Horror at the Haunted House

  “Where’s Agnes?”

  “She’s sick. She called this afternoon and I couldn’t find anyone to replace her. We expect a small crowd tonight, since it’s Monday, so I thought we could manage but someone from Sheltering Arms showed up to make a video and I had to show her around.”

  As she spoke she wound the rope around Ellen’s knees and shoulders and tied her to the stake. “I see I didn’t need to panic. I might have known you would start all your special effects without any help. You and Corey are wonderful.”

  Mrs. Whittacker hurried away just in time. The first visitors of the night entered the viewing space as Ellen closed her eyes and tried to look saintly.

  As the fake crowd shouted, “Witch! Heretic!” and the real audience murmured their sympathy and fright, Ellen’s excitement grew. She could inspect the Wedgwood tonight, to see if it held some clue to what Lydia wanted Ellen to know. She could go behind the rope and examine each piece as much as she wanted, without worrying that Agnes would find her and order her out of the dining room.

  Mrs. Whittacker came promptly at ten to untie Ellen. As soon as she put her shoes on, Ellen hurried across the hall to the dining room. It was empty. She glanced in the mirror as she passed it and saw only her own reflection. Good. Maybe Agnes and Lydia would leave her alone long enough for her to get a good, close look at the Wedgwood collection.

  Quickly, she crossed the room to the Wedgwood display and ducked underneath the rope. She had already decided that she would begin with the earliest pieces and examine each one in order. It had occurred to her that maybe Lydia was trying to get her to admire the older Wedgwood, the pieces Lydia herself had collected. Until now, Ellen had focused all her attention on the Fairylustre and perhaps Lydia didn’t like that.

  As she leaned toward a tea server from Lydia’s original creamware set, she heard footsteps behind her. When she looked around, no one was there. Probably one of the actors rushing down the hall, she thought, eager to get home.

  She turned back to the Wedgwood and heard the footsteps again. She remembered the man in the book, the one who had moved so many times but no matter where he went, he heard the same footsteps of a ghost. She realized that she, too, was hearing phantom footsteps, not real ones. Instead of looking behind her, she kept her eyes straight ahead, trying to concentrate on the dishes.

  Seconds later, Lydia materialized. She looked exactly the way she had looked the night before, in the same long gown. She stood at the far end of the display, with her arms outstretched.

  Instead of being scared this time, Ellen was annoyed. This was her only chance to look at the Wedgwood without having Agnes interrupt her. “What do you want?” she said.

  “Oooohhh . . . end.”

  “I’m trying to figure out what you want,” Ellen said crossly. “It would be easier if you quit popping up all the time and scaring me.”

  The ghost signaled for Ellen to come closer.

  Ellen ignored her. She continued to look at the older dishes, one piece at a time. She didn’t touch them because she was afraid she might accidentally drop one but she put her face only a foot or so away from each one and examined it carefully.

  “Aaaahhend.” The ghost motioned again, urging Ellen to the Fairylustre part of the display.

  “Hey, Ellen. Are you ready to leave?”

  She jumped at the sound of Corey’s voice and then looked quickly toward the ghost. Lydia had vanished.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Ellen said.

  “Are you looking at those dumb old dishes again? I don’t see what’s so great about them. If you want to look at dishes, all you have to do is open the kitchen cupboards at home.”

  “The kitchen cupboards at home do not contain anything like this,” Ellen said.

  “I’ve figured out a way to earn some money so I can have a bike,” Corey said.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m going to give screaming lessons.”

  Ellen rolled her eyes and did not answer.

  “I’ll bet there are lots of kids who would like to be able to scream as good as I do. Mighty Mike says I’m the best screamer he’s ever heard, even counting people on TV. So I decided I could charge fifty cents apiece and teach all the other kids how to scream. Nicholas is my first student.”

  “Well, don’t do it at our house,” Ellen said. It was bad enough to hear Corey practice his screaming without listening to his friends, as well.

  Ellen stood now in front of the Fairylustre. She had already studied it so many other times, she didn’t think it was what Lydia wanted to show her, but she looked again anyway, just because she liked it.

