‘Grandma Rose liked Ripley?’
‘Yes, she was charmed by his looks and smooth ways.’
Grandma Rose giggled at Ripley’s storytelling.
‘Still is by is by the looks of things.’ Grandpa sighed. ‘I, too, was once very charming.’
The crowd that had built up around them erupted in applause as Ripley’s story came to an end.
‘Could you tell us about another catching?’ Angeline asked.
‘It would be my greatest joy.’ Ripley gave her a cheeky grin. ‘And since you seem to be an expert on everything I have done, you may choose which one.’
‘Oh, but there are so many.’ Angeline bit her lip. Then she had it. ‘I know! Could you tell us about the ghost of Rasnov Citadel?’
Ripley suddenly broke into a fit of coughing and dropped his spoon into his soup. He held one hand against his mouth and waved the other to let everyone know he was okay. But he continued to cough, as if something had lodged in his throat.
Gloom leapt from his chair and began to pound Ripley’s back. ‘Don’t worry, Mr Granger, I’ve done this before.’
The crowd stood around him, their faces plastered with fear.
Except for one. Dragos stared on, standing amid the huddle of concerned guests, once again unmoved by someone in urgent need of help. With people fussing over Ripley, Dragos simply turned and made his way back to the kitchen.
Ripley caught his breath and the coughing eventually stopped. ‘Everything’s okay.’ He took another breath. ‘My soup went down the wrong way, that’s all. Please, everyone, go back to enjoying your meals.’
The crowd slowly dispersed and Ripley offered Gloom a smile. ‘I know who to call if it ever happens again.’
Gloom’s chest puffed. ‘Anytime, Mr Granger.’
‘Now to the ghost of Rasnov Citadel.’ Ripley took a mouthful of soup as if nothing had happened. ‘Where to begin,’ he mused.
But Dylan wasn’t listening. There was something about the coughing attack that didn’t seem right. He was sure Ripley hadn’t taken the mouthful of soup before it started. He’d held the spoon to his lips, but he hadn’t taken a sip.
* (See Ghost Club Book 2: The Haunted School)
‘Could I have your ATTEN-TION!’
Myra again caused the dinner hubbub to fall instantly silent.
‘We hope you are excited about this year’s program.’ She adjusted her glasses and read from her notes. ‘Some highlights include Mervin Cratchet’s lecture, “Negotiating with Difficult Ghosts”, and Kuniko Mitsui’s session, “How Martial Arts Can Make You a Better Catcher”.’
Despite Myra sounding as excited as someone who’d been sent to prison, the hall of catchers nodded enthusiastically.
‘Please welcome Grandmaster Fleischmann for our first address.’
Fleischmann climbed the stairs to the stage. ‘I won’t keep you long.’ He smiled. ‘I know you are keen to hear from a certain younger man than myself.’
A shiver of laughter rippled through the Grand Hall.
‘As members of this fine and honourable club, our duty is not only to deal with paranormal disturbances but also to expose those who deliberately fool others by creating ghostly hoaxes. Not that long ago, three of our most talented catchers, Angeline and Edgar Usher and Dylan Fleischmann, discovered that the haunting of a castle near Gravesend was the work of the owner hoping to create a more successful business.’
The crowd clapped and whistled.
Dylan winced. ‘Please tell me they’re not going to play that vision too.’
‘But the footage from that catch is quite spectacular,’ Edgar said.
‘It’s true,’ Angeline agreed. ‘There’s the ride of the headless horseman, the levitation in the library, the –’
‘Time I pushed you in the mud?’
‘You were protecting me,’ Angeline said.
‘By almost killing you.’
‘I thought it was brave and sweet.’ Angeline’s smile flooded towards Dylan like a wave that almost washed him from his chair.
Fleischmann continued. ‘Every fake haunting reflects very badly on the good work we do in trying to protect the world from real ghosts. It is therefore our duty to uncover those who use the paranormal world in fraudulent ways.’
The screen behind Fleischmann filled with a photo of three stern women in long black dresses with high collars.
‘These are the Fox sisters – three women from New York who claimed they could communicate with the dead via a series of knocks. They held large meetings where they pretended to receive messages from those who had died by asking leading questions of the audience. It worked very well and they made a great deal of money, until one of the sisters was tormented by guilt and admitted they’d lied. Not long after, two of the sisters died penniless and were buried in paupers’ graves.’
The image on the screen behind him changed to a black-and-white photo of a young girl with several fairies dancing in front of her.
‘Here is one of the most famous hoaxes of all time. Two young cousins, Elsie Wright and Frances Griffiths, were only ten and sixteen when they took this photo of “fairies”. For years, many people believed they were real, including Arthur Conan Doyle, but in 1983, when the cousins were older women, they admitted the fairies were cardboard cut-outs and that they had taken the photos for a bit of fun.’
