The Ghosts of Badger Wood: The Carrington Children, #2

By R.M. McLeod

The Carrington children are on holiday in the English Lake District when they discover an injured badger cub lying in a ditch. The animal is cared for by their host, the owner of their holiday home and a former vet. When the injured beast is at last ready to be returned to the wild, the children learn of a plot by badger-baiters to dig out the local sett and use the animals in their violent, evil and extremely gruesome pastime.

Immediately the children try to warn people, but few adults believe their story. Even those who do assure them nothing could ever happen to the badgers for no one has dared to bother the residents of Badger Wood for nearly a century. Why? Because the wood, and all the peace-loving creatures that dwell within it, are guarded by the ghosts of the long-dead soldiers of the village of Merethwaite – well – they are – aren’t they? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Panda Press
• Release date: Jun 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386601371

R.M. McLeod

From being a small boy, R.M. McLeod has always been interested in ‘a good read’ and promised himself, from being a young boy, that one day he would also write one. He has had two books published in paperback – The Witches of Lewthan Mountain and The Escape of Athelwan. The Ghosts of Badger Wood has also been serialised in the North West Evening Mail. He lives in a fairly remote area of Cumbria and, he advises, it is the incredibly beautiful scenery surrounding his home that inspires the fantasies he so loves to write.

Book preview

Table of Contents

The Ghosts of Badger Wood (The Carrington Children, #2)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

About the Author

The Ghosts of Badger Wood

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R.M. McLeod

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Published by Red Panda Press at D2D 2017

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any events, persons, alive or dead is purely coincidental. The characters are fictitious products of the writer’s imagination.

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Copyright R.M. McLeod 1996/2012

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Also by R. M. McLeod

The Charlie Braithwaite Stories

The Witches of Lewthan Mountain

The Escape of Athelwan

The Theft of the Crown of Bodran or The Band of Brothers

The Revenge of Botan the Bone Crusher

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Drop Zone

The Time Flyers

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First published by the Northwest Evening Mail 2004

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About the Author

Born in Cheshire, R.M. McLeod studied engineering at Stockport College before reading for a degree with the Open University. Specialising in 'Risk Assessment', his profession took him to many parts of the world until, in 1985, he came to live in the English Lake District to work on the UK's submarine programme. Now he writes traditional children's books in the comfort of his South Cumbrian cottage.

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The Ghosts of Badger Wood

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The Carrington children are on holiday in the Lake District when they discover an injured badger cub lying in a ditch; the owner of their holiday home and a former vet cares for the animal. When the injured beast is at last ready for returning to the wild, the children learn of a plot by badger baiters to dig out the local sett and use the animals in their violent, evil, and extremely gruesome pastime.

Immediately the children try to warn people, but few adults believe their story. Even those who do assure them nothing could ever happen to the badgers for no one has dared to bother the residents of Badger Wood for nearly a century. Why? Because the ghosts of the long-dead soldiers of the village of Merethwaite guard the wood and all the peace-loving creatures that dwell within it – well they do, don’t they?

CHAPTER ONE

The Lampers Strike

It was dark in the forest, very dark and even with their torches the man and woman were finding the going hard. They were deep inside the greenwood now and the only noise they could hear, apart from the rustling of long dead leaves at their feet, was the eerie, almost plaintive cry of an owl. An owl that seemed to have been following them since they began their grim and silent journey into the depths of the great, Lakeland forest, thirty minutes earlier.

‘How much further?’ asked the woman, wearily.

‘We’re almost there,’ replied her companion.

Two minutes later, in a large clearing, the man stopped and shone his torch up the steep slope of a small hill to their left. ‘We’re here,’ he said, panting slightly with the exertion of the journey.

Now the woman trained her own torch on the hillside and what she saw there made her gasp with dismay. ‘But they’ve been dug out!’ she exclaimed, looking at the many mounds of freshly dug earth that littered the incline. ‘It looks as though all the holes have been dug out!’

