Mayne Island Skeletons
Amber Harvey
Published by Amber Harvey at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Amber Harvey
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Disclaimer:
Every character and event in this book is entirely fictitious and no reference whatever is intended to any person or event.
Chapter 1:Hauntings
Dear Shauna,
Last night was awesome! You know that old “haunted house” where your Great-uncle Julian used to live? Well, yesterday afternoon, Brent, Jo, Rowan, and I stashed some old sheets and white plastic cups there. You’ll never guess what we did next.
We played the best trick on Tara and Logan and the twins, Jacob and Joshua. You haven’t met the twin boys yet. They’re Tara’s cousins who just moved here! They have reddish blond curly hair, and bright blue eyes. They're identical.
We were all over at Tara’s place yesterday morning, just hanging out in the back yard, kicking a ball around, and I for some reason I started telling them the stories I'd heard about the haunted house, how people said it's haunted by the ghosts of murdered people, and that’s why nobody ever lives there now. Then silly Brent chimed in and claimed he had seen them, lots of times, and Jo and Rowan bragged that they had, as well, though it was a lie.
Soon Tara was jumping around like a monkey, repeating, “I want to look for ghosts. I want to look for ghosts. Can we? Can we?” So we finally all made a plan to meet that night at the corner near the haunted house and all keep watch together.
So yesterday afternoon the four of us (Brent, Jo, Rowan and I) went and hid the stuff, like I said.
Then last night when it was almost dark, seven of us met on the road where it passes right near the haunted house. We waited for Rowan, but he never showed up. That was part of our secret plan, our excuse to leave the little kids alone while we went back to the haunted house.
So one by one, Jo, Brent and I said we were going to look for Rowan, and told the younger kids to wait right there on the road, and promise not to leave, no matter what happened. We said we’d be right back. We knew they’d sneak a look at the house without us. Their curiosity would get the better of them. Brent, Jo and I circled back and snuck into the bushes around the haunted house, where Rowan was waiting.
We put the sheets over our heads, lit the flashlights under them, and as soon as we could see the kids on the road, we rose up, wailing and groaning. They all took off running and screaming! We laughed like crazy, then quickly put the stuff away and went to find our terrified friends.
We pretended we were mad at them. "Why didn’t you stay put like you had agreed to?" we accused them. "But no, you had to go ahead and sneak a look at the house from the road," we continued to blame them. "We were so busy looking for Rowan that we missed it all."
Tara was wide-eyed as a lemur. She could hardly breathe she was talking so fast. Logan kept saying, “We had to run! Honest, we’re not lying! We saw the ghosts! We saw them," over and over again. Logan and Tara jumped around for a while, laughing and telling us we missed it. The twins just looked scared. I felt sorry for the two of them, because they hadn't played any tricks on us, like the others had. But there wasn't really anything wrong with what we did. We just scared them a bit and I think it was exciting for them.
Brent, Jo, Rowan and I sulked for a while, pretended we were mad that they left and we missed the whole thing.
What a joke! You should have been here, Shauna! You would have loved the chance to get back at them for the trick they played on us. When we passed around those cookies at the Volunteer Tea, and all the parents spat out the cookies we had made because those little brats had snuck into the cooking room and filled them with cayenne, I was mortified! Everybody laughed at us that day and we didn't know what we'd done, until Tara and Logan confessed and then we all laughed. I've been itching to get back at them for that trick, ever since!
I hope you get this letter soon. I can’t believe you’re looking at polar bears on ice floes right now. It must be so exciting to be up north with all the icebergs, northern lights and everything. You will have such an amazing summer.
Just take lots of pictures and hurry back.
Miss you.
Magda
Magda sealed the letter into an envelope and addressed it to a Post Office Box in Iqaluit, capital of Nunavut, where it would wait for Shauna until the mail was collected and distributed to the crew and passengers on the icebreaker Majesty.
Magda placed her letter on the table near the front door so she would be sure to see it later when she went out to get their mail.
After she had done her morning chores of making her bed, washing the dishes and sweeping the kitchen floor, Magda rode over to Polly Prudholme’s farm. This was Magda's summer job. She was saving up for a new bike. The blue mountain bike she was riding had belonged to her brother Tom. It was a great bike, but Magda was getting too tall for it and would soon need a new one.
