True to Mike’s word, the van rolled up outside Kester’s B&B at exactly six o’clock. Apart from a solitary pigeon, roosting on the lamppost opposite, the street was entirely deserted. If he hadn’t been so tired, Kester might have enjoyed the serenity of the summer’s morning; the sun was easing up over the distant hills and bathing the fields with soft amber light. As it was, he hardly noticed any of it, and focused instead on how cross he was at having to be out at this ridiculous hour.
“You look bloody awful,” Mike said jovially, as Kester clambered into the passenger seat next to Miss Wellbeloved. The suspension groaned under the additional weight, like an asthmatic pensioner, and Kester shifted in the seat, worrying that it would collapse under him. “Rough night’s sleep?”
“Just a bit.” Kester grimaced. He wished he’d had time to get some breakfast. Preferably something sweet, like a pain au chocolat and a mug of steaming hot cocoa, like his mother used to make. The prospect of coping with the day ahead, without even the tiniest bit of granulated sugar to push him through, was not an attractive one.
“I hope you weren’t scared last night,” said Pamela, leaning over from the backseat. She patted his shoulder, finishing with a grasp of his elbow. “Any nightmares?” She looked sickeningly fresh and alert, given the early hour.
“I didn’t get much sleep,” Kester replied wearily. His eyes felt as though someone had stuffed them with grit, then sanded them down for good measure.
“Ah, but tonight, you will sleep like a baby,” Dr Ribero announced grandly from the backseat. “You will be so worn out by today, you will not be able to stop yourself. You will see.”
Oh great, thought Kester resentfully. So whatever we’re doing today not only involves the supernatural, but it’s going to involve physical exertion too. It felt like the world’s worst combination—his two most hated things. The unexpected and sport.
Pamela squawked as the van bounced over a speedbump with a protesting creak. “I wish you’d book this thing in for a service,” she complained. “Every time it goes over a bump, it feels like the bottom’s about to fall out.”
“Well, it does have to cope with rather a heavy load, doesn’t it,” drawled Serena, who was curled up in the other corner.
“Was that a jibe about my weight?”
“Of course not,” Serena said, in a voice that implied exactly the opposite.
“Well, not all of us can be blessed with the figures of stick insects,” Pamela replied, poking her in the ribs. “And at least I’ve got breasts.”
“No question of that,” Serena agreed, with a wry look at Pamela’s voluminous bosom.
“Ladies, ladies, it’s too early in the morning for that sort of talk,” Mike said, changing up a gear. “I’m a red-blooded man, after all.” The van crunched under his abrasive handling.
“Oh Mike, you are funny,” Pamela tittered. Serena snorted, shutting her eyes.
“Would you like a quinoa and hemp bar?” Miss Wellbeloved offered, rummaging around in her handbag. “They’re exceptionally good at providing you with slow-release energy.”
Kester didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about, but nodded anyway. The mention of the word “bar” implied some sort of snack product, which hopefully might have a chocolate coating, or at the very least, a peanut or two. He was disappointed to be delivered a thin slab of something distinctly homemade, which looked about the same colour as wallpaper paste. Upon nibbling it, he realised it tasted like wallpaper paste too, but he nibbled through it nonetheless. At least it was food, albeit not terribly edible.
“So, did you manage to get any sleep last night?” Mike asked, roaring the van up into another gear and narrowly missing the kerb. “Or were thoughts of banshees keeping you awake?”
Kester pulled a face. He thought he might have dozed off for an hour or so at one point, but mostly, he’d been plagued by images of the horrible creature he’d seen the day before. It went without saying that he had left the light on all night. “I might have had a bit of sleep,” he replied curtly. “Not much though.”
“Everyone is frightened the first time they see something supernatural,” Pamela consoled. “It’s a very normal reaction, don’t worry.”
“Yeah, I absolutely wet myself when I first saw a spirit,” Mike interrupted.
“He means that literally,” Serena added. “I’d like to clarify that when I first saw a spirit, I was only a child, and I wasn’t frightened at all.”
“That’s because you frightened it instead.” Mike swung round the bend, throwing them around like ragdolls. “It probably took one look at you and fled back to the spirit world at top speed.”
“Shut up, Mike.”
Pamela tapped Kester on the back. “You do get used to it, after a while.”
“What, spirits or Serena’s constant snide comments?” Mike asked. Serena delivered a glare of pure fury, before rolling over and feigning sleep.
“I’m not sure I want to get used to it,” Kester replied. “I think I was quite happy not knowing any of it existed, actually.”
“Ah well, mate, too late for that now. Might as well adjust to the idea,” Mike said, with a cheerful nod. “Some spirits are alright actually. I got challenged to a drinking contest by one in Ireland once. That was a night and a half, I can tell you.”
“How on earth do you have a drinking contest with a ghost?” Kester said, eyes widening.
Mike laughed. “Well, let’s just say he drank me under the table. Unfair advantage really, given he could float above the table instead. But there we go.”
“You’ll swiftly realise,” Serena added, opening her eyes again, “that Mike seizes any opportunity to be drunk under the table. We might as well set up a permanent residence for him underneath a pub table, actually.”