  “I can’t decide if it should be private lessons or a whole bunch of kids at once,” Corey said. “What do you think?”

  “I think . . .” Ellen stopped. “Corey,” she said. “Go get Mrs. Whittacker.”

  “You think Mrs. Whittacker would want to take screaming lessons?”

  “Just do what I say. And tell her to hurry.”

  “I wasn’t going to start the lessons tonight.”

  “Run!”

  As Corey trotted out of the dining room, Ellen kept her eyes fixed on the bottom shelf of the Fairylustre display. Her heart quickened with excitement. This must be what Lydia had been trying to tell her. This was what the ghost wanted her to see.

  In a few minutes, she heard Corey and Mrs. Whittacker returning. Corey was explaining how the screaming lessons would work.

  As soon as Mrs. Whittacker was in the dining room, Ellen dared to take her eyes off the shelf and turn around.

  “What is it?” Mrs. Whittacker said.

  “A bowl is missing.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “We’ve been robbed!” Corey yelled.

  Ellen pointed to the bottom shelf. “One of the Fairylustre bowls is gone,” she said. “It’s always been there, on the bottom shelf. It’s octagonal shaped and it has fairies and a bridge.”

  Mrs. Whittacker looked where Ellen was pointing. Her hands flew to her face and she drew in her breath sharply. “You’re right,” she said. “I know which bowl you mean.”

  “The purple people from Jupiter must have come,” said Corey.

  “It’s the bowl I held that first night,” Ellen said. “That’s why I remembered it.”

  “Wow,” said Corey. “How could they steal a bowl when there were so many people in here?”

  “Not everybody who goes through the haunted house bothers to look at the museum displays in here,” Ellen said. “Maybe one person was in here all alone and just went under the rope and helped themselves.”

  “Or maybe,” said Corey, “it wasn’t the purple people. Maybe it was a gang of thieves and they’ve had it planned for a long time. One of them pretended to be with the Historical Society and he told all the people that this room was closed tonight and then he stood guard while the other thieves went in and . . .”

  “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Mrs. Whittacker said. “We don’t know for sure that the bowl was stolen.”

  “It’s gone, isn’t it?” Corey said.

  “I must call Agnes,” Mrs. Whittacker said. She hurried through the upper kitchen to her office, with Ellen and Corey following her. Ellen knew her parents were probably waiting outside by now to take her and Corey home, but she didn’t want to leave in the middle of a mystery.

  As they entered Mrs. Whittacker’s office, Ellen said, “Please don’t tell Agnes that I’m the one who discovered that the bowl was stolen.”

  “Why not?” Corey said. “You’re practically a detective. The police will interview you. You’ll probably get your picture in the paper.”

  “I don’t want my picture in the paper,” Ellen said. “Not for this.”

  Mrs. Whittacker dialed the phone and waited. “Agnes? One of the bowls is gone. The small octagonal Fairylustre; the one with the castle and bridge.” She was quiet for a few moments, listening. Then she sighed, clearly relieved. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “I was
afraid someone had stolen it. I guess I forgot to tell you that we aren’t supposed to remove it from the mansion. Yes. Yes, I can understand that. Well, I hope I didn’t wake you; I realize it’s late to call, especially when you aren’t feeling well.”

  As Mrs. Whittacker continued to talk, Ellen quit listening, since the bowl was obviously safe. Instead, she thought about the ghost. Lydia must have wanted her to notice that the bowl was gone. That’s why she motioned for Ellen to go to that end of the display. Maybe that’s what she wanted last night, too, when she tried to get Ellen to follow her out the front door.

  If that’s so, Ellen thought, this might be the end of the haunting. I discovered the missing bowl, it’s been accounted for, and all is well. Maybe I won’t see Lydia anymore.

  Relief flooded her. Even though she had stood up to Lydia earlier that night, she had secretly dreaded going to sleep again, for fear she would awaken to a cold wind on her face.

  “What did she say?” Corey asked, as soon as Mrs. Whittacker hung up.

