Spooks: Book Four of Zach's Story (Second Edition)

By Wendy Milton

There's a new boy at Josiah Batty Grammar who, at first, Zach Brinkley and his friends can't stand. Although Raoul improves on acquaintance, it isn't long before Zach discovers that befriending him is dangerous.

• Language: English
• Publisher: PawPrint Publishing
• Release date: Sep 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9780648057451

Wendy Milton

Wendy has written twelve exciting adventures for eight to twelve year-olds, including a five-book series: Angel of Fire, Sophie's Return, Nemesis, Spooks, and Finding Cathcart, and a two-book series: The Boy Who Disappeared and Rafferty's Rules. Stand-alone titles include The Enchanted Urn, A Stitch in Time, Missing Uncle Izzy and Taking Stock. Wendy has also published an adult 'whodunnit', Schooled in Death. Set in the 1970s in the Southern Highlands of NSW, the story revolves around the bizarre murder of the headmaster of an exclusive girls' school.

Book preview

ONE

Mr and Mrs Brinkley, tousled and smiling, watched as their gifts began to be unwrapped. Still in their dressing gowns, they sat side-by-side in the front room of 48 Denison Street, their attention focused on four children seated beneath a brightly decorated tree. Only one child and his dog were visible, but that didn’t matter – Mr Brinkley was fond of saying ‘Visibility isn’t everything.’ Sunlight streamed through the bay windows, making the tree’s mirrored baubles glitter and sparkle, and the warmth of the morning gave rise to a wonderful, pine-needly smell.

Unseen hands were opening the parcel labelled ‘Milly’. Zach, who’d already opened his presents – an iPad and running shoes – was helping Billy open his. There was another, unusually shaped parcel that was being levitated this way and that, and rolled around by its waiflike recipient in an attempt to guess at the contents. Astra’s exclamations of joy and surprise, together with those of the twins, could only be heard by Zach; likewise their laughter, directed at Patches who was wearing spongy reindeer antlers. Patches was whining excitedly and pawing at his oblong-shaped parcel. Every time he crushed it with his paw, it emitted a tantalising squeak.

Milly’s eyes glistened as she levitated her beautifully dressed Victorian doll and ‘waltzed’ her around the room. Astra’s eyes were shining, too, even though she hadn’t opened her parcel. She was sitting cross-legged, with her hands on either side of it as if it didn’t really matter what was inside. ‘Thank you, Mr Brinkley, Mrs Brinkley but . . . I haven’t got anything for you.’

Zach whispered to his father, who in turn whispered to his wife.

‘Oh, good heavens, Astra! You gave us the most precious thing in this world – our son’s life. What you did is something Jack and I will never forget. You’re our guardian angel, too. Would you like me to open it for you, dear?’

Astra nodded.

‘She says yes.’

Zach’s mother caught the parcel that floated towards her and removed the wrapping to reveal a scruffy, synthetic fur dog with glassy brown eyes. Around the dog’s neck was a collar with an embroidered tag saying ‘Scratch’.

‘He’s beautiful!’ exclaimed Astra, levitating him back and attempting to cuddle him. ‘It’s just what Scratch was like, and I’m going to keep him with me forever and ever and ever.’

‘She’s blubbering,’ groaned Billy.

Patches had stopped tearing at his parcel to stare and growl at Scratch.

‘Patches thinks he’s real!’ shrieked Billy.

Zach glanced at his mother and father. ‘Astra likes the dog, and Milly likes her doll. They’re both crying. Billy’s not crying, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the chess set.’

‘Why would I blubber because someone gives me a present? Anyway, the chess set is really cool, Mr Brinkley.’ Billy’s eyes wandered hungrily over the crimson-coated nineteenth-century officers and their grey opponents. He wanted to line them up and fight a battle.

‘Billy says the chess set is cool.’

‘I’m pleased you like it, Billy,’ said Zach’s father. ‘Zach will help you get it into the spare room we’ve refurnished. It’s a room for you all, now – somewhere you can all chill out.’