“Whereas Serena will sip one little thimble-full of vodka, go a bit cross-eyed, start spouting ancient Greek philosophy, and pass out in the nearest corner,” Mike replied merrily.
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that night,” Pamela laughed. “That was funny. Especially when she threw up all over that poor man’s shoes.”
“Yes, well I think it’s been much exaggerated over the years,” Serena snarled.
“Oh of course, of course,” Pamela replied. “No truth in it at all, eh?” She winked at the other girl, who glowered in response.
“Where are we actually driving to?” Kester asked, scanning outside for clues. In the mellow grey gloom of the morning, he could see that they were leaving the city, and heading out on to a quieter road, flanked by the occasional thatched cottage. The vast Devonshire countryside rolled ahead of them, like a giant green carpet that someone had flung across the landscape as a casual afterthought.
“We’re off to an estate, just a few miles from here,” Miss Wellbeloved said. “Thorngrove Manor. Well, the woodlands next to Thorngrove Manor, to be precise.”
“Why did we need to leave so early then?” Kester asked.
“All spirits have their own natural rhythms,” Miss Wellbeloved replied. “Times at which they are active. This one is in completely the wrong time zone, so is most active early in the morning, until about nine.”
“What on earth do you mean, ‘wrong time zone’?” Kester asked.
“Didn’t we say?” Miss Wellbeloved peered into the windscreen mirror, smoothing her hair. “It’s a Japanese spirit. Completely dislocated, poor thing. Hasn’t got a clue where it is, and it’s wandering round causing all sorts of problems on the estate.”
“A Japanese spirit?” Kester repeated. “What? I didn’t even realise ghosts could have a nationality.”
“Of course they can!” Dr Ribero declared loudly. “Just like you and me, yes? It is the same for them.”
“Well, that’s simplifying things a bit,” Miss Wellbeloved interrupted firmly. “Spirits live in the spirit world, but have links here, as you’ve already experienced. They link with specific places in our world, but this one had managed to get itself completely muddled, and has ended up in the wrong country. Now it can’t get back, and as you can imagine, that’s making him rather miserable.”
“I suppose that’s a little bit sad,” Kester said thoughtfully. “How do you know it’s miserable?”
“Because it won’t stop bloody crying,” Mike retorted. “It’s putting the toffs right off their shooting parties. Every time they head out to bag some pheasants, they find the birds have flown off, because they’re scared by this ghost. Quite funny really, when you think about it.”
“Anyway,” Miss Wellbeloved continued, ignoring Mike. “The owner of the property is an MP, so as you can imagine, he’s not too pleased. Hence we’ve been called in to sort things out.”
“Yeah, he’s a right fat prat,” Mike laughed. “Looks a bit like a blow-up dingy with an angry little red face at the top.”
Miss Wellbeloved sighed. “Anyway,” she continued. “We’re the nearest agency, so we got the job. It caused us a bit of a headache at first, because we couldn’t find the spirit, but once we’d worked out where it was and when it appeared, it made things a lot easier.”
“So, will you just be sending it back to its, er, what do you call it? Its spirit home?”
“No, we can’t just send it back right away,” Serena cut in scathingly, as though staggered by his stupidity at suggesting such a thing. “You need to be able to access the spirit world, which very few people can do.”
“Okay,” Kester said, “what do you do with them then?”
“We gather the spirit into a storage receptacle,” Miss Wellbeloved explained.
“A water bottle,” Mike added helpfully.
“And then,” Miss Wellbeloved continued, forging ahead in spite of the interruption, “we take it back to our premises for safe storage.”
“So we stuff ’em in a cupboard, basically.”
“Yes, Mike, thank you very much,” she snapped. “We put them in our secure, locked cupboard. Then we take them to the spirit depot once a month, in London.”
“The what?” Kester said, more confused by the minute. Images of a busy sorting depot, stuffed to the brim with loud, terrifying ghosts, filled his head, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or feel utterly depressed that such a thing might actually exist.
“It’s just a drop off point, run by Infinite Enterprises, where all ghosts are taken and delivered safely back into their own world,” Mike said. “It’s me who normally gets saddled with the spirit run. Bit of a boring job really.”
“Infinite Enterprises are quite important then, are they?” Kester asked. Mike snorted and refused to reply.
“They’re the only people with the facilities to open spirit doors manually,” Serena clarified. “It’s cutting-edge technology. Costs a fortune. Which is precisely why we don’t have it.”
“Which is why people who can open spirit doors are so valuable,” Ribero muttered. “They’re a lot cheaper.” Miss Wellbeloved looked over her shoulder, shooting him a look.
They sat in silence for a while. The sun gradually filtered colour through the landscape, and the pastel blue hue of the sky hinted at another bright, cloudless day. In spite of his tiredness, Kester enjoyed the sight of the rolling hills in the distance, turning from milk-grey to green under the caress of the sun. Back in Cambridge, there wasn’t much in the way of hills. Here, there was a wildness that made him think of ancient times, before mankind had trampled all over the planet and urbanised it into an endless succession of cities and towns.
“Would anyone like another quinoa and hemp bar?” Miss Wellbeloved offered, pulling the Tupperware pot out of her bag.
“No.” The response was unanimous.
“We’re here now, anyway,” Mike said, swinging through an imposing wrought iron gate. “Not bad timing, either. That’s the perks of driving early.”
