Grandfather and The Ghost

Grandfather and The Ghost

Hugh McCracken

BeWrite Books, UK www.bewrite.net

Published internationally by BeWrite Books, UK. 363 Badminton Road, Nibley, Bristol. BS37 5JF. © Hugh McCracken 2002 The right of Hugh McCracken to be identified as the author has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. The right of Hugh McCracken to be recognized as the sole author is further asserted in accordance with international copyright agreements, laws and statutes. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 1-904224-63-6 Also available in paperback from www.bewrite.net Digitally produced by BeWrite Books This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s consent in any form other than this current form and without a similar condition being imposed upon a subsequent purchaser. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the permission of the publisher, BeWrite Books, UK. This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity between characters in its pages and persons living or dead is unintentional and co-incidental. The author and publishers recognize and respect any trademarks included in this work by introducing such registered titles either in italics or with a capital letter. Original cover art © Alan Geldard, 2002

Hugh McCracken has lived in Canada since 1967 with wife, Lyn. They have two sons and three grandchildren and, for thirteen years, he was principal of a junior/senior high school. The family and workplace experiences might account for Hugh’s magic touch when it comes to stories for children and young adults and a rare ability to introduce historical fact so subtly the reader hardly realises he’s being educated as he’s entertained. Also by Hugh McCracken: Rules of the Hunt Ring of Stone The Time Drum BeWrite Books, 2002 Coming Soon Return from the Hunt

To all my boys who sat through the Cognitive Research Trust Thinking Sessions and came up with some really “way out” ideas – thanks.

Contents

Grandfather The Ghost

GRANDFATHER

Chapter One

The plane passed through thick cloud and touched down in Glasgow shortly after dawn into a drizzle. I had to wait until everyone else got off. “Right, Eric, let’s go.” The stewardess smiled and gave me a gentle push towards the exit. “No, leave the label on for now,” she said. “We don’t want to get lost, do we?” That darned label. You’d think I was just a kid. I’m thirteen. And what’s with the ‘we’? Was she goofy enough to get lost here? “What?” The stewardess had said something as we moved up the ramp. “I said, do you know who’s meeting you?” “My Grandfather. Mom’s dad.” “Good, you’ll know him then.”

8

Hugh McCracken “Nope. I’ve never seen him – not even a photograph.” The stewardess sighed. What has she to sigh about? It’s me that’s going to be stuck here. If only Mom and Dad hadn’t decided to drive to Ottawa. If they’d flown, they wouldn’t have been in that pile-up. I rubbed my eyes. “It’s okay, Eric. Need a tissue?” “I’m not crying,” I said. “I’ve something in my eye.” Inside the terminal, the stewardess helped me find my case and walked me through customs to the arrival hall. We were last out. No one was still waiting. We stopped and looked around, but nobody seemed even vaguely interested in me. The stewardess sighed again. “Let’s go to the Air Canada desk and see if anyone has been asking about you.” I heaved up on the handle of my case with both hands. “Here, let me take that just now. You pull my bag.” I bit back, “I can manage.” “Oh wow, it is heavy, isn’t it? We should have got a trolley.” At the desk, a red-faced man in black argued with one of the clerks. “The boy hasn’t come off that plane. Don’t you have a passenger list?” My stewardess touched his elbow. “Can we help?” He turned, the mouth open to shout. When saw me the mouth clamped shut. His thin lips a straight line zippered shut across a thin angular face. 9

Grandfather and The Ghost “You must be Eric,” he said, finally. “You took your time.” The stewardess started to explain. “No matter, lass,” the man interrupted. “He’s here now. Let’s go, lad.” He ignored my outstretched hand. “Could I see some identification, please?” My stewardess stood her ground through the man’s stare. With a shrug, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. She skimmed its contents. “That seems to be in order, Mr MacAlistair.” I didn’t hear any more of the conversation. This was my Grandfather? “Come, lad. I don’t have all day to waste. Pick up your case for I’ll not carry it for you. A grown lad like you should be ashamed to let a woman carry it for him.” My stewardess pulled forward a trolley and lifted the case onto it. She smiled. “ ’Bye, Eric. Luck.” I smiled at her and said, thanks. When I turned to go, she put a hand on my arm. “This is where I stay when I’m in Scotland.” She handed me a card. “If you need help, call me.” My Grandfather had stopped halfway to the exit. He looked back at me and tapped his foot impatiently. I said, thanks, again and hustled after him. Just outside the terminal building, I caught up with him. “Should I wait here while you get your car?” “Car? What car? We’ll get a bus into Glasgow. Leave that contraption here. You can carry your case to the bus stop.” 10

Hugh McCracken Again, I lugged the case with both hands and staggered after my Grandfather.

11

Chapter Two

“Do we have far to go?” “Far enough.” We stood in the bus shelter and watched the rain fall. I felt my eyes fill with tears, dabbed at them with my handkerchief, and blew my nose. Worried about what my Grandfather might be thinking, I glanced sideways at him. He ignored me. This was not what I had expected. He hadn’t had any contact with his only daughter, my Mom, for nearly fifteen years, so I didn’t think he’d fall all over me. But I was his only grandson – didn’t that count for anything? Almost everyone else had been friendly and kind. Even the lawyer who finally said I couldn’t stay with Dad’s friends, the Cairds, had been interested and said he was sorry. Mom and Dad’s wills left him no choice. They had left their money to me, in trust, whatever that 12

Hugh McCracken means, and to avoid the courts taking charge had named my nearest living blood relative – Grandfather MacAlistair – my guardian. “I suppose they thought, blood is thicker than water,” he said. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t stay with the Cairds. Their son Mark and I got on well and I really liked them. “Your Grandfather is your legal guardian. He could permit you to stay here, but I have written instructions from him. You are to join him in Scotland.” And there I was, freezing my buns off in the rain with an old man who hadn’t said a kind word to me yet. “Get on, lad.” I hadn’t even noticed the bus drive up. My darned case got heavier every time I lifted it. When I struggled with both hands, the bus driver left his seat. “Here, sonny. Ah’ll gie ye a haun.” His accent was even thicker than my Grandfather’s, but it was clear what he meant. With one hand he lifted the case and put it in the luggage space behind his seat. Grandfather pushed past me and I hustled up the aisle after him. “Can I have the window seat, Grandfather?” As if I hadn’t spoken, he sat and slid across the seat to the window. The bus driver glanced at the label on my case and that stupid label still on my jacket. “Jist in frae Canada, Eric?” I nodded. “Furst time?” Again I nodded. 13

Grandfather and The Ghost “The bus’ll nae be busy. Come up tae the front sate and ye can see oot.” I stood. Grandfather glanced at me, his eyes blank for a moment, before he said: “Take off that daft label. Do you want every Tom, Dick, and Harry to know your name?” He hadn’t said not to move, so I untied the label and went forward. “Yer granpaw get oot the wrang side o’ his bed the day, did he, sonny?” It took a minute for his meaning to register, but when it did, I giggled and felt better. That was it, I thought. Grandfather is still upset about Mom’s death, even if they did fall out in prehistoric times. He thought enough of me to bring me here, didn’t he? Maybe he won’t be so bad after all. Despite the driver’s good intentions, I saw none of the scenery. Even before the bus left for Glasgow, I was fast asleep. “Come, lad, we’ve a train to catch. Move now. The driver can’t stop here all day.” I knuckled gritty eyes and lurched to my feet. “It’s okay, sonny. Aff ye get. Ah’ll haun yer case doon tae ye.” The driver grinned at me when he handed my case down and scowled at Grandfather. “Whaw stole yer scone, mister? Kin ye no see the lad’s tired?” Grandfather shrugged and turned away. Again I staggered after him. The second time I stopped, Grandfather came back. “We don’t have time for this.” 14

Hugh McCracken He reached down and picked up my case. “Good Lord, lad, what have you in this?” What’s left of my life, that’s all. We moved a bit more slowly to the railway station and again on the train I slept. I dreamed I was back in Toronto, at the Cairds. Mark and I were playing with his Gameboy when the door opened and Mr Caird stood in the doorway with a funny expression on his face. “I have to speak to Eric, Mark. Go help Mom in the kitchen.” “Aw, Dad – ” “Now, Mark, go.” “We were going to tell you about the broken vase, honest,” I said. “It was an accident – ” “That’s okay, Eric. Let’s sit down. I’ve something to tell you…”

15

Chapter Three

But the shoulder I was leaning on wasn’t Mr Caird. It was my Grandfather. “We’re here, lad. Dry your eyes. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself.” Again I lugged my case off the train and down the platform. “Do we have far to go?” Grandfather glared down at me. “A mile. No more.” “Can we take a taxi, please?” I put the case down and sat on it. “A needless extravagance.” “I’ll pay the darn fare!” For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me. His face got redder and a vein twitched in his left temple. “You’ll not be taking that tone with me. Show proper respect.” 16

Hugh McCracken I sighed. “Sorry,” I said. I meant to put ‘Grandfather’ after, but the word just wouldn’t come out. “Now where are you going?” “I need a pee.” When I came out of the washroom, a porter was arranging luggage trolleys against the wall. “Can I borrow one of these,” I said. “I’ll bring it right back.” “They’re nae supposed tae leave the station.” “Please, my case is too heavy to carry a mile, and Grandfather won’t take a taxi.” The porter looked at Grandfather who stood, his foot tapping, beside my case, and gave me a broad grin. He wheeled one of the trolleys over and lifted my case onto it. “Ye’ll look a richt sicht, Mister, wi’ a wee bit boy wheeling yer case on a trolley ahin ye.” The porter laughed. “Come, Eric, we’ll take a taxi. You must be tired after your journey.” Wow, he actually used my name! Was the ice age over? “Yer aw heart, Mister.” The porter winked at me. “Ah’ll wheel yer case oot, laddie and see ye ontae a taxi.” Grandfather was silent on the short taxi ride. When he paid the driver, his face was red again and the vein in his left temple beat a tattoo. He counted his change carefully and closed his coin purse with a snap. “We’ll take 50p off your pocket money till that’s paid,” he said. 17

Grandfather and The Ghost Was he for real? What was 50p in real Canadian money anyway? A dollar? Grandfather had already turned and marched up the path towards a two-storey house with grey stone walls. The trim was painted black or maybe a very dark brown. On the left of the front door was a bay window on both floors. The other side was flat. Although the sun had come out, it was behind the house and the shadowy, dark front made me think of the Addams Family. Would Lurch open the door to us?

18

Chapter Four

I stopped and put my case down, but Grandfather opened the door and beckoned me forward. Inside, an old woman, no taller than me, hurried out from somewhere in the back of the house. She wiped white floury hands on her apron and a white dust seemed to follow her. My Grandmother? I wondered. No, Mom said she died long ago. Well, that would fit with this dark hallway and my granite-faced Grandfather. “You must be Eric. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Oh, yeah, that’ll be right, from old zipper-mouth here. She rattled on. “I’ll just take you up to your room and then we’ll have a nice cup of tea. The kettle’s on.” In one hand, she picked up my case. “Oh, my, this is heavy. Did you leave any of Canada behind you?” 19

Grandfather and The Ghost I laughed. “I’ll take it.” “No, no. I’ve lifted heavier.” She turned and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Did they call this the first floor here? Mr Caird said what we call the first floor is called the ground floor in Scotland. What the heck. It’s one up anyway. “This is your room.” She put my case down beside a single bed and crossed to the window. With the curtain drawn, the room filled with sunlight. “It’s a nice cheery room, Eric. It gets the sun all morning and part of the afternoon. The bathroom’s right next door.” She cocked her head like a parrot I saw once and I laughed. “It’ll be nice to hear some laughter in this dark house. I’m Mrs James, your Grandfather’s housekeeper.” I put out my hand to shake hers, but instead she hugged me. It was all I could do not to burst into tears. “Oh dear, I’ve got flour all over you.” She laughed. “Never mind, it’ll brush off. Why don’t you leave your case and come on down? You can unpack later.” We came out of my room in time to hear a shouted: “Tea, Mrs James. Now, if you please.” Aloud she called: “Coming, MacAlistair,” and in a lower voice said: “You’re not paralysed. You know where everything is. Just this once wouldn’t harm you.” She hustled down the stairs and vanished into the back regions.

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Hugh McCracken I followed more slowly and in the front hall hesitated. On each side of the hall was a large panelled door and to the right side of the staircase was a dark passageway with a smaller door at the end. This is where Mrs James had gone. Where did I go? The room on the right of the front door as you came in was stuffed with furniture: a big table, ten chairs, and a huge sideboard all in some dark wood. Mahogany, that’s what Mom called it. Everything gleamed. I opened the other big door. Grandfather sat at a fireplace in a wingback chair. He looked up from his paper when the door opened. “Come in, lad, come in.” Mrs James bustled in from another door that lead to the back of the house. She set her tray down and smiled at me. After handing Grandfather his cup and saucer she said: “Milk and sugar?” “What? Oh, I don’t know – ” Grandfather scowled. “Nonsense, lad. Make up your mind.” “I don’t have tea at home.” “Oh dear, I didn’t think,” Mrs James said. “We should have had some soft drinks in – the stuff boys like – ” “He’s not to be coddled.” “I’ll try it with milk and sugar,” I said. Mrs James held out a plate with two cookies on it. “Have a biscuit.” “Take the plate back to the kitchen with you,” Grandfather said. “I don’t need one and the lad’s had his.” 21

Grandfather and The Ghost When Mrs James left for the nether regions, I nibbled on my one cookie and tasted the tea. A bit like warm watery milk with sugar, yeugh. Grandfather cleared his throat and I though he was going to speak, but he turned the page of his newspaper, shook it straight, and vanished behind it. Why hadn’t he just left me in Toronto? Mr and Mrs Caird liked me and Mark was like a brother. They’d have let me stay with them. The lawyer said there was plenty money. Even if there wasn’t, they wouldn’t have minded. Mr Caird was Dad’s buddy. I felt like I was going to cry again and sniffed. Grandfather lowered the paper. “Blow your nose. I won’t have that sort of disgusting noise here.” He rang a little bell that sat on the table beside his chair. Mrs James appeared. “Clear the tea things.” “Eric, would you help me into the kitchen with the tray?” She’d brought it in herself and it sure wasn’t any heavier now. If she could hoist my case in one hand, she sure didn’t need help with the tray, but, what the heck, it would get me out of this mausoleum. “Sure.” In the kitchen, she took the tray from me and smiled. “What about a glass of milk, and maybe another biscuit or two?” I grinned and must have looked surprised.

22

Hugh McCracken “What MacAlistair doesn’t know won’t harm him,” she said. “He’s not used to boys. I didn’t even know he had a grandson until he got that letter from the lawyer.” The door behind me opened and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand. But it was only Grandfather. “We do not gossip with domestics. Go to your room and stay there.” Boy, was I mad. It’s darn well impossible to slam a swing door, I discovered, but I stomped upstairs and slammed my room door, hard enough to shake the house. I could hear voices while I climbed and it sounded as if Mrs James was giving as good as she got. I really hoped so. She was a nice old bat. I munched on the cookies I’d pocketed and started to unpack. Clothes didn’t take long to stuff in drawers and hang in the wardrobe – there was no built-in closet. My skates and hockey helmet went under the bed. The boxes with the rock collection Dad and I were working on I put on the chest of drawers. My CD’s and player would be fine on the table beside the bed and the books could sit on the floor. I threw myself down on the bed. The old bat, Mrs James, wasn’t bad, but Grandfather! Wow, he was something else again. Would he ease up at all? If not, it was going to be like being in jail.

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Chapter Five

“Wake up, Eric, wake up.” I rolled over. Maybe it was all a nightmare. I peered at the figure beside the bed. Darn, it was Mrs James. I was still in Scotland. Mom and Dad were still dead. “What time is it?” “Nearly five, Eric, You’ve missed dinner-time.” Dinner! Dinner? What was she on about? Oh, yeah. Mr Caird told me that in Scotland, dinner is at lunchtime and they have something called high tea at night. What a crazy place. No wonder Grandfather is so screwed up. “Up now, Eric. Tea will be at half past five. Make sure you’re prompt. MacAlistair’s a stickler for punctuality.” After splashing some water on my face, I joined Grandfather in the dining room.

24

Hugh McCracken “Sit, boy.” Grandfather pointed to the chair beside him. “Breakfast is at eight-thirty, dinner at twelve fifteen, and tea at five thirty. You will be here, seated, at those times or you don’t eat. Understood?” What’s with this man? I nodded. “Answer when I speak to you. Understood?” “Yes, Grandfather.” “Good.” Grandfather raised his voice. “Mrs James. It’s gone the half hour.” Mrs James wheeled in a trolley. She placed a platter with three fish things on it, followed by a dish with four potatoes, then a casserole with what looked like hot coleslaw in it. Grandfather put two potatoes, one of the fish things, and half the steaming coleslaw on my plate. “What is it?” I said. The coleslaw stuff smelled awful. “Kipper, potato, and cabbage. We just had a snack at dinner-time since you were asleep and saved the dinner for now.” Grandfather helped himself to the remainder. When I picked up my fork, Grandfather scowled. “Grace, lad, grace.” He mumbled some words I didn’t catch, and frowned when I crossed myself and said amen. “Now eat.” I picked at the food. I didn’t like fish – not like this anyway – and the boiled cabbage was yeugh. “I’m not hungry.” “There’s nothing else, lad. If you’re finished, you may leave the table.” For the second time that day, I slammed the room door and threw myself on the bed. Shortly after, I heard 25

Grandfather and The Ghost voices from downstairs and crept to the top of the stairs to listen. “Don’t raise your voice to me, woman.” “Think, you great gowk. The boy’s lost both parents and travelled all night to his loving Grandfather. Show some feeling.” “The boy’s not to be pampered. Do you hear? I’ll fire you.” “Aye, MacAlistair, you could do that. Who’ll serve you hand and foot then? Who’ll put up with your tempers? Nobody else in this town will servant to you.” The dining room door opened fully then slammed shut behind Mrs James. I crept back to my room. About ten minutes later Mrs James came in with a tray. “I’ve made you a meat sandwich. That, some milk, and a biscuit or two will tide you over till morning.” “Thanks, Mrs James,” I said. “I don’t want to get you into any trouble.” “Don’t you worry about that, Eric. We’ve had our spats before.” Mrs James sat on the only chair and watched me eat. “Can I go out for a while?” I said. “It won’t be dark for ages yet, and I’m not sleepy now.” “I don’t see why not, but ask MacAlistair.” Grandfather gave grudging approval and I escaped.

26

Chapter Six

I wandered back down the road to the station and discovered that the road past it led to the sea front and harbour. The rain that had depressed me on arrival in Scotland had stopped before we arrived at Grandfather’s place. The promenade was busy with people strolling in the evening sunlight. There were wooden benches facing the sea along the promenade and I slumped onto one. “Are you new here, too?” I turned. The speaker was a blond boy, about my own age, with curly hair, wearing glasses. “How do you know I’m not a visitor, a tourist?” The other boy grinned. “I’ve been watching you. You’re by yourself, and you’re not waiting for anyone – if you were you’d be looking round from time to time. The way you stare gives away that everything here is

27

Grandfather and The Ghost new to you. You’re not old enough to be here on holiday on your own.” “Fancy yourself as a detective do you?” The boy grinned again. “Yes, I do. I observe. I make deductions. I am right, amn’t I?” I laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I just got here today. Like from another planet. And I’m stuck.” The blond boy put out his hand. “Ralph Watson.” Standing, I shook his hand. “Eric Ferguson.” We grinned at each other. Ralph was almost the same height as me, but a lot thinner. “We just got back here two weeks ago,” Ralph said. “Dad was working in England for the last three years. So I know the place, sort of.” “You’ll know some kids too,” I said. “So you won’t be odd man out when school starts.” “Next Wednesday.” Ralph made a face. “No, we’re in a different part of town from before – wait though, there’s only one high school, so I should know some other second years – ” “Second years?” “Right, second year of high school after elementary –” Right Mr Caird had explained this crazy system to me. Grade eight, that was it. “Yeah, right.” Ralph looked sideways at me as we walked. “You’re a Yank then?” “No I’m not. I’m Canadian.” “Same diff.”

28

Hugh McCracken Who was this kid to cross question me? Then before I knew what I was doing I blurted out my story. My folk’s death, the journey, Grandfather, Mrs James. “Wow!” Ralph turned away while I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. Still with his back to me, Ralph said: “Want some ice cream? I’ve got enough for two.” “Yeah, sure, but I’ve got my own money.” We bought a wafer each and walked on in silence. Finally, Ralph said: “Look, we’re both going to be new boys at school come Wednesday – you a Yank, or at least you sound like one, and me with an English accent. We should stick together. What do you say?” “Like chums? Sure, why not.” Ralph looked at his watch. “Whoops, it’s after eight. I’ve got to run. There’s a programme on TV I want to see. Where do you live?” When I told him, he laughed. “We’re in the next street. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Leaving my new friend, I felt much more cheerful, but that soon evaporated at Grandfather’s house.

29

Chapter Seven

The front hall was in darkness and I felt my way to the sitting room door. Inside, Grandfather sat in his wing chair by the fire, a book on his lap. He looked up, frowning. “I hope you haven’t been up to any mischief this soon.” “No, Grandfather. I walked to the front and met another boy. We went for an ice cream.” “I’ll not have you accepting charity – ” “It’s okay. I bought my own – ” “Where did you get any money to buy ice cream?” “Mr Caird gave me twenty pounds – ” “The man’s an imbecile. Twenty pounds to a lad like you. Ridiculous. A good thing he’s not in charge of your funds. Give me what you have left.” “It’s my money. Mr Caird gave it to me – ” “I’ll have no disobedience or cheek from you, lad.” 30

Hugh McCracken Before I really knew what was happening, Grandfather grabbed one of my arms, and I found myself with my back to him, between his knees. Hands plunged into my trouser pockets, emptying them. Coins clattered to the floor. Pushed away, I turned. “Pick up what’s been spilled and hand it to me.” In a daze, I obeyed. Grandfather handed me a one-pound coin. “I’ll take the taxi money out of the rest and hold the balance. You’ll get your two pounds pocket money on a Friday – providing you’ve behaved.” What century was this man from? The ice cream had cost more than a pound. Determined not to cry in front of him, I blinked back my tears. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? I just gave you a pound. Say, thank you.” “But it was my money. You had no right – ” “I say what’s right in this house and don’t you forget it! Think yourself lucky I don’t take that pound back. I’ll excuse your behaviour this once. Mrs James says you must be tired and out of sorts after your flight. Go to your room now. Don’t be late for breakfast.” He picked up his book. Dismissed, I stormed out of the sitting room and fled upstairs to my bedroom. What was I supposed to do now? It was just halfpast eight – three-thirty in the afternoon in Toronto. Even though I hadn’t slept in the plane, I’d slept from before noon until just before five and I didn’t feel the least bit sleepy now.

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Grandfather and The Ghost This was going to be a total bust. Grandfather was as much fun as double toothache. Someone knocked the door. Two guesses? Firebreathing Grandpa or Mrs James. I sighed. “Come in.” Mrs James carried in a tray which she set on the chest of drawers. “I thought you might like some cocoa and a few biscuits.” “Why did you knock? You could have come straight in.” “Oh, I wouldn’t do that. You’re not a baby. You might have been undressing. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” She smiled and I smiled back. At least I had one friend here – no make that two; that boy I met, Ralph, he seemed okay. “Thanks.” I tried the cocoa. “Oh! It’s hot chocolate! Great!” “Good. I thought most boys liked it.” She turned to go. “Will Grandfather ease up any?” Mrs James laughed. “Does granite melt in the sun?” I groaned. “If he doesn’t like boys, why did he bother bringing me here?” “I don’t know, Eric. I just don’t know. He never mentioned you until the letter came from the lawyer. Then he was as if he’d found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and announced he’d sent for you. I thought he was pleased to have a grandson.” In bed that night I puzzled over the question. If Grandfather didn’t really want me, what did he want? Why had he sent for me? 32

Chapter Eight

Next morning, Grandfather was his usual uncommunicative self at breakfast. When I asked if I could go out, he grunted his permission and I shot upstairs for my parka. Before I got back down, the front door bell rang. Grandfather answered. From the stairs I heard: “What do you want, lad? We’re not buying anything.” I jumped down the last few steps and Grandfather turned. “I will not have such wild behaviour in this house. Do you hear me?” Oh sure, he could be heard clear across the ocean, but I said nothing out loud. Beyond Grandfather, at the open door I could see Ralph. “It’s Ralph, Grandfather. He’s come for me. Ralph, this is my Grandfather.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost Ralph extended his hand as he said: “Pleased to meet you, Sir.” Grandfather ignored the hand, grunted something, and started to walk back to the sitting room. “It’s Friday, Grandfather,” I said. “Can I have my pocket money, please?” For a moment, I thought he was going to shout. His face turned red, a vein pulsed at his left temple, and he turned back to face me. Without a word, he took a coin purse from his pocket, extracted two one-pound coins, and handed them to me. “You and your friend will use the back door. I’ll not have you making a mess in the front hall.” I took the coins and slipped out quickly. “Wow! Is he always like that?” Ralph said. “Ever since I got here.” “Wow, it must be like living with Mr What’s-hisname, you know, the Headmaster from Do, the Boys’ Hall in David Copperfield.” I laughed. “Yeah, I saw that on TV at home. Good thinking, although he hasn’t tried to beat me or anything.” “Yet!” Ralph said and grinned. “How did your Mom describe him?” “She didn’t. After Dad’s father died, I tried asking her about her father. All she’d say was that they’d fallen out when she married Dad and moved to Canada. They’d lost touch after that – fifteen years ago.” “No photos?” “None that I’ve ever seen.”

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Hugh McCracken “What was wrong with your father that your Mom’s father didn’t want him in the family?” “Only that he was a Catholic.” “Oh wow! My Dad says there are still some people like that – too many he says.” Ralph was quiet for a spell as we walked, then he glanced sideways at me. “How do you know he really is your Grandfather?” This stopped me in my tracks. How did I know? “He must have had some evidence,” I said at last. “The lawyers are turning the estate over to him. Mr Caird said so.” “The estate?” Ralph frowned. “Estate? Like a big farm? A spread, like you Yanks say?” I laughed. “No. That just means everything that Mom and Dad left me. There’s a house in Toronto – Mr Caird is selling that for me – but mostly it’s things like stocks, shares, insurance money, bank deposits…” “How much money are we talking about here?” I almost said, “None of your business,” but Ralph was my friend. “Mr Caird says about four million – ” Ralph’s eyes opened wide. He whistled. “Holy cow! Dollars? Four million dollars? What’s that in our money? Wow, nearly two million pounds. You’re rich. You can do anything you like.” “Not till I’m twenty-five, I can’t. Mr Caird says it’s all in trust for me till then. My guardian has control – he just gave me my week’s pocket money – two pounds.” “No wonder he wanted you here,” Ralph laughed. “The money’s as good as his till you’re twenty-five.” We walked down to the harbour and watched some tourists try to get their boat properly docked.

35

Grandfather and The Ghost “You’re Watson, aren’t you? Ralph Watson?” The speaker was a boy about our age with black, curly hair. “Long time, no see.” Ralph grinned. “Eric, this is Sean Hardy. He was in my class at school three years ago.” “You here on holiday?” Sean said. “No, we’re back for keeps. Dad got transferred.” “Even the English couldn’t put up with you, right?” He took a pretend punch at Ralph, who ducked and laughed. “This is Eric Ferguson,” he said. “He just got here today.” “From Mars, is it? Does it talk?” “I’ve come to live with my Grandfather – ” “Shoot, all we need, a la-di-da English kid and a Yank.” Ralph’s, “I am not English,” and my, “I’m not a Yank, I’m Canadian,” came almost as a chorus. Sean spat into the harbour. “Whatever. Where did you say were living?” “I didn’t. I’m staying with my Grandfather MacAlistair on Gordon Street.” “That must be a real bundle of fun,” Sean laughed. “You now him?” I was surprised. “Oh, aye, all the paperboys know the Grinch.” “Paperboys?” “Your grandpa has four wee shops. My cousin delivers papers for one of them.” “How can he run four shops? He was home this morning.” “I didn’t say he runs them. He hires other suckers to do that, but they’re his, okay. If anyone complains 36

Hugh McCracken about deliveries, it’s the Grinch that gets after you and goes up one side and down the other. That’s how I got canned and my cousin got my route.” Great, Grandfather’s not only no fun to live with, he’s going to turn the kids at school against me. “Oh give him a break, Sean,” Ralph said. “It’s nothing to do with Eric, and anyway he’s just got here.” “Has Ralph made up a story about you yet?” Sean said. “He makes up great stories. He thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes. Don’t you, Ralph?” Ralph grinned. “I observe, I make deductions. Come on, Eric, let’s walk. See you at school on Wednesday, Sean.” As we strolled Ralph said: “It’s too bad we won’t be at school together.” “What do you mean? Where would I be? You said there was only one high school in the town.” “That’s right, but with all that money, your Grandfather’s sure to send you to some private school.” Okay, so I was at a private school in Canada, but Grandfather hasn’t said anything about school yet – mind you, he hasn’t said much about anything. I got home just before the 12:15 deadline, remembering to go in the back door. “Quick, wash your hands here,” Mrs James said with a smile. “Then you can carry the plates in.” “Oh, here you are, lad. Right, sit down.” “Grandfather, what about school?” “School starts on Wednesday. I’ve made all the arrangements.” “The school in town?” 37

Grandfather and The Ghost “Certainly, where else? I don’t hold with wasting good money on a school when there’s one right here. Now, eat!”

Ralph’s folks turned out to be okay. A bit nutty – they were adults after all – but okay. Ralph had a computer and plenty of games so we either hung out around the front or, when it was wet, in his room. I was home for meals and to sleep and that seemed fine with Grandfather. Sunday dinnertime brought fireworks when I told Grandfather that I’d gone to Mass with the Watsons. His shout brought Mrs James scurrying in from the kitchen. She took one look at his purple face and twitching vein in his left temple and shouted in her turn. “Sit down, MacAlistair. Calm down. You’ll have a stroke or a heart attack.” He glared at her, but he did sit. Mrs James turned to me. “Now, Eric, what is it this time?” I explained. “Is that what all the kafuffle is about?” Mrs James laughed. “Really, MacAlistair, act your age. You knew the boy was Catholic – wasn’t that what you and his mother quarrelled about? What did you expect? Anyway, you haven’t darkened the door of any church for years.” Grandfather, his face a few shades lighter, scowled. “These people – strangers – had no right to – ” “I suppose you were going to take him yourself?”

38

Hugh McCracken They glared at each other. I held my breath. Who was going to blink first? Grandfather cleared his throat. “Are we to wait all day for our dinner? See to your duties, Mrs James.” She turned to return to the kitchen and, passing, smiled at me and winked. The meal was eaten in total silence.