Polly always found a lot of work for her to do and Magda took pride in her ability to work hard. She knew Polly was pleased with her work, even though she didn’t say much. She just shrugged after inspecting whatever task Magda had completed, and sniffed if it was good. If it wasn’t good, Magda heard about it right away. There were a lot more sniffs than complaints, though, so Magda was satisfied, and so, apparently, was Polly.
Today Polly was wearing her big straw hat and rubber boots, with a long denim skirt and baggy sweater. She greeted Magda with, “Chickens. Feed them. Eggs. Collect them, wash them off if they need it, put them in cartons and into the fridge. Tell me when you’re finished.”
Magda went straight to work. This was one of her favourite jobs. The chicken pens were fresh-smelling and clean. Most of the greens Polly had fed them that morning were already eaten. The speckled hens strutted about clucking contentedly as they pecked at the pellets Magda added to their feeders.
The younger chickens had a pen of their own. Polly had explained, “No manners. Got to segregate them awhile before they can mix with the older hens.” These young chickens went wild, pushing each other out of the way to get the feed, and pecking one another on the head. Magda remembered what she’d read about pecking order. Each bird has some birds she can peck, and some who can peck her. Only the bird at the top has nobody who can peck her, and only the ones at the bottom have nobody to peck.
Magda watched this frantic feeding for a while, laughing at them, but then thinking about herself and her friends. In a way, they had a pecking order, too. But it was always changing. One day she would play a trick on Tara or Logan, for example, but the next day one of them might trick her.
A red combed rooster crowed protectively and began grooming the feathers of one of the speckled hens. Magda watched them all, thinking again how like people they were, and then collected the eggs from each of the nesting boxes and gently placed them in a lined wicker basket. She noticed that some boxes held two or three eggs, while some had none. Polly had explained this to her. “Togetherness. They like to snuggle close to each other when they lay.”
Magda took the eggs into the shed where she looked at each one. They were mostly clean because they were collected at least twice a day. She rinsed them with warm water if she spied an unwanted speck. She placed them carefully into egg cartons and from there she put them straight into a fridge. Magda discovered one cracked egg, which she put aside to be used for animal feed later that day.
Magda washed her hands and awaited Polly’s inspection. She came in, looked, sniffed, then said, “Time to scoop the poop.”
Magda got out the scraper and started in on the dirty job. She thought back to the time when she first got to know Polly Prudholme. She recalled wondering why Polly always wore rubber boots. "Now I get it," she thought, grinning to herself.
Magda scraped the shelf Polly called a dropping pit, which was right under the roosts the chickens used at night. She scraped the chicken poop into plastic bags which she knotted and placed on the floor. Neighbours came by to purchase these bags of manure for a dollar apiece. Nothing on the farm was ever wasted. Magda then added a powdering of lime and a scoop full of shavings to the shelf, ready for the next night’s droppings.
Magda carried the full bags through the fenced-in area that kept the chickens in and predators out. There was even a screen overhead, which kept out eagles and hawks.
Magda stood her boots against the wall, scrubbed her hands well, and said goodbye to Polly. Polly nodded and Magda rode home.
As she came through the front door, Magda saw her letter to Shauna still sitting on the table. She grabbed it and the mailbox key that was hanging by the door, and jumped on her bike again.
“Miss you,” she said as she pushed her letter to Shauna into the mail slot, then unlocked their mailbox and withdrew the envelopes and junk mail. She regarded the bills her mom would deal with and then saw the postcard. It was from Shauna.
Here’s a picture of one of the endangered bears. The ice is melting all around us and the bears are losing their habitat. I’ll write more later. I didn’t know they were taking the mail now so I have to go. Bye. Miss you a lot. Shauna.
Magda sped home and called out for Jessie, her mother. “Mom!” she shouted. “I got a card from Shauna!” Jessie wasn’t in the house. Magda rubbed her mop of curly hair and looked around, trying to guess where her mom could be. Then she noticed the phone message signal. She listened to Jessie's voice telling her, “I'm picking up groceries after work. I'll be a bit late.”
Magda drank a glass of water, then stretched out on the couch for some well-earned rest, holding the postcard and examining every detail of the Arctic scene. When she heard a scratching at the door, followed by a knock, she got up reluctantly to see who it was.
There stood Sport, eyes shining, tongue hanging, tail wagging. Behind him stood Mr. Buckle, in overalls and the ever-present hat.