The man nodded, grimly. ‘Yes, the lampers must have taken every badger in the sett,’ he replied, sadly.

‘Then we’re too late,’ said the woman. ‘They’ve dug them all up, taken them away and we’re too late to save them!’ Shaking her head despairingly and with tears of anguish streaming down her face, she turned back towards the direction from which they had come.

‘I’m very sorry, inspector,’ said the man. ‘I should have warned you earlier, I thought this might happen, that’s why I asked you here to give me some advice as how best to protect them.’

The woman wiped her eyes before blowing her streaming nose on a piece of tissue. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she replied, snuffling. ‘You did your best to warn us. The real fault lies with the disgusting people who do this sort of thing to our wild animals.’

‘What will happen now?’ asked the man.

The officer of the Royal Society for the Protection of Animals shook her head, sadly. ‘They’ll move on,’ she replied, sadly. ‘They’ll move on to another wood, to another sett, in perhaps another part of the county and once there they’ll start their evil-doings all over again.’

‘You mean, unless somebody stops them,’ said the man.

The inspector nodded; her face angry, determined. ‘I hope someone does,’ she replied, grimly. ‘I really do hope that, next time, someone gives these disgusting, evil men a lesson they’ll never, ever, forget!’

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TWO WEEKS LATER

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Somewhere Near Lake Coniston,

The English Lake District

It was holiday time and once again the Carrington children – Abigail, Imogen, and Ross were back in the Lake District. Twelve-year-old Abigail Carrington, the oldest of the trio, was sitting in the back of her father’s car, bored with the long drive from London and staring idly out of the window.

‘How much further, dad?’ she asked, yawning.

Her father looked in his driver’s mirror, saw the expression on his daughter’s face, and grinned. ‘Not far now, Abi,’ he said, reassuringly. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘In fact, another five minutes and we’ll be there. I’m told Mrs Lewis makes the best cream teas in England and she promised to have one ready, just for us, when we arrive.’

‘Oh good,’ said Abigail’s ten-year-old sister, Imogen, ‘I’m famished.’

With the mention of food, Imogen’s cousin, Ross, also pricked up his ears. ‘Who’s Mrs Lewis?’ he asked.

‘She’s the lady who owns the cottage we’re staying at,’ said Imogen, matter-of-factly, ‘you’ve been told twice already!’

‘Pardon me, I’m sure!’ said Ross. Eleven-year-old Ross, like his cousins, was fair-haired but, unlike his cousins, had blue eyes and a small button nose. Although Abigail was the oldest of the trio, and therefore the acknowledged leader, the small age difference between Ross and Imogen often provoked rivalry as to who should be regarded the second in command. All three of them were sitting on the back seat of the car and now Ross glared angrily at Imogen; he was just about to say something unpleasant to her when she suddenly let out a high-pitched scream.

‘Look out! Stop! Stop!’ she cried.

Thinking something terrible had happened, her father glanced quickly in his mirror and put his foot firmly on the brake. All the occupants of the vehicle were thrown forward so violently they would have been seriously hurt had they not been wearing seatbelts.

Anxiously, Mrs Carrington turned around in the passenger seat. ‘What on earth’s the matter, Imi?’ she asked.

Imogen was kneeling on the seat, looking through the rear window. ‘Back there, didn’t you see him?’ she asked angrily.

‘See who, love?’ replied her father.

‘That man, he jumped out of the way as we drove past him. I think he might have been hurt.’ Confused, Ross, Abigail, and Mr and Mrs Carrington all looked at each other. Imogen turned around, saw the disbelieving expression on their faces, and scowled. ‘I did see someone there, I did!’ she insisted.

‘What did he look like, Imi?’ asked her mother, softly.

Imogen was thoughtful for a moment. ‘He wasn’t very old and he was dressed in very dull, old-fashioned clothes and...oh yes...he wore a funny hat. Honestly, it’s true; one minute the road was clear, the next