Zach’s mother smiled at Billy. ‘We’ve put in bunk beds in case you need them, and there’s a wicker armchair for Milly’s doll and a basket for Scratch and a table with an inlaid chessboard so you can set up your chess when you learn to levitate. It would have been nice to give you a room each, but I’m afraid our house isn’t big enough.’

‘Can Billy and I go up now?’ said Zach.

‘Of course! Your father and I will stay here with the girls.’ The doll named Victoria and the scruffy dog named Scratch rose into the air, but instead of heading for the stairs they bobbed towards Mrs Brinkley and ‘kissed’ her on both cheeks.

Upstairs, Billy watched as Zach lined up the chessmen in the ‘chill-out’ room. Apart from the occasional spat he and Zach got along well now, because he wasn’t teasing Astra as much.

‘These are great,’ he breathed as the painted chessmen gathered at either end of the board. ‘So’s your dad. He can do anything.’

‘Yeah.’

‘When you were in hospital your dad and mum weren’t together, were they?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’ Zach shrugged. ‘I suppose it doesn’t matter, anyway, ’cause they’re back together.’ Zach nodded. ‘They give you nice things, don’t they?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Like that laptop.’

‘It’s an iPad.’

‘Whatever. I wish I could use one.’

‘You can use mine when you can levitate.’

‘You wouldn’t mind?’ Zach shook his head. ‘Cool! And we could play chess when I learn how.’

‘Sophie can play chess. She could teach you. She belongs to the chess club.’

‘I know, but she hangs out with Drew. He’s taller than I am and he’s . . .’

‘Alive?’

‘Yeah.’ Billy hesitated. ‘You’ll be fourteen next year and you’re already taller than I am. Ghosts don’t grow. I wish I could grow.’

‘Just because you can’t get any bigger, it doesn’t mean you can’t grow if you keep learning things and changing . . . you know?’

‘Milly says my head’s big enough already.’

‘People who can’t change don’t grow,’ Zach insisted. ‘It’s got nothing to do with size.’

‘In a few years you’ll be a man, and I’ll still be twelve.’

‘So?’

‘Will you still talk to me?’

‘My dad talks to you, doesn’t he?’

‘Yeah.’ Billy paused and looked slyly at Zach. ‘Reckon we’ll see Sophie – or do you think she’s gone to Drew’s place?’

Zach shrugged. ‘People usually spend Christmas with their own families.’

But in the afternoon, after those who could eat had devoured large portions of Mrs Brinkley’s roast dinner, Sophie did visit. She’d brought a present for Zach – a pair of socks. She admired Billy’s chessmen and Astra’s Scratch and Milly’s doll and Zach’s shoes, and she told them about the laptop she’d received from her parents. Then, after complimenting Mrs Brinkley on her Christmas cake and Mr Brinkley on the chess set, she left. Zach watched her go, wondering whether she was going to see Drew. He knew that Drew liked Sophie, but it was never clear to him how much Sophie liked Drew.

After Sophie had gone and the others were trying to fathom the rules of chess, Zach’s mind dwelt upon the year that had passed. His first term hadn’t ended happily, coinciding as it did with the headmaster’s nervous breakdown. Everyone had wanted to know why Pettigrew¹ was chasing him. Had he and Pettigrew been talking to someone no one else could see? Was it a ghost? Whose ghost? Could he talk to ghosts? Was it the ghost who’d told him the headmaster was selling dodgy art? Sophie had assured him it would ‘die down’, and she’d been right – but then, Sophie was usually right.

On the up side, Josiah Batty – aka JB – had stopped following him. After Pettigrew’s exposure, JB had become a nemmy²-without-a-cause, a pathetic reflection of his former, fiery self, drifting aimlessly around the school and sighing and moaning and shaking his head in a way that ought to have aroused sympathy in Zach, had Zach been a more sympathetic boy. Then, one hot afternoon at the end of the fourth term, during a cricket match, there came a moment when Zach had looked up, hands outstretched in an attempt to catch a high ball from the opposing team’s batsman. What he saw was JB, zigging and zagging and looking behind him fearfully. Zach couldn’t see JB’s pursuer, but he guessed it was Spittingham³. Later, Astra confirmed that it was Spittingham. Someone had tipped off the fanatical grunter⁴, who’d brought a net large enough to encompass JB’s winged armchair!