"Sport, did you knock?" I asked.
"Not yet," Mr. Buckle replied in his gruff voice. "That was just me. But just wait, you'll see. He'll figure it out before too long."
Magda looked at Mr. Buckle curiously. She wondered what had brought him there.
“Would you be able to keep Sport for a few days?” he asked. “My son broke his leg. He has a farm up near Vanderhoof and he needs my help. I want to take the bus up there tomorrow. It would help me a lot if Sport could stay with you.”
Magda’s arms were around Sport’s neck patting his dark fur coat, and he was licking her face. Clearly, she loved Sport and he loved her. “Of course,” Magda said.
“Ask your mother first,” Mr. Buckle said.
“I’ll check. But she’ll say yes,” Magda answered with confidence. “Can he stay here right now? Then you can get ready without worrying about him.”
“Sure,” Mr. Buckle said. “Let me know what she says.”
Magda waved goodbye to him as he turned and trudged down the gravel road. She forgot all about resting. She joined Sport outside. He picked up a fallen branch between his teeth and pranced over to her, tossing his head as if to say, “Let’s play.”
A sudden, piercing whistle from the backyard sent his ears up and caused him to drop the stick. Gathering his feet under him, he raced around the side of the house to discover the source of the sound.
Who was it?
Chapter 2:The Legend of the Haunted House
Magda looked toward the side of the house where Sport had just disappeared.
“Boo!” Brent said, sneaking up on her from the other side of the house. His thin t-shirt hung on his bony shoulders. He wore his dirty red baseball hat backwards.
Magda laughed.
“Wasn’t that fun last night? Their faces! Tara’s eyes were this wide!” Magda said, holding her eyelids open.
“Let’s do it again.”
"Any time," Magda said. Then remembering her news, she told him, “I got a postcard from Shauna. I’ll go get it.”
She ran inside her house and got the postcard. “Shauna didn’t have time to write much, but look at this picture! Just imagine being there, seeing these animals close up and everything. She’s so lucky!”
“Yeah. She’s lucky, but she had to work hard to win a place on that scientific expedition, too.”
“I know. That was an amazing essay she wrote, wasn’t it? She’s so smart!”
“You’re lucky she’ll even speak to you, dummy,” Brent grinned.
Magda just ignored Brent’s comment, knowing it was the best way to deal with his teasing. “Fetch, Sport,” Magda said, and threw the stick Sport had dropped at her feet.
“Where were you today?” he asked. “I came over earlier but nobody was home.” He sat down on the step, his too-big blue t-shirt hanging loosely over his shabby shorts which were now covered with oil stains from cleaning his bike. His high-top runners were split at the sides. His baseball cap was perched on top of his fair, tangled hair.
“Polly Prudholme’s farm," Magda answered. "Did you forget I was working there?”
“Talk about lucky. How come she hired you?”
“She knows I can work hard and I don’t complain,” Magda said casually.
It was true. It was all about attitude. Magda was a willing, careful worker. And she loved animals. She knew Polly appreciated that.
“What about you? You’re lucky, too, working for Rick Richards this summer. You said you were going to learn more about photography.”
“Hey, he’s got photography equipment I never even knew existed. He’s taught me to use some of it, too.”
“What exactly do you do there?”
“Whatever job he gives me. Usually I just make frames. I cut them, sand and polish them, cut glass to fit them, and then put the pictures in the frames."
Magda kept up her game of fetch with Sport.
"So you're not actually taking pictures?"
"I take pictures for myself. He's always teaching me the tricks he uses to get different effects. But I'll be taking pictures for him soon. He’s shooting a wedding this week-end and he wants me to help him,” Brent said proudly.
"Wow! That's great! What will you do?"
"He said I can take a few candid shots. If he uses them he'll pay me extra for them. I'm going to be able to buy a new camera by the end of the summer."
"That's really great. Where's the wedding?"
"At the lighthouse. It's going to be completely outdoors. Let's hope it doesn't rain."
"What if it does?"
"Rick has a back-up plan, he says. He won't tell me what it is, though, because he says that’s unlucky."
They were still playing with Sport when Magda’s mother drove up on her green electric scooter. She had been working at the printing company and was tired after a day's work. She took the groceries out of the panniers and handed them to Magda to take indoors while she plugged the scooter into the electrical outlet on the side of the house.