39

Chapter Nine

When Wednesday finally came, Grandfather advanced the time for breakfast to eight o’clock and at around twenty to nine we set out for the school. I saw Ralph and Sean Hardy in the schoolyard and waved, but Grandfather ploughed his way through the kids and into the school. The school office was what Dad used to call ‘organised chaos’. Grandfather finally managed to get the attention of a secretary and explained who I was. “Oh, yes, Mr MacAlistair. We did get your letter and your grandson’s documents – Eric isn’t it?” She smiled at me. “He’ll be looked after with all the new intake. There’s no need for you to wait, but thank you for coming.” At this dismissal, Grandfather’s face began to get red and I thought he was going to shout. The secretary

40

Hugh McCracken turned to me. “Eric, if you go back out to the yard there will be teachers there shortly to organise things.” Grandfather gripped my arm and marched me back out. “I don’t know why I wasted my time,” he said at the gate. “See you behave and don’t show me up.” He stomped off. Ralph and Sean were at my side almost immediately. “Aye, that’s the Grinch all right,” Sean said. A third boy grinned at me. “I dae the papers fur the shop on Morrison Street – that’s jist doon the road frae you. Goad, but he creates if his paper’s late or if it’s wet. Good luck havin’ him fur a grandpa.” “This is Murdoch McLeod,” Sean said. “We’ll likely all be in the same class.” As the morning wore on, the chaos gradually decreased. I did find myself in the same class as Ralph, Sean, and Murdoch. Despite some ragging about our accents, Ralph and I seemed to fit in okay. Murdoch introduced me to the other boys who delivered papers for Grandfather’s shops and their mutual fear and dislike of him cemented us into a group quicker than anything else could have done. School settled down to routine by Friday. Grandfather didn’t seem to care how I spent my time outside school as long as I was in time for meals and home by the deadline of nine thirty. On Saturday morning, I heard Grandfather shout at someone at the front door. It was Murdoch. “What sort of time is this to be delivering my paper? It’s gone nine. You should have been here an hour ago.” 41

Grandfather and The Ghost Murdoch tried to explain. “I’m not interested in your excuses…damn it, boy, the paper is wet! Right, that’s it. I’ll see that Campbell finds another boy for this route.” The door slammed in Murdoch’s face. Grandfather turned and saw me standing on the stairs. We stared at each other in silence. I wanted to go and run after Murdoch, but Grandfather didn’t move out of my way. He smiled – well, at least he bared his teeth. “Come into the sitting room, lad.” In the room, he studied me, again in silence. When I started to fidget, he said: “Stand still! How old are you?” He didn’t even know my age! A fine grandpa, really interested in me, I don’t think. “Thirteen, Grandfather.” “Good, good. High time you started to earn your keep. We’ll go down to Morrison Street shortly. Campbell will need a replacement for the brat I’ve just fired.” “I can’t take Murdoch’s job – ” “You’ll do as you’re told. Don’t leave the house. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go.” I was sure getting plenty of practice at stomping upstairs and slamming my bedroom door. What the heck would the other kids think? What would they do? They’d be sure I got Murdoch fired so I could take his job. About half an hour later Grandfather called up: “I’m ready, Eric. Don’t keep me waiting.” At the shop in Morrison Street, the man behind the counter looked warily at Grandfather. 42

Hugh McCracken “Good Morning, Mr MacAlistair. What can I do for you today?” “This is my grandson. He’ll take the place of that rapscallion I fired this morning.” Miserable, I said: “Murdoch McLeod, Grandfather.” “What? Oh, yes, that was his name was it? Campbell here will give you a map of the route and any other details you need. I’ll see you back at the house.” He turned and walked out. Mr Campbell raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Seems we’ve been given our orders, lad.” “Eric, Eric Ferguson, Sir.” “You’re going to be popular, Eric, aren’t you?” He rummaged in a drawer under the counter. “Yes, here it is. This is a list of the addresses to deliver papers to. There is no map. The ones marked with a star get Sunday papers too. You’d best walk the route this afternoon. Seven o’clock sharp here tomorrow morning. All papers to be delivered by eight. Any later and you’ll hear all about it from Mr MacAlistair.” I took the list and glanced at it. The addresses meant nothing to me. “I only got here a week ago last Thursday. Is there a map of the town?” Mr Campbell laughed. “Aye, lad, here you go.” He plucked a tourist street plan of the town from a rack and handed it to me. I unfolded the map and located the streets on my list. “I suppose it doesn’t look too bad,” I said. “But seven every morning!” “And right after school Monday to Friday; and four in the afternoon Saturdays.” Mr Campbell laughed. 43

Grandfather and The Ghost “You should see your face, lad. You should have thought of the work before you decided to steal Murdoch’s route. Murdoch was a good lad.” “I didn’t steal it! I don’t want it. This all Grandfather’s idea.” Mr Campbell’s expression softened a little. “I see. Well, lad, there’s nought you or I, or Murdoch for that matter, can do about it. As I said, we’ve got our orders.” I walked the route in forty-five minutes although I wondered how easy it would be with a heavy bag of papers in the rain. After dinner Ralph was sympathetic, but didn’t cheer me any when he commented that Murdoch had a quick temper, and was supposed to be quite a fighter. The added comment that Murdoch was taller and heavier than me didn’t help one bit. Getting ready for bed on Saturday night, Grandfather surprised me by walking into the room without knocking – the very first time he’d ever come to my room. I stood there with my pants at half-mast. “I’ve brought you an alarm clock,” he said. “It’s set for six-thirty. That should give you enough time to dress and get to Campbell’s shop for seven. Don’t make a noise. There’s no need for you to rouse the whole house. You should be back in time for breakfast.” He set the clock on the small table beside the bed and glanced round the room. “You’ll need to keep this room tidier. I’ll not have you making extra work for Mrs James. Good night.”

44

Chapter Ten

Sunday morning was blustery but at least it wasn’t raining. The Sunday papers were heavy and it took me a full hour to make my deliveries. After breakfast I lay on my bed fully dressed meaning to lie for a short time. Mrs James wakened me in time for dinner. I’d missed mass. Ralph and his parents were visiting relatives. Since I wasn’t invited, I walked the front on my own in the afternoon and moped around the house after tea. “Early to bed with you, lad,” Grandfather said. “You’re to be up by six-thirty.” The daily papers weren’t as heavy as the Sunday ones had been, so I finished the route in good time, but all the time my mind was on what would happen at school.

45

Grandfather and The Ghost When I called for Ralph on the way to school, his mother told me he was sick and wouldn’t be going. I walked on alone. A fine friend Ralph was. Playing sick the very first time I really needed him. At first, everything in the schoolyard was like it had been the week before. Then Sean arrived. He made straight for me. “Murdoch’s gunning for you. Boy is he ever mad.” With that pleasant news, Sean turned and walked away. The whistle to line up had just gone when Murdoch and the three other paperboys arrived as a group. Murdoch shook his fist at me. One of the group was right behind me in the line. He punched me hard between the shoulder blades and whispered: “You’re fur it.” The line started forward. I felt my heel kicked and, feet tangled, I stumbled into the boy ahead of me, clutching at him for balance only to get an elbow in my face. “That’s jist fur starters,” the boy behind said. Nothing much happened in class, but at morning recess – or ‘break’ as they call it here, Murdoch and his three chums cornered me. “Look, Murdoch,” I protested, “it’s not my fault. I don’t want your job – ” “But you’ve got it.” Murdoch pushed my chest with the flat of his hand. I tried to back away but found myself against a wall. “After Grandfather fired you anyone could have got it – ”

46

Hugh McCracken “Aye, but you did.” Murdoch glared at me, his face inches from mine. I raised my hand to push him away. “Don’t you push me,” Murdoch said. “Then back off,” I said pushing again. Murdoch tried to grab my wrists and we grappled without either of us getting the upper hand. “Fight, fight,” someone shouted. In no time, a crowd formed a half circle. “Murdoch, I don’t want to fight you – ” “A coward as well as a thief,” Murdoch said, but before things got any worse, the whistle sounded for the end of break. “We’ll finish this later.” Murdoch gave a final push and moved away. His friends grinned at me and one repeated: “Later.” I caught up with Sean. “I’m staying out of this,” Sean said. “It’s nothing to do with me.” “Who asked for your help?” “Look, it was a real dirty trick to take Murdoch’s job. He needs the dough.” What was the point of trying to explain? Everyone’s mind was made up. At dinnertime, I moved quickly to get out of school and away before a confrontation with Murdoch or his friends. Maybe he’d cool down over the dinner hour. I lingered at home until I had to run back to school so as not to be late. The lines were already moving as I ran in.

47

Grandfather and The Ghost “Efter school. We’ll settle this then,” Murdoch whispered. “Unless you’re chicken.” The afternoon passed very slowly. Darn it, Grandfather’s really fouled things up for me. I was getting on okay with these kids. Now I’ve got to fight Murdoch. I can’t just let him paste me. If I do, I’ll be the target for any bully that fancies a go. Finally the bell for the end of school. As at break, Murdoch and his three friends surrounded me. “No here,” Murdoch said. “Yin o’ the teachers might see and butt in.” Two boys grabbed an arm each. “Bug off,” I said. “Let go. I’ll go with you on my own.” They let go but stayed on either side of me. We walked a short distance to a park, with a small crowd of boys following along. “This’ll do,” Murdoch said. He dropped his school bag and took off his jacket. One of his friends took them. I also put my bag down and removed my jacket. Sean stepped forward to hold the jacket but someone else snatched it from his grasp and threw it on the ground. Facing Murdoch I said: “I’ll say it again, Murdoch. I don’t want to fight you. Us fighting won’t help anything. The whole mess wasn’t my fault.” “Okay then, I’ll just beat the stuffing oot o’ you.” He aimed a punch at my midriff, but I caught his wrist before it really landed and the fight was on. We traded punches then closed on each other, trying to throw our opponent to the ground, occasionally landing a solid blow. Murdoch managed to get me on my back and connected with a hard punch to my left eye. I 48

Hugh McCracken struggled, but Murdoch had the weight and reach to hold me once he had me down. Astride me, both my wrists pinned to the ground on either side of my head, Murdoch leaned over, and his head inches from mine, said: “Give in?” I jerked my head up with all the force I could muster, and felt it connect with Murdoch’s nose. Startled, Murdoch almost let go of my wrists. He sat back up and glared down at me. Blood dripped from his nose. He saw the drops of blood on my shirt, sniffed, let go of my left wrist, and brushed the back of his right hand under his nose. His expression when he looked at the blood on his hand made me laugh. For a moment I thought he was going to punch my face again, then he too laughed. He climbed off me and put out a hand to pull me to my feet. “We’ll call it quits then?” he said. “I suppose you’re right. It’s the Grinch’s fault, no’ yours. Why should we take it oot on each other? Right, lads? Leave Eric be?” His three friends nodded and one said: “If you say so. It wis your job.” The remaining audience faded now that the excitement was over. Sean advanced and handed me my jacket and school bag. “You’re a mess,” he said. I looked. The jacket had obviously been dropped on the muddy ground and there was dirt on my trousers. “It’ll brush off. I hope.” “Not your stuff, your face, stupid.” Murdoch turned me. “Aye, you’re going to hae a real keeker.” 49

Grandfather and The Ghost I must have looked blank. “A black eye, Yank. Come on, you’ll be late wi’ your papers. I’ll gie you a hand.” Mr Campbell stared at us when we came in together. “Have you two been to the wars?” Murdoch grinned. “No, it was just a wee skirmish. Right, Eric? Anyway it was a draw. We can’t let the Grinch beat us.” Mr Campbell shrugged. “You’re late. You’ll need to move yourself, Eric.” “It’ll be a dawdle,” Murdoch said. “I’ll dae half.” With Murdoch’s help we did finish on time. “Sorry about the fight, Eric. I jist lost my cool thinking about it all weekend. And the other three kept on about it being all your fault.” “That’s okay. No hard feelings?” “You did fine fur somebody that didnae want to fight.” Murdoch laughed. “What’ll the Grinch say when he sees your eye? What’ll you tell him?” “I’ll think of something. What about your nose?” He touched it gently. “It’s stopped bleeding. I’ve had worse. That was a neat trick of yours. You know, I could still have held you down and pounded you – ” I laughed. “Yeah, you and who’s army?” Murdoch grinned. “I’m off. See you tomorrow.” At the house, I slipped in the back door. Mrs James took one look. “Give me that jacket. I’ll see if I can brush it clean. Oh my, your trousers are all muddy. Quick, upstairs and change. Get those down to me without MacAlistair seeing them. I don’t know what he’ll say about your eye. At least give your face a quick wash.” 50

Hugh McCracken Good for her! She didn’t bat an eyelid. You’d think she was used to boys coming in dirty after a fight. If only Grandfather was more like her. In the bathroom, I examined my face. I was going to have a black eye and there was another bruise and scratch on my right cheek. Oh well, I’d better face the music. Grandfather didn’t look up from his paper at first when I stood in front of him in his wing chair. “Don’t just stand there, lad. Sit someplace.” He flapped his paper and looked up. “You’ve been fighting!” However did you guess? Give that man a coconut! “I’ll not have such hooligan behaviour from someone in my house. Do you hear? Go to your room and stay there! There’ll be no tea for you this night.” “Don’t you want to know what happened? What it was all about?” “It’s obvious what happened and I don’t need to hear whatever excuse you’ve thought up for your behaviour.” I stood staring at him. Was this man for real? “I gave you an order. Go to your room and stay there! Now!” This was getting boring. My door would be able to slam itself soon. I heard shouting from below and risked creeping to the top of the stairs to listen. “I’ll hear no more, woman. I’ve sent the lad to his room and there he’ll stay till tomorrow morning. Let that be an end of it. He deserves no tea tonight.”

51

Grandfather and The Ghost I fiddled around in my room for a while with my rock collection, looked out my window to see if I could get out that way, and decided it was possible but getting back in wasn’t. Finally, I started to do my homework. Just before seven, I heard the front door open and close. Minutes later, someone knocked on my door. “It’s me, Eric, Mrs James.” She brought in a tray with milk and sandwiches. “MacAlistair will be gone for an hour. Eat this up and I’ll have it cleared before he’s back.” “Thanks.” I drank the milk and scoffed the sandwiches. “Want to tell me what happened?” I told her the events of the day. She surprised me by laughing. “So you’ve made up with Murdoch? Good. All’s well that ends well.” “Except that Ralph chickened out on me – ” “Oh, of course, your Grandfather didn’t tell you. Mrs Watson phoned earlier to say you weren’t to go round there this evening. Ralph is still under the weather – something he ate yesterday she thought.” Good old Ralph. He didn’t let me down after all. He really was sick. Mrs James picked up the tray, brushed some crumbs off the bed, and left.

52

Chapter Eleven

When I called for Ralph on my way to school next day, he answered the door himself. “Wow, what happened to your eye?” “I walked into a lamppost.” “Really?” “No, you idiot, Murdoch did it – ” “I told you he had a temper. Did you fight?” “Oh, yes, the second round is today. Him and his three pals. Are you with me?” “What about Sean?” “Sean backed out. Are you with me?” Ralph glanced at me as we walked. “I’m not much of a fighter…but…what the heck, yes I’m with you. If Murdoch’s pals are with him we’ll get creamed.” Inside the school gates Murdoch and his three chums were waiting. Ralph slowed when he saw them. 53

Grandfather and The Ghost “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get it over with.” Murdoch stepped forward grinning. “What did the Grinch say about your eye, Eric?” “I got sent to bed without any supper. How’s your nose?” We both laughed at the expression on Ralph’s face as he looked from Murdoch to me. “You turkey! You’re not going to fight today?” “No Ralph. I was pulling your leg.” “But I’ll gie you a fight, if you like,” Murdoch said. “So’s no to disappoint you.” Ralph laughed. “No thanks. We should think of some way for you lot to get your own back at the Grinch.” At break I was about to go out when the secretary stopped me. “Mr Whitfield wants to see you, Eric. Go to his office now.” Whitfield? The headmaster! What had I done now? I knocked and opened the door at the curt: “Come in.” “Sir? You sent for me.” “Ah, yes, Ferguson. How are you getting on?” “Fine, sir.” “Your eye was difficult to miss this morning. Are you sure everything is all right? You are not being bullied, are you?” “No, sir.” Had Grandfather phoned him? Or Mrs James – no it couldn’t be her. She knew what had happened. “Then what happened to your eye?” “It was an accident, sir. We were play fighting…and we got a bit rough.” 54

Hugh McCracken “I have someone who says differently. Didn’t four boys corner you yesterday at morning break? Didn’t the same four boys beat you up after school?” Sean? It couldn’t be Sean, could it? I swallowed. How much could I tell him? How much did he already know? “I’m waiting, Ferguson. Let’s have the truth. I’ll not stand for any bullying in my school. And the way to get to the bottom is for the victim to have the courage to speak out.” “Sir, it wasn’t like you heard. I did have a fight with someone. He had a beef with me about something I’d done…well… something he thought I’d done. But it wasn’t bullying. It was a fair fight, one on one. Anyway, we’ve made up now.” “Who was the fight with?” “I’d rather not say, sir.” “Don’t be afraid. If we know something is happening, we can stop it.” Yeah, right. Tell it to the marines. That didn’t work at my last school. “I’m not afraid, sir. I wasn’t being bullied. It was all a mistake.” Whitfield frowned, then sighed. “Oh, very well. Off you go. I don’t want to see any more bruises on you.” I ran for a pee, then out to find Ralph and the others. “Someone told the headmaster about yesterday,” I said. “They didn’t give any names – I don’t think. He thinks I was being bullied.” Murdoch shrugged. “No names, no pack drill, that’s what my Dad says.” 55

Grandfather and The Ghost We all laughed. I turned and saw Whitfield standing at the top of the entrance steps looking down at us, frowning. A puzzled or a worried frown? Whatever, it wasn’t my problem. The week passed. Apart from my paper round, I was grounded – stuck in my room each evening after tea. On Friday following my afternoon delivery I asked Mr Campbell when I’d be paid. He looked at me then turned his head away. “Ask Mr MacAlistair. He said he’d deal with that. He’s already been here this afternoon and took your pay out of the till.” As usual, Grandfather was silent all through tea. Just before he rose from the table he said: “You can begin going out again. But mind, I want no more nonsense about fighting or misbehaving. I have a good name in this town. I’ll not have it besmirched by you.” Yeah, a great name: the Grinch. Aloud I said: “Thanks, Grandfather.” I drew a deep breath and went on: “Since I’m going out, can I have my pocket money?” He sighed, removed two one-pound coins from his coin purse, and placed them on the table in front of me. I took another deep breath. “Mr Campbell said you would give me my pay for the paper round – ” “Campbell had no right to say any such thing. That money will go towards your keep.” “But Mr Caird said there was plenty of money – ” “I’ll not bandy words with you, lad. You may go.” “But – ” 56

Hugh McCracken “Would you rather go to your room and stay there? All day tomorrow and Sunday too?” I snatched my two pounds from the table and ran before I burst into tears. “You forgot to say, thank you, for your – ” Grandfather’s voice cut off as I slammed the front door behind me. Ralph’s mother opened the door to me at Ralph’s place. “Have you been fighting again?” she asked, stopping me and peering at my face as I entered. “No, the wind just made my eye water.” “And your other eye too?” She studied my face then shrugged. “Ralph’s upstairs in his room.” On Saturday afternoon, Ralph and I met with Murdoch and the other paperboys. When I told them what Grandfather had done, Murdoch snorted. “I thought slavery had been abolished.” The others laughed. “It’s nothing to laugh at,” Ralph said. “How would you lot like it? We should do something to help Eric.” “Aye, like what?” one boy said. “Sue him?” Ralph scratched his head. “I’m thinking. I’m thinking.” Some time later, he said: “You could all come out on strike.” “What good would that do? He’d just get other kids to take our place, and we’d all be out of a job.” “What if you told the other kids what it was about?” Ralph persisted. “Maybe they would refuse to work for him.” The biggest of Murdoch’s chums laughed. “Aye, a black eye or a fat lip might persuade a few.” 57

Grandfather and The Ghost Murdoch spat into the harbour. “You know, it might just work. We could give it a try, but no rough stuff.” “Oh aye,” one boy said. “Fine fur you. You’ve nae job to lose.” Ralph and I left them arguing and when the rain came, started back to his place. Nothing more was said about Ralph’s idea until Wednesday afternoon when Murdoch told us that the strike was on. The others would tell their employers on Saturday. Murdoch’s next sentence wasn’t such good news. “Eric, you’re going to have to strike too.” “How the heck do I do that? What will Grandfather do? Lock me up on bread and water except for school?” “Well…will you?” Murdoch said. “If not, it’s no go.” “How can I?” Ralph laughed. “Your Grandfather said you werenae to fight, right? Tell him if you keep on delivering while the strike is on, you’ll hae a fight every day at school.” “You wouldn’t?” I looked at Murdoch. “No, you’re a mate,” Murdoch said. “But your Grandfather doesn’t know that.” We agreed that we would all make our Friday afternoon deliveries then, once the others had their pay, we would tell our employers. The demand was simple: Give Murdoch his job back. Mr Campbell screwed up his face when I told him about the strike. “Mr MacAlistair isn’t going to like this when he finds out, Eric.” I smiled, feeling sick. “I’ll tell him when I get home.” 58

Hugh McCracken “He might know before you get there. Someone will phone him.” “You?” “No, lad, not me, but there are three other managers, remember?” Mrs James was waiting for me when I came in the back door. Before I could close the door, she grasped the handle and closed it very quietly. She touched her forefinger to her lips then whispered: “I don’t know what you’ve been up to, Eric, but there have been three phone calls. MacAlistair got angry at the first one, after the third he’s fit to kill.” I told her about the strike. She laughed. “Here. Open your schoolbag. Put this scotch pie in. There’s two slices of bread and jam in the brown bag and bit of apple pie.” She looked round. “Take this carton of chocolate milk too. When I heard MacAlistair, I thought you might need some siege provisions.” “Is that Eric back?” Grandfather shouted from the sitting room. “I thought I heard voices. Get in here, boy!” “Yes, Grandfather,” I said, standing in front of him. “Don’t you ‘yes Grandfather’ me. What’s this I hear about a strike?” “The boys think you were unfair in sacking Murdoch. They want you to give him his job back.” “When Hell freezes over, I will.” He glared at me. “At least your customers will get their papers – ” “No, Grandfather – ” “What do you mean, no?” “I can’t deliver either.” 59

Grandfather and The Ghost “You’ll do as you’re told.” “Yes, Grandfather I will.” He frowned then raised one eyebrow. “You said I wasn’t to fight. So I won’t fight. If I deliver my papers during the strike, I’ll have a fight every day at school.” His face practically purple and his vein throbbing in his temple, he shouted: “In my day I would beat you black and blue. You wouldn’t be able to sit for weeks after. Get out of my sight! Go to your room and stay there till I tell you that you can leave. And don’t think Mrs James will be sneaking you up your tea. I’m going to lock your door. Go! Now!” Boy, this really was getting to be a bore. I picked up my schoolbag and stomped upstairs. Luckily, I decided not to get the goodies out, because only minutes after I got to my room Grandfather arrived. He still looked stormy. “Go to the bathroom.” Was he going to beat me after all? He hadn’t laid a finger on me so far, not even a hug, or a hand on the shoulder, or a pat on the bum the way Mr Caird sometimes did to both Mark and me. He hadn’t gone into my room. I squeezed past him through the doorway. “I’ll be up later to let you go to the bathroom again before you go to bed.” The door shut and the key turned. Wow, I sat on the bed, surprised to find I was actually shaking. I waited until I was quite sure he had gone downstairs before I opened my bag and ate Mrs James’s ‘siege provisions’. 60

Hugh McCracken It was a deadly weekend. Grandfather allowed me down to the dining room for meals, eaten in complete silence, and unlocked the door when he thought of it for bathroom breaks, otherwise I was in prison in my room. I wasn’t even allowed to go to Mass on Sunday. After I finished my homework, I had nothing to do but sit, think, and remember other days with Mom and Dad. At school on Monday, the others were anxious to hear how Grandfather had taken the strike. Would he fold, they wanted to know. “I sure hope so. This isn’t any fun for me. I’m beginning to grow roots in that room.” “Is he really your grandpa?” Murdoch said. “He sure doesn’t act like he is.” To my surprise Grandfather was, for him, almost jovial when I got home from school. “You will tell your fellow conspirators tomorrow, that the day after tomorrow you will resume your deliveries. “But that means I’ll have to fight – ” He smiled, and I shivered. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away with that. I’ll talk to Whitfield at the school. He’ll not put up with that kind of bullying. I can give him the names of the miscreants involved. Unless, of course, you all wish to call off this stupid strike.” This was one possibility we hadn’t thought of. My stomach felt as if the floor beneath me had vanished. I’d get killed. My name would be mud. “I thought that would please you. Go and wash before tea. If you’ve no homework, you may go out if you wish.” 61

Grandfather and The Ghost Ralph was glum when I told him my news. He phoned Murdoch and Sean to meet us at the harbour. “That’s it then,” Murdoch said. “We cave. He’s called our bluff. Eric has to start deliveries again. I’ll tell the others it’s over. Shoot, the Grinch will probably find some excuse now to can the other three.” “Not so fast,” Sean said. “I’ve got an idea.” Sean wouldn’t tell us what the idea was in case it didn’t pan out, just that it would get us all off the hook if it worked. After Sean left us, we hung out for while at the harbour. As usual, I went in the back door. Surprisingly at this time, Mrs James was still in the kitchen. With a finger to her lips, she motioned me to sit at the kitchen table. “There’s a reporter from the local town paper come to interview MacAlistair about small businesses being squeezed out by big stores. MacAlistair has written letters to the local paper about that.” I shrugged. What did this have to do with me? Wait though. Could it be anything to do with Sean’s idea? I crept quietly to the sitting room door and pressed my ear against it. It didn’t sound as if what they were talking about concerned me and I was about to turn away when the reporter said: “Thanks Mr MacAlistair for sharing your viewpoint with us. Perhaps you’d care to comment on a funny story we’ve come across. We’ve heard your paperboys are on strike because you fired one so that you could make your grandson do the deliveries for free.” “That’s preposterous! Where did you hear such a slanderous story?”

62

Hugh McCracken “Several sources actually. Usually quite reliable sources. That’s why we’d like to hear your side of the matter before we run the story this week.” “If you publish, I’ll sue.” “It would be your word against five or six others – some of them your own customers. It’s a slow week for news. I think the editor will run it.” “Your sources have been totally misinformed or they’ve misunderstood. I simply suspended the boy for being late in his deliveries and being cheeky. My grandson is simply filling for him till he returns.” “Oh, I see. You didn’t fire the boy? He will be back on his route soon?” “Of course I didn’t fire the idiot. It was all a simple misunderstanding.” “So all the boys will be back to work? No hard feelings? No repercussions? That doesn’t make much of a story, does it?” “Of course there’s no story. The boys will all be back on their routes as soon as I’ve straightened this out.” “Thank you, Mr MacAlistair, for seeing me. And thanks for saying I could use my tape recorder. My shorthand isn’t as good as it used to be.” I scurried to the staircase and for once went up as quietly as I could. From the top, I heard Grandfather walk the reporter to the door and close it behind him. “Eric, are you in?” Grandfather shouted from the foot of the stairs. At my ‘Yes, Grandfather,’ he went on: “Come down here for a minute. I want to speak to you.” How mad was he going to be? Was I in for another spell of prison? 63

Grandfather and The Ghost However, when I went in to the sitting room, Grandfather seemed quite calm. A bit red in the face but, for him, calm. “Eric, I’ve changed my mind. That brat – ” “Murdoch McLeod, Grandfather?” He cleared his throat noisily. “McLeod can start again at Campbell’s.” “And the others?” “Yes, yes, let’s stop this silly nonsense before it gets really out of hand. Now, off to bed with you. I’ll call the managers to get them to call the boys. I want deliveries back to normal tomorrow.”

64

Chapter Twelve

When the alarm went off at six-thirty I wondered why I’d set it the night before. I wasn’t doing deliveries. We were on strike. Then I remembered. The reporter! For a moment, I thought of turning over and going back to sleep. No, what the heck, I wanted to talk to Murdoch to make sure everything was okay. Mr Campbell did a double take when I walked in. “Don’t tell me your grandpa’s changed his mind. I phoned Murdoch last night. He’s due back in.” Before I could start to explain, Murdoch walked in. “What are you doing here, Eric? It’s my route.” I laughed. “I just wanted to make sure Grandfather wasn’t up to any tricks. Come on, I’ll go round with you.” As we walked, I told Murdoch about the reporter and Grandfather’s change of mind. 65

Grandfather and The Ghost “So that was Sean’s idea,” Murdoch said. “His dad’s a drinking buddy of the reporter for the local rag. They’d think it a real hoot to have a go at the Grinch.” “Do they know him?” “Oh aye, Sean’s dad’s the manager of the Safeway. The Grinch tried tae get the council tae stop them selling cigs and papers. He made a right stink – letters to the paper an’ all.” At breakfast, Grandfather asked why I had been out. When I told him, he frowned. “Those boys are a bad influence on you. I don’t want you hanging round with them.” “They’re in my class at school.” He just grunted. At school the whole crowd – Murdoch, his pals, Sean, Ralph and I – exchanged high fives and joked around. Just before the whistle went to line up, I saw Whitfield watching us. Second period had hardly started when the school secretary walked in. She handed a sheet of paper to the teacher. “Mr Whitfield would like to see these boys now, please.” “Right,” the teacher said, “Ferguson, McLeod, Connell, McDougal, and Anderson. Off you go.” When he read the names I wondered who the last three were, but, of course, they were the three paperboys. I’d always just thought of them as Murdoch’s pals without the names. “Whit hae we done noo?” Connell said. We shuffled into Mr Whitfield’s office and stood in a line facing his desk.

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Hugh McCracken “Now, Ferguson, I want the truth. Which of these four gave you the black eye?” “He didn’t give it to me, sir; I had to fight for it.” The other four laughed. Mr Whitfield slapped his hand down on his desk and we all jumped at the loud crack. “I’ll have no insolence from you, Ferguson, when I’m trying to get at the bottom of who’s bullying you.” “Sir, please. No one’s bullying me. Murdoch McLeod and I had a fight. That’s all. It was all a mistake anyway.” “Then why would your Grandfather insist you are being bullied and give me these names. Can you explain that?” Grandfather! These kids had him pegged exactly – The Grinch. “It’s kind of a long story, sir…” When I got to the bit about the reporter, Mr Whitfield couldn’t keep his face straight. He coughed, turned his back to us to blow his nose, turned to face us again, and coughed. Finally, he said: “I saw you boys together this morning and I must say you didn’t look like bullies and bullied. Now, McLeod, Ferguson, are you two quite sure you’ve made up? We’re not going to have any more fighting in or out of school?” Murdoch and I grinned at each other and almost in chorus said: “No, Sir, we’re friends.” “Right, you four may go. Ferguson, stay for a moment.” Oh heck, he wasn’t going to start in again about bullying was he? Time he gave it a rest! 67

Grandfather and The Ghost He waited until the door closed behind the gang. “I’ve heard your story and I think I believe it. Why would your Grandfather be so convinced you were being bullied?” “I don’t know, Sir. Except maybe to get back at the others for the strike?” Mr Whitfield frowned. “That would be very vindictive. Not at all an adult motivation. No, No. It must be solely out of concern for you.” Boy, he sure doesn’t know Grandfather. “Ferguson! I said, are you happy here? “What, sir? Oh, yes, school is fine.” “That doesn’t quite answer my question…” “May I go now, sir?” Mr Whitfield frowned. “Oh, very well. You may go. I’ll have a word with your Grandfather.” “Whit did the beak want?” Connell asked when I rejoined the group. “I’m not really sure,” I said. “That granpaw o’ yours…” Connell said. “If he wus a kid we’d jist drap him in the harbour wi’ his claes on. Ur ye sure he is yer granpaw?” That was funny, that must have been the third or fourth time someone said that. If he wasn’t really my Grandfather, who was he? Where was my Grandfather? How could this man have got the stuff he needed to convince the lawyers and Mr Caird that he was my Grandfather? Why would he bother? He sure didn’t seem to be getting any joy out of having me around. That evening after tea while Ralph and I were in his room, the question came up again. 68

Hugh McCracken “Did your Grandpa say anything about your interview with Whitfield this morning?” Ralph asked. “No, I thought I’d be banished to my room again for sure, but he didn’t say anything about it – in fact, he didn’t say anything all the whole meal. Sat there like a wooden Indian.” “You know, one of my grandpas is a bit snarky sometimes, but even he’s got nothing on your grandpa. When he’s not in a snit, he’s great. Both of them give me things and take me places. How do you know for sure The Grinch really is your Grandfather?”