It had all been over in seconds. JB disappeared with a shriek, and Zach missed his all-important catch. In spite of being called butter-fingers, Zach told his father it was his best day ever at Josiah Batty Grammar. JB had left for good, and there was no possibility that Mr Boxer would select him for the school’s junior cricket team.

¹Henry Pettigrew was the headmaster in Zach’s first year at Josiah Batty Grammar.

²A nemmy is a ghost who wants justice or revenge.

³Spittingham is the grunter who ‘nets’ Zach in Angel of Fire , mistaking him for a departed soul.

⁴Grunters are ghost hunters employed to capture earthbound spirits who haven’t ‘passed over’.

TWO

One sunny January morning towards the end of the school holidays, Zach and Billy came downstairs in time to hear Zach’s mother tut-tutting, and to see his father frowning over something they’d been reading in the newspaper. Zach’s father often read aloud from the newspaper while his wife was preparing breakfast.

‘I’ve always thought that’s where it might start,’ said Zach’s mother, turning over the sizzling strips of bacon. ‘That place is a powder keg.’

‘What’s a powder keg?’ asked Zach.

‘I know,’ crowed Billy. ‘It’s gunpowder in a barrel. How could you not know that?’

‘It’s a metaphor,’ said Zach’s mother. ‘If you say something is a powder keg, it means it’s likely to blow up.’

‘Like gunpowder?’

‘Yes. They used to keep it in kegs or barrels.’

‘I told you!’ said Billy.

‘Yeah. Right. What’s likely to blow up?’

‘There’s an uprising in one of those Middle Eastern countries with lots of oil and not much else. They’re saying America might send in troops, and your father and I are hoping it doesn’t become a global conflict.’

‘Oh.’

‘Will Australian soldiers be going?’ said Billy.

‘Billy wants to know if Australia will send soldiers.’

‘Who knows?’ said his father.

‘If I was alive, I’d volunteer,’ said Billy.

‘You wouldn’t be old enough.’

‘If I was alive and old enough, I’d volunteer.’

‘Volunteer for what?’ said Milly, appearing with Astra.

‘To fight. There’s a war somewhere.’

‘In the Middle East.’

Astra was scornful. ‘Why do men have to fight?’

‘I don’t,’ said Zach.

‘Don’t what, darling?’ asked his mother.

‘Have to fight. Billy says if he was alive he’d volunteer to fight.’

Mrs Brinkley sighed. ‘My heart goes out to mothers who watch their sons marching off to war.’

‘It’s men who make war,’ said Milly.

‘Milly says it’s men who make war.’

Zach’s father shook his head. ‘Not always, Milly. There have been conscientious objectors – men who’ve refused to fight.’

‘Sensible men,’ said Zach’s mother. ‘Now I’d like you to fight your way through this plate of bacon and eggs, Zach, while I do battle with your toast.’

• • •

At the very moment Zach was sitting down to his bacon and eggs, a white van with an aerial was pulling up outside Josiah Batty Grammar. A skinny man in blue overalls got out, made a quick call on his mobile and walked towards the school, the playground of which was deserted (Christmas holidays hadn’t ended). From around the corner of the main building – called the Bat Cave by students – came a plainly dressed woman with grey hair and an austere face. She smiled and held out her hand as the man in blue overalls approached. ‘Mr Murphy?’

‘The same. And you are Mrs Peebles?’

‘Yes. Come into my office.’

They shook hands as they moved inside.

Forty minutes later, the skinny man reappeared and crossed the road. As he approached the white van he gave a low whistle and then, after a brief glance right and left, opened the back door and quickly climbed inside. The interior was totally unlike any workman’s van: there were no tools or ladders or tins of paint, or whatever it is one would expect to find in the back of a vehicle entered by a man in blue overalls. It was more like a recording studio full of electronic equipment, with a console at which sat an overweight man wearing headphones and twiddling dials. The man with the headphones looked up. ‘Gotcha, Mick.’