“Can Sport stay with us, Mom? Mr. Buckle’s son broke his leg. He’s going to see him.” She helped her mother with the bags.
“It’s okay with me, as long as you take full responsibility for him,” Jessie replied, carrying a bag. “You know, walk him, feed him, and brush him. Make sure he’s having a good day.”
“I will. Thanks, Mom. I’ll call and tell Mr Buckle right away.”
Magda came back from the phone. "He said we should go over there and pick up Sport's dishes and food."
"Good idea," Jessie said.
Brent and Magda pedalled over to Mr. Buckle's place, with Sport running at their heels. The gate was open and they went in past the apple tree and knocked on the screen door.
"Oh, you're here, too," Mr. Buckle said when he saw Brent standing behind Magda.
Brent wasn't sure what to say, so he just shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe I should have asked you to take care of Sport," he said with a wink. "You do a pretty good job of looking after yourself, it seems to me."
Magda looked at Brent and then back at Mr. Buckle.
"I'm good at taking care of Sport, Mr. Buckle. I won't let anything happen to him."
"That's not what I meant," Mr. Buckle replied. "I was referring to your young friend here being able to take care of himself. He has to do a lot of that, don't you, son?" he asked.
"I guess so," Brent mumbled, looking at the floor.
"Well, don't let it get you down," Mr. Buckle said, putting a hand on Brent’s bony shoulder. "My mother was no queen either, and I ended up all right. But don't forget that you've got a friend in me if you ever need one," he said, turning away. "So what are you hanging around here for?" he said gruffly. "Take this stuff and get out. I've got packing to do."
"Thanks," Magda said, feeling confused. On the one hand, Mr. Buckle seemed to be very nice and at the same time he seemed kind of mean.
"What was that all about?" Magda asked Brent once they were outside.
"Who knows?" Brent replied. "Just embarrassed about being nice, I suppose. He's not used to it."
Magda realized there were some people she couldn't figure out. Brent, however, seemed to have no trouble understanding this odd old man with his rough manner of speaking.
At home, Jessie had already started dinner.
“Staying for supper?” she asked, turning to Brent.
“Sure. I mean yes, please,” he grinned.
“Go pick some beans from the garden,” Jessie asked the two of them, handing them a colander. “And some lettuce and two or three big, ripe tomatoes.” Magda and Brent were happy to do it.
“I guess we’re going to have a feast, as usual,” Brent said with a smile.
After dinner, cups of hot mint tea in hand, they all sat out on the deck, watching a red crested woodpecker in a tall fir tree working for its supper. Jessie was stretched out on a lounge chair, while Magda sat cross-legged on a big cushion. Brent slumped against the wall. A family of deer, a doe and two fawns, ambled by, nibbling grass and leaves.
“Mom,” Magda said, sipping her tea and looking out at the forest behind their property. “What exactly do you know about that old haunted house?”
"You mean the Parker place?"
"Yes."
Jessie drank some tea and closed her eyes, trying to remember. “As I recall, the story goes that Julian Parker, a very bad-tempered man, lived there with his wife and five children. Then, one cold, rainy winter, his family just disappeared. Nobody knew where they went. They were just gone. Old Julian got kind of strange, they say, and would walk around mumbling to himself, and sometimes he’d get into a terrible rage about something minor and try to fight with people.”
“Was he out of his mind?”
“He probably drank too much.”
“Do you think he murdered his family?”
“I can’t say. Everyone suspected he’d killed them because nobody heard from them again; not one word. And they had friends on the island. You would have expected a letter from one of them, at some point, to let people know they were okay.”
“Did the police investigate?”
“The police really had no reason to be suspicious. Mr. Parker’s story was that they got tired of living on Mayne Island and all moved back to Somerset, England, where his wife’s family came from."
“Didn’t the police ever go and investigate his property?”
“Apparently not. Or if they did, they didn’t find anything. I’m not sure about that.”
“Do you think he killed them?”
“Like I said, I can’t say one way or another, but some people think so.”
“Do you think the house is haunted now?”
“If you’re asking me if I believe in ghosts, the answer’s no,” Jessie said firmly. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Of course, many people do. An aunt of mine claims she saw a ghost once.”
“Which aunt?”
“Your Great-aunt Mathilda. She claims she saw a ghost. She was a young girl working in Vancouver as a nanny. She woke in the night to see the dead husband of her employer standing over her bed. She said a prayer and he disappeared. She swears it’s true.”