69

Chapter Thirteen

In bed that night, I lay awake wondering how I could find out the truth. One thing I couldn’t do was ask Grandfather right out. If he wasn’t really my Grandfather, asking him would tip my hand, and heck knows what he’d do then. If he actually was my Grandfather, asking such a stupid, cheeky question would get me grounded again for sure. How did you go about asking such questions? Next morning at breakfast I started. “Grandfather, did you always live here?” “Why?” “Oh, I just wondered. Did you?” “No.” Oh boy, at this rate I’d be his age before I had any answers. “Did you live here with Mom? I mean before she was married?” 70

Hugh McCracken “No.” “Where did you live?” Grandfather looked at his watch. “It’s time you were off to school. I hope you’re not going to chatter endlessly at meals.” I told Ralph of my unsuccessful start. “You know the two answers you did get put us right back at square one.” “How do you mean?” “Both the ‘no’s you got cut both ways. The first could mean that your real grandpa hasn’t always lived here, or that the man in the house hasn’t. The second could mean your real grandpa moved here after your Mum married or it could mean that man never lived anywhere with your mum. You need better questions.” “Thank you very much, Sherlock. Have you any useful suggestions?” “What about the housekeeper? She must know something. You said she was okay.” “Mrs James, yeah, she’s a nice old bat, but it’s difficult to talk to her much. Grandfather doesn’t like me talking to the ‘domestic’.” “Is there any time when you’re in the house with just her?” I thought about that. “Yes, Grandfather goes out on Tuesday evening around seven and he’s not home usually till after ten.” “Is Mrs James in the house then?” “Yes, she lives in. She has one of the big front bedrooms upstairs. She sits in there when she’s not working. I’ve never been in it.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost “Right, There’s your first objective: Question Mrs James and report back.” Ralph walked on in silence for a few steps, then said: “You could write to that man – your dad’s friend –” “Mr Caird, okay. Why?” “Ask him to send you your folk’s stuff.” “What stuff?” “The stuff I’m going need if I take on this case: birth certificates, death certificates, marriage licences, old letters, old photos.” “What would I tell him I wanted that stuff for?” “You’re interested in your family history. It’s true isn’t it?” We arrived at the school and I went looking for Sean who’d been absent yesterday. “Thanks for the reporter business, Sean, it sure did the trick.” “Aye, I heard the lads were all back on their routes.” “Do you think you could get me some info?” “About?” “My Grandfather. For a start, is he from around here?” Sean laughed. “Well seein’ you’re a Yank – okay, okay, a Canadian – you can’t tell the difference between an east coast accent and a west coast accent. You’ve got cloth ears. Of course he’s no’ from around here. Anyone could tell that as soon as he opened his mouth. Is that it?” “No, I want to know where he’s from and when he came here.” “Why not just ask him?” 72

Hugh McCracken I laughed and told him about the breakfast conversation, if it could be called that. “Okay, I’ll see what McAndrew can dig up.” At my blank look, he added: “Dad’s buddy, the reporter.” “I don’t want Grandfather to find out I’m asking questions.” Sean mouthed an, “Oh,” and winked. “Right, Mum’s the word.” “What are you two whispering about?” Murdoch asked, joining us. “You’re like two girls, heads together, giggling.” “We were not giggling,” I said. “Murdoch, I wondered, when Grandfather fired you, why didn’t your Dad create?” Murdoch laughed. “Oh aye, Da would be sure tae dae that. He’s got the contract tae paint the Grinch’s shops. Making a fuss about me might rock the boat, queer his pitch. As it was, I was lucky just tae get nae mair than a clip round the ear over the strike. Da said losing the route was probably my own fault anyway if I was late and gave the Grinch lip.” “Does your Dad know Grandfather well, then?” “He knows he’s a sour-faced, penny-pinching old skinflint, but business is slow. He’s glad to have the shop’s paint contract.” I sighed. Murdoch’s description fitted Grandfather to a T. Maybe he really was my Grandfather and that was just how he was!

73

Chapter Fourteen

After dinner, Ralph and I caught up with the mailman on his mid-day rounds. He nodded. “You’re the lad that’s staying with McAlistair, aren’t you?” “Yes – ” “I dropped off another letter for you just now. Can I have the Canadian stamps for my son? If you’re into collecting, maybe he and you could make some swaps.” “Sure, I’ll give you the envelope next time I see you.” “He did say another letter, didn’t he, Ralph?” I said when we moved on. “Yes, why? Didn’t you get the first one?” I shook my head. I hadn’t had any mail. When I arrived home from school, I went straight into the sitting room. “The mailman said there was a letter for me.” 74

Hugh McCracken Grandfather frowned, but got to his feet and walked to his desk. He unlocked it, picked up a letter from one of the drawers, and handed me the envelope with a Canadian stamp. “Thanks, Grandfather,” I said. “Was there only one? The mailman thought there was another.” “Another letter from Canada, yes, but it was for me.” About to leave the room, I stopped dead. “This has been opened.” “Yes.” Grandfather nodded. “I opened it.” “You’d no right – ” “Let’s not start that again. In my house you live by my rules. I’ll not have any secrets here.” “Can I read your letter from Canada, then?” “Don’t be cheeky, lad. I’ll not argue with you. Go to your room and read your letter and we’ll say no more about it.” He looked at me, I thought, as if daring me to say something he could ground me for. Once again, I stomped up the stairs and slammed my door. The letter was from Mark, not Mr Caird. It wasn’t very long. Some gossip about his school and some new games he had. He closed saying that he hoped I was enjoying Scotland and getting on well with my Grandfather – fat chance. Right at the end was a PS: “Dad wrote yesterday, I think. If he sent you money, don’t spend it all in one shop. Ha ha.” The other letter was for me. I was too angry to cry, although I felt like it. Bang goes Ralph’s idea of asking Mr Caird to send the info to me. With Grandfather opening every letter, 75

Grandfather and The Ghost he’d just take out anything he didn’t want me to have, and it still wouldn’t prove anything one way or the other. In the dining room, Grandfather smiled at me. “That was a nice letter from your friend, wasn’t it?” “Yes. But what about the other letter?” “I told you, lad, it was business stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.” “But it was my business, from Mr Caird.” “I won’t warn you again. I’ll not argue with you. Now, you’ll need to reply to your chum’s letter. If you’re short of money for the air mail, give it to me and I’ll pop it into an envelope and mail it for you.” Oh, sure. That way you get to read the letter. “Mr Caird was foolish enough to send you some more money. What on earth would a boy your age spend it on?” Grandfather smiled. Mr Caird used to tease sometimes, but it was always in fun. With Grandfather this wasn’t teasing, this was baiting to see if he could get me mad enough to be rude and get myself grounded. Well, I wasn’t playing that game. I smiled back. It hurt like heck, but I smiled. “Can I go out after tea? I’ve done my homework.” “What about that letter? It’s only polite to respond promptly.” “I’ll do it when I come back and you can mail it tomorrow. Okay?” Ralph was indignant for me when I told him about the letters. When I told him my thought that there would be no point in writing to Mr Caird now, he grinned. 76

Hugh McCracken “Oh, I don’t know. How about having the letters sent here to my address?” “Yeah, that might work. To me, care of you. Mr Caird is bound to wonder why.” “Yes, you’re right. He wouldn’t be the only one to wonder. Postie is a real nosey parker. If he sees your name on a letter addressed here, he’d likely ask your grandpa why.” “What then? And don’t come up with another idea just to knock it down.” Ralph laughed. “What about having the letters just addressed to me? I won’t open them – I don’t usually have letters from Canada.” “Yeah…but you’d have to explain that somehow to Mr Caird.” “Leave that to me. Let’s write that letter now.” Dear Mr Caird, I’m sorry I haven’t written before, but things here have taken a bit of getting used to. Grandfather has never had much to do with boys and is very strict. Everything is fine at school and I have made some friends – none as good as Mark, but I suppose everything takes time. We have a project to do for school about family history. Grandfather won’t tell me anything and gets upset if I ask him questions. Could I ask you a favour? Could you send me Mum and Dad’s birth certificates, marriage certificate, and any photos – albums and such – you can find and mail them to Ralph Watson at the address at the top of this 77

Grandfather and The Ghost sheet? Ralph is my pal here and it will avoid getting Grandfather upset. Tell Mark I will write to him soon. I think a lot about the good times in Toronto. Love to Mrs Caird. Eric. “That do, Eric?” Ralph said. “Yeah, great. Would you like to write my essays at school? Just one thing; could you change Mum to Mom? The English spelling would sure look funny to Mr Caird. Look…I don’t have any money for the airmail stamp.” “That’s okay. I know your grandpa keeps you short. I’ll bill you for my services when you come into your money.” “How about giving me an idea for a letter to Mark? Grandfather expects me to write one when I get home.” “Okay, here goes.” Hi Mark, Got your letter today. Thank your Dad for the money he sent. Grandfather is keeping it for me and will reply about the business stuff. School is not bad – it’s school after all – and I’ve got some good friends. Grandfather has four newsagent shops – he doesn’t work in them, he just owns them. His paperboys were

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Hugh McCracken out on strike for a while. I’ll tell you all about that sometime. Everything is quite different here and it takes a while to get used to it. Even some words mean something different – what we call the first floor in a building is called the ground floor, what we call the second, is the first. Confusing, eh? Some things have different names like the hood of an auto – a car here – is called the bonnet and the trunk is called the boot. Light switches are down for on instead of up. Grandfather eats dinner in the middle of the day and has what he calls high tea at half-past five. I’ll write again soon. Eric. “Boy, Mark will wonder what’s happened to me. I’ve never written letters like that.” “If you don’t like them, then write one yourself.” “No, no, Ralph they’re great. Mark will just think I’ve swallowed some smart pills – proper sentences, no spelling mistakes, wow. How do you know about the things that are different?” “A year ago Dad took Mum and I to Disney World in Florida and I got your confusion in reverse.” “Shoot, look at the time. I’ve got to go. I’ll copy the letter to Mark at home. Thanks, Ralph. See you tomorrow.”

79

Chapter Fifteen

“Well?” Ralph said when I collected him on the way to school. “Well what?” “Did your grandpa read the letter?” “Yeah, right there in front of me at breakfast. He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t going to read it.” “Did he say anything about it?” “What do you want, a review? A lit crit? He said I shouldn’t have mentioned the strike.” “But he didn’t say anything about him keeping the money?” “No…he must have thought that okay.” “Or maybe he’s not going to bother posting it. If he does, will Mark or his Dad get the hint not to send any more money to you at your grandpa’s?” “Oh, I see! Yes, I suppose they will.”

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Hugh McCracken School days passed quickly as we waited for the reply from Mr Caird. Some kids tried to pick on us because of our accents, but Sean, Murdoch and his pals soon made it clear they would stand with us and the others backed off. I’d played soccer at school before and wasn’t too bad at all – good enough to make the second eleven. Ralph wasn’t into sports much, but he sure knew his computer and was always ready to pitch in and help with my school stuff. The first Tuesday that came round, Ralph reminded me to question Mrs James when Grandfather was out. So that evening after tea I didn’t go to Ralph’s as usual. Instead, I waited until I heard Grandfather leave before I knocked on Mrs James’s door. Her room was nearly as big as the dining room on the floor below. I didn’t see a bed, but I supposed the couch folded down to make a bed, so the room was more like a sitting room than a bedroom. Two chairs sat on either side of an electric fire. And she had a TV! Grandfather didn’t hold with TV, especially with paying the TV license. “Extortion!” he said. “Pure extortion.” “Come in, Eric. Do you need something?” “No, I just wanted to talk.” “Come over to the fire then and sit down.” I wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Mrs James didn’t help. She just sat there looking at me saying nothing. Finally, I said: “How long have you know Grandfather?” “About seven years, Eric. Ever since he came to town.” “Oh, so he’s not from here?” 81

Grandfather and The Ghost “No, he lived in Montrose before, I think.” “Did you know his wife, Grandmother?” “No…I don’t think I’ve ever heard him mention her. He’s not a great conversationalist.” You can say that again, lady. “So you don’t know anything about him till he got here? Why did he buy this big house just for him?” “I’ve never asked him. It wasn’t any of my business.” Since Mrs James seemed to have no other information for me, I went to Ralph’s after all. “Any other brilliant ideas?” I said. “Mrs James was a bust. And McAndrews, Sean’s dad’s buddy, hasn’t come up with anything either.” “Let’s see if you have any info on your grandpa.” “I’ve told you before – ” “Just relax! Think back to your Mum talking to you. About when she was a girl. About her mother, her home. About when she went to Canada. Did she ever visit Scotland after she went to Canada?” “Whoa! I can’t do that to order. Let’s just play a game.” Ralph grumbled. “How’s a detective to get anywhere with a case when the witnesses won’t talk?” “Okay, okay. I’ll try to think about that stuff, but not now.” Later, in bed, I couldn’t sleep. Ralph’s questions kept popping into my head with foggy ideas of answers. I had been to Scotland before. When I was four, going on five, I’d come here with my Mom. We’d seen Grandmother but not Grandfather. Was that because he wouldn’t see us? Or was he just not there? I didn’t 82

Hugh McCracken know. I didn’t remember thinking much about it at the time. There was a vague memory of soft sand that seemed to go on for ever – I’d need to ask someone if Montrose had big sands. Right! Mom had come over on her own the year after for Grandmother’s funeral. I wondered if she met Grandfather then – she must have. But obviously, they still weren’t speaking, or, at least they certainly weren’t writing to each other and there were no phone calls. I’d almost drifted off to sleep when I remembered Mom laughing, talking about playing with her cousins – second cousins really she’d said, children of her father’s cousins.

“See,” Ralph said, next day, “you can remember stuff.” “But it’s not much help is it?” “Sure it is. Think! This is 1998. You’ll be fourteen this year. If your Gran died when you were five going on six, that’s eight years ago – a year before your Grandpa came here. McAndrew must have contacts in the local rags in Angus, so he should be able to find some trace of, or info about, your Grandpa. He can check out if you still have any relatives there, or close by, too.” Sean wasn’t enthusiastic, but he promised to drop into Safeway and talk to his Dad at dinnertime. When Ralph and I were about to leave for home after school, a man I didn’t recognise at first stopped us at the school gate. “Hardy tells me you want me to do some digging for you,” he said. 83

Grandfather and The Ghost What was this idiot on about? I’d nothing that needed digging, and I wasn’t about to hire someone for Grandfather’s garden. “That’s right, Mr McAndrew,” Ralph said. Oh right, Sean Hardy’s dad’s pal – the reporter. “What’s in it for me?” Mr McAndrew said. I didn’t know what to say, but Ralph jumped in again. “We’ll give you an exclusive on the story.” “What story?” “We think the Grinch – Mr McAlistair – isn’t really Eric’s Grandfather.” “So?” “You haven’t been able to find out anything about him since he came here seven years ago. We believe he lived in Montrose before that and came here the year after his wife died – ” “You’re wasting my time, kid. There’s no story in that.” He turned to go. “Wait. Eric’s Mum and Dad left him a lot of money. But Mr McAlistair controls it till Eric’s twenty-five – ” Mr McAndrew turned to look at me. “Let’s go down to the café at the harbour. I’ll buy you an ice-cream.” Seated in the café, us with our ice creams and Mr McAndrew with a coffee, Mr McAndrew looked me straight in the face. “Right. Why don’t you think he’s your Grandfather?” I stumbled through an account of meeting Grandfather and living with him since I arrived. “Not very nice, I’ll grant you, but that could just be McAlistair being himself. By all accounts he’s a mean, penny-pinching, cantankerous old sod.” 84

Hugh McCracken “What about the letters, Mr McAlistair,” Ralph said. The reporter grinned. “What about them?” “I don’t think the Grinch meant Eric to get them at all. If postie hadn’t talked to us, Eric would never have known there were letters. I think the Grinch means to cut Eric off from his friends in Canada.” “Why?” “If they don’t hear from Eric they’ll get fed up and stop writing. The Grinch can do whatever he likes with Eric’s money.” “Stop there for a minute,” Mr McAndrew said. “How much money are we talking about? Why would McAlistair take all this bother for peanuts?” “About two million pounds,” I said. Mr McAndrew whistled. “Yes, that might be worth some risk. But it could still be McAlistair being himself. All this still doesn’t mean he’s not your Grandfather.” Ralph took a deep breath. “I think the real McAlistair – Eric’s real Grandpa – is dead and this one has taken his place. Why else would the real Grandpa up anchor and move right across the country to here where nobody knows him?” “Sean said you told good stories,” Mr McAndrew laughed. “But my reporter’s nose tells me it might be worth a few pennies to make some phone calls to a friend or two. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. But don’t hold your breath. This might all be just your good imagination.” “When do you think you’ll have any answers?” I said. “Saturday, here about three in the afternoon?” “Why so long?” Ralph said. 85

Grandfather and The Ghost “Patience, patience, lad. My contacts in Angus will have to be circumspect – you know what that means – go slowly, quietly. We don’t want someone to put two and two together to make five. If there is something fishy going on, then softly, softly, catchee monkee. Anyway, I’m out of town Thursday and most of Friday.”

86

Chapter Sixteen

“Is there anyone you can think of here that might be any help?” Ralph said as we sat before his computer. “Help doing what?” I snapped, annoyed at the implication that Ralph had been doing all the thinking. “Cool it. I just meant do you know anyone here in Scotland, except for your Grandpa and Mrs James.” “How could I? I just got here, remember…” I stopped. There was someone. The stewardess from the flight over. She’d given me her card and said to call her if I needed help. Now, where the heck was the card? I rummaged through my pockets. Where had I put that card? Great, there it was in my inside jacket pocket – a bit bent, but there. I explained to Ralph and showed him the card.

87

Grandfather and The Ghost “If she’s on the Toronto-Glasgow flight she’ll overnight here before she gets a flight back,” Ralph said. “Want to try phoning her?” “From here?” “Sure, Mum won’t mind, but I think your Grandpa might.” The phone rang and rang. I was about to give up when it stopped ringing and a voice said: “Elain Ramsay…” “Miss Ramsey, this is Eric, Eric Ferguson,” I said. “Remember, the boy on the flight from Toronto that was met by the grumpy old man?” She laughed. “Yes, I do – ” “You said I could phone you if I needed help…” “Yes, Eric, I remember. What’s the problem?” All at once, I couldn’t think what to say. How could she help? Ralph, who had been listening with his head close to mine, scribbled quickly and handed the note to me. “Are you still there, Eric?” Miss Ramsey sounded a bit impatient. “Yes. Sorry.” I peered at Ralph’s note. “There’s something odd here. I think Grandfather is trying to stop me contacting my parents’ friends in Toronto.” There was silence, then: “Do you want me to take something from you to them in Toronto?” Ralph nodded an emphatic, yes. “Yes, but I can’t get to Glasgow. Grandfather wouldn’t let me.” “I fly out again tomorrow…I am due a couple of days off. I could collect them in Scotland. If it really is important.” 88

Hugh McCracken Ralph was nodding his head off again. “Please,” I said. Ralph was busy scribbling and I squinted to see as he wrote. “Where are you?” Miss Ramsay said. “In Helensburgh,” I said, and gave her the Watsons’ address. “If you come to that address Ralph will fetch me.” “Right. Sunday, then.” “Thanks, Miss Ramsay, thanks. I’ll see you then.” “Great,” Ralph said. “What the heck do I tell her when she gets here?” I said. “We don’t really know anything, do we? It’s all going to sound like a soppy homesick kid making up stories.” “Relax, relax. We’ll be fine. McAndrew might have some info for us on Saturday and maybe we’ll have heard from Mr Caird by then too.” “And pigs might fly.” Saturday came with still no reply from Mr Caird. Ralph and I waited anxiously – at least I was anxious – at the café. It was nearly four o’clock – almost an hour later than he said he’d meet us – before Mr McAndrew turned up. “Another ice cream, lads?” He offered and we accepted. Seated again at the booth I could hardly sit still. Did he have any useful information? “I don’t know that you’re going to be much further forward, although some of the info is quite interesting. MacAlistair did live in Montrose until 1991 and had lived there as long as anyone could remember. In 1989 his wife died – ”

89

Grandfather and The Ghost “That ties in with what you remember, Eric,” Ralph said. “You and your Mum were here in 1988, the year before your Grandma died.” “Do you mind?” Mr MacAndrew scowled. “I have the floor. It seems he sort of drew back into himself for a spell, but even so, no one remembers him as being such a cranky, cantankerous sod as your Grandpa is. In fact, apart from the bee in his bonnet about Catholics – and there’s lots of Scots have that – most people remember him as fairly good-natured, if not exactly easy going. Some young men who delivered his paper back then even remember getting a tip at Christmas.” “Wow, proof positive the man here isn’t your Grandfather, Eric,” Ralph said. “He took early retirement in December 1990 and in the spring of 1991 he left Montrose for a holiday, telling some people he was going to meet a cousin he hadn’t seen for years. He was going to meet him at Heathrow where they would rent a car and do some touring. That was the last they saw of him in Montrose. He never returned. A Glasgow lawyer arranged for his furniture and so on to be picked up and for the house to be sold. No one thought anything of it. He didn’t have any close friends in Montrose.” “So the man here could be someone taking Eric’s Grandpa’s place, couldn’t he?” Ralph said. “Not quite so quick. We had a photograph of MacAlistair taken when he had a shouting match with Hardy at Safeway. It never got used by the paper, but I emailed a copy of it to my contacts in Montrose. They showed it around. Everyone said it was MacAlistair and 90

Hugh McCracken that he’d worn well in the seven years since they’d seen him – ” “What does that mean? He’d worn well?” I asked. Mr McAndrew smiled. “It means he wasn’t as old looking as they would have expected after seven years.” “Do you have the name of the lawyer in Glasgow?” Ralph said. “I could get it, but it won’t do you much good. Clientlawyer privilege and all that.” “Does anyone in Montrose know he’s living in Helensburgh?” Ralph said. “No, and my friends don’t know either. I’m not about to have a hornet’s nest about my head if this all turns out to be your imagination. Anyway, no one seems much interested.” “Well, thanks anyway,” I said. “Remember, if anything does come of all this, I get the exclusive.” Mr McAndrews laughed as he said this and, rising from the booth, left us. “We waited nearly a week for that?” I said, and slouched on the bench. “You’re disappointed?” Ralph said. “Think. It’s got to be a different man. You don’t change your nature that quickly. Your Grandpa wasn’t a grouch. That’s what the people in Montrose remember.” “But everyone recognised his photo – ” “Yes…but he didn’t go back to Montrose himself to settle everything up. That means that, although he looks enough like your Grandpa in the photo to be taken for him, he couldn’t risk being seen close up, in person, by someone who actually knew your Grandpa.” 91

Grandfather and The Ghost “Then where is Grandpa?” Ralph hesitated. “He’s got to be dead – murdered.”

92

Chapter Seventeen

On Sunday, I was at the Watsons’ before nine. “You’re a bit early, Eric. Ralph isn’t even dressed yet,” Mrs Watson smiled as usual. “But come in. Would you like some tea or coffee?” Ralph, still in his pyjamas, was seated at the kitchen table. He grinned and waved hello, his mouth full of waffles. I was embarrassed. Of course, Miss Ramsey wouldn’t come this early. “Does your Grandfather still object to you going to Mass with us?” Mr Watson said. “Yes, but he’s getting used to it. Mrs James told him he couldn’t do anything about it unless he was going to go with me.” Ralph laughed. “That would be a real blue moon day. The roof would probably fall in.”

93

Grandfather and The Ghost “Now, Ralph, that’ll do,” Mr Watson said. “Mr MacAlistair is entitled to his views even if we think them wrong. Mrs James certainly sounds a reasonable person.” Ralph swallowed the last of his waffle. “Come on up while I get dressed, okay?” In his room, I asked Ralph if he had told his parents about Miss Ramsey. “Oh, yeah, I told them she was a friend of your folks from Canada and you thought we’d meet her here in case your grandpa’s still huffed about your mum.” I laughed. “Don’t you ever tell the truth?” “Sometimes, but a good story is more fun. Look, I’ve written up all McAndrew said yesterday so your stewardess can take it with her.” The Watsons invited me to stay for lunch after Mass, but I decided I’d better go home for dinner. The very last thing I needed was for Grandfather to get in a snit about the Watsons and ground me for the afternoon. By two, I was back at the Watsons’ biting my fingernails. Miss Ramsey arrived shortly after three. Mrs Watson fluttered around with afternoon tea, but then she and Mr Watson went out for a walk, dragging Ralph with them – not quite screaming and shouting, but scowling ferociously. Alone with Miss Ramsay, I felt shy. “Out with it, Eric. You said there was a problem. You didn’t invite me here for afternoon tea.” All at once, before I could stop myself, everything poured out. My unhappiness living with Grandfather, his meanness, his total lack of interest in me except 94

Hugh McCracken when I did something he thought wrong, the groundings without tea for nothing. She laughed when I told her about the strike, but frowned at the bit about the letters. “Yes, I can see why you might want me to take something for you to your friends the Cairds, although you and your chum Ralph seem to have come up with a solution for that problem yourselves. But I don’t think anything you’ve told me proves Mr MacAlistair is not your real Grandfather.” I showed her Ralph’s account of Mr McAndrews information. “Again it’s interesting, and I’ll certainly get this to Mr Caird, but really it still doesn’t prove anything.” She put a hand on my arm. “I know you’re unhappy with your Grandfather, but nothing you’ve told me qualifies as abuse as the law sees it – at least I don’t think so. Is there a counsellor at your school you could talk to? He or she might be able to tone your Grandfather down a bit. Don’t let your friend Ralph’s imagination make things worse.” I was disappointed, but I could see her point. Exactly what I had hoped she could do, I was now not at all sure. The Watsons came back and Ralph and I walked Miss Ramsey to the station. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you, Eric – ” “No.” To my surprise I meant it. I felt better having told someone about how I felt. “Thanks for coming and for taking my stuff back to Mr Caird for me.” “Keep my card, Eric. Call me again to let me know how things are with you. I mean it. Please keep in touch.” 95

Grandfather and The Ghost “Well…what did she say?” Ralph asked as soon as Miss Ramsay’s train left. I told him of our conversation. “Shoot. What a waste of an afternoon. Mum and Dad shouldn’t have dragged me off. Then we might have got someplace.” “How do think you being there would have helped?” Ralph shrugged. “What we need is to find out what happened between when your grandpa left Montrose on his holiday and when the Grinch turned up here.” “Exactly how do we do that?” “I don’t know…yet. I’ve just thought of it. Give me time.” We slouched along the seafront. Ralph, for once, was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said: “We have to pin down when he left Montrose and when he arrived here – exact dates if possible. He was meeting a male cousin at Heathrow. They were going to hire a car – did your Grandfather drive? Does the Grinch?” Ralph stopped and looked blank-eyed into space. “What’s up now?” I said. “You know, we’re making this much more complicated than we need to.” “You mean you are. Don’t stop there and leave me hanging. Go on.” “If they looked enough like each other for someone who didn’t know them really well to make a mistake, then what if one murdered the other and took the victim’s identity?” “As Sean says, Ralph, you tell good stories. The killer would need to hide a body and tie up all sorts of 96

Hugh McCracken loose ends. It would get real complicated. What if there was an accident and one got killed? That would be an easier time to change places, wouldn’t it?” “Yes, but I’d still prefer a murder.” “Let’s see if we can get Mr McAndrew to check for accident reports for us in the right time slot. Accidents with two men where one got killed.”

97

Chapter Eighteen

On Monday, straight after school, Ralph and I made for the Observer Office. “You are two persistent lads,” Mr McAndrew said when we finally cornered him. “But you’ve got me hooked. Okay, I’ll call in a few markers and see if any of my newspaper buddies can check up on any accidents around Heathrow or in Wales in the time slot.” “Why Wales?” I said. “Oh didn’t I tell? That’s where the ‘Montrose MacAlistair’ said he and his friend were going to tour.” The afternoon post had arrived at the Watsons’ and with it a package for me from Mr Caird. Ralph and I hustled up to his room to open it. Four photograph albums looked promising, with photographs of Mom a whole lot younger than I ever remember seeing her, but none of them showed 98

Hugh McCracken Grandfather. Mr Caird had put in the certificates I had asked for, but again they shed no light on Grandfather. Right at the bottom of the carton was an old diary dated 1980. “Wow! 1980!” I said: “Mom would only be sixteen then, just two and a bit older than I am now. It feels kinda funny looking through it.” “Come on, Eric. Let’s look. Your Mum would have been at home in Montrose then. She might have said something about your Grandfather.” On the inside cover was mom’s name – her maiden name, MacAlistair – with their address in Montrose. Most of the stuff was about school and pretty boring, but in May she talked about meeting a boy at some dance – Ferguson, my Dad! “I bet that’s why she kept this diary and not any others,” Ralph said. Entries after that were angry accounts of rows with her father about the boy. “Oh boy, she sounds like you with your Grandfather,” Eric laughed. Right at the end came a list of teachers with either a cross or a tick after each, then a list of names with dates of birth and zodiac sign, and on the last page two dates of birth – one labelled ‘Mother’ and the other ‘Father’. “Bingo!” Ralph said: “Now we know the correct date of birth for your Grandfather.” I got home in time to wash quickly and be at the dining room table just as Grandfather was about to sit. Grandfather raised his bushy eyebrows. “I don’t like you dashing in here at the last minute.” 99

Grandfather and The Ghost Is there anything about me you do like? But I smiled. “Yes, Grandfather,” I said and sat. After Mrs James had served us, I looked at Grandfather. “We were talking in class about WWII today. Do you remember it?” To my surprise Grandfather actually laughed. “No, lad. I’m not as long in the tooth as that.” “When were you born?” “In 1938, lad, the year before war broke out.” The date in mom’s diary was 1936! “So that makes you sixty, Grandfather. That’s funny. Mom told me once you were 28 years older than her. Wouldn’t that make you sixty-two?” He could have laughed the difference off, told me Mom had made a mistake, told me I had misremembered or miscounted, but instead he turned red, coughed, scowled, and almost snarled: “I’ve told you before not to chatter about nothing at table. Finish your tea and be quiet.” When Ralph and I talked about Grandfather’s reaction, we agreed it was suspicious. The date that popped out before he had time to think was probably his correct birthday, but that still didn’t get us any further towards proving anything. It just made us feel we were right. The Grinch was an impostor.

100

Chapter Nineteen

Four days later, Mr McAndrew was waiting for us at the school gate. “Come to the café for some ice cream, lads,” he said. “I’ve got some news for you.” “There were no accidents with two men, in which one died, reported in the time period in the area investigated.” Mr McAndrew laughed. “You two should see your faces! I’ve only started. There was one curious report. Two men were staying at a hotel in Wales and one died during the night. Well, DOA – dead on arrival – at the hospital. Both men were called MacAlistair, both had the same initials: R.C. The dead man was identified by the other as his cousin visiting from Canada. A passport and an airline ticket to Heathrow pretty well confirmed the identification. He had no return ticket.” 101

Grandfather and The Ghost “Was he murdered?” Ralph said. “Just hold your horses, lad. It was an unexpected death so there was an inquest. The verdict was natural causes, a death certificate was issued and the body cremated.” “That’s it? He got away with it!” Ralph said. “Wait, lad, there’s a bit more. The lad that got this for me had followed up on the inquest. He’d spoken to the hotel manager who commented that the two men could easily be taken for each other. In fact, he’d asked them when they signed the register if they were twins. They’d laughed and told him they were just cousins who hadn’t met for twenty-five years.” “So if there was a swap, that’s when it happened,” Ralph said. “Any chance of finding out where in Canada the other man came from?” “Patience, patience. The hotel register, of course. Hamilton, Ontario.” “What about his passport?” I said. “There’s a bit in it for someone to contact in case of an accident.” I swallowed hard. “Mine still has Mom and Dad.” “No. That came out at the inquest. That page was blank and the other man said his cousin had no one left in Canada. That was why he’d come back to the UK.” “The police didn’t ask any questions?” Ralph said. “No, it all seemed quite straightforward.” “So any other inquiries have to be made in Canada then,” I said. Mr McAndrew laughed. “I’ve no contacts over there, lads, but remember; if anything comes of this, I get an exclusive.”

102

Hugh McCracken “Yes, we promised,” I said. “Ralph, do you think your folks will let me phone Toronto from your house? Grandfather would have a fit if he saw a long distance charge on his bill, especially since I couldn’t tell him why I’d phoned.” Mr and Mrs Watson didn’t bat an eyelid when I asked if I could phone Mr Caird from their house. It was nearly five o’clock – ten in the morning in Toronto – when I got through. “Mr Caird, it’s me, Eric…no I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong. I want to ask you to do me a favour. Can you check up on an R.C. MacAlistair who lived in Hamilton until 1990?” “This is more about you and your Grandfather, is it? Your stewardess phoned me and filled me in. If you think it’s important and will help settle you down, I’ll set things in motion. It won’t be tomorrow. I can’t do this myself. I’ll hire a private detective agency for the job. Call me again in three days…no, better make it four. ’Bye Eric.”