Fleischmann scanned the room of attentive faces. ‘But using the paranormal to trick people is a very serious business and we must continue to work against it.’ The audience nodded and Fleischmann’s serious demeanour was replaced with a smile. ‘But now, it is my sincere pleasure to introduce a man who has no need of hoaxes or shams to remind us of what a true talent he is. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great Ripley Granger.’
This time the audience leapt to their feet as if they were on springs.
Grandpa Huffman remained in his seat. ‘The great fat head, more like.’
Streamers fell from the ceiling and the trumpets rang out in a fanfare. There was increased clapping and cheering with each step that Ripley took towards the stage.
‘Get ready, everyone.’ Arthur turned to his family. ‘There’s always a lot to learn from a Ripley Granger speech.’
The three young ghost-catchers held their Trackers ready to take notes.
‘He always has something special up his sleeve,’ Gloom said. ‘He’s quite the showman.’
‘Did you say show-off?’ Grandpa Huffman smirked.
Grandma Rose spun on him. ‘Ripley is one of the greatest catchers of our generation. He’s inspired thousands all over the world, and saved innocent people from paranormal peril – if you can’t see that, then maybe it’s time for you to go.’
‘Perhaps I will.’
‘Good.’
‘Good.’
Despite the waves of warm applause for Ripley, there was a cold silence at the Usher table. Angeline felt her stomach tighten. She’d never seen her grandmother so annoyed with Grandpa Huffman. It didn’t feel right.
Huffman wrung his hands. ‘I’ll go then.’
‘You don’t have to.’ Lily shot a look at Grandma Rose, who crossed her arms and said nothing.
Angeline caught her grandfather’s eye. He gave her a brief smile, his image wavering for a few seconds before he disappeared in a snap.
‘He won’t be gone long,’ Grandma Rose said. ‘Just long enough to get over being so grumpy, I hope.’
After some minutes, the audience took their seats and Ripley began.
‘Good evening. I –’
Before he said anything more a cry came from the audience. ‘We love you, Ripley!’
Ripley put his hand across his heart. ‘I’m touched and humbled, but I really do nothing more than all of you. We deal with the paranormal wherever they appear, listen to what is bothering them and vow never to give up until we get our ghost.’
There was instant applause and whistles. ‘I’d like to share with you the time I met my most disgruntled ghost yet.’
Trackers, pens and recording equipment were poised to document every word. The only movement was the flicker of candlelight from the jack-o’-lanterns and chandeliers above.
‘I was called to a chalet in the Swiss Alps. It was the thick of winter and snow was piled high against the buildings, but the usually packed chalet was empty due to the antics of a particularly grumpy ghost.’
For the first time since they’d left Gravesend, Dylan began to feel more relaxed. Happy even. He looked around to see a hall of intent faces transfixed on Ripley and his story.
Until he saw Dragos, who stood at the back of the room, his eyes drawn towards the ceiling.
‘This ghost had an annoying habit of opening windows on snowy nights and pouring hot chocolates over the guests’ heads.’
Dylan followed Dragos’s gaze to one of the large metal chandelier of candles dangling from the ceiling. It was swinging ever so slightly. Directly above the stage.
Ripley’s voice lowered dramatically. ‘But one night, things went too far.’
‘Angeline,’ Dylan whispered. ‘I think I –’
‘Shhh.’ She was focused on recording Ripley on her Tracker.
Dylan looked up again. The chandelier swung even more.
Ripley continued: ‘While the guests sat in front of the fire, they heard an ominous sound upstairs . . .’
Dylan tried again to get Angeline’s attention. ‘But I –’
‘I’m happy to listen afterwards, Dylan, just not right now.’
‘Like large pieces of furniture being dragged across the floor.’
Dragos’s sights were still fixed on the moving chandelier. Dylan raised his Tracker and zoomed in for a closer look.
Then he saw it. At the point where the chains held the fiery metal ring to the ceiling, small cracks had begun to radiate around it. And they were spreading fast.
Dylan sprang from his seat, his bat wings flying behind him. He knew he didn’t have much time. He raced along the wall towards the stage as Ripley continued his story.
‘The guests at the chalet were unable to move, their eyes wide and their fingers gripping their armrests. There, at the top of the stairs, staring directly at them, ready to pounce, ready to –’
‘Mr Granger, watch out!’ Dylan leapt towards Ripley, tackling him around the waist and slamming him to the floor.
The audience sat stunned.
Dylan had landed on top of Ripley and tried to explain. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Granger, but you were in terrible danger.’
There was silence.
Dylan’s heart raced, partly from the run, partly from the fall, but mostly from the fact that he had just tackled the greatest ghost-catcher in the world during a very important and much anticipated address.
And nothing had happened.
The crowd sat with their Trackers and cameras in their hands, puzzled by what they’d seen and hoping against all hope that their hero had not been hurt.
Ripley was also puzzled. ‘Terrible danger? But I –’
At that exact moment, the metal chandelier broke free from the ceiling and slammed to the stage. A series of screams rang out. Candles jolted from their holders, splattering hot wax. One candle rolled across the stage and landed near the base of a curtain, and in seconds it caught fire.
