Chapters 11 to 13, Phantom of the Hastings Caves

Chapter 11   Liridona

It was dark in the caves. Everyone had gone home. Apart from the girl.

Keeping her right hand against the wall and holding her left arm out in front of her, she felt her way along the Monks’ Walk to the ticket desk. When her left hand touched the desk, she felt around for the basket of little torches kept there for the more frightened visitors.

She took a torch and switched it on. She shone it in front of her and walked noiselessly towards the heavy entrance door.

Then she heard a man’s voice. He was shouting from the other side of the door.

“Liridona! Liridona…”

The girl switched off the torch. She slowly and silently felt her way back to the Monks’ Walk. When she reached the end, she switched her torch on again.
Her dress was wet and cold from the dampness in the caves. It stuck to her skin.

Hot tears began to pour down the cold skin of her face.

Chapter 12   The ghost of the audio-visual show

The next morning, Dave was deep in the caves. He was directing a noisy group of French students into the Smugglers Adventure audio visual show.

A student came over to Dave and shouted above the noise, “Is the show in French?”

“No,” said Dave. “Your leader asked us to put it on in English. She said it will be good for your listening skills.”

The French leader heard this and shouted, “Yes, I will help them with anything they don’t understand.”

When they had gone in, Emma came up to Dave. She was carrying a broom and a rubbish sack.

“Are you all right, Dave?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Will you wait for that group to come out and then get the next ones in? There’s a group of Italians going in after them. I would do it, but I need to clear the spiders’ webs.”

“Yes, they’re hanging quite low at the moment. You only cleared them last week, didn’t you?”

“Yes. But it’s great. I’m glad the spiders moved in. They help to make the caves even spookier than before.”

“That’s true. ... I never know if I’m being brushed by a spider’s web or by one of you pretending to be a ghost.”

“Or a real ghost. ... Sorry, I was only joking ... . You don’t like talking about that kind of thing, do you Dave?”

“No. Ghosts are strictly for the tourists. I’m not going to start taking the ghost stuff seriously. No way. Oh ... are the students coming out?”

“Yes. ... Goodness, aren’t they quiet?!”

The French students came out of the audio-visual show. They were brushing cobwebs from their hair.

“Did they enjoy the show?” Emma asked the leader.

“Well ... it was a bit too ...”

“Too what?”

“Too...”

“Are you all right?” asked Emma. “Students don’t usually stand still and quiet like this. Anyway, I need to call the next group in. Could your students could leave this area and continue going round the caves?”

“Well ... are you sure the next group should go in? It’s ... a little scary...”

“Scary? But that’s what they enjoy! They usually love it when Hairy Jack and the other smugglers’ ghosts appear all over the room...”

“Hairy Jack was OK. It was the girl.”

“You mean in the corner of the room?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s just the special effects.”

“You mean, she’s an actress?”

“No, not an actress.”

“Who is she, then?”

“Well, it depends which one you mean. What was she wearing?”

“A white top and white trousers.”

“Trousers? I don’t remember that one. Anyway, we need to get the Italian group in ...”

“Is the French group still here?” asked Dave.

“Yes.”

“They’re so quiet.”

“They have never seen a ghost before,” said the French leader.

A student walked over to them and said, “She speak ... no, I mean, she spoke ... . She spoke in a strange voice.”

“Yes, she recited the Smuggler’s Song by Kipling. She recited it in a strange accent,” said the leader.

“And her skin looked thin and...”

“And what?”

“And ... clammy. And she was trembling all over. Shivering. And the skin around her eyes was dark ... .She looked as if she had not slept for many nights.”

“OK, listen. Your students look anxious. There’s really nothing to worry about. It’s just a tourist attraction. Dave will sit in with the next group, won’t you, Dave?”

“Sure.”

“But he can’t ...”

“Can’t see,” said Dave. “People keep reminding me.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem. I might be blind, but at least I don’t get scared of pretend ghosts. I’ll go in with the next group. You follow Emma. By the way, don’t take your students to the London Dungeon if you go on a trip to London. They would die of fright.”

“Follow me, everyone,” said Emma. “I just hope you aren’t afraid of spiders.”