103

Chapter Twenty

The four days seemed to crawl, but finally the time came to call Mr Caird again. “Right, Eric, got pencil and paper ready?” “I’m putting you on a speaker phone Mr Caird, okay? That way my chum Ralph can hear and I don’t have to tell him later.” “Fine, Eric. MacAlistair isn’t a common spelling of the name, MacAlister is more common, but the agency found information on one man who fits the bill. “He was born in 1938 in Scotland, became a Canadian citizen in 1967. He worked on an auto assembly line until 1988. No reason given for termination. His wife died in 1984. Gave up his house in 1989 and moved into furnished rented accommodation. He left the rented place without giving notice in 1990 and cleared out his two bank accounts at the same time.” 104

Hugh McCracken “So he is Grandfather’s cousin,” I said. “Sounds like it. By all reports, he never lost his strong Scottish accent; a loner; not at all sociable – in fact by some reports downright unsociable, a real grouch.” “Sounds like the Grinch, okay,” Ralph said. “Yeah,” I said, “but there’s nothing in all that to tell us one way or another if the man here really is Grandfather or his cousin.” “I’m not finished yet, Eric. There was one strange thing. He had an insurance policy for $200,000 that he’d kept paid up even after his wife died. The insurance company paid out to his Scottish cousin. It seems that he’d written his cousin in as beneficiary – the one the insurer pays out to – the month before he left Canada.” “Wow, so he was planning to kill his cousin all along; to take his place, and get his hands on the insurance money,” Ralph said. Mr Caird sighed. “I was afraid you’d jump to that conclusion. It’s a very strange coincidence, I’ll grant you, but it could well be no more than that. Even if it was true, there’s no way it would stand up in court.” “What about fingerprints and so on?” Ralph said. “The MacAlistair on this side of the Pond had no police record and never worked at anything needing fingerprinting. I don’t know for sure about the Montrose MacAlistair, of course, but I would suspect that’s true for him too. “Eric, don’t you go doing anything foolish now. You hear me? This might all be your fertile imagination fed by the fact that you don’t much like your Grandfather. 105

Grandfather and The Ghost I’ll make some more inquiries on this side. You sit tight! Do nothing!” He passed the phone over to Mark and the three of us chatted for a short time before Ralph looked at his watch. “Oops. We’d better hang up; this’ll cost a fortune.”

106

Chapter Twenty One

When Tuesday rolled round – Grandfather’s night out – Mrs James called me into the kitchen after tea. “I have to go out for a spell tonight, Eric,” she said. “You usually go to Ralph’s anyway and I’ll be home shortly after nine, but I thought I should let you know.” I tried not to grin. What a chance! They’d both be out! I’d be able to look round the house for clues. After tea, I went to my room to do some homework. At seven on the dot Grandfather left. I called to Mrs James that I was going to see Ralph. I ran to his place, told him what I was going to do, and we both ran back. Mrs James was gone! I’d never been in Grandfather’s room before. It seemed unlived in. No photos, no souvenirs, nothing on the bare tops of the two chest-of-drawers. “What now?” Ralph said.

107

Grandfather and The Ghost “Check out the drawers, but make sure everything goes back exactly the way it was.” “I know, I know. I read detective stories too.” Our search was useless, like the room: nothing. “The living room,” I said. “There’s a big desk. Grandfather sometimes sits there to write and go over the books from the shops.” “Won’t it be locked?” “Yeah, probably, but let’s try.” The desk wasn’t locked! We opened it and started to go through it. We didn’t hear the front door open or close but we did hear the roar from the living room door. “Eric, I’ll have your hide! What are you two doing here? In my desk?” He advanced across the room. With a frightened glance at me, Ralph bolted. Before Grandfather could stop him, he was out of the room and running. “You stand where you are.” Grandfather strode to the desk. We hadn’t really got much past opening it. Two drawers were locked. Grandfather tugged at them and grunted. Obviously satisfied, he turned to me. “Even ten years ago I would have beaten you black and blue. In this namby-pamby age I suppose some busybody would complain – where is Mrs James?” “She had to go out – ” “And you seized the opportunity to steal – ” “We weren’t stealing,” I shouted. “Don’t you dare shout at me, lad,” he shouted back, “or I might forget myself and take a belt to you. You were caught in the act. Anyway, you’ll not be spending time with that Watson lad from now on. Until I can find 108

Hugh McCracken a cheap school where you can board, I’ll be walking you to school and meeting you after school. When you’re not in school, you’ll be here with me or locked in your room. Now get out of my sight. Go to your room – no, go to the bathroom first – I’m coming up to lock your door.” Boy, I’d done it now. Solitary confinement on bread and water! And I’d thought this place was enough like a prison before. How could Ralph and I finish our investigation? After the door was locked, I could hear shouting from downstairs, but finally the house was quiet again. Shortly after ten, Grandfather unlocked my door to let me use the bathroom. After shutting me in again, I heard him go to his bedroom. I lay on my bed furious, too angry to cry. Some time after midnight, still wide awake, I got up and listened with my ear to the door. Nothing. I knelt to look through the keyhole. The old-fashioned key was still in the lock! Great. I’d seen this done on TV, but I needed some stuff. I rummaged through the drawer in the small table I used as a desk until I found the pair of long nosed tweezers Ralph and I had found in his house when we were going to start stamp collecting. Back at the door, I felt under it. Yes! There was a good inch clearance between the bottom and the floor. Now I needed a big sheet of paper. I pushed the paper under the door below where the keyhole was. With the tweezers, I gripped the end on the key, turned gently, and pushed. At the second try, the key fell. It made a loud bang as it hit the floor and I 109

Grandfather and The Ghost held my breath for a long time, but there was no other sound. Slowly, gently, I pulled the paper. I had the key. Thank heavens; Grandfather had bought an old house. I dressed quickly, packed some clothes into my backpack, then opened the door, locking it behind me. Stopping at Grandfather’s door, I could hear him snoring. Taking care to avoid the squeaky stair, I crept down to the sitting room. The desk was still open and in one of the unlocked drawers, I found £100, so whatever Grandfather was worried about us finding in the locked drawers wasn’t money. Was I stealing? No, darn it, I had pots of money. Grandfather was just keeping it from me. I made myself some cocoa and sat in the kitchen until half past five. The last thing I needed was to be picked up by a cop, cold and shivering. Leaving the house, I went to one of the shelters on the seafront and huddled in a corner. By quarter to seven, I was near the shop Murdoch delivered papers for and spotted him coming along the road. “What are you daein’ here at this time. Eric? Come tae steal my job again?” “I’m running away to Montrose,” I said. “What’s the best way to get there?” “Bus tae Glesga, then a bus tae Montrose frae Buchanan Street Bus station. It’s a dawdle.” “When’s the first bus to Glasgow?” “Aw, you’re o’er late fur that one, but there’s plenty.”

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? No, tell Ralph, but tell him to keep his mouth shut.” 110

Chapter Twenty Two

By mid-afternoon, I was in Montrose. In the phone directory, I looked for MacAlistair then, as an afterthought, went back and looked up Ferguson. I knew Dad was an only son and that both his parents were dead, but there might be cousins. My first three calls were duds. I stopped to think. Were the cousins Mom talked about boys or girls? If they were girls, wouldn’t they be married now and have different names? Darn, I couldn’t remember. Two more tries then I’d have a go with Ferguson. On my next call, I introduced myself as before: Eric Ferguson, son of Marie MacAlistair and Donald Ferguson, both of Montrose, and grandson of R.C. MacAlistair. The voice at the other end laughed. “Yes, I remember Marie fine. She used to play with my daughter. Her father, Old MacAlistair, was cousin to my 111

Grandfather and The Ghost husband. How is she? I haven’t seen her for near twenty years.” I chocked back tears. “Can I come and see you…please?” “You mean now? You’re in Montrose?” “Yes…please.” She gave me her address and I set out. A relative, distant maybe, but she sure sounded a lot more welcoming than Grandfather. When I arrived at the house, the voice turned out to be a nice old bat, a bit like Mrs James. “Oh you’re just a wee bit laddie,” she said. “I’m thirteen, nearly fourteen,” I said. “Well, come away in. Just put your pack down in the hall.” She ushered me through to the living room. “Are you here on your own? Where’s Marie? Your mother? How is she?” I finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “Mom’s dead. I’m supposed to stay with Grandfather MacAlistair.” Mrs MacAlistair’s face paled, her hand flew to her mouth, she bit on the thumb knuckle, then before I could say anything else, she hugged me hard. “Oh laddie, I am sorry.” She sat me down on the couch and perched beside me with one arm round my shoulder. “I’m afraid you’re here on a wild goose chase. Marie’s father hasn’t been in Montrose for nigh on seven, maybe eight years.” “I’m not looking for him. He’s in Helensburgh. I’ve just run away from him.” 112

Hugh McCracken My story poured out. Mom and Dad’s accident, my being sent to Scotland, meeting Grandfather, living with him. The one thing I stopped short of telling her was my suspicion that he wasn’t really my Grandfather. She gave me a final hug. “There’s a bathroom upstairs. You go up and have a wash, and I’ll make us a nice cup of tea.” When I came down, she had a tray of tea things and cookies – biscuits they called them here. “Folks hereabouts wondered about MacAlistair. He went off on holiday and never came back. Sold his house through a Glasgow lawyer and never a word to anyone about where he’d gone. Helensburgh you say? Well, I never.” “Did he have heart problems?” “Now there’s a strange thing for a wee bit laddie to ask, but yes, he did. That’s why he retired early. He’d always been canny, so he’d a fair bit put by for a rainy day. Is he ill?” “No he’s not ill, but I can’t live with him any more.” I repeated my story of how Grandfather treated me. “My, that doesn’t sound like MacAlistair at all. I know he fell out with Marie, your mother, when she married. He was stubborn and pigheaded about that – but so was Marie. She wouldn’t come to see him when you and she visited Scotland. I remember her mother telling me about that. You’d just be a bairn. Anyway, MacAlistair was good with my grandsons and often said he’d like to meet you. So I’d have thought he’d be pleased to have you. Did he not show you the model boats he builds?”

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Grandfather and The Ghost I shook my head. It was time to tell her my suspicions. She listened without comment to Mr McAndrew’s information and what Mr Caird had found out, even forgetting to drink her tea. “Yes, there was a MacAlistair cousin, from Brechin I think, I’ve heard my husband talk about him not long before he died. The spitting image of each other…” she laughed at my puzzled look, “…near doubles they were. I do think he did go to Canada.” She sat back and looked at me. “You’re sure you’re telling me the truth? You haven’t been bad and run away to avoid trouble?” I started to protest my innocence. “No, laddie, it’s all right, I believe you. But if this man doesn’t like boys around, why did he take you? He could easily have said no. That he was too old or too ill.” When I told her about the money, her eyes widened. “I think, Eric, you’d best stay here tonight. There’s a police sergeant I know, a good friend to my poor husband. Will you tell him your story?”

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Chapter Twenty Three

Sergeant Wilson, when he arrived, was how I’d always imagined a country policeman from the way Mom and Dad had described them. A big man in every direction, but with a soft slow voice. “Now, son, tell me what you told Mrs MacAlistair here last night. Start from the beginning and leave nothing out.” He listened patiently, not interrupting once. His gaze remained fixed on my face. When I finally ran down, he looked me straight in the eye. “You’re quite sure you’re not in bother over anything? A wee bit shoplifting? Broken windows? Stealing?” At ‘stealing,’ I felt my face flush. I hurried to tell him about the £100 from the desk.

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Grandfather and The Ghost “But it wasn’t really stealing, honest. Grandfather took any money I had, and said he was just keeping it for me!” Sergeant Wilson nodded. “But you didn’t tell us about it, did you? Is there anything else? Has your Grandfather been beating you?” “No, Sir, he doesn’t touch me. He didn’t even shake my hand when we met at the airport.” “All this might just be your imagination because your Grandfather didn’t fall all over you. Have you really tried your best?” “I think so, but he finds fault with everything I do.” “Mmm. Right, son. You stay with Mrs MacAlistair tonight. Tomorrow you go back to Helensburgh with me. I’ll phone the Helensburgh station now and let them know you’re safe. No reason to have a search out for you. Now don’t look at me like that, sonny. I’ve heard your evidence. You make a good case, but we’ll need more. I knew MacAlistair well. If the man in Helensburgh is not your Grandfather, I’ll know.” Next morning, Sergeant Wilson wasn’t in uniform when he called to pick me up and his car was unmarked when I’d expected a police car. “We can get this settled pretty quickly. Eric, isn’t it? But until we know for sure, the man in Helensburgh is your Grandfather, right? We say nothing to make him suspicious of us. I’m a social worker from Dundee – which is as far as you got, right? – sent to take you back to him. You’re going to have to be patient, put up with whatever happens, maybe for a day or two, right?” “What happens if he really is my Grandfather?”

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Hugh McCracken “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, right? Trust me. Does your Grandfather have dentures, false teeth?” “I don’t know. Why should I?” “The man I knew lost all his teeth in his late forties. As I understand it, dental care in Canada is much more into preserving your own teeth at all costs. I have MacAlistair’s dental records from Montrose.” He smiled at me and I smiled back, although I wasn’t at all sure I really wanted to meet Grandfather again. We stopped in Stirling at lunchtime and after we ate, Sergeant Wilson took me round Stirling Castle. He grinned at me. “I always liked castles as a young lad. Since we’re here we might as well enjoy ourselves.” This was more like it. I had hoped that Grandfather would take me to places like this castle. The interlude was too short. As we drove up to Grandfather’s house, I shivered. What would he say? What would he do? “You stay in the car,” Sergeant Wilson said, “while I go in, right?” A good five minutes passed before he came back out for me. He winked. “Let’s go, Eric. Remember, I’m Mister Wilson. A social worker from Dundee. You never got as far as Montrose, right?” Great. The man in the house wasn’t my grandfather. He hadn’t recognised Sergeant Wilson. Why else the mister? But why then didn’t Sergeant Wilson arrest him? Why was I still being turned over to him? “Is he Grandfather from Montrose?” I said. 117

Grandfather and The Ghost “Let’s leave that for a bit, Eric, right? Trust me.” He laughed. “It’s a good job we had a good meal in Stirling and that cuppa and a bun at the castle tearoom.” Mrs James rushed up to me as soon as I walked in. “Oh, Eric, what a fright you’ve given us…” “Leave him, woman. It was a thoughtless, stupid thing to do. Eric, thank this man for his kindness in bringing you safe home, then go straight to your room. I’ll not be foolish enough to leave the key in the lock this time. I’ll speak to you in the morning.” I said: “Thanks Mr Wilson,” and turned to go. “Empty your pockets,” Grandfather said. “I’ll take back what’s left of the money you stole.” Wow, back to square one. I threw myself onto my bed. Had I been conned? Was he really my Grandfather? Had Sergeant Wilson been bribed with a share of my money? After a while, I got up and emptied my backpack. I laughed. Six chocolate bars lay right at the bottom. Sergeant Wilson must have put them there sometime during our trip. Maybe it was going to work out okay after all. Next morning, Grandfather unlocked my door to let me wash and use the bathroom, but he didn’t speak. He was still silent at breakfast and only grunted when I asked if I was to go to school. Several times he looked at me, frowning. We were almost finished when the front door bell rang. “Door, Mrs James,” he bellowed. Minutes later, three uniformed police officers walked into the dining room.

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Hugh McCracken Grandfather scowled. “I don’t intend to press charges. I’ll deal with the boy my own way.” One policeman cleared his throat noisily. “Mr MacAlistair, we have a warrant to search these premises for any documents relating to your late cousin. We would appreciate your cooperation.” Grandfather looked about ready to explode. “This is nonsense. What are the grounds for the warrant?” “Some questions regarding possible fraud against the Department of Social Security have arisen…” “Am I under arrest?” “No, sir, not at present. May we proceed with the search?” Everyone ignored me. Nothing was found of interest until they reached the desk in the living room. Grandfather grumbled angrily but did open the two locked drawers. “Three passports,” one constable listed: “Two of them cancelled: a Canadian one and a British one, in the name of Robert Cameron MacAlistair; third passport, British, in the name of Roderick Colin MacAlistair; bankbooks; legal papers relating to the purchase of the shops; correspondence with the Department of Social Security regarding possibility of a disability pension; death certificate for Robert Cameron MacAlistair; letters from an insurance company relating to a claim…” “I think that’s enough,” the senior officer said. “Label the contents of both drawers and we’ll take them with us.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost He turned to Grandfather. “Robert Cameron MacAlistair, I arrest you for fraud relating to the death of Roderick Colin MacAlistair…” Now almost purple in the face, Grandfather protested: “But I am Roderick – ” “No, you’re not.” Sergeant Wilson stepped into the room. “I knew Roderick well. You certainly look like him, but you are not him.” The police let the impostor pack some stuff in a bag and they left with him. “Now, sonny, what about you?” Sergeant Wilson said. “The local child welfare people think you should be taken into their care.” “Can’t I just stay here with Mrs James until Mr Caird gets everything settled?” Sergeant Wilson scratched his right ear. “I called your Mr Caird already. He’s going to fly over. It seems your parents’ will named him as your guardian in the event that your Grandfather was unwilling or unable to accept guardianship. Funny, isn’t it? If MacAlistair hadn’t been greedy and had simply declined guardianship, none of this would ever have come out. He still be enjoying the fruits of his fraud.” “What about my staying with Mrs James? I don’t want to be dumped in some children’s home until Mr Caird gets here.” “Well…” Sergeant Wilson looked at Mrs James. “That rather depends on Mrs James. With Mr MacAlistair exposed, she’s out of a job…” “Please, Mrs James, stay here with me. Mr Caird will pay your wages.”

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Hugh McCracken She smiled. “Eric, I’ll stay with you anyway until everything’s settled. What about the house, Sergeant Wilson, who owns it now?” He laughed. “I’ll leave that to the lawyers. Robert MacAlistair bought it as Roderick. That’s how the title deeds read and since Roderick’s dead, title goes to his heir. And that’s you, Eric. Same for the shops and any money or stocks in Roderick’s name. I’d say, even if he doesn’t do time for fraud and so on, he doesn’t have a penny to his name. Well, I’ll be off.” “Before you go, Sergeant Wilson, can I ask who knows about this?” I said. “Why? It won’t be common knowledge yet.” “Great! Can I tell Mr McAndrews? Ralph and I promised him an exclusive if anything came of our suspicions.” Sergeant Wilson laughed again. “Surely. Tell him. His editor will know how much he can publish before any trial, but it will give them the jump on any other paper.” Left alone with Mrs James, I felt very awkward. She gave me a quick hug then said: “Maybe you should be off to school. It’s not gone eleven yet. What would you like for tea tonight?” “Fish and chips,” I said. She laughed. “Fine. Be off with you.” Morning break had passed, of course, so I couldn’t talk to my friends till the school broke for dinner. “The Grinch is in jail? The Grinch is in jail!” Sean and the other paperboys danced round me.

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Grandfather and The Ghost “They’re my shops now,” I said, “and I’m going to fire all of you! I’ll get some decent kids to deliver my papers. Come on, Ralph, run.” Sean and the others chased Ralph and me part way home, shouting and laughing. We phoned McAndrew from Ralph’s home, and I phoned Mrs James to tell her I was going to have dinner with the Watsons while I told Ralph about my adventures. That night in bed, I hugged myself. Mr Caird would be in Scotland tomorrow or the day after. We could decide then if I should stay in Scotland or go back to Canada with him. That was the only fly in the ointment. I had friends in Scotland now, and relatives in Montrose. If I went back I would miss them, but if I stayed I would miss Mark. Oh well, I’d think about it tomorrow. Either way, I was free.

THE END

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THE GHOST

Chapter One

Boarding school in England wasn’t my idea in the first place. So far, nothing had happened to make me change my mind. Dad had seen me off at the railroad station in London before he dashed to catch his flight to Saudi Arabia. No one met me at the little hick town, so I took a taxi to the school, where the secretary stopped typing and stared at me. “Oh dear,” she said, “you’re not due till tomorrow, Tuesday. The Headmaster’s frightfully busy. I’ll see if I can squeeze you in.” I sat on a hard chair, gazing round the dark, woodpanelled outer office for ages before he summoned me into the office. “Turriff, isn’t it?” The Headmaster glared across a huge, wooden desk, bare except for a blank blotter pad. He adjusted the pad twice and studied its position

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Hugh McCracken on the desk before he looked up again. “Well, boy? I don’t have all day.” “Yes, Rick Turriff. I’m new.” “Obviously, and not content with being four weeks late, you’re a day early. What do you call that?” “A contradiction, isn’t it?” His mouth set in a straight line, zippered shut, his forefinger tapped the desk. “Inconsiderate and irresponsible, I’d say. Your manners are in need of improvement. Masters here are addressed as ‘Sir’.” “Yes…Sir.” “Mr Johnstone, your housemaster, interviewed and admitted you?” “Yes, in July…Sir.” “Mm, you’re very small for first form.” “First form?” What was this moron on about? I should be grade eight. I was thirteen. “Boy! Masters are addressed as ‘Sir’. Yes, first form, what else did you expect?” Oh, right. Dad had explained. It was this crazy English system. They talked about forms not grades. I sighed. At home in Winnipeg, I’d been about average height for the grade below me. He pressed a button on the phone. “Miss Simpson; find someone to show Turriff to his dormitory and so on. Mr Johnstone can handle the details tomorrow.” “Yes, Headmaster. I’ve already sent for Elder. He’s in Turriff’s dormitory.” Seconds later the door opened behind me. What now? I wondered. Should I turn and walk out? Should I say anything? Should I bow?

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Grandfather and The Ghost “Come, Richard.” The secretary gripped my upper arm and led me out. In the outer office a boy about two inches taller than me with a pale, thin face and straight black hair that fell over his forehead, kicked at the carpet. “William will take you to your dormitory,” she said. “You should get on well. He’s American too.” “I’m not American, I’m Canadian,” I said. “Good for you. Well, it’s the same continent, isn’t it? Off you go, boys.” William turned and walked out. I hurried after him along a dark corridor lined with old photographs and paintings, then out a side door. It had gone from dull overcast to a steady drizzle. “Elder,” he said. “Willie Elder.” “Richard Turriff, Rick, my friends call me.” “Not here they won’t. It’s your last name or a nickname someone pins on you. Only Miss Simpson, the Beak’s secretary, calls kids by their first names.” “The Beak?” Who or what the heck was the Beak? “The Headmaster, the Head Honcho, the Man, the Principal –” “Okay, okay, enough already.” We picked up my case that still sat on the sidewalk outside the front entrance where the taxi driver had dumped it. I’d never seen such old buildings in a school. They looked spooky. Dad had called it a ‘venerable institution’. Caldwell House was grey stone with tall narrow windows. The buildings matched the sky, I thought. Like the building we’d just come from, the passageways were dark, gloomy, and eerily silent. This 126

Hugh McCracken was a school? We climbed a narrow staircase to the second floor. As we walked along the corridor I noticed a strong smell of disinfectant. I sniffed, my nose wrinkled. Elder laughed. “That’s the bog.” “The bog?” “God, don’t you know anything? The john, the can, the toilet, the washroom – you’ll get used to it.” I looked around the room Elder walked me into. “Eight beds?” I said. Elder grinned. “Never been at a boarding school before?” “I’ve never even been at a camp. I’ve never shared a room before.” Elder raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide and made an O with his mouth. “You’ve some treats in store for you. I was at a Brit prep school for two years before I came here, so I knew what to expect. That’s your bed and locker, next to mine. Dump your case on it and we’ll get your trunks. I’ve seen them downstairs in the glory hole.” We struggled back up to the dorm with my big trunk and the footlocker. I unpacked and stowed my stuff away. “You’d better change into uniform,” Elder said. “It’s a wonder the Beak didn’t create about you not travelling in it.” He sat on his bed, watching while I changed. “You’re lucky you’ve got decent jockeys on. My stupid aunt sent me to school with pants with Disney characters on them.” For a moment, Elder stared into space. 127

Grandfather and The Ghost “So?” I said. “So, I dumped them down the can the second day, but by then everyone had seen them – I got paddled for losing my underwear when the teacher found I didn’t have any on.” I wondered about my pyjama tops with a basset hound on them, but Elder had asked a question. “What?” I said. “I asked you, what does your pop do that you’ve landed in this jail?” “He’s a consulting engineer.” “So’s mine, in oil. He used to work in Texas till he and Mom split up and he took a job in Saudi. I got shipped over here to school.” “We’re in the same boat,” I said. “I always used to stay home in Winnipeg when Dad travelled till Mom died two years ago. He thought about a boarding school in Canada, but he can get weekend leaves here sometimes…” “You’ve a hope. First formers, that’s grade eight kids to us, if you don’t know, don’t get overnight leave the whole first term.” “Not even with my Dad?” “Nope.” My eyes filled with tears and I sat on my bed with my back to Elder, to knuckle them dry. “What have we here?” said a voice with a slow, slurred accent. “A new kid blubbering already. I haven’t even touched him yet.” I jumped up and turned.

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Chapter Two

Two boys, both head and shoulders taller than me, stood beside Elder. “I wasn’t crying. I got something in my eye.” I said. “Another Yank – ” It was a different accent this time. “No, I’m not. I’m Canadian.” “Same diff.” The speaker punched Elder’s upper arm. “Still the backwoods clodhopper, aren’t you? Introduce us.” Elder rubbed his arm. He nodded toward the boy on his right, who had reddish hair that glinted in the light, and green pop eyes. “He’s Hagman and that’s Scofield. They’re second formers.” “And we run this dorm,” Scofield said in his slurred accent. He had long blond wavy hair and large white even teeth. Like tombstones, I thought, when he smiled. 129

Grandfather and The Ghost I put out my shake. “Turriff, Rick Turriff…aow.” Scofield’s big hand was cool, but instead of shaking my hand, he gripped my wrist. With a quick twist, he had my arm behind my back, pushing my hand up between my shoulder blades. Hagman grinned at my gasp of pain. “You’re smaller than Elder. We’ll call you Titch,” Scofield said. Four other boys clattered in and were introduced while Scofield continued to twist my arm. Wilson: blond, smooth hair cut like The Beatles, blue eyes, freckles, with bands on his teeth. Carson: big, sticking-out ears, and a stupid grin. Clarke: light brown, frizzy hair that no amount of combing would ever make tidy. Never still for a moment. McIntyre: black, tightly curled hair cut really short, black eyebrows, sunburned with high cheekbones, almost like some Indians back home, solemn, sullen looking really, until he smiled. “Why aren’t you lot getting washed?” A tall young man said from the door. Scofield let go of my arm and grinned. “They’re on their way, Barnard.” I was about to pass him with the others, but Barnard grabbed my arm. “You’re the new boy.” “That’s right, Barnard,” Elder said. “His name’s Turriff.” “He can talk for himself, I suppose?” Barnard said. “Yes, Mr Barnard,” I said, not about to take any chances, and everyone laughed. 130

Hugh McCracken “Barnard’s fine, Turriff. I’m school captain and Caldwell House captain.” He studied me, the silence stretched, and I fidgeted with my fingers. “Stand still. Mr Johnstone’s not free today so he asked me to speak to you. First formers are sprogs, the lowest form of life in the school. There’s some hazing, but nothing really nasty. You’ll survive. We’ve all had our turn. Do as you’re told, keep out of trouble, and you’ll do fine.” Dinner and study after were okay. Boring but okay, and later, we watched TV in the common room opposite the second dorm on our floor. Shortly before it was time for us to get ready for bed, I left. The washroom was empty. When I finished in there, I thought I would get undressed and into bed before the others arrived. McIntyre was in bed already, reading. He ignored me till I was in my pyjamas and about to climb into bed. “You might as well stay up. They’ll only drag you out of bed when they’re ready for you.” I got under the covers and pulled them tight round me. Minutes later the other sprogs came in. Elder stripped quickly, wrapped a towel round himself, and trotted off to the washroom. In a very short time, they were all in pyjamas. They sat or lay on their beds chatting. Hagman and Scofield arrived together. They came straight up to my bed, and peeled the clothes back. “See the pyjamas, boys? Cute doggies, Titch.” Scofield pretended to stroke a basset hound drawn on my top. One of his big, cool, dry hands gripped my wrist while the other pushed the sleeve up to my elbow. 131

Grandfather and The Ghost He started to twist. “We’ve only time for a short training session tonight. The fun proper will start tomorrow.” His soft voice and slurred accent mocked his words. Forced out of bed by Scofield, he pushed me to my knees, bent over from the waist, nose to floor. “Right, stand on that chair,” Hagman said, when Scofield let go of my arm. “Hand him his pillow, Elder.” They left me on the chair; my hands stretched above my head with the pillow, while they stripped for bed and went to the washroom. I felt embarrassed and stupid. When Scofield and Hagman left the room I started to lower the pillow, but Carson said: “I’ll tell. Stay the way you are.” “He will too,” Elder said. “Best hold still.” By the time Barnard looked in to put our light out, Scofield and Hagman had managed to make me cry in spite of my promise to myself I wouldn’t. At first, after the lights went out, the dorm was dark, but as my eyes adjusted to the light from the single, small, blue bulb set in the centre of the high ceiling, I saw Hagman grin down at me.

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Chapter Three

“You didn’t think we were finished for the night, did you? Just a little quiet session,” Scofield said. “We don’t want to disturb Barnard, do we?” In bed again, after the two bullies had finished with me, I wiped my eyes with the sheet. Blurred and wavering through my tears, I saw a boy beside my bed. His smile was friendly, not the nasty grin of someone who enjoyed watching a beating. Our gazes met. He frowned, bit his lower lip, and half turned as if ready to run. I said: “Hi.” “Hello.” It was a whisper I could barely hear. Funny, I thought, where did this kid sleep? The beds were all filled. If they made fun of my pyjamas, his oldfashioned nightgown must really have got them going. “What dorm are you in?” I said.

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Grandfather and The Ghost He smiled again. “This one.” Again, it was scarcely above a whisper. “That can’t be…there are kids in all the beds.” The smile expanded to a grin. “Oh, yes, that’s my bed.” His hand waved, but out of the dimness of the blue nightlight came the voice of one of the bullies: “Titch, shut your face, unless you want another doing.” I turned in the direction of the voice. When I looked back to see where the nightshirt boy pointed, he had gone. Next morning when the bell sounded, I hoped it was all a dream, but no, I was fully awake. I watched the others while they got out of bed, but the nightshirt boy for sure wasn’t in the dorm. “Come on, Turriff,” Elder said. “Peel. Let’s hit the shower.” It wasn’t so bad after all. Everybody was naked and ignored each other in the rush to wash. Last night, stood on the chair before lights-out and later in the dim, blue glow of the nightlight, had been much more embarrassing. The nightshirt boy wasn’t from the other dorm on our floor that shared our washroom either. After breakfast and Barnard’s inspection of our dorm, we had chapel-assembly. When the others went to class, I went to see Johnstone. He wasn’t nearly so friendly as when he’d interviewed Dad and me in the summer. “I hadn’t anticipated you being quite this late. Your father said a few days.” I started to explain, but he cut me short. “No matter now. You’re here, four weeks into term. Most new boys are well settled in by now. I hope we are not going to 134

Hugh McCracken have any more problems with you.” He rattled on with a list of rules I had no hope of ever remembering. Elder would keep me straight, I thought. “Did you hear me?” With a start I realised he had stopped. “What?” I said. His nostrils flared, he took a deep breath, and blew it out in a sharp hah. “ ‘Sir’. Masters are addressed as ‘Sir’, Turriff, and we do not use ‘what’ in that context. I can see we have our work cut out with you. I said, dismiss.”

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Chapter Four

In the corridor I realised I hadn’t the foggiest idea of where to go next, so I turned back to Mr Johnstone’s office. When I knocked, there was no reply. I opened the door and stuck my head in. “Hi. I don’t know where to go now.” His nose twitched as if he’d just scented some stink. “I beg your pardon?” “Granted,” I said, determined to be polite although I didn’t smell anything. “What did you say?” Maybe he was a bit deaf. “I don’t know where to go now.” “Masters are addressed as…” “Sir, Sir.” “Are you trying to be funny?” “No…sir. I didn’t know where to go next.”

