Ghostsitters by Angie Sage Page A

clock in the hall it struck thirteen and Wanda jumped in surprise. The clock always strikes thirteen, so it didn’t mean that it was thirteen o’clock—although it nearly was . Both hands were pointing at twelve—which, as even Wanda knows, is midday. Midday—and we had only just got up. What would Aunt Tabby have said?
    We tiptoed past Uncle Drac’s cupboard—I don’t know why we were tiptoeing except that that is what you do when a house is very quiet—and I could not resist a peek inside, just in case Uncle Drac had come back for my birthday. Of course he hadn’t. His old black cloak was hanging up like it always does, his green string scarf was slung over another hook, and his crutches from when he broke his legs were propped up in the corner. They reminded me so much of Uncle Drac that I felt really sad. And there was no sign of Sir Horace either—just the newspaper left on the chair.
    While Wanda was thumping around the kitchen fixing breakfast, I went to check on the boiler. The boiler does not like being left alone for long and I was afraid it might have gone out. It nearly had. I emptied the ash and got the fire going again with little pieces of wood and coal. Soon it was blazing away, making the hot water pipes rattle and clang like they always do. There was a funny smell coming from the kitchen so I thought breakfastwas probably ready, but as I was about to go, a spooky green glow appeared in the corner of the boiler room by the ash can. It was Edmund.
    Edmund was the first ghost I discovered in Spookie House and when I first saw him I was really excited—and even a little bit scared—but nowadays when I see him I get the same feeling as I do when I am out shopping with Aunt Tabby and she stops to talk to one of her friends and they both go on and on about all kinds of stuff. Yawn.
    â€œHello, Araminta,” said Edmund in his weedy voice.
    â€œOh, hello, Edmund. Must rush. Stuff to do. Bye.”
    I was nearly out of the boiler room when I heard a booming ghostly voice shout, “Miss Spookie!” and Sir Horace lurched out of the cupboard where Brenda keeps all the boiler stuff. He was followed by Fang, who stared at me with his tongue lolling out over his big white teeth. I do like Fang, but he can be a little scary close up.
    â€œSir Horace! What are you doing in the cupboard?”
    Sir Horace did not sound happy. “Unfortunately, Miss Spookie, I have been forced to spend the night here after an incident involving a flowerpot.”
    â€œOh dear,” I said.
    â€œThe only reason I did not leave immediately, Miss Spookie, was that I wished to say good-bye.”
    I was shocked. “Good-bye?”
    â€œIndeed, Miss Spookie, I am leaving forCatheter Cottage. Please give my regards to your aunt and uncle, and, of course, the delightful Miss Wizzard. Come, Edmund, Fang. Away!” Sir Horace swung his left leg forward, the rest of him followed, and he started clanking out of the boiler room.
    â€œNo!” I said. “Please don’t go, Sir Horace. Please .”
    What a horrible birthday this was turning out to be.
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    â€œBreakfast!” yelled Wanda from the kitchen—and suddenly I had a Plan. Not a big one, it is true, but a small one with potential.
    â€œCome and have a farewell breakfast with us, Sir Horace,” I said.
    For a moment I thought he was going to say no. But he bowed and said, “A fine tradition, Miss Spookie. At Hernia Hall we used to have many splendid farewell breakfasts.”
    When Sir Horace saw what Wanda had cooked for breakfast he must have been glad that he was a ghost and didn’t have to eat anything. As we came into the kitchen, Wanda was taking something out from under the grill. It looked like toast with green glue on it, although I could not be sure. “What’s that ?” I asked.
    â€œGummy bears on toast,” said Wanda, sounding rather proud.