CHAPTER 7
At break time the next day, stories were flying round the playground.
"Madge saw the ghost last night!"
"Peter at the farm saw it Saturday night, quite early!"
"So it's true. I always knew it was."
"I don't believe in ghosts."
"Will Madge die now?"
"No, I won't!" insisted Madge.
James and Rodney listened with interest. As soon as they could, they cornered Madge, a large stolid-looking third-former. "What did you see, and when did you see it?" demanded James.
"'Bout ten o'clock, coming back from Gina's with my Mum."
"Did your Mum see it?"
"She says not, but I'm not sure. She doesn't want to have seen it."
"What was it like?"
"A long robe and a hood over its face. It was near Woodside Farm, coming down the little road between the farm and the wood."
"Did it come right up to you?"
"No, I think it saw us, because it vanished."
James was thinking, ten o'clock. Derek had not left his house last night until half past ten. He must have an accomplice, then.
"Did it have a light?" asked Rodney.
"No, but it sort of faintly glowed," said Madge.
Mr Bates crossed the playground, on the way to the laboratory.
"More folklore?" he enquired, bushy eyebrows raised. "Will I ever get you lot to think scientifically?"
"I saw the ghost," said Madge unwisely.
"Oh, really?" enquired Mr Bates. "Eat less cheese late at night. Then you won't see ghosts." He thought for a moment. "What were you doing out at that time of night? I must tell all of you"- he looked round at them - "not to go out late at night on your own. There are a lot of unpleasant types around today - no young person is safe on their own now. I cannot impress it on you too strongly, and I'm sure your parents will agree with me."
One of the smaller boys giggled. Simon always giggled when grown-ups were serious. Mr Bates turned on him.
"I am not joking, young man!" he shouted. "I expect to be taken seriously. If you don't take me seriously - all of you - later on you may well regret it!"
"Yes, sir," replied Simon, but he still smirked.
"Old Bates is uptight today," remarked James as they returned to class.
"He's always uptight about anything he thinks is unscientific, isn't he?" said Rodney. "But it's going out at night that upsets them all these days. It's the crime statistics, I suppose," he continued, feeling this was a very adult explanation.
James felt that there was more to it than that. Somebody was spreading fear - the someone who was playing ghosts. Derek! It must be him, even if Madge's time didn't fit. Madge could have been mistaken, after all.
"I'm sure I'm right", he told Rodney. "Derek's trying to keep people away from round Manor Farm. He wants old William's treasure. We must get to it first!"
"I'm with you all the way!" said Rodney. "I wish I knew how we're going to do it, though!"
"If we get there first, we may catch Derek out properly."
"Yes," said Rodney, "there's no crime in being in a field at night, is there? We can't get him on that."
"Anyone would think it was a crime, the way everyone's carrying on!" James replied sulkily, remembering his mother on Saturday night. "But no, it will have to be more than that."
As they left the school gates that evening, James suggested they go to the Library and see if the other book on the Abbey had come in.
"Sorry," the Librarian said. "It's still out, I'm afraid."
"I bet Derek's got it," muttered James to Rodney.
"Pardon?" enquired the Librarian.
"Nothing."
"Oh. Well, I have something here you may enjoy. It's not local history - not history at all - but seeing you like old things and knowing boys - here, take a look." She dived under the counter and came up with a book which had a black cover decorated with a skeleton hand drawing aside a shroud to show a skull. That looked promising, anyway.
"'Ghost Stories of an Anti...' - what's that?" asked James.
"'Ghost Stories of an Antiquary'. That's a person who is interested in old things."
"Like an archaeologist." Rodney could pronounce it now.
The Librarian, adjusting her glasses, glanced at Rodney.
"In a way, but it's really more old books and antiques, that sort of thing. Not so much the buried stuff."
"Well, Rodney said. "It's by someone called 'James', so you'd better have it!"
"M R James," said the Librarian. " Probably the greatest ghost story writer. I hope it doesn't frighten you," she added as an afterthought.
"No," said James firmly. "I don't believe in ghosts." He went on pointedly, "They are all people dressed up to scare other people."
"That's worth knowing," said the Librarian.
James took the book.
"Looks good," remarked Rodney. "I'll have a read after you."
"Get your own ticket!" James told him. It would not do to let Rodney take him over too much.
"Oh." Rodney kicked a stone all the way down the High Street, saying nothing else.
James relented. "All right. I'll read it tonight and you can have it when I've finished."
Derek did not appear that evening.
"Did I scare him off?" James asked Mandy.
"No. Mum says he's busy tonight."
"I'll bet he is!"
James didn't show his book to Mandy - he felt it might scare her and he would have the episode of the lights again. He decided to read it in bed. There is nothing like going to sleep on a good creepy story!
First, he looked at the index. Which short story title appealed most? What was this? 'The Treasure of Abbot Thomas'! How strange. Did the Librarian know more than she should, keeping this book for him? He turned to the story and settled down to read.
He found it fairly hard going, but was fascinated by it. As he read, he grew more excited. Here was a clear indication of what he should do. What a godsend! He got out his notebook and made some notes. Then he studied the sketches he had made of the chapel.
"Turn your light off, James!" called his mother. "Do you know how late it is?"
Needless to say, James couldn't sleep for thinking. However, he must have fallen asleep in the end, because he did not see the hall light go out when the power cut came.