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Hugh McCracken “To your form room. Room Three, East Corridor.” He turned back to the papers on his desk. East Corridor? Where the heck is East Corridor? A tall figure strode down the hallway. A stupid, square, flat, black thing sat on his head and a cape flapped like bat wings. “Excuse me…Sir. Can you tell me where East Corridor is?” “You should have learned your way round by now, boy.” He swept past without even a break in his stride. When a second apparition appeared, I risked it again. This time it stopped. “You must be the new Caldwell House boy.” His accent wasn’t Canadian or American, but at least it wasn’t English. “Yeah, and I’m lost. Where’s East Corridor?” He laughed. “Keep on the way you’re headed and second on your right. It took me a while to find my way around too. Good luck, kid.” In Room Three, four neat, straight lines of six desks faced a large wooden table at which a gowned figure sat. The room smelled of dust; chalk dust. One desk was empty. At all the others, kids bent industriously over scribblers, pens in hand. Elder looked up and winked. I walked up to the teacher who had his back to the door, gazing out the window. “Hi, I’m Rick Turriff. I’m – ” “You’re late.” “That too.” Someone gasped and Elder giggled. The figure at the desk turned slowly, stared hard at Elder, who, redfaced, tried to stop laughing but, after only seconds, exploded with laughter. 137

Grandfather and The Ghost Without a word, the teacher pointed at Elder, snapped his fingers, and inclined his head towards the chalkboard. Elder walked to the blank wall beside the board. There he stood, his toes in contact with the baseboard, his hands clasped behind his head, his elbows and nose against the wall. “Now, you,” the teacher said. “Let’s start again.” I explained. He listened in silence, then: “Right, in the cupboard you’ll find a mathematics text and a jotter. Desk five. We’re on page 15, exercise 2b. Move it.” What the heck is a jotter? I opened the cupboard and saw scribblers. Those must be what he meant. There was only one Math text on the shelf. At my desk, I looked at the exercise and didn’t have a clue what to do. “Sir…Sir, I can’t do this. I’m four weeks late.” “Four years more like, Turriff. If we require attention, we raise our hand, our right hand, and we wait patiently and politely.” He turned back to the window. Elder turned, winked, and stuck out his tongue. I giggled. “Turriff, you may join Elder at the wall.” We stood for what seemed like a long time. What had looked stupid at first soon became very uncomfortable. When the bell rang, I moved. We’d be on our way to our next class. “Stay where you are, you two, till Mr Miller arrives. Carson, see that they do.” “Yes, sir.” 138

Hugh McCracken The other kids chattered and some threw paper darts at us. I risked a quick stretch. Chairs scraped on the floor as the class stood. “Good morning, Mr Miller.” “Morning, lads. You’ve started early today, Elder. Got someone else into bother, I see. Sit down, the pair of you.” “They moved,” Carson said. “Sit, Carson, and be quiet.” “But, Sir, they moved and Sir said – ” “I said sit down and be quiet! Now!” It was the second teacher from the corridor, the one with the different accent. My desk was right in front of Elder’s and he leaned forward to whisper. “Miller’s okay. He’s not a Brit. Aussie, I think, nothing like as stuffy as the rest – ” “Creative writing, Elder, not gossip time.” “Yes, sir.”

139

Chapter Five

Lunch finally came. We filed into this long, oakpanelled hall – the refectory, they called it – with flags and stuff hanging below the high beams. I didn’t much fancy the smell. “Shoot, boiled cabbage.” Elder sounded disgusted. “Can’t they ever have anything except boiled cabbage?” “Why were you so late getting to school?” McIntyre stretched in front for me for the last bun on the table. I explained about the delays in Dad’s job. “Where are you from?” Clarke said. “Winnipeg.” “Winnipeg? Where’s that?” Wilson said. Elder was the only one who had ever heard of Winnipeg, and even he thought the name sounded funny.

140

Hugh McCracken After lunch, we were back in the form room. Elder said the only classes out of it were music, art, science and games. “We sure don’t have much time to ourselves, do we?” I said to Elder after the last class of the afternoon. “I’m going to veg out till dinner.” Elder laughed. “No, you don’t. Come to Chess Club with me.” “Oh, have a heart. We’ve been sat on all day. This is Free Hour, isn’t it? I don’t want another class.” “It gives us another spell of freedom. Come on, Miller runs it. He’s okay.” I didn’t understand, but tagged along. Right before supper when we dashed up to wash, I understood. Scofield and Hagman prowled there. They grinned, but only had five minutes. “Is it always like this?” I asked Elder who had waited for me while I splashed water on my face and dried my eyes. “Yeah, but come on, we’ll be late for supper. Most of the second formers don’t bother too much with us sprogs now, provided you don’t bug them, not like the first couple of weeks. But those two and their sidekicks are something else.” “What about in the dorm? After lights out?” Elder shrugged. “If Barnard wasn’t school captain he’d sleep in the prefect’s room on our floor every night and not only on his duty night.” My stomach turned somersaults. “Last night was his duty night?” Elder nodded. “That’s why they went easy on you; Barnard wouldn’t bother unless it got too noisy.” 141

Grandfather and The Ghost I didn’t eat much supper and got into trouble in study for staring into space. There had to be some way to stop them, I thought. But what? After study, in the TV room the others from the dorm backed off a bit from me. They didn’t seem to be as friendly as they’d been during the day. They weren’t nasty, but kept their distance. Carson of the stupid grin leered at me and said he’d booked a front row seat for tonight’s command performance. There was no point in getting undressed early and being on my own. Perhaps there would be safety in numbers. Two older boys, prefects Elder told me in a whisper, appeared and ordered us off to our dorms. Everyone was quiet while we stripped and trotted off to the washroom. The other dorm on our floor was loud with chatter and laughter. By lights-out, since nothing had happened, I thought the others had been pulling my leg. The two prefects stood in the doorway and flicked the lights off and on. Gratefully, I jumped under the covers and burrowed. Footsteps walked along the hall to the other dorm then downstairs. After some noise from the form two dorm below us, all was silent. I lay, scarcely daring to breathe; over and over, I said to myself, nothing will happen. When the covers were snatched out of my hands and pulled down, I almost shrieked. “Show time, Titch. Feet on the floor.” Hagman grabbed my ankles and tumbled me onto the floor. My pyjama top with the dogs was hidden in the footlocker after the first night. 142

Hugh McCracken “Drop ’em, step out, and clasp your hands on top of your head,” Scofield said I hesitated and Scofield followed his words with a hard punch to my biceps. It really hurt and when he raised his hand to strike again I put my hands over my head and clasped them. Hagman sent everyone else out to wet the ends of their towels and wring them out. Me, he set to walk up and down the dorm. The others all sat on the ends of their beds flicking their towels at me. Boy, it sure hurt. If I rushed up and back it meant more contacts. A slower walk got me fewer contacts, but more solid hits. When they tired of this, Hagman and Scofield played with me for a while before they finally allowed me to crawl into bed. I cried; tears of rage, frustration, and humiliation rather than pain. At last, exhausted, I uncurled and looked out from under the covers. Everyone else was asleep, and seemed harmless, except Carson, and his mouth gaped with grunts and snorts instead of his silly grin. The nightshirt boy stood between my bed and Elder’s and smiled his friendly smile. “Hi,” I said. He frowned, bit his lower lip, took a half step back and very quietly said: “Hello.” “You’re not from this dorm,” I said. “Oh, yes. That very bed.” He pointed at my bed. “That can’t be right.” I sat up, wrapped my arms round my knees, and stared at him. He moved closer and I put out my hand only to have it pass right through him. 143

Grandfather and The Ghost “You’re a ghost!”

144

Chapter Six

The nightshirt boy smiled and ducked his head. “You’re not frightened? Some other boys who saw me were.” “Why should I be? I can’t even touch you.” With a grin he moved quickly and gripped my ankle through the bedclothes, so hard it hurt. “Aow.” He laughed out loud. “I can touch things and whatever I touch can touch you.” “Neat. Here, sit on my bed beside me.” I pulled my blanket clear and threw it round him. “They call you Turriff, don’t they?” “Rick. My friends at home call me Rick.” “I’m Jamie Watson. Can I call you Rick?” “Sure, Jamie, we can be friends.” To my fright and embarrassment, Jamie began to cry, long wracking sobs. The blanket turned and clung to me for an endless time. All I could think to do was 145

Grandfather and The Ghost pat Jamie’s back. Finally, the sobs stopped and Jamie drew back. “Sorry. Nobody has called me Jamie for ages and I haven’t had a friend for the longest time.” My blanket emptied and crumpled onto the bed beside me. I lay for a long time and wondered if I had dreamed the whole incident. Next morning, the others joked about the mess my bed was in. Elder had never seen or heard any strangers in the dorm, but Carson had heard stories from his older brother about a ghost. Before breakfast was too busy for more than an odd punch from my tormentors. The school day was organised and supervised to death. Evening had study overseen by the prefects. There were some cracks to fall through: recess or ‘break’, wash-up for lunch and supper, and after lunch. But open seasons were the free hour after class before dinner, the free hour after study, and the fifteen-minute ready time. These were times to look over your shoulder, to hope for safety in numbers, to worry about what was to come even if no one chose to haze us. After lights-out wasn’t open season – it was hell. Wednesday and Thursday were pretty well repeats of Tuesday. The show was different, but I was still the main attraction and it was equally humiliating. To my disappointment, Jamie didn’t show on Wednesday. The stairs creaked a warning on Thursday. Scofield, Hagman, and I scrambled for our beds. A rectangle of yellow light spilled across the dorm. “Hagman, Scofield, are you still awake?” It was the housemaster’s voice. “Sir?” 146

Hugh McCracken “Step out here for a moment please.” When the door closed behind them, I slipped out of bed and raced across to press my ear against the door. “…thought there might be some hazing of the new boy.” “A little bit, Sir. McIntyre and Elder got after Turriff. He’s pretty lippy. It wasn’t really much, but we stopped it, didn’t we, Hagman?” “Good, good. I thought it would be minor. Turriff needs some rough edges polished. I knew I could rely on you two. Good night.” Before Hagman and Scofield were back and their eyes adjusted to the blue nightlight, I was in my bed and under the covers. I lay tense, but soon the only sound was regular breathing and the odd snore. When a hand touched my back, I swore to myself before I turned. It was Jamie. He smiled, stepped back, chewed his lower lip, and twisted one hand in the other. “Jamie, where have you been? I waited for you last night.” He sniffed twice and started to fade. “Don’t go. Please. Don’t go.” “You’re angry with me ’cause I cried.” “No, I’m not. Why should I be? Wasn’t I crying when you first saw me?” He still wavered for a moment or so, before he solidified and smiled. “They always used to laugh when I cried…most times I managed not to cry, but once they really hurt me…and they went on…I don’t remember after that…”

147

Grandfather and The Ghost Jamie’s face twisted. In the dim blue light, I could see tears welling in his eyes. What I didn’t need was someone to cry with. “Here, sit down.” I patted the bed. It was weird; he sat, but the bed didn’t even dent. “You said you could touch objects.” Jamie frowned, put his hand to his mouth, smiled, and the bed went down a little. “I forgot. Usually boys get frightened when I do that.” He giggled. “One boy opened his eyes when I sat. He saw me and put his hand right through me. His scream wakened everybody else and scared me silly.” I laughed and Jamie’s smile faded. “He got punished for upsetting the dorm,” Jamie giggled again. “And for peeing his bed.” “I’ve asked round,” I said. “No one’s seen you for a long time.” Jamie shrugged and his lower lip trembled. “I only wanted a friend, but they were all afraid and I only got them into trouble.” “Well, I’m glad you’re here.” “Can I lie down?” “Didn’t you say it was your bed?” We lay side by side on our backs, and his weight stretched the clothes tight over me.

148

Chapter Seven

Time passed, both fast and slow: the busy, supervised days flew; the sessions after lights-out lasted an eternity. The one bright spot was Jamie. No one else saw him. He came most nights to talk. Sometimes we simply sat, happy to be with a friend. Elder and McIntyre were okay, friendly when they could be, but not prepared to stick up for me. I couldn’t blame them; since I couldn’t bring myself to say boo when Hagman and Scofield picked them. All the time I racked my brains for some way Jamie could help, but he too was afraid of the bullies. I didn’t have the heart to needle him about how stupid it was for him to be afraid. What could they do to him? In my second week, the restrictions on our being in the dorms at times other than wash-up and immediately before bed eased a bit for the first formers. I got some strange looks from the others when 149

Grandfather and The Ghost they came in and found me talking to myself. Jamie was never any place except the dorm. When I tried to persuade him to come with me on a tour of the school, he always chickened out at the last minute. On my second Saturday, Johnstone announced the first formers could have limited town leave. Elder and I were the first through the gate and McIntyre chased after us. “Wait. I’ll come with you.” It was great. We wandered from place to place; no older kids told us to trot or run; no one told us where to be, what to do, how to behave. We stuffed ourselves with ice cream, candy, and Coke. I was surprised to learn that the town was equally strange to Elder and McIntyre. “What did you expect?” McIntyre said. “All of us sprogs were in different prep schools last year – or most were. This is our first time in town since school started too.” In one store I saw thin, white cotton gloves like those my mother used to use when she polished silver. I gazed at them, while an idea formed in my head and I bought a pair. On the way back in, when I said I was going up to the dorm, McIntyre snorted. “Those two are bound to spot how often you’re up there on your own. You’re asking for it.” In the dorm I sat on the bed and willed Jamie to appear. “If I kept hold of your hand, would you go out of the dorm with me?” I asked him when he showed.

150

Hugh McCracken Jamie raised his eyebrows, pushed out his lower lip, shrugged, and said: “Yes, but how? You can’t touch me.” “You can touch materials, and what you touch can touch me. Right?” “Yes…but – ” I tossed the gloves onto the bed. “Put on the right glove. Now can you fade and still fill the glove?” “I think so.” The glove floated in the air. I could see inside it. The glove gripped in my left hand, I pulled it into my pocket. “Right, let’s go.” At the door, the glove began to lose its firmness. I growled, “Don’t you dare. You’re with me. Fade now and don’t bother to come back ever.” The glove gripped my hand so hard it hurt. We walked out to the paved and grassed quadrangle formed by the main buildings of the school. From there we circled the playing fields: the soccer pitches, the cricket pitch, the running track. The whole place was miles bigger than my junior high in Canada, with fewer than half the kids – all boys at that. “It’s the same, but different. Oh, it’s so exciting,” Jamie said when we got back to the dorm. “I’ve been in the dorm so long.” I put the gloves in my top drawer and listened to Jamie babble on. The door opened. Hagman and Scofield walked in. Jamie vanished. “Good. Titch is here. That’ll save us a hunt,” Scofield said.

151

Grandfather and The Ghost When I tried to edge past him, Hagman jumped me and in seconds I was on my back. They too had made a purchase.

152

Chapter Eight

Hagman undid his belt and pulled a long, black rod out of his pants leg. “It’s a dog whip, Titch. A tapered, plastic rod wrapped in soft, black leather.” He swished it through the air and brought it down on a bed with a terrifying whack. Later, I lay on my face and sobbed after I hid the whip under my mattress as ordered by Hagman. Slippers and wet towels were feather touches compared to the whip. My top drawer opened and the gloves came out and filled before Jamie appeared. “I wish I could help.” Jamie’s eyes brimmed. “But I can’t.” “No, I know. It’s okay, nobody can help – ” The gloves patted me. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I’ve got an idea.” After lights-out, I lay and waited impatiently. “Up, Titch,” Scofield said. “Get it out.”

153

Grandfather and The Ghost “We’ve got a new toy and a new game,” Hagman said. “Titch couldn’t wait so he’s played once already. Show them.” They paraded me round the room. I had seen the marks in the mirror. It was to be McIntyre’s turn first, Hagman decreed, and waved the whip in the air. “Now, Jamie, go for it,” I said. Jamie’s gloves floated out from beside my bed to where Hagman stood, the whip raised in his hand. One glove pushed him flat in the chest while the other snatched the whip. His mouth hung open. When the whip cracked down across his shoulders, he howled. Scofield moved forward to try to grab the whip. It turned on him and rained down blows. He retreated backwards and fell all his length over Elder’s leg stretched out behind him. An imprint of a small foot appeared on his middle, stamped down, and Scofield screamed. The whip turned back to Hagman and chased him round the room. He howled every time it connected. All the others knelt on their beds and cheered while I sat on my bed, my arms wrapped round my legs. “Way to go, Jamie,” I shouted. The door flew open. The light flashed on. “Stop! Stop at once I say! What is going on here?” Hagman skidded into Johnstone. The whip connected again. Hagman yowled. He tried to put Johnstone between him and the whip. It rose and fell relentlessly, the blows evenly distributed between Hagman and Johnstone.

154

Hugh McCracken Scarcely able to talk, I croaked through my laughter: “Enough, Jamie. Drop it.” The whip paused, took one last cut at Hagman cowering behind Johnstone, before it dropped to the floor. Empty, the gloves fluttered after it. “Quiet, all of you!” Johnstone bellowed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Hagman, stop blubbering. Help Scofield out to the corridor.” He glared round at us, rubbing his left arm and shoulder. “The rest of you, stand by your beds.” We stood in silence, staring at him, but Elder took the giggles. Soon we were all laughing. Johnstone picked up the whip. We all sobered immediately. “Into bed all of you; I’ll deal with this in the morning. Not one other sound tonight.” He stared, frowned at the gloves and then, with the whip and gloves in his hand, he put out the light and closed the door. Wilson was up at once at his window. He reported: “The three of them are out. Scofield is all bent over.” “What happened?” Clarke said. “I don’t know. I don’t care,” Elder said. “But it was great.” “We could be in for a stormy day or so,” McIntyre said quietly. Although I lay awake for a long time, Jamie didn’t appear.

155

Chapter Nine

“Mr Johnstone will see you now, Turriff.” Matron held the door open. I’d been in the isolation room of the infirmary since after morning chapel, and Matron had brought my lunch and school books. Johnstone sat at his desk and didn’t even look up when I came in. I stood and after five minutes started to shuffle. “Stand still and don’t fidget, boy,” he snapped. Finally, he pushed the papers away and sat back, tented his fingers, pursed his lips, and glared at me over his half-spectacles. “What are we to do with you?” Was I supposed to answer? “Have you any idea how much trouble you are in?” No, do tell. Nothing makes much sense in this crazy place. “The whip was yours?” Johnstone said.

156

Hugh McCracken I opened my mouth, but Johnstone didn’t stop. “Carson was quite specific. You took it from under your mattress?” “Yes, but – ” “Yes or no, Turriff?” “Yes, but – ” “Yes is enough. You goaded Hagman into striking McIntyre.” “Sir – ” “You handed Hagman the whip?” “Yes, but – ” “Quite. Somehow, you attacked Hagman and Scofield who were attempting to exert some discipline and control. No one is sure how you did it, nor am I, but clearly you were responsible.” I sighed. How could I explain without telling tales? That was the one unforgivable sin, but it didn’t seem to stop Carson, Hagman, and Scofield. “I’m waiting for some sign of contrition. Hagman is bruised all over. I have some bruises myself, and poor Scofield passed a very uncomfortable night, after your most ungentlemanly behaviour.” Jamie appeared behind Johnstone, his fists clasped together over his head in the traditional boxer’s gesture of victory, his eyes wide, his tongue stuck out. I laughed. “That’s it, Turriff. Bend over the chair. We don’t cane now except for the most heinous offences. I was prepared to be lenient, but to laugh at what you’ve done, really!”

157

Grandfather and The Ghost Bent over, I glanced back and saw Jamie, his eyes ablaze, with a big glass paperweight raised to strike Johnstone. “No, don’t. I’m in enough trouble already.” The paperweight crashed to the floor. Jamie vanished. Johnstone jumped and frowned at the glass on the floor, before he turned back to me. The six whacks of the cane hurt, but not as much as the bullies had sometimes. I didn’t shout or cry out. Johnstone handed me a tissue. “You took that better than I expected, Turriff. I will keep the whip, but you may have the gloves back. I don’t know how you did the bit with them, but I will not have you start any superstitious nonsense about them.” Dismissed, I walked out to the playing field to think. Something moved in my pocket. The glove. One glove filled. When I put my hand in the pocket, the glove gripped tightly and Jamie’s voice came out of the air. “Sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to get you caned.” “It wasn’t your fault. You were great last night. Thanks.” “I haven’t had so much fun for ages.” In the dorm, the others crowded round. When I went for a shower, they looked admiringly at my stripes of honour. “Boy, Johnstone can sure lay it on, can’t he?” Elder said. “Look, two almost one on top of the other.” “Don’t use hot water. Cold’s better, it cools your bum.” To my surprise, it didn’t embarrass me. 158

Chapter Ten

The Chaplain sent for me on Wednesday afternoon after soccer. He was a pleasant enough old duffer, but I felt uncomfortable in his office. “Would you like a Coke, Turriff?” “Yes, please – ” “I’ve been expecting you. Usually, I see the sprogs –” he laughed and twinkled at me like an elderly leprechaun “ – in the first four weeks, but you arrived late, didn’t you?” “Yes, Sir, my dad – ” “It always pays to be on time. You were involved in some sort of fracas last Saturday, after the half-day, weren’t you?” “Yes – ” “Want to talk about it?”

159

Grandfather and The Ghost I might if I could get a word in edgeways. “Yes, Sir – I mean, there was a fight. That’s about it. Mr Johnstone caned me – ” The Chaplain actually flushed, cleared his throat, and muttered: “I do wish the Head would stop caning for the whole School.” In a louder voice he went on: “Caldwell House is the only one that still has the cane. In most others you’d have been gated – confined to the dorm.” “He gated me for the rest of the term too.” I stopped and waited. The Chaplain cleared his throat again. “Any other problem you’d like to tell me about? I understand you scared the other boys with stories about ghosts. You were convincing enough that they thought they saw an apparition while the fight went on. Some nonsense about gloves. White cotton gloves waving a riding crop around.” “It was a dog whip, Sir,” I said. “Can I ask you something, Sir?” “Yes, of course, I’m here to help, you know.” “How would I find out about the history of the school and some people who were here in the past?” The Chaplain flushed and smiled. “I’m the school historian, you know. You’ve come to the right person. You see the set of old books in the glass cupboard? Those are old diaries of staff. They really wrote a lot. No television, I suppose.” He laughed, a humourless snort. I smiled politely to show I had understood the joke. “I’m writing the history of the school, you know. I’ve read all those diaries. Some very interesting material. 160

Hugh McCracken Now what did you want to know? The early history? Some of our famous alumni?” “Well, Sir, I wondered about one particular person, Jamie Watson,” I said. His expression changed. “Where did you get that name, boy? Is this more of your ghost nonsense? Answer me!” The Chaplain’s manner of asking several questions at once annoyed and distracted me. “My Dad’s friend is an old boy. That’s how we heard of the school in the first place. He mentioned the name. It just sort of stuck in my mind, sir.” Part of the answer was true at least, and both Dad and his pal were safely out of the country. By the time the old duffer could check, he would have forgotten all about it. “Mmm, I see. As it happens I did come across Watson’s story only the other day.” The day he heard about the rumpus in my dorm? I wondered. He rose, took an old diary from the glass-fronted bookcase, leafed through it, and read for a short time. “Watson ran away during the Spanish Influenza outbreak in 1918-1919 when several boys and masters died. It seems no one ever found him. There were stories about his haunting the place. Mysterious disappearances always make people think up silly stories.” He glared at me. “But I do wish your dad’s friend hadn’t told you about him. Adults can be very silly.” The phone rang. He listened for a moment, placed the diary on his desk and said: “I’ve got to slip across 161

Grandfather and The Ghost to the Head’s for a moment. Don’t go away. I won’t be more than about five minutes, and I still have to talk to you.” He bumbled out, and I waited till his footsteps died away before I moved to the other side of the desk and picked up the diary. I tried to catch a glimpse of the name Jamie Watson. It must be there; the Chaplain had found it quickly enough. The writing was a beautiful copperplate and, to my surprise, easy to read. There it was: Monday, November 18, 1918 Jamie Watson: worried about this child. He is peaky and always appears not to get enough sleep. Parkin reports him out of his dorm three times in last month after lights-out. Beating him does not seem to be the answer. Why is he in the corridor? Saturday, November 23, 1918 Jamie Watson: saw the boy today, definitely some problem, very jumpy, not at all communicative. Have the Quack look him over? Must find out whom he fags for; which senior boy’s chores he’s assigned to handle. They may have some clue. Not an athletic youngster. Monday, November 25, 1918 Jamie Watson: fags for Lawrence and McDonald: both solid citizens, First Eleven this year. Spoke to them yesterday before chapel. Lawrence in running for best cadet this term. A great honour for the House. They say Watson is lazy; 162

Hugh McCracken does not take part willingly in games; is slovenly in his duties; does not clean their room and equipment efficiently as a fag should. Quizzed them if they had beaten him. Only the odd whack to smarten him up. Sunday, December 1, 1918 Jamie Watson: reported sick this evening. Matron says he is a malingerer. Spoke to the boy, delicate appearance, flat on his back, motionless. There is some problem obviously, but the boy will not talk, weepy. Almost jumped out of his skin when I put my hand on him. Very odd. Monday, December 2, 1918 Jamie Watson: Quack just been in. He says the boy has been beaten excessively, severe bruising on his buttocks. See him again tomorrow. Tuesday, December 3, 1918 Jamie Watson: Just had a row with the Quack. He wants to WRITE the verbal report he gave me. I have sent the little slacker back to class and dorm, and told Lawrence and McDonald to keep an eye out for him. Wednesday, December 4, 1918 Jamie Watson: Back in sickbay; high fever; abdominal pain. Tuesday, December 10, 1918 Boys and staff dropping like flies with influenza.

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Grandfather and The Ghost Wednesday, December 11, 1918 Three deaths from influenza; one in my house. Jamie Watson: now supposed to have influenza. I do wish the Quack would make up his mind. Wednesday, December 11, 1918 – Late evening Stupid Quack insisted that I personally examine Watson. Buttocks are badly bruised and the nasty bruise at what Quack says is kidney height –

potential kidney damage? –

Was not there when Quack last saw him. He blames Lawrence and McDonald. He says Watson rambled in delirium and told him all. I simply cannot believe these splendid youths could be responsible for excessive beating. Watson must have fallen or been hurt in games. Strange, though, he should blame his two seniors. There must be some other explanation. Thursday, December 12, 1918 Damn Watson. The child has run away, clad in only his nightshirt. We have enough to do during this epidemic without a hunt for a snivelling weakling. Lawrence and McDonald tell me they dropped in to sickbay to comfort Watson last evening. They have organised a search party of seniors and other cadets. Friday, December 13, 1918 Black Friday indeed. Two more deaths. The Quack is ill, too.

164

Hugh McCracken Saturday, December 14, 1918 Dr Pearce, our much beloved school doctor, died this p.m., RIP. No more students ill fortunately. Monday, December 16, 1918 Providence moves in mysterious ways. Dr Pearce had apparently not written up his report on Watson. The new Quack agrees the boy was probably delirious when he ran off. No need to fuss or to drag the names of Lawrence and McDonald through the mud. Best for name of School too. Enough disturbance about the failure of the police to find him. Thursday, December 19, 1918 Search for Watson abandoned. Police have dragged the river several miles downstream without success. Lawrence reports he and McDonald have searched the entire school grounds. Splendid fellows. Authorised them to beat two stupid sprogs who claimed to have seen Watson in his nightgown in his dorm last night. I didn’t read any further, but sat lost in thought until I heard the outer door open. I shot round the desk. When the Chaplain entered, I was engrossed in one of the uplifting magazines the Chaplain left out for his visitors.

165

Chapter Eleven

“Now, where were we?” the Chaplain said. “Oh, yes. You really must drop this morbid stuff about ghosts you know. It frightens some of the others. There are no ghosts. You must settle down and try to fit in. Now, those two boys you fought, Hagman and Scofield; model yourself on them. Fine upright young men: sing in church every Sunday, good athletes. I know you’ve had a disagreement with them, but shake hands and make up.” “Sir, you said ghosts don’t exist. Surely you, as a minister, believe in the afterlife.” I sipped my Coke. Jamie shaded into view, behind and to one side of the Chaplain. He grinned, licked his forefinger, and traced the figure one in the air. Like the Cheshire Cat, he faded, but in his case he left visible the uplifted forefinger rather than a ghostly grin. 166

Hugh McCracken I managed to convert a bellow of laughter into a fit of choking. The Chaplain pounded my back. “It went down the wrong way, Sir,” I spluttered. He wagged his finger in the air at me. “We all have our place in this world you know, and we must do our best in whatever position we are called to. Humility and respect for our superiors are virtues we must learn. You sprogs are the bottom of the heap; obedience, self-control, and restraint are your lessons this year.” What century was he from? I wondered. “I’ve enjoyed our little chat. Please drop in again anytime if you have any problems. Keep in mind my advice: make up with Hagman and Scofield; plenty of hard work and hard play, that’ll blow the cobwebs out of your mind. Won’t have time for nonsense about ghosts. Plenty of cold showers too.” On my way across the yard, I felt the cotton glove in my pocket fill and grip my hand. Jamie’s voice said in my ear: “Sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to get you into trouble again” I squeezed the glove back. “That’s okay, if you can’t joke about it, who can? The old fool thinks Hagman and Scofield are fine upstanding young men.” “We fixed them, didn’t we,” said Jamie. “They won’t bully us again. Not after the night we beat them in the dorm. I remember two men like them – prefects or were they only seniors?” The glove began to tremble. It gripped my hand so hard I cried out. The glove emptied. It became only a thin cotton glove in my hand in my pocket. Jamie had gone again. I wasn’t at all sure what had happened to 167

Grandfather and The Ghost Jamie. Maybe I could ask sometime, but not too soon. With a mental shrug, I trotted to the dorm. Outside the dorm in the corridor stood a stranger: A boy in a uniform I had seen in some old photographs. The boy turned. It was Jamie. With a grin he said: “Why should I wear a stupid nightshirt all the time. How do I look?” “Great, Jamie. Let’s go for a walk.” The white cotton glove filled in my pocket. Jamie faded from view and we walked out the front door. “What does it mean to fag for someone?” I asked Jamie. “Most seniors were two to a small room of their own; studies. Prefects had a room to themselves. Sprogs had to clean up after them, fetch and carry, light the fire, make the toast and tea – only seniors could have toast and tea in their rooms. The skivvy, the slave, is called a fag – nothing to do with what the word means these days.” “That was it? We have to do things for the seniors –” “Seniors now can’t beat. You don’t have to clean boots, cadet uniform buttons – ” The glove trembled in my hand. “It’s okay, Jamie. You don’t need to tell me any more.” “I didn’t clean Lawrence’s brass buttons properly…I got some green stuff on his tunic…he lost marks in the parade…he wasn’t best cadet of the term…Lawrence and McDonald were angry with me – ” The glove emptied. I was on my own.

168

Chapter Twelve

McIntyre was right. There was a three-day lull after the battle of the whip while Hagman and Scofield licked their wounds. For a couple of days I was a hero, but shortly after, attitudes changed. It had been better when boys didn’t know who I was. In the TV room on our floor, I got some black looks from boys from the other dorm when I walked in. “Wilder made me stand for half-an-hour, nose-towall, because I was slow running an errand.” The speaker glared at me. “We’ve got to run everywhere again,” another said. “If Turriff hadn’t been so lippy we’d still be having it easy.” “He got away with it, too.” “Hey,” I said. “I don’t call six on the bum from Johnstone getting away with it. All I did was fight back.” “Yeah, leave him be,” McIntyre said. 169

Grandfather and The Ghost “It was bad enough with only you bolshy, but two of you is too much.” “Let’s give him a swirly.” They crowded round. The five of them, plus Wilson, Clarke, and, of course, Carson soon pinned me. McIntyre protested, but backed off. Elder shrugged, both hands palm out, raised his eyebrows and turned back to his book. They dragged me into the washroom, but all three toilets flushed. There was no sound of water rushing in to fill the tanks. “Great, the water must be off,” a voice said. “Throw him into the shower with his clothes on,” Carson said. “Good thinking, Carson. That should be really good with no water.” They milled around for a while before they drifted off. The tanks started to fill. Carson darted to the door to shout to the others. Some came back, but the toilets all flushed again, followed by silence. They all took a punch at Carson. He glowered at me. When he started towards me, a towel somehow tangled his legs and he crashed to the floor. I jumped, got astride him. I managed to get two good punches in before a boy with a prefect’s badge hauled me off. He shook me. “A feisty little devil, aren’t you?” He marched me out to the corridor and made me stand nose-to-wall, hands on my head. A shriek followed by a loud thump came from the washroom.