They started to jiggle around like pebbles as the van rattled up the extensive driveway. Kester quickly grabbed on to the side of the door for support, mainly to save himself the embarrassment of rolling into Miss Wellbeloved’s lap.
“Rather impressive house,” he said.
“I’ll say. Landed bloody gentry,” Mike grumbled. “All the privileges a title can bring.”
The estate loomed ahead—a giant stone behemoth squatting in the midst of some exceptionally neatly landscaped gardens. It spoke volumes about its owner: important, imposing, and rather self-satisfied.
“I’m not really dressed for meeting anyone important,” Kester said nervously.
“Oh, these lot aren’t important,” Mike said with a growl. “Just because they got born with a silver spoon stuck firmly up their—”
“Yes, thank you, Mike,” Miss Wellbeloved interrupted. She turned to Kester, observing his faded t-shirt with an appraising eye. “You’ll do fine,” she concluded. “They’ll just presume you’re here to tidy up afterwards or something.”
“Oh great,” Kester mumbled. He knew he should have worn his shirt.
He stumbled out onto the driveway, scratching his head in dismay. What am I about to let myself in for? he wondered, looking over at the woodland in the distance, a silhouette of treetops huddled behind an expanse of immaculate lawn. Is there really another ghost, lurking somewhere in those trees? Even if it was only a small, sobbing spirit, he wasn’t really sure he was in the mood to meet it.
A door slammed, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked over to see a portly figure marching down the stone stairs to greet them. His stomach was only just contained by his dressing gown, which threatened to come loose with every forceful step.
“Oh, here we go,” Serena muttered. “Here comes Lord Flab-gut now,”
“Flanburgh, not Flab-gut, and don’t be so rude,” Miss Wellbeloved hissed. Pamela giggled.
“Aha, so you’re here,” the man declared, as he pulled slowly to a stop, like a steam train creaking into a station. His strident tones startled a gull roosting on the roof above, sending it flapping into the sky. “Well, I’m glad you’ve come. The whole situation is becoming quite unmanageable.”
“What has happened?” Dr Ribero said, striding over to take charge of the situation. “No threatening behaviour, I hope?”
“Oh no, no, nothing of that sort,” Lord Flanburgh said, tightening his dressing gown. “It’s just the crying. It’s such a god-awful nuisance. I shall be glad to be rid of it. It’s quite ruined my shooting season; I can tell you. Not to mention all the mud it’s produced. Loud, messy little bugger, it really is.”
Mike snorted, and quickly turned it into a cough.
Lord Flanburgh eyed him suspiciously before continuing. “No, that ruddy thing has been exceptional trouble, and obviously having to keep everything hush hush has been rather tricky. I was worried that a few of the lads on the shoot might run off to the press, and we couldn’t have that now, could we?” He gave a meaningful nod, a gesture ruined by the fact that he could only tilt his head slightly, due to the size of his double chin.
“Well, we are here now, and we will have this spirit gone within an hour or so, okay?” Dr Ribero said, rubbing his hands together. “This is not a difficult case, now we know where the little chap is hiding.”
Lord Flanburgh chortled. “I’d hardly call it a little chap. Little monster more like. Ruddy odd creature. Glad to be shot of it, sir, glad to be shot of it. Still, as the wife said, at least it wasn’t in the house. That never would have done. Ruining all our Queen Anne furniture. Doesn’t even bear thinking about.”
“Shall we get started then?” Miss Wellbeloved said, looking at her watch. “We don’t want to lose our opportunity.”
“Quite so, yes. Do carry on. Do what needs to be done to get the little blighter gone, won’t you?”
Ribero nodded graciously. “Ah yes. The little ‘blighter’ will be out of your wood in no time at all, yes? Now, if you will excuse us, your Lordship.”
Lord Flanburgh gave his stomach a reflective pat. Kester suspected he might be contemplating his breakfast, which would be a lot better than a quinoa and hemp bar. “Yes, good luck to you,” he concluded, then spun on his heel and headed back towards the house.
“He is a strange man,” Dr Ribero whispered, as they watched the elephantine figure wobble back into the house.
“A fat bastard more like,” Mike muttered. This time, no one disagreed with him.
“Right, shall we get going?” Serena said. “Mike, why don’t you go and get the kit?”
“Why do I have to go and get the kit?” Mike grumbled. “You’ve got hands, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but you’re always going on about your rippling muscles,” Serena retorted. “Time to put them to work.” She stalked off in the direction of the woods without a backward glance. Pamela scuttled after her eagerly. Miss Wellbeloved looked at Dr Ribero, sighed, and followed suit. Kester saw no other option but to scurry after them, heart pounding. He was anxious about what he was about to see, but oddly excited too. In fact, in spite of his tiredness, he felt more awake than he had done in weeks, months perhaps. It was all rather exhilarating, despite his deep-seated fear of what lay ahead.
The trees were much larger than they’d looked from a distance. Great oaks hulked above them, weighed down with bumpy leaves, and tall birches towered like elderly men, reaching haphazardly to the sky. Walking through their trunks, he suddenly felt rather small and awed, much like he often felt when entering a cathedral. The air was still. Strangely still, in fact. He couldn’t detect a single bird chirruping, in spite of the fact that it was early morning. It was as though someone had pressed the mute button, draining the wood of all noise.