Chapter 13   Watch the wall, my darling

Dave led the group of Italian students into the audio-visual show cavern. They shouted to one another about who should sit next to whom on the benches. They tripped over one another in the dark. Their leader sat down beside Dave and shouted, “Ragazzi!” from time to time to show that she was in charge. But the happy shouting went on until Hairy Jack, the friendly smuggler’s ghost, appeared on the huge screen at the front of the cavern.

The students stopped shouting. They watched the screen, which gave the only light in the room.

They stared at drawings on the screen of children of several hundred years ago turning to face the wall while smugglers carried their contraband through the streets of Hastings Old Town. And they listened as Hairy Jack recited Rudyard Kipling’s Smuggler’s Song.

The corners of the room were bathed in light for a few seconds at a time. The lights picked out figures of smugglers from the past. The students turned their heads to right and left, following the moving lights.

The recitation of the Smuggler’s Song continued:

“If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,

“Don’t draw back the curtains, and don’t look in the street.

“Those who ask no questions won’t be told a lie.

“Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!”

Dave frowned. He had heard the audio-visual show hundreds of times. This time, something was different. There were two voices instead of one reciting Kipling’s poem.

The new, second voice was that of a female with a gentle foreign accent.

For a moment, Dave wondered if one of the Italian students was reading the lines from the screen along with Hairy Jack.

But the accent wasn’t Italian. The person pronounced ‘th’ perfectly, and her intonation wasn’t musical like that of the Italian students.

Suddenly, the students gasped.

The recitation of the poem by Hairy Jack and the female voice continued.

“Twenty-five ponies,

“Trotting through the dark –

“Brandy for the parson,

“Tobacco for the clerk;

“Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,

“And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!”

“Dave,” the leader’s voice whispered.

“What?” Dave hoped she wasn’t going to start talking to him. He was trying to work out who the new voice belonged to.  

“Dave, my students are frightened.”

“Good. That’s part of the fun, being a bit scared.” He wished the leader would be quiet.

“Dave, this room is haunted.”

“No, it’s not. But don’t tell anyone it’s not.”

“Dave, there is a ghost in the corner of the room.”

“I know. There are pretend ghosts in every corner.”

“No, this one is real.”

“OK, can you describe the ghost?”

The students moved closer together.

She’s a girl or young woman, wearing thin white cotton...

“Yes, ghosts usually wear sheets.”

“No, white trousers and a white embroidered top. And she’s trembling all over. Shivering uncontrollably. And her eyes ...”

“Her eyes?”

“Well, I’ve never seen such eyes before. ... There’s a haunted look about them. She looks frightened. And she keeps speaking along with Hairy Jack, and when words come up on the screen, she stares hard at them.”

“OK, well, maybe the show is a bit too scary for young teenagers. Don’t worry. They’ll enjoy telling all their friends in Italy about it when they go home.”

The show came to an end. The students followed their leader  out in silence.

When they had left, Trevor came into the audio-visual cavern.

“I’ve never seen students so quiet,” he said. “Not just quiet. Subdued. The French were the same. What’s happening to our continental friends? Have they stopped being continental?”

“No. Dad, don’t talk about it to anyone, OK?”

“OK. It’s time for a sandwich anyway. Are you coming to the staffroom? We haven’t got another group booked in for half an hour. There might be one or two individuals, but Emma’s at the entrance.”

“No, Dad, I’ll just stay here for a while.”

“Oh. ... Right, OK. See you later, then.”

When his dad had gone, Dave felt his way round to the corner of the cavern.

“Hello?” he said. “Hello, person pretending to be a ghost.”

There was no answer.

“It’s all right. I won’t tell anyone. I’m just worried about you. They said you were trembling and shivering.”

There was still no answer. 

“I know you’re there,” said Dave. “I can’t hear you. I can’t even smell you today. And I can’t reach out to touch you, because I might mess up the left-hand corner display. But I know you’re there.”

There was no response.

Dave took off his jumper. He put it down on the floor in front of him.

“They said you were shivering. Put this on,” he said. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re here. It’s like in the Smuggler’s Song:

“Don’t tell anyone what you’ve seen,

“or where anyone has been!

“Knocks and footsteps round the house

“ - whistles after dark – ”

He stopped. He’d forgotten the next line.

Then a voice whispered from the corner:

“You mustn’t run out till the house-dogs bark.”

“OK, ghostly girl,” said Dave. “You know the Smuggler’s Song off by heart. So do I. You can talk. So why don’t you talk to me?”

“Nook...,” said the ghostly voice.