170

Hugh McCracken “What now?” The prefect turned his head to the door. “I just stood up and a darned bar of soap got under my feet,” Carson said. “Language, Dave. Watch it.” Carson attempted a punch at my lower back, but fell on his face. “God, you’re clumsy.” The prefect pulled him up. “Someone tripped me.” “There was only me behind you.” I wondered why Carson didn’t notice the cold, menacing tone in the prefect’s voice. “I tell you someone tripped me,” Carson said. “Then you stand too. Here, two steps from your chum.” “I’ll get you, Turriff, just see if I don’t,” Carson said when the prefect walked into the TV room. I risked a quick look sideways. The hair on the back of Carson’s head bunched; the head pulled back, then snapped forward. “Aow, by dose.” “I told you to wall-stand.” The prefect was back. “He bloodied my nose.” “He couldn’t have. There wasn’t time for him to move and get back while I was in there.” “It’ll bleed all night.” “Go to matron and get some ice for it. Move.” The prefect stood behind me. I could feel his eyes bore into the back of my skull. Eyes closed, I prayed: Don’t do anything to him, Jamie. Please, let it be.

171

Grandfather and The Ghost “Spunky and feisty. I hear you did well when Johnstone caned you. Well enough for him to comment. Turn round. Put your hands down.” He looked me over from his six-foot height. “I wasn’t any bigger than you at your age, so there’s hope yet.” He smiled and I smiled back. “Finding it tough?” I nodded. “I’ll be okay.” “Yes, I think you will. Into the dorm and strip.” I wondered what fresh terrors were in store for me when he leaned against the doorjamb to watch me undress. “Right. Wash, teeth, pyjamas.” He followed me to the washroom and back to the dorm. “Everything away? Okay.” Loud enough for those in the TV room to hear he said: “You stand with your nose to Barnard’s door till lights-out. Any more nonsense and I’ll have you all on report to Johnstone.” His voice dropped to a level only I could hear. “That way, no one can touch you till lightsout. Put your hands down and relax, face the door. Give my regards to Jamie.” I stood with my nose to Barnard’s open door. The prefect sat in an easy chair and pulled out a newspaper. After lights-out, Wilson didn’t see the prefect leave the building, so Hagman sent him out to scout around. We all heard him try to explain himself. Scofield swore quietly at Wilson’s report that the prefect was in Barnard’s room, writing, with the door open. Much later, I heard our door open and the prefect stuck his head in before the door closed and the stairs creaked.

172

Hugh McCracken Jamie promptly appeared, back in his nightshirt, and grinned at me. “That was you, wasn’t it?” I said. “Oh, yes.” Jamie frowned. “It was okay, wasn’t it?” “Sure, only don’t get carried away. I was scared you would do something to the prefect.” “No…he was friendly enough.” “He knows about you.” Jamie laughed. “So he should. He got whacked for talking about me.” “So did Carson’s brother.” “He is Carson’s brother.” “No! You’re pulling my leg.” Jamie frowned. “No I’m not. I’m not even touching you.” “I mean you’re joking.” “Oh. He is Carson’s brother. The others said so at the start of term. I hadn’t seen him since he slept in your bed. He’s changed. He used to be small like us.” “Do you only haunt boys who sleep in this bed?” “I’m not haunting you…am I?” His puzzled expression made me laugh. “No. Jamie, we’re friends.” “Haunting sounds nasty somehow.” He twisted his hands together and chewed his lower lip. “For heaven’s sake, Jamie, we’re friends. You’re not haunting me.” He smiled. “It’s good fun moving around with you. I wonder why Carson’s brother never thought how to do it. He’s the only one beside you who has ever talked to me.”

173

Grandfather and The Ghost Despite having to stand for Carson’s brother, the evening and night had somehow been the best since my arrival. When the sun rose and shone into the dorm the place looked peaceful and even attractive. McIntyre spoiled my mood completely when we stood side by side in the washroom.

174

Chapter Thirteen

“It’s a pity they didn’t get you last night,” McIntyre said. “Gee, thanks. It is great to have friends.” “Think on it. It would have got it over and done with and out of their systems.” “You don’t think they’re still mad, do you?” “Sure they are. A swirly wouldn’t have killed you, but except for swine like Carson it would have been all the steam let-off they need.” “They’ll try again?” McIntyre shrugged. “Maybe, but I think they’re more likely to send you to Coventry.” “What does sending to Coventry mean?” “No one would talk to you or play with you. You’d become a non-person.” “Would that include not beating up on me?”

175

Grandfather and The Ghost “Yes, the sprogs wouldn’t touch you, but Hagman and Scofield could still go after you unless the second formers go along with the Coventry.” I tried to work out what I had done wrong. Being small, I’d always had to be prepared to fight off bullies. To put up more or less patiently with what I couldn’t stop. Here I had resisted as far as I was able, but it hadn’t stopped Hagman and Scofield. Like all the other sprogs I had to trot from place to place when there was a second former around to see. I had to fetch and carry for them. The sixth formers bossed all the younger kids around. So what was the difference? I opened my top drawer. One glove filled, the fingers waved at me, and I laughed. That must be it. I’d beaten two second-formers. They weren’t too popular with their own form, but that didn’t matter. The other second formers were not about to let the sprogs off the hook or encourage them to revolt, so they’d moved back to the level of hazing of the first couple of weeks. Carson had talked it up, bootlicker-in-chief to Hagman and Scofield. With the other sprogs he blamed me for the renewed reign of terror. The sprogs were back to being whipped into shape and subdued, and they didn’t like it. Could I blame them? I wondered. The question was how to get everybody off my back. At morning recess, the second formers from our house paraded the Caldwell House sprogs behind the gym, out of sight of classroom and staff room windows. We did push-ups, deep squats, and hopped in place the whole darn recess without even time for a pee. The black looks from the others didn’t encourage me. I 176

Hugh McCracken wasn’t surprised when they told me to push off when the sprogs went into a huddle after lunch. Shortly before afternoon classes, McIntyre and Elder found me. “We’ve been told to tell you, they’ve decided to send you to Coventry,” McIntyre said. “It’s darned unfair.” Elder scowled. “Will you two still talk to me?” They looked at each other. “Sorry, Turriff, I can’t.” Elder nodded his head towards a group of boys who watched us from a distance. McIntyre shuffled. “I don’t know.” Afternoon was normal in class, but after dismissal, I noticed the change. It was like I wasn’t there, as if I was invisible. In the dorm, when I washed before supper, there was a clear space around me all the time although the others still jostled and pushed and joked. Hagman caught me in the corridor. “I hear your chums have sent you to Coventry. Never mind, we’ll still play with you. Good, here’s Scofield.” But Scofield didn’t grab my wrist in his usual way. He grinned. “Think on it. If we lay off him, and concentrate on the rest, they’ll think he’s getting off easy and either they’ll keep the Coventry bit up longer or they’ll break it and knock the stuffing out of him. Either way, he’ll catch it for beating us – and we’ll get him back in the end.” Hagman scowled. Scofield continued: “Remember the appointment system?” He turned and spoke directly to me. “Last year someone made dates with kids to beat them up. 177

Grandfather and The Ghost Sometimes he turned up for the meeting, sometimes he didn’t, but the kid had better. Sometimes he’d make the kid wait until almost the last minute before he’d turn up, then tell him there wasn’t time and make a new rendezvous. Like a doctor – ” “A dentist more like,” Hagman said. “Right, the allday wait for it was worse than the doing. We’ll play catch up with you later. The longer they keep up the Coventry, the worse it’ll be when we get round to you. Enjoy. Let’s go tell the others.”

178

Chapter Fourteen

By the time study was over I had begun to feel lonely. Even Jamie hadn’t appeared. Surely he wasn’t going to join the boycott, I thought. After study, I walked by myself round the playing field. Scofield and Hagman passed me and, for the first time ever, walked away without even a single touch. “Hey, sprog, come here.” I ignored the call. No one was speaking to me. “You, Turriff, come here.” It was Carson’s brother, Carson Major, the others had called him – a silly way to name someone, why not use their first names? – the prefect from last night. “I’m in Coventry,” I said, in case this was a trap like the top shirt button joke: everyone undoes the top button they told us, but sprogs ended up with laps round the field and push-ups if someone caught them with it undone. 179

Grandfather and The Ghost Carson Major laughed. “That’s only the other sprogs and the second formers. It’s not an all-school or even an all-house sanction.” “Big deal. You upper school types don’t take much to do with us anyway except to hassle us.” “I can see you really want to be friends.” He put an arm on my shoulder and I flinched back. “You’re Carson’s brother,” I said. Both hands raised, open with palms towards me, he stepped back. “Don’t hold him against me. I don’t like the little puke any better than you do. Let’s walk.” Quite why I don’t know, but I told him about Mom dying two years ago and Dad’s decision to send me to the school, about what it was like with Hagman and Scofield in the dorm. I stopped, horrified at myself: I’d peached, blabbed, snitched, told tales, the biggest sin in the schoolboy calendar of sins. Carson Major laughed and ruffled my hair – how I hate that, I thought and pulled away. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll keep it all between friends. It’s not like you told a teacher or a prefect to get someone into trouble, more like sounding off to a big brother.” “You said last night to give your regards to Jamie. Jamie who?” He gripped me by the back of the neck, firmly, but not really hard enough to hurt, and shook me gently. “Come off it, Turriff. You’ve got Jamie’s bed and you’ve been telling stories about ghosts. Who tripped my brother last night? Who put the bar of soap under him? Who bloodied his nose?”

180

Hugh McCracken I smiled. “Jamie says you peed the bed the first time you saw him.” “Jamie’s a blabbermouth. So you have seen him and talked to him. You’re not afraid of him?” “No, why should I be? Although, lately his help has only got me into more bother, and he hasn’t turned up since I got sent to Coventry.” “I’m here, Rick.” Jamie materialised in his oldfashioned school uniform and walked backwards in front of us. Carson Major stopped. “Jamie! How did you get out here and dressed in uniform? You never left the dorm before. That you were even in the corridor and washroom surprised me.” “I can go any place I please now, can’t I, Rick? I can do whatever I like too.” “Including getting Turriff into bother with your tricks?” Jamie scowled and vanished. “Oh that’s not fair, Carson. He was trying to help. Don’t scare him off now. He’s the only one who’ll speak to me.” Carson Major shrugged. “All the other kids who’ve had that bed since me complained of nightmares. It was empty last year. Maybe we’re odd in some way, if we’re the only kids he’s actually spoken to since 1918. Anyway, I’m sorry I can’t help you about the Coventry deal – ” “I haven’t asked you to – ” “Keep your hair on, I didn’t say you had.” “I’m off before anyone sees us and thinks I’ve snitched.” 181

Grandfather and The Ghost “I’ll see you around, Turriff. I’ll help if I can.” “So long.” Getting ready for bed was strange. Again I was ignored. For the first time I could undress, wash and get into bed completely unscathed. It really felt odd. This must be how Jamie had felt since 1918. There, but invisible, with no one to talk to or joke with. I knew then what my mistake had been. Without really meaning to, I had rescued myself and made trouble for everyone else. Sure, I hadn’t meant to, but to the others that was what it looked like. Now, like it or not, I had to get back in line, and maybe find some way to rescue all of us. Luckily, I hadn’t whined or complained or been seen as a telltale so I didn’t have to fix that. Now I would need to crawl to Hagman and Scofield – but not right now, I thought. I could enjoy the solitude for a while. Friday morning was lovely. I showered with no one in touching distance and no one bugged me. I made my bed carefully, cleared my area, and walked over for breakfast. For once, I had elbowroom. After lunch, I walked out to the cricket pitch and lounged in front of the pavilion. In some ways, it was pleasant, but in the long term I could see Coventry would be very effective. A good job I’ve decided how to end it tonight – well, tomorrow.

182

Chapter Fifteen

Friday evening was a bore. The film was a dud. Anyway, nobody would make space for me in our TV room. I lay in bed to read, but couldn’t really savour the freedom to do so, or enjoy the book, all keyed up about what I would do next day. Lights-out came. There was an air of tension in the room. They wouldn’t beat up on me tonight, they couldn’t, I thought, my whole plan depended on the idea that in Coventry, I was untouchable. “Spin the bottle, Carson,” Hagman said, when Wilson reported the departure of the prefect. “It’s Turriff,” Carson gloated. He squealed when Scofield punched him. “Who? There’s nobody of that name here. Spin again. Ah, Wilson. Would you step over here, please. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

183

Grandfather and The Ghost I lay and listened to Wilson sob, and wondered if what I was about to do was the right step. Saturday started like Friday and after another peaceful shower, I almost chickened out. I could put up with Coventry till Christmas and persuade Dad to pull me out of the school, but that meant the two bullies had won. “Can I talk to you?” I said to Hagman. “Is there a phantom in here?” Hagman said. “I thought I heard the voice of someone who doesn’t exist.” “Please, I give up. You win. Call off the rest of your form. Let the other sprogs be. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll be your slave.” I crossed my fingers behind my back. “What say, Hagman?” Scofield said. “It could be fun. We’d still have the rest of the dorm to play with if we wanted. A good, willing slave to experiment with.” “Yeah, if the Coventry bit goes on, someone might start to nose around. Okay, Titch, we’ll buy.” Hagman laughed. “The other second formers are bored again with hazing already. This way we get the credit for the cease-fire.” The others drifted in from the washroom and Hagman said: “Look who’s back, lads. We’ll call off the dogs. We can be all friends together again.” “While we spread the glad tidings, Titch, you make our beds.” Scofield pulled the sheets completely off. “See you make a good job.” When Hagman and Scofield left, Elder darted over. “What’s the score?” “No big deal, they’ll call off the other second formers.” 184

Hugh McCracken “In exchange for what?” McIntyre said. “Me. I won’t fight them off the way I did last Saturday. If we can’t all be free, I won’t be free.” Elder and McIntyre helped me with the beds and the dorm was perfect for inspection. “You sprogs can have some town leave this afternoon,” the prefect announced. “All except you, Turriff. You’re gated till the end of term.” Hagman and Scofield smiled at me. “We’ll see you’re not bored, Titch,” Hagman said when the prefect left. “Meet us behind the cricket pavilion after lunch. We’ll have a little party – just the three of us.” The morning classes crawled past. I was in trouble several times for inattention. My stomach knotted. I couldn’t eat any lunch. All I could think of was a whole afternoon with Hagman and Scofield. Saturday finally ended.

185

Chapter Sixteen

We woke on Sunday to a lead-grey sky and a steady downpour. The thought that it would be too wet for the open cheered me. There weren’t too many secluded spots, I hoped, in the school itself and with everyone indoors, perhaps the day wouldn’t be too bad after all. “Make our beds, Titch,” Hagman said. “Then polish our shoes for chapel.” The Chaplain beamed when I walked in with Hagman and Scofield who had decreed I would be in the choir. “Splendid, splendid. I knew it would work out for you when you resolved your difficulties with these boys. You’ll see him right, won’t you lads?” “Oh yes, Sir,” Hagman said. “We’ll keep an eye on him.” I’d never sung in a church choir before. Since my arrival at the school I’d been in chapel more often than 186

Hugh McCracken ever at home. Singing wasn’t really my bag and I sure couldn’t read music. I could sing along and hope for the best. “We have a small problem,” the Chaplain said. “Carter has a sore throat so we can’t sing his piece. I don’t suppose you’re choir trained, Turriff? A soprano perhaps?” “Oh, yes, he’s a soprano all right,” Hagman said and Scofield laughed. “Splendid, splendid. Let’s try it.” I cringed. They had set me up for a real embarrassment this time. He lined us up and I looked at the sheet he’d handed me. At his one, two, three the rest started. When he pointed at me, I opened my mouth ready for laughter and ridicule, but instead the sound that came out was beautiful. I almost didn’t remember to open and shut my mouth in time to the music. “Well, we have a find. If Carter’s voice is breaking, we have his replacement. Excellent.” The glove in my pocket stirred, tapped my leg. Jamie’s voice whispered, unheard by anyone else in the general chatter: “I still sound good, don’t I? I was always solo soprano at my prep school.” “Big head. Now you’ve got me roped into the choir.” “I like to sing. I’ll be there.” The glove emptied and Scofield said: “Are you talking to yourself again?” After the service, the two bullies shuffled impatiently while the Chaplain babbled on about my voice. 187

Grandfather and The Ghost “Finally, I thought the old goat would never let us go,” Hagman grumbled when the Chaplain dismissed us. “We’ve got the rest of the day till study after supper,” Scofield said. “A long time to play.” “When we’ve eaten, meet us in the gym locker room.” Hagman smiled. “My turn.” After lunch, Wilson stood at the entrance to the gym. He smiled weakly at me. Carson grinned from his position at the head of the locker room stairway. They had barely started when we heard: “Cave, teacher,” and Carson stuck his head in the room. Hagman and Scofield stuffed me into a locker and hung a towel in front of me. “Not a sound or you’ll really regret it.” The door closed and clicked. I heard a muffled adult voice, then Hagman said through the door: “They need two more for crab football and we’ve been volunteered. Later.” I didn’t like confined spaces. An hour in the locker would be worse than any beating. Where was Jamie when I needed him? “Do you want to get out?” It was Jamie! “Jamie, can you open this?” “Do you want me to?” “I’ll kill you when I get out.” Jamie giggled. “As you say, that would be a neat trick.” “Open the darn door.” The door opened and I almost fell out in my hurry. There was no point in hiding, so I went into the gym.

188

Hugh McCracken “Turriff,” the gym master called. “Caldwell House needs another first former. You’re skins.” I joined the other sprogs from my house, peeled off my shirt, and sat to watch the second form game. Crab football was good fun, but it used a lot of energy and was very tiring. Probably that was why teachers chose it for a wet Sunday afternoon. At least while I played, or they did, I was safe.

189

Chapter Seventeen

A week later, Elder and I were first in the dorm at wash-up time before supper. “Is it worth being the patsy for those two, to have everybody talk to you?” Elder said. I had to admit to myself that after a week of undivided attention I wondered if my plan was so smart after all. The other four sprogs clattered in. “You’re for it tonight, Elder,” Carson gloated. “Yes. Hagman and Scofield said they needed some variety. You’re on show tonight,” chorused Clarke, and Wilson. “You lot make me sick. You’re just as bad as Scofield and Hagman. Let’s stick together. We can beat ’em,” I said.

190

Hugh McCracken The door opened and Scofield and Hagman swaggered in. The other four scrambled away from Elder and me, busy at their own beds. “Plotting a revolt, boys?” Hagman asked. “Any volunteers to take Elder’s place? Carson? Wilson? Clarke? McIntyre? Turriff?” My stomach churned. I looked hopelessly at Elder, and moved away. “No? Then Elder’s it. Don’t overexert yourself, we don’t want you to tire too quickly after lights-out.” After study, Elder and I didn’t go to the TV room, but went instead straight to the dorm. “Can you do something, Rick? Please help me.” Elder threw himself down on his bed. “None of you helped me. You all turned the other way, or watched if they told you to watch. If you’d all stood together, they’d have had to back off. Do you think the others would back us now, or would they chicken out and be glad it’s not them?” “I don’t know,” Elder sighed. “Before you came we did try, but they grabbed us one at a time. When they settled on me, everyone relaxed.” “Are you afraid of ghosts?” “Yes…no, oh, I don’t know. What’s that got to do with anything?” “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you in on a secret, but you must promise not to say. Johnstone’s caned me once already for it.” “Not tell anyone what?” Elder scowled at me. “It’s too difficult to explain. Jamie, can you come out?”

191

Grandfather and The Ghost Jamie slowly materialised at the foot of Elder’s bed. He wore his school uniform. “Holy Crap! What’s that?” Elder said, his face white. “Hi, Elder. I’m Jamie. I’m a friend of Rick’s.” “How’d you do it, Rick? It’s a great trick,” Elder said. “It’s no trick. Jamie’s for real,” I said. Elder crept to the foot of his bed and put out a hand. The hand passed straight through Jamie. Elder almost fell off his bed. “Here,” I said, throwing Jamie his white cotton gloves. “You can’t touch Jamie. I don’t think he can actually touch you, but he can touch objects, and they can touch you.” Jamie drew the gloves on, rather theatrically, I thought. He put out a hand to Elder, who reached tentatively to touch the glove. Elder yelped, and tried to pull back when the glove grasped his hand tightly then shook it. “I’m pleased to meet you,” said Jamie. “Likewise, I’m sure,” Elder said, and gulped. When Jamie let go, Elder pulled back quickly and looked at his hand. With a grin, Jamie faded. The gloves shadow boxed briefly then took a playful swipe at Elder, who fell back on his bed with a shriek, before he bounced back laughing. “Wow. That’s how you did it the night you fought Scofield and Hagman off. Do they know how you did it?” “No, they don’t, and don’t tell them. Anyway Jamie had all the fun; I got caned.”

192

Hugh McCracken Jamie reappeared in full, his face a picture of misery. “I did try to bash Mr Johnstone, but you wouldn’t let me.” “It’s okay, Jamie, honest I was just kidding. You were great. What say, should we help Elder?” “If he’s a friend of yours, sure. Friends, Elder?” Jamie stuck a gloved hand out and, after the briefest of hesitations, Elder took it and shook. “Friends.” “There’s a big problem though,” Jamie said. “Last time we surprised Scofield and Hagman. Even if we beat them again for Elder, they can still move on to someone else. Maybe they’d still get after Elder anytime he was on his own.” “Yes, that’s right. Getting them off my back just this once isn’t any good. It would be even worse next time,” Elder agreed. The door opened. Jamie faded. Hagman and Scofield shepherded the other sprogs in. “Where’d he go?” Elder said. “Shut up. He’s shy. Remember, don’t tell anyone. You’ll have to tough it out tonight and we’ll try to work a plan out with the others later.”

193

Chapter Eighteen

Next morning, a teacher was ill, so my group got an extra games period supervised by a prefect, who told us to play soccer, and sat on the pavilion steps with a magazine. The second formers weren’t free. I grabbed the chance to meet my dorm mates, except Carson, knowing Scofield and Hagman couldn’t suddenly appear. “Look, none of us really wanted Elder beaten up on last night, did we?” I said. “Rather him than me,” Wilson said, and Clarke nodded agreement. “Okay, but who’s to say it won’t be one of you next? If we all fought them any time they picked on one of us, it would be five to two for us. Sure we’d get hurt some, but so would they. They’d soon get cheesed off.”

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Hugh McCracken “But Turriff, they only need to grab one of us when he’s by himself and he will get a real doing,” Wilson protested. “Right, we stick in at least threes always: washroom, showers, breaks, free play, TV room, leave. If Scofield and Hagman try to start on one, all three create: shout, scream, jump up and down, throw stuff. Are you game?” “How would we start, Turriff?” McIntyre said. “We’ll need to jump them to start with, to show we could do it.” I looked round the group. “Well, are you game?” Slowly, each nodded in turn, but they all looked scared. “Right. Here’s what we do. Elder and I have to have a fight. We all know Elder’s no fighter, so if I pretend to be mad enough, nobody would be surprised if I win. Elder complains to Scofield and Hagman. He tells them I want him to meet me in the wood behind the pavilion, between it and the river. You all know where.” They nodded. We’d all been there. That far from the school, shrieks and screams couldn’t be heard, so it was a favourite place for loud games like cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, government and rebel soldiers, but it was also the place bullies could take their victims. If a master ever did chance past, for fear of worse to come, the prey always agreed it was one of those games. “Why should you having a go at me bother them, Turriff?” Elder said.

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Grandfather and The Ghost “They think they own you, everyone in the dorm for that matter. If someone’s going to torture you in the wood, it should be them. They’ll come, okay. Is it on? If anyone chickens out, the other four will send him to Coventry? No matter what Scofield and Hagman do?” Again there was cautious agreement. Next day, at free play, between end-of-school and supper, Elder made his way to the wood. He nodded at Scofield and Hagman, and they followed at a discreet distance. The fight the night before had been convincing. So was my needling of Elder before bed. Real enough for Elder to wonder out loud to the others if I hadn’t perhaps joined Scofield and Hagman, and was setting the whole dorm up. In the wood, I pounced, put a headlock on Elder, and whispered: “Did they follow?” At Elder’s hoarse, ‘Yes’, I whispered: “I’ve got to make it look real, sorry.” I didn’t wait for an answer, but threw Elder to the ground. In seconds I was astride him, knees on his biceps. Elder yelped at my full weight on the muscles when I rocked back and forward. “Doing well, isn’t he?” Hagman said. “Yes. He learned well from us. Carry on, Titch. We’ll have a go at Elder when you’re finished. No particular hurry. What’s next?” This wasn’t going right. The signal for the others to attack was when Scofield and Hagman pulled me off. If it didn’t happen soon, the others would lose their nerve and leave. Worse still, they would think it was a set up to give the bullies an excuse to beat up on them.

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Hugh McCracken I looked round at them and saw a branch, thick as an arm, swing to catch Scofield right behind his knees. He crashed heavily. I scrambled to my feet, shouted: “Now!” and dived at Hagman. For a moment, I thought I had no support except for Jamie, but the others did boil out to swamp Scofield and Hagman. Every time they tried to get to their feet, they got tangled with loose branches that brought them down again. The struggles eventually brought us close to the river, where finally, Scofield and Hagman got to their feet, but a branch swung at them. Both stumbled back to avoid it, and slid down the muddy bank into the river. An hour later, all of us except Carson stood in Johnstone’s office, on the carpet for our part in the events in the wood. “It was a most unsportsmanlike action,” Johnstone said. “All five of you ganged up on Scofield and Hagman. They were quite clear about the whole attack when they came to tell me of the incident – ” “You mean they peached,” four incredulous voices said. “They came to you: you didn’t send for them?” I said. “They were perfectly right to tell me.” Johnstone glared at us. “May we ask something, Sir,” I said. “What can we do? One on one, we can’t fight Hagman or Scofield. If it’s wrong for more than one of us to fight them, isn’t it wrong for both of them, or even just one of them, to beat up on one of us?”

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Grandfather and The Ghost “Are you trying to be funny, Turriff? You are not supposed to fight Hagman and Scofield, even ‘one on one’ as you put it. They represent me in the dorm and they assure me that you are the instigator of all the problems. The dorm was fine until you arrived.” “No, Sir,” the others chorused, “it wasn’t. They are bullies; they picked on Elder till Turriff arrived. Then they beat up on him, till he fought them off, so they went back to Elder.” “Don’t be impertinent, boys. It’s quite clear to me, you’ve been misled. Turriff, you’re obviously the ringleader. I’ll give you six. You others get three apiece for the assault, and for your stupidity.” He caned us in turn. Johnstone peered round and said: “That’s funny, I could have sworn there was another boy here.” “None so blind as they who will not see,” a voice said. Johnstone purpled, but before he could speak the Chaplain burst in. “What is it, Chaplain?” Johnstone snapped. “I’m frightfully busy right now.” “I know Mr Johnstone, but were you aware that every single event, every syllable spoken in this office since these boys came in has been broadcast over your new, infernal PA system?” “My God, no,” Johnstone said. “That’s simply not possible. None of these boys has been on the other side of my desk, and it was off when they came in.” All but me were engrossed with the exchange between the Chaplain and Johnstone. I saw Jamie

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Hugh McCracken appear in the shadows in one corner. I nudged Elder and hissed: “Look.” Jamie winked at us, grinned, touched his hand to his forehead in salute, bowed, and faded. “How did he know how to do it?” Elder whispered. Elder and I heard Jamie’s voice out of the empty air: “I’m dead, not daft!” “Stand still, all of you.” Johnstone walked round his desk, checked the settings on the PA system, and flipped a switch. “Thank you, Chaplain.” It was a dismissal and the Chaplain harrumphed and stamped out. “This is insufferable,” Johnstone said. “I will not demote Hagman and Scofield, but obviously, meanwhile, their remaining with you might present some problems.” We grinned at each other. We’d won. “Clarke, McIntyre, Elder, Wilson, you’re gated till further notice. Turriff, since you’re already gated for the term, I’ll decide on your further punishment later.” “What happens to Hagman and Scofield, Sir?” I said. “Why should anything happen to them, boy? They have behaved perfectly correctly.” “Only if you believe them and not us, Sir.” “Turriff, I am keeping my temper very carefully in check. I shall write a very full account of this term to your father.” “So shall I, Sir.” The Chaplain burst in again. “Mr Johnstone, you are still being broadcast.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost “I can’t be…damn it, how can it have happened? You boys are dismissed.”

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Chapter Nineteen

We chattered excitedly on our way to the dorm, but fell silent when we met Hagman and Scofield in the corridor with armfuls of their belongings. They scowled at us and we edged past. In our dorm the two secondformers from the other dorm put their stuff away. So that’s what Johnstone meant when he said he wouldn’t demote them, I thought. He had only swapped dorms. They were still in charge of first formers. I’d done it again, but on a larger scale. Taylor and Wells, our new jailers, knew us all. I smiled and said, ‘hello’, but they didn’t smile back. “I know you’re not into beating up on kids,” I said. “You wouldn’t let Hagman go on with stuff in your dorm, so we’ll be okay. You be reasonable and so will we.” “Who elected you leader?” Wells said.

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Grandfather and The Ghost “We did,” McIntyre said. Wilson, Clarke and Elder nodded. “Look, it doesn’t have to be you and us. We’re still sprogs, we’ll still do what we’re told, we’ll still run errands and stuff, but we won’t have you beat up on us, and no games with us after lights-out.” Wells scowled. “It’s not up to you – ” “Come on, Wells, we haven’t done any of that stuff anyway,” Taylor said. “You’ve said yourself, Hagman and Scofield are turkeys.” He turned to me. “You stick by the rules and don’t make waves for us and we won’t make waves for you, okay?” Taylor stuck his hand out. We shook, and after a pause so did the others. The bell to end study rang. Shortly after, the sprogs from the other dorm clattered up the stairs. They rushed into our dorm. “We heard your broadcast,” one boy said, and there was a babble of voices. The Chaplain had been right. Everybody had heard Johnstone, except Hagman, Scofield, Wells, and Taylor all busy changing dorms. “What happened to Hagman and Scofield? Where are they?” “Right here, sprog.” Hagman leered from the doorway. “Johnstone thought your dorm needed some discipline, so we’re in charge.” “Line up,” Scofield said. “Quick march. We’ll have a snap inspection for starters.” The boys from the other dorm looked daggers at me while they filed out. “Thanks a bundle, Turriff,” one muttered. 202

Hugh McCracken Clarke, Wilson, and Elder whooped and danced round me, but McIntyre frowned and pulled at his ear lobe. “The end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?” he said. “You read too much, McIntyre,” Wilson said. “Relax, enjoy.” Carson threw himself onto his bed and pulled his pillow over his head. That night after lights-out, our dorm was quiet. Jamie materialised on the floor leaning back against my locker between Elder and I, out of sight of the rest of the dorm. “That was fun. Will we do it again?” “What?” Elder said. “The fight or the PA system?” “Both.” “Get to sleep, you two,” Wells said, and Jamie vanished. The boys from the other dorm pushed and shoved next morning in the shower and washroom. All looked more bleary-eyed and unhappy than usual. At recess, Thompson, the biggest of the other Caldwell House sprogs, tried to corner me, but McIntyre, Wilson, and Elder were immediately at my side and Clarke was in sight. “It’s all your fault, you little twerp,” Thompson said. “No, it’s not. It’s Hagman and Scofield who are to blame.” McIntyre moved forward when Thompson raised his hand. “If he hadn’t made a fuss, they wouldn’t be in our dorm.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost “No, Thompson, they’d still be in ours,” I said. “Share and share alike. We had them first; now you’ve got them.” “Seems fair to me,” Elder said. Thompson scowled. “Well, we don’t like it.”

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Chapter Twenty

Two weeks after the battle at the river, Clarke puffed up to Elder, McIntyre and me. “They’ve got Wilson. They’re going to give him a real beating.” “Slow down,” I said. “Who’s got him? Hagman and Scofield?” “No, the sprogs from the other dorm.” “Weren’t you with him?” Elder said. “We’d agreed to stick together in threes so we could make a fuss if anyone got after us.” “Oh, I thought that was only for Hagman and Scofield,” Clarke shrugged. “Anyway they grabbed him and I ran.” “Where did they take him?” I said. “I dunno. I took off, didn’t I.” “Where were you, Clarke?” Elder said. “In the playroom, Wilson and I were having a game of table tennis. They told Wilson that he was to say 205

Grandfather and The Ghost they were playing cowboys and indians if anybody asked.” “Behind the old pavilion,” McIntyre and I said together. “Come on.” “It’ll be six to five,” Clarke exclaimed, “maybe six to four if they’ve tied Wilson up.” The area between the river and the disused pavilion was big and overgrown. Old trees stood over smaller, more recent growth, and thorn and bramble bushes. Narrow paths wove their way through it to several small clearings and to the ruins of two houses. They were at the second ruin. Wilson was face down, bent over a waist high section of the ruined wall. Thompson’s crowd stood round him. From our crouched position in the bush round the ruins, I stood and shouted: “Run, Wilson, run.” He looked up, but didn’t move. My arms were grabbed from behind.