“Quiet, isn’t it?” Mike chimed, out of breath from running to catch up.
“Why is it so silent?” Kester asked, looking nervously over his shoulder. He half-expected to see ghosts leaping out from behind every tree.
“Animals generally don’t like spirits,” Miss Wellbeloved explained. “If a spirit takes up residence, you can be sure that most of the animals will have moved out within a day or so. There’s something about the supernatural that sets their teeth on edge.”
Much like me, Kester thought. I really can’t say I blame them.
“How much further do we have to go?” he asked.
“It’s quite a way in,” Pamela explained. She was already beginning to pant a bit. “Probably another twenty minutes’ walk?”
As it turned out, twenty minutes was more like three-quarters of an hour. The wood was far larger than he had realised, and part of the journey was a steep uphill climb. Soon, despite the coolness of the morning air, Kester had worked up a sweat, and was struggling to catch his breath. He was heartily relieved he hadn’t worn his smart shirt after all.
“So, when did you first get into all of this?” he asked Pamela, as much to break the eerie silence as anything else.
“What, you mean when did I join the agency?”
He nodded.
“Well, I always knew I wasn’t normal,” she said, patting the perspiration off her cheeks. Her frizzy hair was pasted down against her forehead, forming a round helmet of sweat. “I used to pick up on spirits all the time when I was little. My parents were terrified. Luckily, I eventually met the right people, who guided me in the direction of Ribero’s agency.”
“Then you realised there were other people like you?”
She grinned. “That’s right. It’s comforting to know you’re not alone.”
“And what was my mum like?”
Pamela paused, glancing over at Miss Wellbeloved. She looked uncomfortable. “Your mum was a very gentle, sweet-natured person,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “And of course, celebrated across the country, because of her unique talents.”
“I was also highlighted as a great talent when I joined the agency,” Serena interrupted, sidling up behind them. She was still wearing stilettoes, but seemed unfazed about trampling through the woods in them. Maybe she even wears them to bed, Kester thought, irritated by her presence. He’d wanted to hear more about his mother.
“Were you?” he asked, without much enthusiasm.
“Yes. I’m young, but I’ve already got a reputation as one of the best extinguishers in the country.” She looked upwards, her green eyes twinkling in the mottled sunlight. “Put it like this. I take no prisoners. I’m not down with this woolly, softly-softly approach. I get rid of spirits and I don’t mess around.”
“You know Jennifer doesn’t like you talking like that,” Pamela reminded her.
“No, I don’t.” Miss Wellbeloved looked over her shoulder, giving Serena a warning look. “Spirits have every much right to be respected as you do.”
“Aha, we are very nearly there,” Dr Ribero announced, as they started to clamber downhill along a narrow path.
“How can you tell?” puffed Kester, marginally peeved to see that Dr Ribero didn’t appear remotely tired after the brisk walk. For an older man, he really is in good shape, he thought enviously, noting his father’s flat stomach underneath the white shirt. He looked down at his own quivering paunch and frowned.
“Can you not hear it?” Dr Ribero whispered, halting him with a gentle press of the hand. “Listen.”
Kester paused. Sure enough, as his ears adjusted once more to the silence, he could detect a faint noise floating on the still air. A whispery, but undeniably clear sob. The hairs on his neck promptly stood on end.
“My goodness,” he breathed, astonished. “It sounds like a human crying.”
“Not so much when you get up close,” Dr Ribero said. “Then you can hear the difference. You will see.”
I’m not sure I want to see, Kester thought, feeling suddenly cold. The madness of the situation hit him with sudden, brutal force. This time yesterday, he hadn’t even believed in ghosts. Now, here he was, out searching for one in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people that he scarcely even knew. What on earth has happened to my life? he thought with bewilderment. And how do I get back to being normal again?
“Come on, let’s get on with it,” Serena grumbled. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, I could do with a full English breakfast right now,” Mike said, yawning. “Sausages, bacon, couple loaves of toast, that’d do me nicely.”
They pressed forward, wrestling with the increasingly tangled undergrowth. The crying increased in volume. As they got closer, Kester could detect a distinct difference to the sobbing. It sounded hollow, like an echo through a tunnel, with a wispy after-note that hung in the air, vibrating to nothing. The nearer they got, the more Kester wished he could retreat again. Pamela noticed his discomfort and gave his arm a squeeze.
“Honestly, it’s fine, love,” she whispered. “Nothing to be scared of.”
“Okay,” he squeaked, wishing he could believe her. He felt utterly terrified.
Kester pressed after them, through a thicket of particularly dense foliage, trying not to sting his arms on the nettles. All the while, the crying became louder and more insistent, combined with another sound that he couldn’t quite identify. A grainy, rhythmic noise, like gravel being thrown against a wall. What was it? It sounded so familiar, yet he couldn’t quite place it. Then, as he stepped into the clearing and saw the cause of the sound, he realised instantly what it was.
“Oh my goodness, it’s raining on him,” he breathed. He tried to speak further, but the sight struck him speechless, his mouth gaping open and shut like a surprised haddock.