Dragos grabbed an extinguisher from the wall and elbowed his way through the crowd. He leapt onto the stage and sprayed the curtain until the fire had been smothered by white foam.
Angeline and Edgar followed, climbing the stairs two at a time, and dropped to Dylan’s side.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I think so,’ Dylan said. ‘I just wish I could find a better way to save people than pushing them to the ground.’
Waiters arrived with first-aid kits and Fleischmann stroked his grandson’s forehead. ‘Does it hurt anywhere? Do you feel dizzy? Are you suffering in any way?’
‘Only from a bad case of chronic embarrassment.’
‘But there’s no need to be embarrassed.’ Ripley smiled. ‘I’m fairly certain you just saved my life.’
‘Undoubtedly,’ Fleischmann admired. ‘I’ve never seen you move so fast.’
‘And he has the reflexes of a mongoose,’ Edgar added.
‘Is that good?’ asked Dylan.
‘Good enough to avoid the strike of a cobra, so that makes them exceptional.’
Myra leant over the small group and, in a voice that could have almost been mistaken for caring, said, ‘Should I call a doctor?’
‘I think everyone is fine, Myra,’ Fleischmann answered. ‘But I’m sure Ripley would like the chance to recuperate in his room for a spell.’
‘Actually, if I may, there is one more thing I’d like to say to everyone.’ Ripley got to his feet and brushed himself down while Dylan, Angeline and Edgar went back to their table.
‘Sorry for the small disruption,’ Ripley spoke into the microphone, ‘but it’s one way to make sure you were listening.’
There was a communal sigh of relief and trickle of laughter as the crowd resumed their seats.
Gloom let a hand fall on Dylan’s shoulder. ‘Very impressive, Master Dylan.’
Ripley took a deep breath. ‘I have something I think you may find surprising.’
‘I hope it’s not like that last surprise.’ Grandma Rose held her hand over her heart. ‘I don’t think I can take another one like that.’
‘Esteemed grandmasters and Ghost Club members. It is with complete delight that I stand here among you, some of the bravest people I know. I couldn’t be more . . .’ Ripley stopped. He wiped a tear from his cheek. ‘Couldn’t be more honoured.’
Handkerchiefs all round the hall were dabbed at eyes.
‘I didn’t expect it to be so moving.’ Arthur sniffed into his hanky.
‘It is nothing less than my greatest privilege to be a part of the Ghost Club.’ He shot a look at the fallen chandelier. ‘Even if it is, at times, a little life-threatening.’
There was laughter, and nods of agreement.
‘So many years of catchings, of conventions, and of reunions have made each of you like . . . family.’ He paused, staring down at the lectern before slowly lifting his head once again. ‘Which makes it all the more difficult to announce that I am retiring.’
A deathly silence fell on the room.
‘I think my hearing’s gone funny,’ Grandma Rose said. ‘Did he say he was retiring?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Angeline answered. ‘I can’t hear over the pounding of my broken heart.’
‘I’m sorry if this has upset anyone.’ Ripley twirled his evil-eye beads in his hands. ‘It was a very hard decision and one that I have agonised over. Please know that being part of this club has given me the greatest moments of my life, but it’s now time to leave.’
The room remained in quiet shock while he handed Myra a note. He kissed her hand and disappeared through the back curtain. She approached the microphone and read aloud.
‘Mr Ripley Granger bids you all goodbye and asks that at this difficult time he be allowed privacy until he departs in the morning.’
Myra’s face took on a look of sadness that, even for her, had never been seen before.
The Usher family sat unmoved for several agonising minutes.
‘That wasn’t quite the surprise I was expecting.’ Arthur was trying to hold back tears.
Lily Usher took his hand. ‘I guess there comes a time in every ghost-catcher’s life when they have to . . .’ She paused, as if not wanting to say the words. ‘Hang up their satchel.’
‘But not Ripley,’ Angeline argued. ‘Not now. He’s the best catcher we have, and I still have so much to learn from him.’
‘Even the best ones know there’s a time to leave, and we have to respect their decision.’ Gloom dabbed at his eyes again. ‘Even though the sadness is almost too much to bear.’ He sniffed.
A murmur of forlorn conversation rumbled throughout the room. In an attempt to lift everyone’s spirits, the band began to play and dessert was served. The older Ushers tried to cheer themselves up by sharing their favourite Ripley encounter.
Angeline sat with a scowl on her face and nudged at her chocolate pudding with a spoon.
‘I know that scowl,’ Edgar whispered. ‘It means you’re planning something.’
Angeline kept her voice low. ‘I’m going to see him.’
‘Ripley?’ Dylan asked. ‘But you heard what Myra said – he needs his privacy.’
‘I know, but if he’s retiring this will be my last chance to talk to him, and I still have so much more I want to ask.’
‘How will you convince him to let you in?’ Edgar asked.