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Chapter Twenty One

“Nice of you to join our game,” Scofield said. My wrists were pulled up behind me and I was frogmarched towards the ruins. The others followed, each held firmly by one of Scofield’s friends. “You lot can scram now,” Hagman said to Thompson. “If we want you, we’ll send for you.” The other sprogs took off. Darn whoever invented Velcro luggage straps, I thought, when our hands and feet were bound. This could be a long, long afternoon. We lay where they put us. I stared up at the second formers. “What now, Scofield?” one said. “You’re all very brave,” I said. “We’re all tied. Are you scared to fight one on one?” They laughed. “Untie me and I’ll fight Scofield or Hagman,” I said. 207

Grandfather and The Ghost “Fancy yourself as David,” Scofield said and nudged me with his toe. “You’d get mauled, kid,” someone said. “It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” “This is fair, with us all tied?” Scofield’s friend shuffled and two actually looked away. “Is it fair?” I said. “We’ve never balked at what tradition says sprogs have to do, even the stupid stuff. All we’ve dug our heels in over is being beat up on for nothing, because louts like Scofield think it’s fun.” “If he wants to fight you, Scofield, let him have a go.” There was a murmur of agreement and Scofield scowled. “Not think you could take him, Scofield?” “Pull the others back against the wall, for now,” Scofield said. “Untie Titch, Hagman.” “You’re daft, Turriff,” Elder whispered. “You’ll get creamed.” I rubbed my wrists and ankles, before I stood and stretched. “Best of three falls?” Scofield glanced at the speaker and laughed. “No. A submission. I’ll play with him for a little. Remember, nobody interferes.” He faced me about three feet away. I shook slightly. He was head and shoulders taller than me and heavier. If he got a good grip or got on top of me, it would be over. From the experience of the first couple of weeks, I knew I would grovel in tears once he really started on me. 208

Hugh McCracken He grinned and beckoned me with his index finger. “Come on, Titch. You wanted one on one. Got cold feet or wet pants?” Don’t let me down, Jamie, I thought and launched myself at Scofield, my head down. His surprised, “Oof,” when my head rammed into his belly was a song for me, but when he fell over backwards I scrambled away. A bear hug with him rolled on top of me could finish it. He got to his knees. I circled and jumped at his back, both my knees together, my fists clubbed at the back of his head, and knocked him onto his face. This time I did sit on him and heard a giggle from behind me. I risked a glance back. Scofield’s legs were bent up at the knees, the right leg crossed over the left at the ankle. From bitter experience, I knew if the right leg was held down properly the legs couldn’t be straightened and it was almost impossible to roll over. There was no need for me to hold the leg: from the way the pants leg was pressed down, Jamie was in charge of that end. Scofield tried to push up with his hands, but I kicked his hands away, bounced with all my weight on his back, and grabbed the hair on the back of his head. A quick pull, an equally quick release, and his nose banged on the hard packed earth. I caught hold of one hand, swung it up behind Scofield’s back, gripped the elbow and with all my strength pushed towards his shoulder blades. “My nose, my arm!” “Give up?”

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Grandfather and The Ghost I heard a sound behind me, but when I looked round, two boys held Hagman back and a voice said: “Scofield said nobody was to interfere.” “Get off me.” Scofield’s voice sounded muffled. “Give up?” I leaned with all my weight and pushed the arm further. “Yes. Yes.” “Say it.” Now, I thought, I can’t push any harder. “I give up. I give up.” “Louder, and say ‘please’.” “Please, get off. Please, I give up. Please.” I climbed off and jumped back, ready for treachery, but Scofield only rolled over, sat up, and nursed his shoulder while blood dripped down his shirtfront. “Now I’ve seen how you fight, you dirty little tyke, I won’t be so easily surprised.” Hagman leapt at me, threw his arms round me, and pinned my arms to my side. I couldn’t do much, but neither could he, except squeeze. “Lift your feet,” Jamie’s voice said. With my legs bent at the knees, I could feel Hagman lean forward as he took my weight, before he staggered and started to fall. I put my feet down again and pushed up with all my strength. The top of my head hit his chin with a loud crack. He went limp, fell, and dragged me down with him. I scrambled clear, out of his reach, but he lay there, motionless. Some of his friends rushed over. I backed away, but they ignored me. “He’s out. Out cold,” someone said. They turned to stare at me.

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Hugh McCracken “Wow, was that ever something.” The voice came from the other side of the wall. It was Thompson’s dorm. They had stayed to watch. When I started to move to my chums to untie them, Elder jumped up to help. “Jamie,” he said and winked. “He didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to loose the others.” Hagman, supported by two friends, and Scofield, his nose still streaming, left the field of battle with the other second formers. Thompson’s dorm joined us and Thompson said: “That was a fluke. It had to be.” “Two in a row?” McIntyre grinned. “Want to make it a hat trick?” “Yeah, you sucked us into the ambush,” Elder said. They were already lined up, roughly matched for size, but six to our five and they left me with Thompson, a good five inches taller than me. “Whoa. This is stupid,” I said. “Why should we do Hagman’s work for him? Our only quarrel is we beat the bullies off and you got landed with them. That wasn’t our fault. If we all stick together, we could hold them.” “What about in the dorm?” Thompson said. “They play divide and rule. If any time they go after one, instead of everybody else turning their backs and being glad it’s not them, you all pitch in, then they’re stuck.” “Yes, it might work.” Thompson sucked his teeth. “If they start up again, will you lot help – well you anyway, Turriff?” “I’m the smallest – ” 211

Grandfather and The Ghost “You’re the only one that’s ever beaten them.” “Okay,” I said. “A deal?” “A deal.” After Thompson and I shook hands, the two dorms filed past each other shaking hands like two teams after a soccer match. Only on our walk back to the dorms to get ready for supper did I realise I had a thumping headache and a great goose egg on top of my head.

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Chapter Twenty Two

At supper, our two tables were noisy. Hagman and Scofield weren’t in the dining hall. Johnstone strode in, his face a blotchy red, halfway through the meal. Barnard stopped at my table after dismissal while we sprogs waited for the seniors to leave. “Turriff, you and the sprogs from your dorm, except Carson, are excused study. Report to Mr Johnstone’s office instead.” We filed into his office and lined up in front of his desk. Johnstone glanced at the PA switches, touched one, and smiled grimly. “I was late for supper because I was delayed in sickbay. Turriff, do you know why I was delayed?” “You didn’t feel well, Sir?” His face was a mottled red again and a vein beat steadily in his left temple. “I was delayed waiting for Dr Bellows. Scofield has a broken nose and the left side of 213

Grandfather and The Ghost Hagman’s face is badly bruised and swollen. He may have a concussion.” He glared at me. For only an instant, I saw Jamie behind Johnstone. He grinned, both hands raised, thumbs up. Elder nudged me and I smiled. “This is not a laughing matter,” Johnstone shouted. “Speak, boy. What have you say for yourself?” “It was a fair fight, Sir.” “As fair as could be, between Turriff and those birdbrained oafs,” McIntyre said. “It was one on one.” “Hagman and Scofield had the rest of us tied – ” “Silence!” Johnstone’s bellow cut through the babble. “This is exactly the nonsense they said you’d tell. Turriff, you enticed Hagman and Scofield to follow you into the wood. Following which you incited these boys to hold them while you assaulted them. This is the second ungentlemanly, totally unprovoked attack perpetrated by you. I am grievously disappointed in you other boys, but I am sure this ruffian led you astray.” We looked at each other. What we needed were witnesses, I thought, but how could we get them to talk without being accused of telling tales? “Your silence speaks volumes for your guilt. Turriff, you will report to sickbay, the isolation room. You will remain there until I contact your father about your withdrawal. You others are gated sine die – yes, indefinitely – and are on permanent waiting duty. I may cane you tomorrow after I have spoken further with Hagman and Scofield and Dr Bellows. 214

Hugh McCracken At a loud knock on the door, Johnstone bellowed, “Come in.” Carson Major held the door open and the chums of Hagman and Scofield who had been at the fight filed in. Johnstone frowned. “What is the meaning of this, Carson?” “These boys were at the fight, Sir. They saw it all.” “Very commendable of them to testify. No more than I would expect of Caldwell House boys – “Sir, they confirm Turriff’s story. Hagman and Scofield lied to you.” “Nonsense. I have all the facts.” “Wilson, Elder, McIntyre, and Clarke were tied up. These boys tied them on Hagman’s instructions. Turriff did fight Hagman and Scofield by himself.” “Turriff, I don’t know how you managed it, but you have corrupted my whole house, except Hagman and Scofield.” “Sir, that isn’t so,” Carson Major said. “Hagman and Scofield are bullies and cowards, everyone knows but you.” I thought Johnstone was about to have a stroke or a heart attack for sure. His face was almost purple and the vein on his temple bulged. “Carson, you are no longer a prefect. I have had reports that you are over familiar with Turriff and your behaviour today confirms this. I will decide – ” Carson Major, white-faced, pulled his prefect badge from his lapel and threw it at the desk. It never reached the surface. Almost there, it stopped, and flew up to hit Johnstone’s cheek. 215

Grandfather and The Ghost “Mr Johnstone, Mr Johnstone.” The Chaplain pushed the door open and burst in. “You are being broadcast again.” Both stared at the PA console. “The switches are all off,” Johnstone said. “Then there must be a problem with the installation. Is there a master switch?” Johnstone fiddled below his desk and I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing when I saw Jamie peer at what he was doing, and look up to wink at me. Everyone, except Carson Major and I, was dismissed. The Chaplain stamped out when Johnstone snapped at him: “My cheek is fine. It’s only a scratch. I do wish you wouldn’t fuss.” We waited for Johnstone to speak. Carson Major put an arm on my shoulder. “Now, you two.” Johnstone’s voice was a snarl. “I want the truth, if I have to beat it out of you. Turriff, bend over.” The first stroke never landed. Carson Major grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room. The door closed behind us, but I caught a last glimpse of Johnstone. His face now chalk white, he backed away from the cane that swept through the air towards him. “We’ve got to find the Chaplain,” Carson Major said. “Jamie will kill him. I saw Jamie’s face.” The Chaplain met us. He almost ran from the classroom block. “That damned PA is on again. Mr Johnstone’s shouts and screams can be heard all over the school. Come on.”

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Hugh McCracken We trotted after him back to Johnstone’s office. The Chaplain knocked and pushed the door open. We gaped from the door at the shambles. Chairs were overturned. All the books had been swept off the shelves. The desk surface was clear. Johnstone huddled in a corner, his knees drawn up, his arms crossed in front of his face. Low moaning noises were the only sound. “Fetch matron and Dr Bellows, if he’s still here.” We ran and were back in minutes with matron and the doctor. The Chaplain pushed us into the corridor and an object skittered out of the room onto the wooden floor. Carson Major’s prefect badge. The Chaplain stooped, picked it up, examined it carefully, and handed it to Carson Major. “Yours, I believe.” “Sir, Mr Johnstone – ” “I heard everything over the PA. Mr Johnstone is unwell, not himself at present. I shall take over till the headmaster returns next week. Carson, you will move into the prefect room on Turriff’s floor. You may go.” “Sir, I was to – ” I started. “Turriff, I said Mr Johnstone was, is, unwell. I will deal with this escapade tomorrow, but I am satisfied that you have done nothing to justify expulsion. Now, run along, I must see how Mr Johnstone is.” I went with Carson Major to pick up some of his belongings. We sat in his new room till the others came out of study. Everyone but those who were in the room with Johnstone had heard both sessions over the PA. 217

Grandfather and The Ghost Thompson said that he and the others would tell exactly what had happened at the castle, even to Johnstone, if that were what was needed to get me off the hook. Before I could explain why I was back in the dorm and not in sickbay, as they had expected, a second former ran upstairs to summon us all to the chapel.

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Chapter Twenty Three

Only Caldwell House was in the chapel. We sat silent until the Chaplain arrived. When he walked in, he had Hagman and Scofield with him. “Sit there.” He pointed to the first pew, then stood, his face grim, glaring along each row. The silence lasted so long that some began to shuffle. Even a few nervous giggles were heard. “It has come to my attention that there has been some unpleasantness in this house,” he thundered at last. “Some mean, nasty hazing, well beyond what is normally allowed. I am guilty, since I allowed myself to be hoodwinked by two plausible rogues.” He glowered down at Hagman and Scofield. “I am disappointed in all of you. You seniors had to be aware. It was up to you to moderate the behaviour of the second formers, sprogs themselves last year. Only Carson Major made any attempt to protect the 219

Grandfather and The Ghost youngsters. Be assured, I shall get to the bottom of this. “Mr Johnstone is ill. After telephone consultation with the headmaster, it is agreed I will take over until he returns. The hazing will stop. Do I make myself quite clear? In this house, it shall cease. “Carson Major will move into Caldwell Junior House, as the prefect-in-charge. Hagman and Scofield are stripped of all second form privileges. They are, in all but class attendance, first formers. “House stand. Dismiss. Prefects meet with me here at the front. Hagman, Scofield, stay where you are.” “Who would have thought it?” McIntyre said. “The pompous old goat isn’t so daft after all.” Carson Major collected the Caldwell House juniors in the second form TV room. It was crowded with the twelve sprogs and the ten second formers, plus Wells and Taylor. I gazed round; it wasn’t much different from our room on the second floor, but any time I’d been in it before, I crawled on my hands and knees to deliver errands or to be beaten by Hagman or his pals. “You heard the padre, hazing season is over.” Some second formers grumbled, and Carson Major raised his hand. “That’s it. No more. Second formers have their usual privileges, but no hazing.” The door opened and Hagman and Scofield were pushed in ahead of the Chaplain. “Thank you, Carson. These gentlemen wish to speak to the house. For heaven’s sake, Scofield, stop snivelling. I have had a broken nose too, from rugby. You will survive.”

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Hugh McCracken Hagman and Scofield stumbled through an apology to the house for having let the side down, then to my embarrassment an apology for their treatment of me. “Now, shake hands like the sons of gentlemen you are, and like the gentlemen you may yet become.” We shook, but the looks from both Hagman and Scofield would have done the Medusa proud. Dismissed from the lower TV room, we sprogs roared off upstairs to celebrate our freedom, while Carson Major had a word with the second formers. Wells and Taylor arrived on the floor with the second formers Carson had selected to replace Scofield and Hagman minutes after Carson Major himself. “Hagman and Scofield have gone back to sickbay like you said, Carson Major. Nobody touched them – much.” Wells said. The TV room became silent when Carson Major walked in. It erupted into a babble of voices when he said: “I need volunteers to go over to the games’ room for Coke and crisps – that’s chips to you, Turriff. You can all stay up to see the end of this show.” The two dorms relaxed. No one noticed a pale boy dressed in my pyjama pants and the top with the basset hounds slip into the back of the darkened room to sit between Elder and me. “You came on a bit strong with Johnstone, Jamie,” I said, and the pyjama top seemed about to empty and collapse. “Thanks, Jamie. You were great.” The top filled again. Elder and I each put an arm round the thin, bony shoulders, and Jamie sighed. “It’s

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Grandfather and The Ghost nice to have friends, but I do wish I could have a Coke and some crisps.” Afterwards, the run up to the Christmas holidays was a breeze. I even started to get used to some of the nutty ways they do things here and to my surprise found most of the teachers were okay – stuffy and odd, but after all, they were adults.

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Chapter Twenty Four

“Hey, Turriff, over here.” A piece of stale British Railways bun caught me behind the ear and I whirled. “Elder! Have you seen McIntyre yet? We should try to get seats together.” “No, but there are Clarke and Wilson. Hi, over here!” The station concourse was crowded now with boys in our uniform. It was a lot different from my lonely journey to join the school last term, four weeks late. We chattered about our Christmas holidays and what next term would be like. Would Johnstone, the housemaster, be back? I wondered. How long did a nervous breakdown take? What about Hagman and Scofield? “That’s our train,” Elder said. “Let’s go.” The mob surged up the platform and engulfed the coaches reserved for us. We managed to get six seats 223

Grandfather and The Ghost for our dorm and the rest of us defended them while Elder stuck his head out the window to spot for McIntyre. “You should see this, lads,” Elder said over his shoulder. “There’s a kid on the platform in our uniform, a sprog like us by the size of him, with enough luggage for the whole dorm.” We crowded to the window. Sure enough, a boy strode up the platform, followed by two perspiring porters. He walked past our coach, the last one reserved for the school. “Hey, kid,” Elder called. “It’s only first class past here.” The boy stared at Elder. “Yes, I know.” Elder snorted, then shouted: “In here, McIntyre, we’ve saved a seat for you.” Shortly after departure, Carson Major, our prefect, walked through the coach and stopped to talk. “You can drop the ‘major’, Elder. There’s only me now.” “Why? Where’s your brother Dave?” I said. “Father decided to let him move to another school, a fresh start and all that.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not,” Wilson said. “He was okay after Johnstone went nuts while you were around, Turriff, or you, Carson, but he was still front man for Hagman and Scofield and getting to be a bully himself.” Carson shrugged. The journey seemed a lot shorter than it had last fall. At the station, we poured off the train and packed into the waiting buses. “There’s the Prince.” Elder pointed. 224

Hugh McCracken Two porters loaded the boy’s luggage into a taxi while he argued with the driver.

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Chapter Twenty Five

Elder and I were first off the bus and raced to our dorm on the second floor of Caldwell House. “Jamie,” I called. “Jamie, are you here?” The thin form materialised and wavered in the air before it finally solidified. “You’ve got a modern uniform on,” Elder said. “Doesn’t he look good, Turriff?” Jamie turned slowly. The slightly rumpled grey slacks, scuffed black shoes, white shirt, tie slightly askew, and black blazer missing a button were perfect. He looked a typical sprog. He would pass as one of us anywhere. “Looking different was a bore.” Jamie smiled. “You’d better do up your top shirt button though,” Elder said. “Sprogs aren’t allowed to have it undone.” “They’d need to catch me first.” Jamie vanished and reappeared at the other end of the room. 226

Hugh McCracken “There’ll be no holding him now,” I said. The dorm door opened and Jamie faded. Wilson walked in followed by the boy from the train. “This is it,” Wilson said. “Home sweet home till spring break.” The stranger looked round. His nose twitched and his lip curled. “There are eight beds here,” he said. My mind flew back to my first view of the dorm last term. “This will not do,” the new boy said. When Wilson laughed, the boy’s mouth became a thin line across his face and his nostrils flared. For a moment I thought he was about to hit Wilson. “There’s a single room with a private bath across the hall,” Elder said. “Maybe that would be more suitable.” Wells and Taylor, the two second-formers in charge of our dorm, pushed in. “Carson won’t be back. This kid will have his bed.” Our new dorm mate scowled. “I am Prince Assad. I will take the single room.” “And I’m the Archbishop of Canterbury,” Taylor said. “Show him his bed, Wilson. Turriff, you and Elder help him up with his gear.” “Let’s go, Prince,” Elder said. Clarke walked in the door. “That’s what we call our dog.” I took Assad’s elbow to steer him out and he pulled away. “I am not to be touched!” “Let’s get your stuff,” I said.

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Grandfather and The Ghost Outside, a big trunk, a footlocker and three huge cases lay waiting. Elder went back inside and shouted up for Wilson and Clarke to help. McIntyre pushed past us. “I’ll be back to help when I’ve dumped my case.” “Grab an end, Prince,” Elder said. “We’ll take the trunk.” “I do not carry.” He folded his arms. “Then this can stay here till it rots.” Elder brushed one hand off with the other. “Come on, Assad,” I said. “Help us.” “Where are the servants who should do these tasks?” Assad said. Elder sat on the trunk and shook with laughter. “There aren’t any,” I said. “We sure aren’t doing it for you,” Elder said. “If you help us, we’ll help you.” Assad grumbled under his breath, but he did help carry his belongings up. When he had stowed away all that would fit in his locker, he helped cart the trunk and the cases to the glory hole. “Get the beds made before supper,” Wells said, when we got back to the dorm. Assad watched us make our beds, before he shrugged and started on his. It was a shambles. Even Taylor wouldn’t have passed it and Wells for sure would want it stripped and done again. “Here, let Elder and me show you how.” He watched again while we remade the bed with proper hospital corners. “You may make my bed each day,” he said. 228

Hugh McCracken “Get stuffed,” Elder said. “I do not know what ‘get stuffed’ means.” Assad frowned. “I will pay you.” On our way to the dining hall, Elder was still steamed. “What does he think he is?” “He’s not English,” I said. At the supper table, Assad wrinkled his nose and pushed his food round the plate with his fork. Elder watched him for a time. “If you’re not going to eat that, pass it over here.” Immediately after supper, the Chaplain held a meeting of Caldwell House. “Mr Johnstone is still unwell and will not return this term.” He frowned at the wave of pleased exclamations that ran round the chapel. “I shall continue to act in his place. Barnard’s duties as school captain are sufficiently onerous without the extra responsibilities of the Caldwell House captaincy. Effective now, Carson Major will assume the roll and title.” The first and second forms cheered, all except Hagman and Scofield, I noticed. “Hagman and Scofield, I now restore to the privileges of second formers.” The Chaplain went on: “Carson Minor has not returned and a new boy has joined us. Assad Habim, will you stand, please.” Assad rose and bowed. “I expect you to be friendly and courteous to this stranger in our midst. This is his first visit to England, although he has a family connection with the school in the past. Help him adjust to our customs.” 229

Grandfather and The Ghost There was no study the first evening so we spent the time catching up with each other’s news. I wondered if Hagman and Scofield would try to set up their reign of terror again now that the Chaplain had restored their privileges as second formers. Thompson, from the other first form dorm of Caldwell House, laughed and told me Carson had sent them back downstairs to the second form dorm they had been banished to last term. “So if they want to beat up on someone after lightsout it still has to be one of their own form,” I said. “And their own size.” Thompson smiled. “There’s still free playtime and Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, but they can’t be any worse than last term after you beat them. What’s the new kid like?” I told him about the incident with the cases and Thompson laughed. “Maybe a session or two with Hagman and Scofield would be good for him after all.” When the prefects chased us off to our dorms, I remembered my first night of sharing with a crowd of other boys and watched Assad. It was odd. I had been shy and embarrassed. He undressed as if none of the rest of us were there, wrapped his towel round his waist, and strode through to the shower. Later, Elder whispered across the gap between our beds: “That Assad character is going to be a proper pill.” Before I could reply, Jamie materialised, sitting back against my locker. “He’ll be fine. I remember an Arab boy. The others thought him stuck-up, standoffish, but he was shy and used to different ways. He was kind when I got beaten.” 230

Hugh McCracken Jamie’s smile faded and his mouth turned down at the corners. “Are those still the same pyjamas from last term, Jamie?” Elder said. “Don’t you ever wash them?” He laughed when Jamie grabbed at his bedclothes and they tugged. “Elder, Turriff, shut up and let’s all get some sleep,” Wells called.

231

Chapter Twenty Six

Now Jamie had elected to appear in modern dress, as I predicted, there was no holding him. When Elder and I were far enough away from any others, Jamie would appear to chat; only to walk off and disappear when anyone else came too close. On the Wednesday after term started we had our first proper game of soccer. Assad turned out to be an excellent player. About Elder’s height, and slim, he moved beautifully. His control of the ball was better even than that of the English boys who had played since they could walk. That will soon make him popular, I thought, even if he still comes across as a cold fish. If he’s half as good at rugby and cricket he’s got it made. A blast on the whistle stopped us. “Caldwell House, too many men on the field,” the teacher called. 232

Hugh McCracken We counted: eleven. Minutes later, we had the same call again. “Old Turnip Face needs new glasses,” Wilson said. The instant we started again, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jamie beside me. He waved a hand and the whistle sounded again. “Where did he go?” The teacher frowned at me. “There were twelve of you. I could swear it. A thin, pale boy, about your height, Turriff, black hair falling over his face, in need of a haircut.” He glared round at us. There was no one who fitted the description. When we started again, I snarled: “Jamie, bog off. You’ll get us all into trouble.” My feet tangled with each other and I sprawled in the mud. Jamie laughed. “I’ll go and annoy Hagman.” The second form game was still on when we finished and I stopped to watch. Hagman, usually a very good player, was obviously not having a great game. He was covered in mud. While I watched, he tried a sliding tackle. Instead of the expected graceful slide to dispossess his opponent, Hagman’s feet shot up in the air and he landed with a thump and a splash on his back to loud cheers from the first formers. Jamie had a very successful afternoon. Elder and I were strolling the grounds before the supper bell when Jamie glided out of the shadows to walk between us. “Hagman and Scofield took the new boy behind the pavilion after soccer.” “We should try to help him,” I said.

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Grandfather and The Ghost “Why?” Elder kicked a stone along the path. “He doesn’t even know we exist. To him, we’re as invisible as Jamie is most times.” “He’s still in our dorm. We don’t want those two thinking they can start again on any of us,” I insisted. “What about it, then?” “Aw, Turriff, we’ve been fine since Johnstone went cuckoo. Why rock the boat for the Prince? If it was one of us or even one of Thompson’s dorm, sure…but for Prince High and Mighty?” “He is one of us. He just doesn’t know it yet.” “Okay, you get him to behave like we’re human beings from the same planet, but right now I don’t think anyone will help.” “He’s upstairs right now,” Jamie said. I sprinted up to the dorm, and from outside the door, I could hear him sob, but when I stepped in, he was quiet. “Are you all right, Assad?” “Prince Assad! Why should I not be all right, as you say?” “Come off it. Hagman and Scofield had you behind the pavilion. I’ve been there.” For a moment, I thought he would talk with me, but Wilson and Clarke arrived and Assad froze. At supper, he ate even less than usual and, afterwards, I tried to talk the others into helping, but they felt the same way Elder did. Assad sure hadn’t made any points with the dorm. “You kiss him, Turriff,” McIntyre said. “If the frog Prince turns into a human being, tell us and we’ll think about it.” 234

Hugh McCracken Elder laughed. “Turriff, the white knight.” The others didn’t send Assad to Coventry. They didn’t have to; he isolated himself. In the dorm, he continued to dress and undress as if no one was there. Not the relaxed state I’d reached, but it seemed he mentally shut everyone out. The others were insulted; it was obvious. I tried to be friendly, but the constant brush-off got to me and after a week I stopped making overtures. I had problems of my own. We had to keep up our escort duties for each other. Hagman and Scofield would still pounce on any of us stupid enough to be on his own. The dorms and the sprogs’ TV room were safe – Carson wouldn’t allow the two bullies on our floor, but any other area not regularly supervised by staff was bandit country. It became a game, a nasty war game with rules of its own. With enough of us, three or more, we could fend them off, as even with two held, the third could kick and punch and make life uncomfortable enough that Hagman and Scofield would let go and the group could run. The other second formers took no part in the war, but made no attempt to stop it. Older boys ignored us as kids fooling around if we didn’t disturb them. Carson did what he could, but round-the-clock babysitting wasn’t possible and anyway, within the code, snitching to him was as bad as telling staff or another adult. Jamie, however, was having a great term. Now he dressed as he pleased, he appeared whenever and wherever he felt like. From a distance he looked like any other sprog, but he was careful never to be ever close enough to touch, except with Elder and me. 235

Grandfather and The Ghost Once or twice during the school day, I thought Assad was about to speak to me, but each time he shied away when someone else came close. Finally, after a soccer game, Assad passed me on his way to the showers and said quietly: “Jamie says I should trust you.” Surprised, I grabbed my towel and followed him. I stood side by side with him in the hissing gang shower. “How do you know Jamie?” “He meets me sometimes…after.” “Oh, where?” “In the cloister, beside the fields, many places.” “Have you ever seen him in the dorm?” “Oh no, he can’t be from Caldwell House. I’ve never seen him there, but it is odd. I’ve thought I’ve heard his voice sometimes after lights-out when you and Elder talk.” The water shut off and a master stuck his head round the baffle wall. “Out, you two. You’ve been in there long enough.” Dried and dressed, I suggested a walk. The main driveway was nearly a quarter of a mile long and made a very pleasant stroll. Assad and I started alone. I jumped when Jamie’s voice said: “Are you two speaking now?” Jamie strolled beside me and kicked stones ahead of him. Assad laughed, the first time ever, I thought, and said: “Does he always come on you so suddenly? He must be a djinn, I swear, a genie from bottle to appear out of thin air.” “I don’t come from a bottle, do I, Rick?” 236

Hugh McCracken I stopped and stared at Assad. “He’s – ” I started. Jamie pushed and I almost fell, my feet tangled. “Race you to the gate,” Jamie shouted. “Last one there’s a mouldy turnip.” Assad beat me to the gate and, of course, Jamie was there before either of us. We threw ourselves down on the wooden bench and Jamie whispered in my ear. “He doesn’t know I’m a you-know-what, don’t tell him.” Some other sprogs ran down the drive and Jamie slipped off the driveway into the shrubs and vanished. “What were you about to tell me about Jamie before we raced?” “Only that he’s shy.” Jamie’s face grinned at me briefly through the bushes on the other side of the driveway. “You said Jamie told you to trust me. About what?” Assad frowned. For a moment, I thought he would to give me the brush-off yet again, but he sighed. “I don’t like it here.” “Neither did I,” I said. “But I’ve got good friends now and so could you, if you make the first move.” “I had thought you all without honour, coarse fellahin, not gentlemen.” “What changed your mind?” “Jamie, he is noble and gentle and calls you ‘friend’. He knew enough not to touch me.” “What’s all this about not being touched? Dad says men in the Middle East sometimes walk hand-in-hand in public and no one thinks anything about it.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost “That is true, but only with equals. I am Prince Assad.” “You needn’t worry; no-one wants to hold hands with you, so you can forget it. Hagman and Scofield touched you all right, I bet.” “At my last school, protocol and custom were understood; no one would dare touch me. I had friends who would do whatever I ordered.” “Some friends. You were like Hagman in a way.” “Help me. Help me against them.” “Is that an order, Prince Assad?” “No, please. I am not used to asking…to asking for help. Help me, please.” I held out my hand. With almost no hesitation, Assad shook. “Jamie thinks you’re worth the bother and you are in our dorm, so I’ll give it a whirl. You’ll have to ask the others.” He stiffened. “Why? I have asked you. You are the leader. Tell them they must help.” “Oh boy, do you have a lot to learn. After study tonight at the free hour, we’ll talk to the others.” “I have to meet Hagman then. I had no allowance left for him.” “You’ve been paying him?” “When bandits or pirates are too strong to resist, you can buy them off for a while.” “That’s called extortion here. They could get expelled.” “I offered to pay them instead of a beating. It was perhaps a mistake. At first they did say they would stop, but Hagman takes the money and still beats me.” 238

Hugh McCracken “Let’s find the others now, before supper.” We met in the dorm at wash-up before dinner. “Let’s start over,” I said, “as if Assad had just arrived.” “Prince Assad, you mean,” Elder said. “No, just Assad with us.” I looked at Assad and he nodded. Elder grinned and stuck out his hand. “I washed it yesterday, I think.” Solemnly, Assad shook hands with Elder, McIntyre, Wilson, and Clarke, and I told them what we had talked about on our walk. “Wow, if you’d paid us,” Elder said, “we’d have been your bodyguards. Imagine that loot going to those two stinkers.” “Do I pay you?” “No, Assad,” I said, and punched Elder. “We can share tuck and so on for secret feasts after lights-out, but you don’t pay us.”

239

Chapter Twenty Seven

After study, Assad did go to meet the bullies, but the whole dorm followed along shortly after. “Well, quite like old times, boys. Come for the show?” Hagman grinned. “Nope, we’ve come to stop the show,” I said. “Prince Assad’s not one of you.” “He is now,” McIntyre said. “Okay, Assad,” I said. “On your feet and let’s withdraw in good order.” “This doesn’t finish it,” Hagman said. “We’ll get you one at a time.” “You’ll need to catch us first,” Clarke jeered. After lights-out, I tugged Elder’s earlobe to waken him. By the time he was alert, Jamie was seated on the floor between our beds.