Standing alone in the clearing stood a tiny creature, as perfectly formed as a china doll, though he stood no taller than an average sized dog. He, if indeed it was male, was dressed in an impossibly white gown, which glowed with the intensity of a celestial body. Initially, Kester was confused by what appeared to be a huge disc, hovering above the spirit’s head. Then he realised. It was a delicate little parasol. This ghost is carrying an umbrella! he thought incredulously, unsure whether to start laughing or tear out of the woods in horror.
The sound that he had heard was the noise of heavy raindrops falling on the ghost, and the ghost alone. All around the creature’s bare little feet, the ground had turned to thick mud. In fact, the whole clearing was virtually a bog. It was a stark contrast to the parched ground they’d walked on to get here.
“Amefurikozo,” Miss Wellbeloved said, stepping forward. “Koko ni kunasai.”
“What does that mean?” Kester whispered to Serena.
“I haven’t got the foggiest,” Serena replied. “Jennifer’s probably just learnt a few phrases of Japanese to put the spirit at ease.”
“Amefurikozo is its name,” Dr Ribero corrected. “He is a Japanese yokai. A little child spirit. You see?”
Whatever Miss Wellbeloved had said to the ghost, it appeared to have worked. The creature looked up, umbrella tilted like a halo. Two huge, black eyes, empty and knowing as a field mouse, surveyed each of them in turn. Kester couldn’t tell whether it was the result of the crying or the rain, but moisture had started to corrode the spirit’s white cheeks, melting them like candle wax.
“Koko ni kunasai,” Miss Wellbeloved repeated, gesturing to the ghost. “Koko ni kunasai.”
“What are you saying to him now?” Ribero whispered.
“I think I’m asking him to come here, in Japanese,” she replied.
“Hang on, where did you learn the phrase?” Mike asked.
Miss Wellbeloved rolled her eyes. “On the internet, like anyone else would,” she hissed. “Why?”
“Was it a proper website?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you could be saying anything to him, like ‘do you need the toilet’ or ‘your burger’s about to fall out of its bun’ or something like that, couldn’t you? If it’s not a reputable site.”
“Oh do shut up, Mike.”
Serena laughed out loud, and the spirit wailed at the noise, a mournful yowl that swept through the clearing like a bitter breeze. It held its porcelain-pale hands out to ward them off, and glided backwards over the turbulent mud.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Miss Wellbeloved said, glaring at them all. “Will you all please be quiet?” She edged towards the trembling ghost, who was sobbing with renewed vigour.
“What a sad creature,” Kester said, touched in spite of himself. He’d never seen such a morose, frightened sight. Although its face, with its billiard ball eyes and colourless features, was horribly unnatural, its inner turmoil was so raw that it was impossible not to be moved.
“Kester,” Dr Ribero whispered, sidling up beside him, quiet as a serpent. “Tell me, do you see this door again?”
“What door?”
“You know, you know,” Ribero spluttered back, poking him in the ribs. “The one you saw with the Bean Si, yes? You remember. It was only yesterday, right? Can you see it now?”
“You mean the weird opening I saw behind the banshee?”
“Yes, of course that is what I mean! Do you see it?”
Kester looked back at the little spirit, who had stopped retreating and was now watching Miss Wellbeloved fearfully, clasping its bird-like hands together in a ball of anxiety. Kester squinted hard, scanning the area for signs of the strange ragged opening he had seen behind the banshee, but he couldn’t see anything. Only trees, a little raincloud, and a lot of mud.
“No, sorry,” he said finally. “Why do you ask?” It was a curious question. Why does this door thing matter so much to the old man? he wondered. It’s about the fifth time he’s mentioned it, it’s obviously of some importance. I hardly like to tell him I think I imagined it all.
“Hmm, that is strange,” Dr Ribero muttered, clearly disappointed. “Very strange indeed. I would have thought you would have been able to see it again.”
“Could everyone please stop gossiping and help instead?” Miss Wellbeloved whispered, throwing them a filthy look. “I rather feel as though I’m doing all the work here.”
Serena yanked the bag off Mike’s shoulder, nearly pulling him over with it.
“Oi, watch out!” Mike barked, rubbing his arm. Serena rolled her eyes and knelt down, pulling various contraptions out of the bag, until she found what she was looking for. She held the water bottle in the air.
“Are you ready for me to start then?” she asked, tiptoeing closer.
“Not quite,” the older woman replied. “I’m trying telepathic calming, it seems to be having some effect, but we need him a lot more settled than this before we get him into storage. That’s why it really would help if everyone would stop talking. It’s difficult enough to communicate with a foreign spirit as it is.”
“Just let me stuff him in the bottle!” Serena snapped. “Otherwise we’ll be here all day.”
“No, we’ll treat him with the respect he deserves,” Miss Wellbeloved snapped back. “We don’t need another frightened spirit, Serena. Remember the last time.”
Serena groaned theatrically, stuffing her hands into her tight black jeans.
“Watashitachi wa tasukemasu,” Miss Wellbeloved continued, holding her hands out. “Come on, little thing. We’re trying to help you.”
The spirit sniffed in a manner that was uncommonly like a human, wiping its tiny doll nose on its sleeve. It’s actually quite sweet, Kester thought, entranced by its delicate features. He smiled. Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all.
