Ghosts on Board Read Online Free

go and investigate.’ I shake the last chips out for the seagulls and fold up the paper before jamming it in my pocket.
    â€˜You shouldn’t do that, you know,’ says Eric.
    â€˜What? Put chip paper in my pocket?’
    â€˜No, give chips to the seagulls. It encourages them to raid bins, which can be a real problem, and besides, chips have no nutritional value. They’re not at all good for seabirds.’
    â€˜So what are you supposed to feed them?’ I say, picking up the chips and jamming them into my pocket too.
    â€˜Ideally, hard-boiled eggs and watercress.’
    The castle courtyard is empty, except for a small workman’s hut and a pile of hazard-warning vests. No one’s even on duty in the ticket booth.
    â€˜Aaaaarghghghghghghghgh, OW! OW! Blasted cat!’ We jump as a strange voice wails across the courtyard.
    â€˜We’re closer then,’ says Jacob.
    â€˜Doesn’t sound much like aliens,’ I say. ‘Sounds human.’
    â€˜You’re right,’ says Eric. ‘Unless aliens speak English.’
    We stop and listen again.
    â€˜Oooooooooooooh, I think I’ve broken my toe,’ the voice wails.
    â€˜It’s definitely,’ I say, ‘coming from the entrance to the dungeons.’
    We cross the courtyard and stand at the top of the stone steps that lead into the bowels of the castle.
Dungeons. Please be careful, it could be slippy
, says the handwritten sign. It’s sunny and warm out here. Inside it’s black, and it smells of moss and earth and cold.
    â€˜Right,’ says Eric, looking at me.
    â€˜Yes,’ says Jacob.
    â€˜Oooooh,’ calls the distant voice.
    â€˜What’s the plan?’ I say.
    â€˜Perhaps we should get an ice cream before we go down,’ says Jacob.
    â€˜Good idea,’ says Eric. ‘Let’s get one from the café upstairs.’
    Ten minutes later we’re standing in exactly the same place, but this time with ice-cream cones. Ice creams make you feel bolder, like you’ve got a weapon. At the very least you could buy yourself a split second by jamming it in someone’s face.
    â€˜One, two, three  …  go!’ Actually, Jacob and I go and Eric follows a little later.
    For the first couple of minutes, I can’t see a thing, so I have to run my fingers down the damp walls. But gradually my eyes get used to it and I realise that there are occasional dim, moody lights set into alcoves over small snippets of information. I stop and read one out:
‘The Bywater-by-Sea Castle dungeon was used to imprison notorious pirate One-Footed Jack. His boot is said to haunt the corridors.
’
    â€˜Great,’ says Jacob. ‘Bywater-by-Sea’s such a dump that it’s haunted by a boot.’
    â€˜Blast!’ comes the voice from the tunnel.
    â€˜Did you hear that?’ I say.
    The other two don’t answer, but we stand together, waiting in the gloom before inching forward again.
    Eric stops by a dim red lamp and reads out another notice, extra cheerily:
‘Mad Angel was a redheaded smuggler who died in the cells, apparently unintentionally poisoned by her gaoler, Josephine Perks.
’ He glances at me. ‘One of your ancestors?’
    I think about some of Grandma’s less lovely cooking. ‘Probably.’
    We venture on down the passage. My ice cream has nearly gone. If I met the voice now it wouldn’t be much of a weapon.
    Every now and again, Jacob lets off a spark, which crackles on the moss, but otherwise we’re silent.
    Eric touches my arm and I stop.
    There’s talking coming from down in the darkness in front of us – a man and a girl.
    â€˜But you haven’t got any bones,’ says the girl’s voice. ‘You’re a  … ’ Then there’s a pause and she says, ‘That isn’t supposed to happen.’
    â€˜Who is that?’ Eric whispers to me.
    The hairs on the back of my