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Hugh McCracken “Assad has seen Jamie and thinks he’s a sprog from another dorm,” I said. Jamie nodded. “Lots of kids by now must have seen Jamie at a distance,” Elder said. “So what?” “Assad has spoken to him.” “Oh. He’s bound to twig or blab.” Jamie’s lower lip stuck out and trembled. “What difference does my talking to him make?” “When nobody can find you,” Elder said, “they’ll think Assad is crazy.” “And if we defend him and say you’re a ghost, they’ll think we’re crazy or stupid.” “I’ll show myself to everybody, then they’ll believe.” “I don’t know if everybody can see you. Obviously Elder and I can, and Assad and Carson.” “Then I’ll throw stuff and do tricks.” “They’ll exorcise you,” Elder said. “What’s that, Rick?” Elder laughed. “Bell, Book, and Candle and Holy Water sprinkled on you with prayers to make you go away.” “Oh, no, a Chaplain did that once. It was awful. I had nightmares. Somehow, I got lost and couldn’t find my way. There were frightening people, awful people, nasty people – ghosts.” Again Elder laughed, but Jamie trembled and started to fade. “It’s okay, Jamie,” I said. “We won’t let them exorcise you, but we have to tell Assad the truth. It’s too risky not to. Just think, you can talk to all three of us at the same time and be able to fade when you want to.” 241

Grandfather and The Ghost “You won’t let them try to exercise me?” “Exorcise. No exorcism, but if Hagman and Scofield knew, you can bet they’d want one done.” Elder scratched his head and pursed his lips. “I never thought of anybody being able to get back at Jamie. Where do you go, Jamie, when you’re not with us?” “Until Rick showed me how to leave the dorm, I hadn’t been out of it at all except when the nasty old man tried to exercise – er, exorcise – me.” “Then what did you do all that time? Since 1918, wasn’t it, Rick?” I nodded, but Jamie’s lip trembled again and he wavered like a TV picture with interference. “It’s okay, Jamie, it’s okay,” I said. “You’re here, we’re here.” “I’m supposed to do something, but I don’t know what.” Jamie frowned. “Funny, I only remembered that if I do it, I can go home.” “A fat lot of good that’ll do you,” Elder said. “Wherever was home in 1918 isn’t likely to be the same now, and there sure won’t anybody left – ” Jamie vanished abruptly. “What’s up with him now?” “He’s only eleven, Elder, not even as old as us.” “He’s eighty-three.” “Nuts. Everything stopped for him when he died. He’s only a kid, and a frightened one at that.” “What do you think it is he has to do?” “I don’t know. If the two older kids murdered him, or even killed him accidentally, why don’t they haunt the place instead of him?” 242

Hugh McCracken “Boy, am I glad they don’t. I like Jamie. Imagine those two teamed up with Hagman and Scofield.” “Turriff, Elder, quit your yakking,” Well’s voice sounded out of the darkness. “You’ll waken everybody.”

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Chapter Twenty Eight

Next day I told Carson what Elder and I had talked about and he agreed to a meeting in his room during free hour after study. Assad frowned and sat up very straight in the chair beside Carson’s desk. He relaxed a little when Carson slouched in the easy chair and told me to sit on his bed. “Right, Turriff, it’s your show,” Carson said. “Assad, I have to talk to you about Jamie.” At my words, Jamie shaded into view behind Assad. He frowned, pouted, and shook his head. I cleared my throat. “The first time we talked about him, you said he must be a djinn to appear and disappear the way he does.” Jamie mouthed the word, no, scowled ferociously, shook his head again and vanished.

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Hugh McCracken Assad turned to peer over his left shoulder saw nothing and looked back at me. “Jamie’s a ghost,” I said. “This is a joke? A trick you play on new boys?” “No, it’s true. Jamie, come out, please.” “You have him hidden?” Assad snatched open the only cupboard in the room, but Jamie wasn’t there. “Please, Assad, this is serious. Jamie, come out, now!” “Shan’t. So there,” Jamie’s voice came out of the air. In turns, Carson and I told Assad of how and when we’d met Jamie and of our experiences with him. We explained why, although we didn’t want everyone to know, I felt Assad had to be told. His face solemn, Assad nodded. “Jamie was my first friend here. He is a good djinn. If he wishes not to be known to others, I shall say nothing.” “There, you hear, Jamie?” “I’m not speaking.” Carson, Assad and I laughed. “Jamie died in 1918,” I said. “My great-grandfather was here about then – ” “What?” “Yes, this is why my father chose to send me here when he decided I should be educated in England. My great-grandfather met Lawrence of Arabia – ” “Never mind all that,” I said. “Are you sure your great-grandpa was here around 1918? What age was he then?” “If I say he was here, he was here. I am not to be questioned.” 245

Grandfather and The Ghost “Awe, don’t go all stuffy again, please,” I said. “I want to be sure.” “Yes, I am certain. I have seen his diaries. He was twelve or thirteen then, like us now.” “Wow! If he’d been Caldwell House, he’d have known Jamie for sure.” “Oh, he was Caldwell House. My father insisted with the Headmaster that I had to be in the same house.” “Then he must have known Jamie. Did his diaries mention names? Did he have any photographs?” “I can have my father’s secretary send photocopies of the pages of those years and copies of any photographs of the school, but why would we need them?” Someone knocked the door and Carson opened it. “Sorry to disturb you, Carson,” Wilson’s voice said, “but can Turriff come to the dorm?” “Right now?” Carson said. “Well…yes, someone’s been at his stuff.” From the dorm door, the whole room looked a shambles. Clothes were strewn everywhere, my bed was torn apart, sheets of loose-leaf paper fluttered around. “It wasn’t me, honest,” Wilson said. “I only came in for a book. It was like tornado in the room, but only round your bed.” “Okay, Wilson, nobody’s blaming you,” I said. “Ask Elder if he’ll help me.” We picked up the essay I’d been working on and the other papers before we tackled the clothes. All my stuff had been tossed around and the bed stripped completely. 246

Hugh McCracken “Jamie?” Elder said and I nodded. It was bedtime before the dorm was straight. Shortly before lights-out Thompson from the next dorm came in. “I found these outside. Someone thought they might be yours.” He handed me a pair of dirty, white cotton gloves. Both hands were almost ripped in half. For the first night since Hagman and Scofield had last tortured me, I cried myself to sleep. For several days I saw Jamie in the distance, his head down, kicking at the dust, but each time I got near he moved away or simply vanished. Elder, Carson, and Assad did not see him at all. Even with my friends in the dorm, I felt lonely. Saturday came and town leave. I wasn’t great company and the others drifted off in search of more cheerful companions. In a small park, I slumped on a bench. My eyes closed, I thought, I was only trying to do what was best for Jamie. What was so terrible about that? This was worse than being sent to Coventry by the whole form. A tear trickled down my cheek. Later, back at the school I went up to my dorm, sat on the bed, and wished Jamie were there. I hadn’t meant for us to fall out. My top drawer opened. One of the torn, dirty, cotton gloves filled and the fingers wiggled at me. I laughed. “Come on, Jamie, out you come.” He materialised slowly, back in his old nightshirt. His image wavered, a lopsided smile on his face. “Hi. I’m sorry.”

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Grandfather and The Ghost “It’s okay. I should have talked it out with you before I shot off my mouth at Assad, and not sprung it on you that way. Friends?” The tattered glove stretched out to me and I shook it. “You really did a number on your gloves, didn’t you?” He shimmered and I could see right through him. “Whoa, it’s all right. I got us another pair in town. They should still be in my duffel coat pocket.” I ran downstairs to our outdoor clothes lockers. Jamie flickered into view, now in his modern dress, and snatched the gloves out of my hands. He drew them on, shadow boxed, and took a couple of swipes at me before he handed them back. “Can we take a walk? I’ve been so lonely.” “We’ve got to find out what it is you’re supposed to do,” I said while we strolled. “Why? Everything’s fine now.” “No, listen, Jamie. You’ve stayed eleven all this time. I’ve grown a bit in the time I’ve been here. Next year I won’t be a sprog. Five years from now I’ll leave here for ever.” He pouted. “I can stay with you.” “We both know you can’t leave the school grounds. Remember we tried at Christmas, didn’t we? Anyway, when I grow up would you want to tag along with a stuffy adult?” Jamie giggled. “You said yourself, you could go home if you could remember what it was you had to do.”

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Hugh McCracken “I suppose. Race you to the House. Last one there’s a mouldy turnip.” Almost there I realised I was on my own again, Jamie had gone, and round the corner came my dorm mates. Later when everyone was asleep, Jamie appeared. Elder grumbled at my tugging his ear to waken him. “Jamie’s back,” I said. “Shoot, I was just getting used to the peace,” Elder said, but he and Jamie grinned at each other and tussled over Elder’s blanket. “Have you made up? That was some mess.” “Come on,” I said. “Jamie’s got a lot to be mad about. He’s frustrated. I think he was murdered and his body’s never been found…wait a minute – that’s it! That’s what he has to do.” “What are you on about now? Did Jamie tell you he’d been murdered?” “No, he doesn’t remember anything after a beating, but – ”

249

Chapter Twenty Nine

A week later Assad received a bulky package from home. “Great, tuck,” Elder said. “It’s not as big as the last one. I hope you got some of those sweet sticky things.” “It’s great-grandfather’s diaries and photos,” Assad said. He handed me some photocopied sheets. “It’s all squiggles,” I said. “Yes, it’s in Arabic, that way the others couldn’t read it.” “Then you read it for us. See if he mentions Jamie Watson, or Lawrence, or McDonald.” “When should I start?” “Now.” Assad balled up the wrapper and threw it at me. “I mean in the diary.” “Oh, August 1918.” 250

Hugh McCracken Assad glanced at the first page. “That’s when greatgrandfather started here.” “Great,” I said. “Can I see the photos?” Only one photograph mattered to me: Caldwell House – August 1918 Third from the left, front row, Jamie Watson. Extreme left, front row, Sulliman Habim. Seated, centre, front row, Mr Smythe, Housemaster. Back row, extreme right, standing, Richard Lawrence, Angus McDonald, House Seniors. Jamie looked exactly as we’d seen him in his oldfashioned uniform; the same hesitant smile, the same stance almost poised for flight. Mr Smythe in his cap and gown looked like a black crow. His long, thin face with bushy sideburns was twisted into the smile of someone who had been told a bad joke or had a dead fish waved under his nose. Lawrence and McDonald were well-built young men, both smiled and looked very pleased with themselves. “He does mention Jamie right at the start,” Assad said. “Do you want to hear?” “No, not in bits and pieces. Read through the 19181919 school year and jot down any references to Jamie, Lawrence, and McDonald.” “Some bits are difficult to read and I’ll need to use my dictionary for some words – ” “Make the best translation you can. Put in brackets whatever you guess at, okay. I’m off to the library.” “We don’t often get requests for the really old yearbooks,” the librarian said, “and I can’t let you take them away.” 251

Grandfather and The Ghost “That’s okay, ma’am, I only want to look at them. 1917-18, 1918-19, and 1919-20, please.” “A history project?” she said and blew the dust off the three slim volumes. “Yeah, something like that.” Jamie wasn’t in the group photograph of the house in any of the three books, but the 1918-19 group had everyone else that was in Assad’s great-grandfather’s photo. I borrowed a magnifying glass from the desk and checked. Yep, Sulliman Habim’s house group was the same group, except for Jamie. From the look of the trees and bushes in Jamie’s group, it was taken in the late summer or fall. The one in the yearbook had to be spring or maybe early summer. I read the yearbook cover to cover. Jamie was not mentioned even once. The co-editors were Lawrence and McDonald; the Housemaster’s Foreword was by Mr Smythe. If I’d written a yearbook, I thought, I’d sure have mentioned someone vanishing mid-year. The librarian made me a photocopy of the yearbook photograph.

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Chapter Thirty

It took Assad two days to finish his translations. There wasn’t a tremendous amount more information over what there had been in the diary I saw in the Chaplain’s office last term. August 1918 What a strange cold country. What strange customs. Why did Father choose to send me here where no one knows proper protocol? One boy is friendly without being forward [Jamie?]. His father was killed in France and his mother is dead of [consumption?]. He does not seem to like the uncle who has charge of him and his money. Jamie – what strange names these people have – Watson, in my dormitory is gentle and courteous, too much so for the rougher element here. October 1918 253

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Monday 14th Caned today by Lawrence for failing to light his fire – I was not trained or expected to do such servants’ tasks at home. This duty was usually Watson’s, but he is in sickbay. Wednesday 23rd Found Watson crying in our dorm again. Lawrence, who delights in timing his strokes to produce an exquisite peak of pain for each, often canes him. Not the quick four or six from a master or one of the other seniors. November 1918 Monday 18th Watson beaten by Smythe for being out of his dorm after lights-out; reported by [Parkin? Perkins? a servant?] Sunday 24th Lawrence and McDonald had Watson in their room after chapel. Heard some shouting. Watson in their room all afternoon and would not go down to supper after. Lay on his face on his bed crying.

December 1918

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Hugh McCracken Sunday 1st Church Parade for the Cadets and term inspection by an Old Boy officer back from France. Lawrence expects to be top cadet. After parade: Lawrence had a green speck on his uniform, from [Brasso?] behind a brass button. He lost marks and the top cadet spot. McDonald dragged Watson to their room by the hair. I heard screams. Evening: Watson in sickbay. Tuesday 3rd Watson looks dreadful. Burned Lawrence’s afternoon toast and dropped his China teapot. Watson spent free hour after study and right until lights-out in Lawrence’s room. He cried all night, but wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. Wednesday 4th Took Watson to sickbay. Caned by Lawrence for not asking his permission first. Wednesday 11th Watson still in sickbay. Smythe says he has this influenza that has killed three at the school already. Thursday 12th Watson has run away, but he has not taken any clothes or belongings – simply disappeared from sickbay. Lawrence and McDonald very [concerned? agitated? worried?] and have organised a search of the school grounds.

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Friday 13th Two more deaths from influenza in school, but not in our House. Police SHOUTED at Smythe for allowing boys to trample all over school grounds covering up any tracks Watson might have left. Thursday 19th Search abandoned. No trace of Watson. Two sprogs wakened screaming last night and said they had seen Watson in his nightshirt standing between their beds. Lawrence took them to his room to beat them and beat them again this afternoon in the dorm before supper. January 1919 Lawrence and McDonald very difficult after holiday. Sprog replacing Watson as their fag is constantly beaten, but never quite so badly as Watson at one time. September 1919 School much calmer. I am no longer a sprog and Lawrence and McDonald have left. Some disturbance in my old dorm by a new boy who claimed to have seen a boy in a nightshirt walk through a wall. June 1924 Leaving this place at last. I have many happy memories and several sad ones. I thought about Watson last night for the first time in years. A sprog came to my

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Hugh McCracken room in tears, very frightened. He had seen THE GHOST. I told him if it was Watson he would do him no harm. Watson was a kind, gentle boy. I wonder what really happened to him. And that was all. I’d like to have had another look at the diary the Chaplain had shown me on the first visit. Assad’s stuff seemed to jibe pretty well with what I remembered. I wondered if the Chaplain had ever noticed the discrepancies between Smythe’s diary and the 1918-19 Yearbook and if so, what he’d made of them. “This is all very interesting,” Elder said. “Better than the history class anyway, but what good does it do Jamie or us?”

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Chapter Thirty One

In a way Elder was right, of course. Lawrence and McDonald, if not already dead, would be old doddering men, but Jamie deserved a place in the school history even if it was only a footnote. His body should have a decent burial. Dad said even a dog deserved at least that. I thought I might confide in the Chaplain, but decided he’d dismiss it as “this ghost nonsense again.” No, it was up to us; Assad, Elder, and me, to find the body. After, we could tell the world. But where did we start? So far, I hadn’t told Jamie about the diaries, the photos, or the yearbook, or about my suspicions. We were kept busy all term. Jamie seemed happy and content to be with us when he could.

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Hugh McCracken Shortly before the Whitsun Holiday – Spring Break to Elder and me – we met on the steps of the New Pavilion. Funny the way they name buildings here, I thought. New Pavilion was built before my grandpa was born, 1912 the plaque said, and Old Pavilion still stands, all boarded up and used as a storage shed. They keep old stuff for a long time here. I told Jamie what was in the diaries. Towards the end, he covered his ears. “I don’t want to hear any more. I don’t want to remember.” But hear all of it he did. For the last part, he wavered and flickered. “Adjust your horizontal control,” Elder said and laughed before Jamie vanished completely. “He’s not going to be much help,” Assad said, but Jamie reappeared. Can a ghost look pale? I wondered. Jamie shimmered a bit, but finally steadied. “I wakened and it was dark except for the nightlight, but I don’t remember going to sickbay. Lawrence and McDonald were there, one on each side of the bed. They said I had told lies about them to Dr Pearce. I didn’t tell lies…I don’t remember telling anything, but they wouldn’t believe me. When I started to shout for Matron, Lawrence put a hand over my mouth. I wakened again and McDonald said: ‘Is he still breathing? Is he all right?’ They both looked scared. I moved and they stared at each other…” I threw my blazer round his shoulders to have an object we could both touch and put my arm round him.

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Grandfather and The Ghost “I remember I was frightened they would hurt me again. If only there was some place they couldn’t find me and hurt me.” We sat in silence for a long time. Finally Elder said: “They must have carried you somewhere to hide the body. It’s funny; I always thought ghosts haunted where they’d died or where the body was. Why do you haunt the dorm?” “I’m not haunting, am I, Rick? Haunting sounds nasty, a mean thing to do.” “No, Jamie, you’re not haunting us,” I said. But my mind was elsewhere. Elder was right. Did that mean Jamie’s body was near the dorm? There wasn’t any place I could think of there where it could be hidden. If Lawrence and McDonald had sneaked into sickbay after lights-out and killed Jamie, they couldn’t have taken the body very far. Not off the school grounds anyway, unless they threw it in the river. They wouldn’t have done that. They’d want to hide it. “Jamie, will you help us look? It’ll need to be after the hols now.” “I won’t have to touch it, will I? I’ve never seen a dead person and I’d be scared if it was a skeleton.” “Shoot, Jamie, it’d be you.” Elder laughed, and Jamie pouted. The Spring Break passed too fast and before I really knew it had started, we were back in the dorm.

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Chapter Thirty Two

Jamie and I started to tour the grounds. He pointed out to me all the buildings that were new since 1918. We agreed Lawrence and McDonald wouldn’t have had time to dig a deep grave and a shallow grave would have been found by now. That left some hiding place in one of the buildings existing in 1918. We tapped all the walls for hollow spaces in Caldwell House. We crawled about the glory hole and opened any trunk or box that looked old enough or big enough, and got dusty and dirty. We got even dirtier when we managed to get into the attic or loft above our dorm and found only cobwebs and huge, black, furry spiders. The others lost interest, but there were other attic spaces in Caldwell House not connected with the one we’d searched so I continued to look on my own.

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Grandfather and The Ghost When Carson caught me, balanced on a stool perched on a table under a ceiling hatch, he shook me like a terrier shakes a rat. In his room, I explained. He laughed. “Think, Turriff. Jamie wouldn’t go near any place he might find his body. You know him. Find out where on the grounds he won’t go, that’s where to look.” Carson’s idea made sense. The only place Jamie would never go near was the Old Pavilion. One free afternoon, the others took town leave and I hung around till the school seemed deserted. I sneaked into the workshop and borrowed a pry bar. “Jamie, we’re going into the Old Pavilion.” “I can’t. It’s spooky. I don’t care if you never find me. Things are fine the way they are.” He vanished and I walked to the far side of the playing fields to the Old Pavilion. Almost there, he popped up again. “Don’t, Rick. I don’t like it. I won’t go in.” “Then stay here, cry-baby.” On the side away from the school, I found a plank across a window that seemed a little less tightly nailed than the others. The window beyond was broken and I managed to squirm in. It was spooky. Someone had been here before to judge by the cigarette stubs on the floor, but it must have been long ago since they were covered in fine dust. Now where? Not on this floor. Was there a basement? An attic? I explored, and jumped at every sound. Telltale traces on the floor suggested rats. Big rats. The place was stuffed with broken desks, old furniture and discarded out-of-date equipment. Some 262

Hugh McCracken boxes were big enough to hold a small boy and although my hands shook, I looked in them – junk. Right at the back was a door behind which was a dark staircase going down. My eyes were used to the dim light that still filtered through the boarded windows and the flyspecked, dust grimed skylight, but I was not about to go into any dark cellar without a light. I found a door to the outside that opened easily and whose lock could be jammed open. It was easy to force one of the planks aside, close the door behind me, and re-nail that plank and the one on the window I had first climbed in. Halfway across the field to the school from the pavilion, Jamie danced round me. “I told you it was a wild goose chase. There was nothing there, was there?” “I don’t know, I need a flashlight. It’ll have to wait till next free day now.” A week later, armed with a strong flashlight borrowed from Carson, I was back in the Old Pavilion. At the door to the cellar, I hesitated. Did I really have to do this? My scalp tingled. My stomach was full of dancing butterflies with hobnailed boots. I crept down the stairs. They creaked even though I was close to the wall. At the bottom, it smelled damp and musty. I heard a rat scurry away from the glow of my flashlight. Old packing cases littered the area. Did I dare open any of them? What might jump out at me? At the far end, the wall was of rough planking with an assortment of junk piled up against it. Where to start? Surely most of the boxes must be more recent than 1918. If I wanted to hide a body – wait a minute, 263

Grandfather and The Ghost suppose they didn’t kill Jamie in sickbay. Suppose he was only unconscious, wouldn’t they put him somewhere, where if he were found later it would seem he had hidden himself, passed out and died there? Where then? Behind the wall? A loose plank? I pulled some of the mouldering junk away so I could stand closer to the wall and started to tap it with my pry-bar. It all sounded hollow. I couldn’t tear down the whole wall. Not in one afternoon anyway. I started to try each plank with the crowbar. Near one end, one was loose. When I had pushed away enough stuff to clear the bottom of the plank, I stopped. Maybe I should wait and get Elder and Assad to come with me. Oh heck, let’s just do it. I gripped the edge of the plank, pulled and fell on my bum. The plank was loose or maybe rotten. My flashlight, perched on the junk pile, shone into the empty hole. I laughed with relief, picked myself up, and took the torch to shine it along the space behind the wall. To the left, nothing – to the right, a skull grinned at me. Before I knew it, I was up the stairs leaning back against the cellar door shaking. Gradually, I got my breath and my courage back and crept back down and across the cellar floor. There was no doubt. A skeleton sat hunched in the space, its face towards the open space left by plank I’d taken out. This time I went up the stairs more slowly. This was Jamie. Jamie was gentle. Jamie wouldn’t hurt me. A skeleton couldn’t move. A skeleton couldn’t hurt me.

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Hugh McCracken At the top of the stairs, I closed the door behind me, and took deep breaths. The Chaplain, that’s it, go for the Chaplain. A noise on the other side of some packing cases caught my attention. Rats, it’s only rats, I told myself. Three steps towards my door to the outside, a cold hand gripped my neck from behind. I screamed. “That’s a good start, Titch. It’s been a long time.” Hagman stood up and grinned across the dusty cases at me. Scofield’s free hand took my right wrist. I tried to twist free before his other hand could leave my neck to assume its familiar place at my right elbow, but he was too quick. I was months back. “What are you up to in here?” Scofield said and started to twist. “Got some booze hidden away? Or cigs? Or dope?” “No, he’s too goody-goody for that.” Hagman stood in front of me. “Remember these?” He held up Velcro luggage straps. “Turn him round, Scofield, and let me tie his wrists. You can play with him after I’ve tamed him a bit.” They were between me and the door to the outside. My wrists were tied at my back. Both sat on a packing case. Scofield produced cigarettes. “We’ll just have a quiet cig first. No hurry. Oh, we thought you’d like this.” He reached down and produced a long, shiny, flexible rod. “It’s a car aerial,” Hagman said. “We saw you come in here last week and wondered. We followed you today. You’re all on your own, and we’ve at least two hours till supper.” 265

Grandfather and The Ghost Darn, this is the one place Jamie won’t come, I thought. Two-thirds of the way down his cigarette, Hagman stubbed it out and carefully trod on the ashes on the floor. “We wouldn’t want a fire to disturb us, would we? Had a nice think about what this’ll feel like?” “Over here!” Scofield pulled me over to a broken desk, the top of which came to about the top of my legs, and pushed me, facedown, across it. “Want me to tie his legs to it?” “No, he’s stretched nice and tight now. As long as he holds like that he’ll be fine.” Scofield pushed my head down and pulled up on my wrists. The blow was a dull thud that numbed it for a minute before a line of raging fire ran across me. Only Scofield’s grip on my wrists stopped my hands from flying to clutch at myself. The second stroke never landed. A battered, split, old cricket bat sailed over, smashed down on Hagman’s arm, and swept over me to thud into Scofield’s chest. I squirmed up and ran for the door. With my back to it, I scrabbled at the handle, which finally turned, and I squeezed out to stumble at top speed towards the school. I managed to get to the Chaplain’s office, kicked on the door, and at his gruff, come in, kicked again. When the door jerked open, I fell in. “Turriff! What’s the meaning of this?” “I can’t explain now, Sir. Can you undo my wrists?” He tore the Velcro strips off.

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Hugh McCracken “You’ve got to come now, Sir. The Old Pavilion. Quick. Jamie’ll kill them.” The Chaplain puffed after me down the drive and across the field. At the pavilion, it was ominously quiet. I tore away another plank at the door to make it wide enough for the Chaplain. We went in. Scofield lay, curled up into a ball, inside the doorway. Hagman was draped over a packing case, half in, half out. “Good Lord, what has gone on here?” He knelt and felt for a pulse at Scofield’s neck and pulled Hagman to lie flat on the floor before he checked him. “Turriff, quick as you can, fetch Matron. Alert Carson, or any other prefect you can find, to report here at once.” When Scofield and Hagman had been carted off to sickbay, the Chaplain turned to me. “I want an explanation…now.” “I think you had better see this first, Sir.” I found my flashlight, led the way to the cellar, and the hole in the backboard wall.

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Chapter Thirty Three

Events after that were a blur of activity. The police came and photographed everything in sight. They questioned me in the Chaplain’s office about finding the remains. “Who is Jamie Watson?” The constable turned to ask the Chaplain. “A boy who disappeared from the school in 1918.” “And you knew where to find him,” the constable asked me. I said we kids had been searching everywhere and the Old Pavilion was a lucky guess. Finally, they left and the Chaplain turned to me. “Sit down again, young man, you owe me an explanation.” I told him about the 1918-19 Yearbook, Assad’s great-grandfather’s diary, the photograph, what I had read in his office in Smythe’s diary.

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Hugh McCracken He listened without interrupting once. “And from all that, you worked out what had happened and where the body would be?” For a moment, I wondered about telling him about Jamie’s ghost. He’d never believe that, I thought. “Now we come to Hagman and Scofield. Where do they come into all this? They didn’t knock themselves or each other out with a cricket bat, and you couldn’t have done it with your hands tied behind your back. Who else is involved? Well?” I swallowed hard. “Sir, didn’t someone once say when all possible, rational explanations had been ruled out, the remaining explanation, however irrational, had to be accepted?” “Yes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said something similar in a Sherlock Holmes story.” “Right, Sir…here goes…” I told him of my first meeting with Jamie and of the events of the year. He rubbed his forehead and scratched his right ear. “Who else knows of this?” “Assad, Elder, and Carson, Sir.” “We’ll keep it between us five then, shall we? I’ll talk to the others.” The whole school hummed with the story of the skeleton in the Old Pavilion and with Scofield and Hagman being in sickbay yet again after a confrontation with me. Of Jamie there was no sign. In bed that night, I lay awake and waited. I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated his overcoming his fear of the Old Pavilion to come to my rescue, but only Assad and Elder heard. 269

Grandfather and The Ghost Several days later, the Chaplain sent for me. A police sergeant stood in his office. “Come in, Turriff,” the Chaplain said. “I thought you should hear this for yourself. Sergeant.” The sergeant cleared his throat. “As I’ve told your teacher – ” “Housemaster, Sir.” He glared. “As I was saying, lad, the remains you stumbled onto were those of a prepubescent boy of eleven or twelve. The Watson Case was still on our books, open, but unsolved and inactive. Your teach… your housemaster says we won’t inquire too closely into how you happened on the remains, but the inspector is really chuffed at the Watson Affair being closed on his watch, so there will be some recognition for you.” “If it’s money, Sir, can we buy a headstone for Jamie?” The Chaplain coughed and wiped his eyes. “The School will see to that. I’ve already made the arrangements.” After the sergeant had given some documents to the Chaplain, he left. The Chaplain turned to me with a sort of blank expression. I wondered if I was in bother for being in the Old Pavilion. After a while, I began to fidget. The Chaplain blinked, rubbed his forehead, and scratched his ear. “Get yourself a Coke, Turriff. You know where I keep them.” I opened the Coke and waited while the Chaplain seemed to go off into a dream again. “Sit down, Turriff, sit down,” he finally said. “This has been a most strange year. I feel I owe it to you to tell you in person 270

Hugh McCracken what I intend, rather than have you hear it at an assembly.” Oh, heck, I thought, he’s going to expel me. “I blame myself for not realising the true nature of Scofield and Hagman and not taking action much sooner. They will leave the school, from sickbay, as soon as I have made arrangements with their parents. They will not return. Next year, on the recommendation of Carson, you and Elder will remain in your present dormitory, in charge.” I let my breath out with a swoosh. “What about Mr Johnstone, Sir? Won’t he object?” “Mr Johnstone has decided to seek employment elsewhere, in a less stressful environment. Mr Miller will assume the role of housemaster and I shall revert to Chaplain.” I grinned. “Mmm, I see that pleases you. You have developed quite nicely this past year, but I don’t suppose you’ll be singing in the choir any more?”

Again, that night I waited in vain for Jamie to appear. Three days later, the night before the funeral, I wakened to see Jamie the way I first saw him, in his night shirt, his shy, not quite sure of his welcome, smile on his face. I threw my blanket round him and hugged. “Thanks, Jamie, for coming to my rescue.” “I was really afraid, you know, but I couldn’t let them beat you. I didn’t want you to have run away like I tried to – ” “Lawrence and McDonald didn’t kill you?” 271

Grandfather and The Ghost “No…after they frightened me in sickbay, I think I remember I waited a while before I sneaked out…I think… Did you touch me? My…” “Your skeleton – no way. Did you see it?” “Oh, no. I was afraid to. I don’t like spooky things.” I laughed. Jamie stepped back, flickered, and changed to his modern uniform. He grinned and tugged at Elder’s blanket. Sleepily Elder said: “I dreamed Jamie was back.” He grabbed at his blanket. When Jamie tugged back, Elder was wide awake. They tussled over the blanket for a short time, grinning at each other. “We can see the sickbay window from Carson’s room,” Jamie said. “Let’s go there.” He vanished. Elder and I wakened Assad and the three of us hurried quietly out of the dorm. “What’s wrong?” Carson said. He struggled to a seated position in bed before he spotted Jamie. “Jamie, you old fraud, what mischief are you up to now? God, I’m glad to see you.” “Come to the window.” We stood together, looking out. I hadn’t seen Jamie pick up his gloves, but one glove squeezed my hand. “What are we supposed to see?” Elder said The other glove punched Elder’s arm. Both gloves fluttered to the floor. Jamie was gone. The sickbay windows glowed green, red, violet, and back to green. Someone screamed. The fire escape window opened. Two pyjama-clad figures scrambled out onto the landing. They turned to flee, but a glowing white figure stood between them and the stairs. The 272

Hugh McCracken escape window slammed shut behind them. The school fire alarm began to clang. From nowhere, water cascaded down on them. Convulsed with laughter, we almost missed Jamie when he appeared in modern dress, faced us, waved, bowed, and vanished forever.

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Old Hand

Boarding school in England wasn’t my idea in the first place, but I’d survived. I had friends, and Assad was one of my best. Seated on my bed, in the dorm Elder and I now ran, a year after my late start, I thought, it isn’t so bad after all. I’d never met a ghost before, so I’d really no way of knowing how unusual Jamie was, but for me, he was one of a kind and I sure miss him.

THE END

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