Almost as if to prove him wrong, the spirit suddenly poured out a whirlwind of gibberish, a string of foreign words that caught the air, gusting it into a frenzy. Kester felt moisture on his arms, first a light mist, then a steady drizzle. The creature started to wail, flinging its spidery arms into the air.
“Oh dear,” Pamela said, looking upwards. “He’s made it rain on us. Jennifer, are you sure you got that Japanese translation right?”
“You probably just insulted his mother without meaning to, or told him he had a face like a bison’s backside,” Mike added. “You should never rely on the internet. It’s a minefield of misinformation.”
“What is he doing?” Kester asked with growing alarm. The wind collecting in the clearing was blowing harder, flying round and round like a mini whirlwind, dragging leaves off the nearby bushes and trees and flinging them into their faces. Above their heads, clouds were forming, miniature storms, throwing down rain upon them. The little spirit stood in the middle of it all, now howling at the sky, its mouth distended into a maw of distress and anger.
“Hmm,” Miss Wellbeloved tutted, putting her hands on her hips and surveying the situation. “This is unfortunate.”
“Time for me to get him in the bottle?” Serena suggested, with more than a trace of sarcasm.
“Yes, I think it is definitely the time for you to get him into the bottle!” Dr Ribero said, his voice hardly audible over the shrieking wind, not to mention the shrill screech of the spirit. “Let’s waste no more time here, I am getting very wet and this is an expensive shirt.”
Serena nodded, flicking her soaking fringe from her eyes, then unscrewed the lid of the bottle.
“Stop!” Kester suddenly shouted, wiping the wetness from his glasses. They looked at him expectantly. He pointed to the creature. “Look! Can’t you see it?”
“Can’t we see what?” Dr Ribero asked, peering through the sheets of rain at the spirit, who was now starting to spin around like a miniature dervish.
“That door thing!” Kester said, half-scared, half-excited. “It just appeared again, as he started doing all this scary stuff. It’s there, right behind him!”
The opening in the air was much thinner this time. The narrow slit was like a fissure in a cliff, only just big enough for a child to clamber through. Beyond the door was only darkness, though the edges glittered, like moisture shining in the moonlight.
“Can’t you guys see it?” he asked again, looking round in bewilderment. However, surveying the rest of them, it was amazing anybody could see anything. The rain was now falling as solidly as a power-shower, causing mist and spray to fly round them like a waterfall.
“You see the door again?” Dr Ribero squawked. “Are you serious?” He clapped his hands together with undisguised glee. “Where is it, where is it?”
“It’s right there, behind that spirit,” Kester said, pointing again. Then he started to laugh. The whole situation was so ridiculous that he simply couldn’t be scared anymore. He’d entered a world of madness, a world where the old rules no longer applied. It was like stepping directly into Oz, walking straight through the rabbit hole and into insanity. Perhaps I have gone completely crazy, he thought, and started to laugh harder. Oh well, if I have, I’m clearly in good company.
“Get the spirit through the door!” Dr Ribero shouted, giving him a ferocious poke. Kester stumbled, slipping in the mud.
“What do you mean, get it through the door?” he said, wiping the water from his face.
“Push it! Just push it through!”
Kester blinked stupidly. “Push it through?”
“Yes!”
“I’m not going to do that, that’s a bit . . . it’s a bit rude, isn’t it?”
“This is not a social occasion! Forget the manners! Go on, push the spirit through, do it quickly!”
Kester turned back, then saw that the door had gone. Completely disappeared. It was as though it had never been there in the first place.
“It’s gone,” he announced dumbly. “The door, it’s vanished. I don’t know where it’s gone to.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Serena snarled. “While you’re having fun and games, I’m getting completely drenched!” She stepped forward towards the creature, who was now spinning at an eye-wateringly frightening speed, his umbrella forming a perfect moon-like disc above its head.
“This has all gone a bit tits-up, hasn’t it?” Mike commented, wiping the water from his face.
Serena ignored him. Instead, she haughtily raised the bottle into the air, tilting it in the direction of the whirling ghost. Kester watched her with fascination as she frowned, closing her eyes and muttering under her breath.
The spirit, aware of her presence, started to glow, throwing out sparks. Kester backed away, frightened again. He was not only scared for himself, but for Serena, who was now being showered by bright-white embers. However, they bounced harmlessly off her, falling into the mud with a hiss. Indeed, she hardly seemed to notice them. Her lips were now moving at a greater speed, and she started to thrust the bottle at the spirit, pushing it outwards in its direction, then pulling it back again.
“What’s she doing?” Kester whispered.
“Shh,” Pamela said. “You mustn’t disturb her. It’s a serious business.”
The spirit started to screech. It was a dreadful noise, a raw scream of fear, childlike and terrifying in equal measures. It started to spin more haphazardly, tracing widening circles in the mud like a spinning top running out of momentum. Serena started to chant aloud, eerie words that Kester had never heard before, deep and guttural and filled with resonance. The spirit stumbled, skittering across the clearing. It flung itself into the air, then appeared to be pulled down by invisible ropes.
The rain began to cease. Within a few seconds, it had stopped completely. Kester watched with amazement as the creature, with one final yowl, vanished completely.