  “She has it. She took it to her studio to repair a tiny chip on the inside of the rim. She took it home on Saturday, repaired it on Sunday, and planned to bring it back today. She hadn’t thought to tell me, since she expected the piece to be back in place before I arrived tonight. When she got sick, of course, the bowl did not get returned.”

  “I didn’t see a chip,” Ellen said.

  “Neither did I. That’s why we’re so fortunate to have Agnes. She notices everything, including the smallest flaws. And with her special training, she’s able to do repairs even on old pieces. She restored a china bowl for me, one that belonged to my mother, and it’s impossible to tell where she did it. The collection is in good hands.”

  “Rats,” said Corey. “I was hoping it was stolen.” Then, seeing the look on Mrs. Whittacker’s face, he added, “I would want you to get it back and not have it be broken. But I thought the police might come and investigate. Maybe Ellen would have been a witness. Maybe she would have to go to court and tell how she knew that the bowl was gone and I would have to go, too, to tell how I ran and got you. Maybe . . .”

  “Maybe you had better see if your parents are waiting for you,” Mrs. Whittacker said.

  They were. As usual, Corey ran ahead and began talking the minute he opened the car door. By the time Ellen reached the car, Mr. and Mrs. Streater had heard all about how Ellen and Corey had thought a bowl was stolen but it turned out that Agnes had taken it home to fix it.

  Mrs. Whittacker walked out with Ellen and talked to Mr. and Mrs. Streater for a few moments. “I don’t know how we would manage without these kids of yours,” she said.

  As the Streaters’ car passed the gates at the end of the Clayton driveway, Ellen tuned out Corey’s voice and thought about Lydia.

  The first time Ellen felt the cold wind, she had been looking at the octagonal bowl. Agnes didn’t take the bowl home until Saturday night. By then, Lydia had appeared to Ellen, one way or another, several times. If the fact that a bowl was missing wasn’t what Lydia wanted her to notice, what was it? What did she want?

  Ellen’s anxiety quickly returned.

  That night, Ellen awoke, feeling cold. The clock beside her bed said 2:30 A.M. For a moment, she feared Lydia was in her room again.

  She lay quietly alert but did not see the ghost, nor did she feel a wind or the pressure of icicle fingers. Maybe I just got uncovered, Ellen thought. Maybe that’s why I woke up.

  She snuggled under her blankets and closed her eyes. Then she heard something. She raised her head, listening. The sound came again.

  Prince was whining. He wasn’t outside the door, trying to get in, as he sometimes did at night but she was sure she had heard him whine. He must have whined earlier, too; that must be what awoke her.

  Prince never needed to go out during the night. Was he sick? Worried, Ellen swung her legs over the side of the bed. She put on her robe and opened her bedroom door. The whining came again.

  She followed the sound into the living room and stopped. Lydia glided toward the front door. Although she was clearly visible, she was also transparent. Ellen saw Lydia and, at the same time, she saw her father’s favorite reclining chair, which was directly behind the ghost.

  Prince whined again and Ellen realized the ghost was not alone. As Lydia moved, Corey followed, a few steps behind her. Prince was next to Corey, pawing at the floor and whining, obviously trying to get Corey’s attention.

  “I’m not supposed to go anywhere without telling Mom or Dad first,” Corey whispered.

  Lydia moved ahead of him and beckoned for him to follow.

  As Ellen watched them, she felt as if she were viewing a home video. She heard their voices and saw their actions but she did not feel like she was actually there in the living room with them. The scene had an other-worldly quality, a feeling of unreality, and she felt oddly detached from it. It was the same trancelike sensation she had experienced the night she almost followed Lydia out the door.

  Corey stepped closer to Lydia. “If I go with you to Clayton House, will you come and visit my class at school?”

  The ghost beckoned again.

  “That would be so cool,” Corey said. “If I tell Nicholas and the other kids I saw a ghost, they’ll think I’m just making up a story. But if I bring you with me, they’ll know it’s all true.”

  Lydia floated through the front door.

