CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A DAY OF FUN – TUDOR-STYLE

Henry hover-sat on the swivel chair by Jonny’s desk and spun round and round. He ate the yoghurt, which splatted through him and out on to the seat. Then he burped loudly and lobbed the pot over his shoulder. It hit the window and clattered to the floor.

‘So we’re going to be brothers,’ said Jonny, sounding decidedly unsure. It had been a nutty few days, and now brother swapping seemed to have got even weirder.

‘Why not?’ said Henry, smiling. ‘Are you ready for some brotherly fun? Two chaps up for a lark! What say you? The weather is fair. Shall we ride out?’

‘On our bikes?’ asked Jonny.

‘Bikes? What? On our horses!’ said Henry. ‘Where are the stables?’

‘We don’t have stables or horses, sorry, Your Amazingness,’ said Jonny. Henry glowered. Jonny shrunk back a little.

‘No matter,’ said Henry. ‘We shall devise some other sport. How about archery?’

Henry disappeared through the bedroom wall and ghosted off towards the park. Jonny skipped downstairs, pulled on his shoes and quickly ran after him. Henry was the king, after all. You just kind of had to.

Using branches from a tree, the two fashioned a bow and then Henry whittled an arrow with a small knife he kept tucked inside his robes.

After seeing the king turn from jolly to angry and back again faster than Widget could eat ham, Jonny was surprised at how calm and patient Henry was. Jonny began to relax and enjoy himself. Soon he was shooting cans off a bench.

‘Egad!’ Henry roared as Jonny struck another one. ‘That’s the spirit.’

Jonny felt proud of Henry’s praise – Ted always said he was rubbish at everything – and he felt cared for too. It had proved hard work being the older brother, looking out for Mervyn and trying to guess what Hari needed. But Henry was large and in charge, as only the ghost of a dead king from the sixteenth century can be.

In the afternoon Jonny took Henry to the Common, his favourite place. Henry knew lots about nature and hunting. He showed Jonny how to creep up on a duck, and explained how Widget might be trained to flush out deer. Ted just liked building dens here, which was good too, but an afternoon with Henry was much more adventurous. Before they left for home, Jonny showed the dead king the dreaded Hanging Pants of Doom.

‘There is nought to fear in those breeches,’ snorted Henry when he saw them. ‘Shoot them down with an arrow. Go on, lad!’

At first Jonny felt uneasy even looking at the pants, but soon he was pinging arrows at them. He didn’t manage to shoot them out of the tree but it felt good to be facing up to them for once.

‘Thanks for a lovely time, Your Spectacularness,’ said Jonny as they sat in the kitchen in the late afternoon.

‘It was enjoyable, wasn’t it?’ said Henry, his ghostly hand flying through Jonny’s shoulder as he attempted to slap him heartily. ‘Perhaps tomorrow we could joust, eh, Jeffrey?’

Jonny heard a key in the front door. ‘That’s my mum,’ he said. ‘Please, Your Royal Epicness, if you could just stay quietly upstairs for a while, I would be humbly grateful and everything, thank you so much, Your Lordship Sir.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Henry. ‘You know me … quiet as a mouse!’

He roared with laughter then clapped his hand over his mouth.

‘Sorry!’ he whispered and winked at Jonny.