Serena swiftly screwed the lid on the bottle and nodded. “Job done,” she announced. “Next time, don’t all mess around so much, eh?”
“Where did it go?” Kester asked, shaking the water off his hair.
Serena jiggled the bottle in his direction. “Where do you think it went?”
“But I didn’t see it go in there.”
“That’s why what I do is called extinguishing,” Serena snapped. “I literally extinguish them out of the air, and put them anywhere I please. Which in this case, is this storage unit.” She caught Mike’s eye and added, “The water bottle.”
“Well, that was all very badly handled,” Miss Wellbeloved scolded, wiping down her blouse. “Serena, you must stop treating spirits with such disrespect. It’s exceptionally bad for spirit-human relations.”
“What else would you have had us do?” Serena spluttered indignantly. “You’d completely lost control of the situation. What other option did we have?”
“Yes, but incidences like this only increase hostile hauntings, which you’re very well aware of,” Miss Wellbeloved barked back. “It angers them, Serena, and I cannot say I blame them.”
“Perhaps I could have tried to reach into its mind,” Pamela said, looking troubled.
“No, it wouldn’t have worked,” Miss Wellbeloved said. “You know as well as I do that if they don’t understand your language, it’s as good as pointless.”
“Look, the spirit is captured, and that is all that matters, is it not?” Dr Ribero said, patting the ladies on the back. “Come on, this is not worth having squabbles over. We have done our job, we will get paid, and now we can have our breakfast, yes?”
“Would it have helped if I’d have been able to push it through that door?” Kester asked suddenly. They all looked at him, as though only just noticing his presence.
“Yes, it would have done,” Dr Ribero said, after a pause. “I believe you are seeing a door directly through to the spirit world. If that is the case, then it is a marvellous gift indeed.”
“I don’t think I have any gifts like that,” Kester said, tittering, then straightening his expression when he realised his father was being serious. “I mean,” he clarified, “I’m not like all of you. I’m normal. There’s nothing special about me.”
“But you do not deny that it is twice you have now seen this doorway?” Dr Ribero said, folding his arms across his dripping wet chest.
Kester pondered for a moment. “I think so,” he said slowly. “But I’m not sure what it was, to be honest. And as I said, I’m the least likely person to have any sort of supernatural gift. That’s just not me.”
“You can say that again,” Serena drawled. “You’re about as in tune with the spirit world as a boulder.”
“It would not surprise me at all if you could see the doorway to the spirits,” Dr Ribero said, glaring at Serena. He draped an arm around Kester’s shoulders, grinning. “After all, that’s what your mother could do.”
Kester jumped, dislodging Dr Ribero’s arm. “What? You’re saying my mother could see doors to the spirit world? But that’s ridiculous! She would have told me!”
“Just like she told you about me, and about my agency?” Ribero said, with a dry chuckle. “I think, Kester, you must understand that your mother had more secrets than you realise.”
“Yes, you can certainly say that again,” Miss Wellbeloved muttered. She coughed, straightening herself. “But it is true. Gretchen had a remarkable gift. That’s part of the reason we were England’s finest supernatural agency in those days. Every other agency was desperate to hire her. It’s a very rare thing to be able to do.”
“Look, can we start walking back?” Mike interrupted, shivering. “Not being funny, but I feel like someone’s chucked a bucket of icy water over me. Oh, wait a minute, that’s pretty much what happened.”
“Yes, let’s get back, I’m freezing,” Pamela agreed. Her thin blouse had gone alarmingly see-through in the rain, revealing an enormous bra with straps like an industrial crane. However, she seemed completely unfazed by her exposure, and kept drawing attention to it by flapping her wet top outwards and letting it flop back on to her skin with a squelchy thump.
They started to trudge back along the path they’d come in by. Kester felt strangely elated. Energy coursed through him like electricity. Is there really something special about me? he wondered. Have I really got a gift? He’d become so accustomed to people finding him dull that he rather liked the idea of having a special power. Even if it was a supernatural one.
Still, he wondered why his mother had never told him about her own gift. Why had she kept so many things from him? Wouldn’t they all have been happier if they had lived with Dr Ribero instead? Why hadn’t the doctor asked his mother to marry him? And what was Miss Wellbeloved’s problem with his mum? There were so many unanswered questions, that it made him feel light-headed. Watching the Argentinian doctor stride ahead, he felt even more confused. What other secrets is he hiding? he wondered. What else does he know, that he’s not telling me?
Pamela nudged him, interrupting his thoughts. “So,” she said in a confidential tone. “Are you going to stay a bit longer then? You’re not still planning on going back to Cambridge today, are you?”
Kester considered. “I don’t really know,” he confessed. Part of him still wanted to go back to the peace and quiet of his home. But he couldn’t deny the fact that his curiosity had been aroused. It was all too interesting. Unnerving. Occasionally terrifying. But fascinating, nonetheless.
“You know that you’re welcome to stay at mine for a few nights, if that helps. The offer is still there.”
“That’s very kind of you,” he replied, reluctant to commit just yet. He wanted to think things over first, and properly weigh up his options.
The walk back seemed a lot shorter than the walk there, mainly because they were walking downhill, not up. As they emerged onto the sunny lawn, it seemed as though they’d passed through a time warp into the present day. The difference between the quiet forest and the perfectly mowed grass was extreme.