  Corey hesitated for only a moment. Then he said, “Wait for me,” opened the door and went out. Prince tried to go with him, but Corey pushed the dog back, slipped through the opening, and shut the door.

  As the door closed, Prince barked. Ellen’s feeling of unreality vanished and she snapped into action. She dashed across the room, flung open the door, and rushed out. Prince ran ahead of her, barking frantically.

  “Corey!” Ellen yelled. “Get back here!”

  At the sound of Ellen’s voice, Lydia looked back and raised her arms. Her entire body glowed with an eerie green light.

  “Aahheenndd,” she called.

  Corey stopped walking. As Ellen approached him, she saw that her brother’s eyes were closed. Was he walking in his sleep? He had talked to Lydia, as if he were fully alert. Yet, now he seemed like a zombie, the way Ellen had felt the first time, when she followed Lydia from her bedroom to the front door. She had felt that way again just now, watching Corey with Lydia. If the ghost had some power over Ellen, the power clearly worked on Corey, too.

  Prince stood protectively between Lydia and the children. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat and the fur along the ridge of his back stood straight up.

  Ellen gave Corey a gentle shove. “Get back in the house,” she said.

  “Aaa . . . end,” Lydia implored. She motioned for Ellen to go with her. The glowing green eyes were enormous. They pleaded silently for Ellen to obey.

  “No,” Ellen said. “We cannot go with you. Corey is too young to follow you around the streets in the middle of the night. And so am I.”

  Ellen grabbed Corey’s hand and pulled him toward the house. The porch light went on and Mr. Streater stepped out the door.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  Ellen blinked in the sudden light. Prince trotted toward Mr. Streater and Ellen knew without looking that Lydia was gone. “Corey was walking in his sleep,” she said. “Prince woke me.”

  “We must have forgotten to put the chain lock on when we went to bed last night. Thank heaven you heard Prince.”

  Corey opened his eyes and looked around, as if wondering where he was.

  “It’s all right, son,” Mr. Streater said. “You were walking in your sleep.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I was following a ghost. She wanted me to go with her and then she was going to come to visit my school.”

  “You were dreaming,” Mr. Streater said. “Prince heard you moving around and woke Ellen up.”

  “It was only a dream?” Corey sounded disappointed. “I thought the ghost was here.”

&nb
sp; Ellen knew it was better for Corey to think he had dreamed the whole episode. Otherwise, there was no telling what he would do in an effort to take Lydia to school with him. He’d probably sit up tomorrow night, waiting for Lydia to appear so he could leave with her.

  When she was back in bed, Ellen lay awake for a long time. Why had Lydia chosen Corey this time? Had she given up haunting Ellen? Or had she hoped that if Corey followed her Ellen would, too?

  Was Ellen wrong to let her father believe that Corey had dreamed about the ghost? If she told her parents what was really happening, what would they do? What could they do?

  Ellen wished she had never agreed to help with the haunted house.

  Chapter

  10

  Hey, Ellen!” Corey waved from the sidewalk. “We got a video of you on fire.”

  “Is it X-rated?” asked a voice from the back of the school bus.

  Caitlin giggled but Ellen glared out the window. Moments earlier, she had been the center of attention as a group of boys who had gone through the haunted house asked her opinion about which scene was the fake one. Now Corey was spoiling it. She would have to ask her parents to keep Corey away from the bus stop until she was off the bus and it had left. The other kids must think she came from a family of circus freaks.

  She stepped off the bus but before she could speak Corey said, “The video shows all the scenes from the haunted house. It has me screaming and you getting burned at the stake.”

  “Whose video is it?”

  “Grandma brought it.”

  That surprised Ellen. Her grandparents had refused to come to the haunted house because Grandma said she couldn’t bear to watch Ellen and Corey in such dangerous situations, even when she knew they weren’t real.

  “Did Grandma and Grandpa look at the video?”

  “Not yet. They’re going to watch it with us. Grandma says she thinks she can stand to watch me get my head chopped off on screen if I’m sitting beside her, perfectly safe.”

  Ellen laughed.

  “Maybe a Hollywood producer will see it and offer us movie contracts.”