“Oh look, old flab-gut has spotted us already,” Serena grumbled as they paced towards the driveway. Sure enough, the familiar spherical form of Lord Flanburgh could be seen, marching down the stone stairs to greet them. Thankfully, he was fully clothed this time.
“How did you get on?” he bellowed, startling yet more birds from the gutters above him. “All sorted, is it?”
“Ah yes, it most certainly is,” Dr Ribero announced, stepping forward with a flourish. “No more spirit. We have him captured.”
“Well, that’s ruddy good news. Glad to hear it,” Flanburgh replied. He paused, staring incredulously at them all. Although the worst of the water had dripped off, they were still soaked, not to mention steaming slightly in the mid-morning heat.
“Dear god, what happened to you all?” he asked, stuffing his hands into his mustard-coloured jacket. “Did you fall in the stream or something?”
“Ah, no. It is a long story,” Dr Ribero answered, rubbing his shirt down.
Lord Flanburgh chortled. “Ah, the little sod gave you a soaking, did he? That’s a bit unfortunate. Ah well, at least it’s warm. You’ll dry out in no time.” He leant over, smacking the doctor on the back. “The main thing is, you’ve solved my problem. I’ll see to it that Millicent pays the money over straight away.”
“Wonderful, thank you,” Dr Ribero said.
“I must say,” Lord Flanburgh continued, as he led them to the van, “I had my doubts about your team. The government weren’t exactly singing your praises, if you know what I mean. Infinite Enterprises tend to be the chaps that are called out these days, aren’t they? But you’ve done a good job, well done you.”
Dr Ribero grimaced at the mention of Infinite Enterprises, not to mention the distinctly patronising tone of the other man. Mike chuckled, helping the doctor into the van by giving him a hearty shove on the backside.
“Plus you’re a good sight cheaper!” Flanburgh continued, calling over Mike’s broad shoulder. “I shall make sure to mention it when I’m next in the Houses of Parliament.”
“Very kind of you,” Dr Ribero said wearily from the back seat. “Just let us know if you need our help again, okay?”
“Yes, of course, of course. Quite so. Why hire a team of London professionals when you’ve got a perfectly good little local company who can just about handle the job instead, eh?”
Dr Ribero growled in response, which was thankfully muffled by the slamming of the van door.
“What a prat,” Mike said, spinning the van round in a haphazard arc around Flanburgh. No one contradicted him.
“Oh, by the way everyone,” Pamela announced, as they bounced along the driveway. “Good news.”
“What is that?” Ribero asked, folding his arms and looking very much as though he was about to take a nap.
“Kester said he was going to stay at mine for a few days,” she said. “So Julio, you’ve got your son around for a little bit longer.”
“Er, well, I didn’t definitely say I was going to stay,” Kester began, but his protests were drowned out by Ribero’s exclamations. It seemed that the announcement had suddenly galvanised him into action, propelling him forward to give Kester a hearty slap on the back.
“That is wonderful news!” he said, with a toothy smile that seemed to extend across his entire face. In spite of himself, Kester grinned in response. It had been a strange twenty-four hours. Undoubtedly the strangest he’d ever experienced. But for the first time in a long while, he felt excited.
“Well then, I suppose he could come along for the Green Lady job, couldn’t he?” Serena stated. There was a distinct air of challenge in her voice.
“Oh goodness, I’m not sure about that,” Miss Wellbeloved said quickly. “He’s vastly inexperienced, regardless of whatever special gifts he might possess.”
“Well, his ‘special gifts’ might be rather useful with this job, don’t you think?” Serena answered, sneering in his direction. Kester couldn’t ignore the drip of sarcasm lacing the comment. Why is she so hostile all the time? he wondered. It’s like she gets a kick out of being mean to me.
“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Dr Ribero said, still beaming. “Kester, would you like to join us on this job tomorrow?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about it,” he replied, feeling a little overwhelmed. He grabbed hold of the door handle as Mike hurtled the van round a particularly tight bend.
“Why don’t you give him the diary to read?” Pamela suggested. “After all, you always say it’s good to brush up on the case before starting, don’t you?”
“That is a good idea,” Dr Ribero said. “We will give it to you to read this afternoon, and then you will be prepared for tomorrow, yes?”
“Erm, if you say so,” Kester stuttered. Once again, he felt as though events were racing ahead of him, leaving him no time to think about things. It was unnervingly like sitting on the world’s fastest rollercoaster, without knowing whether or not it had been safety tested first.
“I’m still not sure this is a wise idea,” Miss Wellbeloved scolded. “I rather think you’re becoming too obsessed with his ability to see the spirit door, and less interested in his welfare, Julio.”
Dr Ribero swatted her comment away with an elegant flick of the wrist. “Ah, he will be fine. He is not some little boy, Jennifer. He is a man, look at him!”
Miss Wellbeloved glanced over at Kester and sighed.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she muttered.
Kester wasn’t quite sure who she was warning—Dr Ribero or himself. Neither prospect made him feel entirely comfortable.
“I will give you the diary when we return to the office,” Dr Ribero said earnestly, before curling up cat-like in the back and shutting his eyes.