“What do you think, Mom?”
“Overactive imagination of a young girl. Nothing more.”
“Some kids think they saw ghosts in the haunted house,” Brent said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Hmm. What kids?” Jessie asked.
Magda shot Brent a look of warning. “Just a few of the kids, Mom. They were playing around there and thought they saw something.”
“Well, they probably saw something, but probably not a ghost. Anyway, those kids ought to stay away from the old building because it’s not safe anymore. The owners ought to tear it down before it collapses.” She gave Magda and Brent a stern look over her teacup. “Make sure you stay away from there.” Then, lightening up, she said, “Now, anyone for a board game? Monopoly? Clue?”
Magda and Brent opted for a game of Clue, which they played until Brent went home.
“Mom, what if the bodies are buried there? Do you think they are?”
“Magda, if they are, I hope they’re resting in peace.”
“What about justice? Shouldn’t their killer be found and punished?”
“If Julian Parker did it, it’s too late. They say he died years ago.”
Magda couldn’t stop thinking about the legend of Shauna’s Uncle Julian and his missing family. That night she wrote about it in her diary. She wrote, "Dear Tom." Tom was her brother who had drowned three years ago.
I just have to tell you about the Haunted House! The legend is fascinating! Julian Parker could have murdered his whole family, and if so, then I think there’s a good chance he buried them right there! And if they are buried there, there’s a good chance that they are haunting it.
It’s not just a story, Tom. I heard about the old house being haunted from some of the kids at school. They said that their parents saw ghosts there a long time ago.
We’ve been playing tricks on the kids, pretending to be ghosts, but I have a feeling real ghosts are haunting it, too.
Tom, I just have to learn more about it. I want to find out what secrets it holds. I just have to. I won’t be able to rest until I find out the truth.
Magda slid her journal under her pillow and turned over, pulling up her blankets.
Sport lay on the mat beside the bed. She could hear his collar jingling as he moved around.
“Good boy, go to sleep,” Magda murmured, and closed her eyes, attempting to go to sleep. Ten minutes later she was still awake, and half an hour later, as well. She was still wondering if the house really was haunted.
Only after promising herself to find out everything she could about the haunted house, did Magda finally fall asleep.
Her last thought before she lost consciousness was, "I know exactly what I'm going to do."
Chapter 3:Magda Makes Enquiries
After they washed and dried the breakfast dishes, Jessie asked Magda, “Would you take this seed catalogue over to Hortense Warwick? I've had it for a while.”
Magda said, “Okay. I want to go see her anyway.”
“What about?”
“The Parker house. She'll know about it.”
“Well, don't bother her. You know she can be short tempered.”
Magda waved good-bye to her mother, who drove off to her job with the printing company.
Magda was ready to start her investigations. If anyone knew the story behind the haunted house, Hortense Warwick would. She knew about the skeletons in everyone's closets. This woman had lived on Mayne Island her whole life and had sat on every committee and run several boards. People on Mayne Island tended to give way to her when she made pronouncements, though there were some who made a sport of provoking her.
Singing was her hobby, and at any time, morning or night, you might hear her contralto voice blasting through the forest, as she practised scales or sang an aria from a German opera. Tense, as she preferred to be called, she had no sense of humour, would never join a choir on the island, since she believed her own voice would overpower all the others, and it would have. She was, however, scathing in her criticism of other singers and everyone wished she would avoid all musical events, since she was certain to huff loudly and ask why some people called themselves singers.
When Magda rode up to her gate, Hortense was holding a large, metal kettle with a gardening-gloved hand, and pouring boiling water over the bright yellow dandelions peppering her lawn. Magda thought she looked tense, that her name really suited her.
“This is the only way to kill dandelions,” she declared in her stentorian voice, not bothering with greetings. “I boil up the water I’ve washed my dishes in, you understand, rather than wasting it. It doesn’t harm the environment and it makes good use of grey water, while eradicating the weeds.”
“Good idea,” Magda agreed.
“Of course it’s a good idea. Why else would I do it?” she asked brusquely, her eyes bulging behind owlish glasses that magnified already large eyes.
“Miss Warwick,” Magda began.
“War-rick!” she declared, turning red.
“Excuse me?” Magda responded.
“War-rick! My name is Tense War-rick!” she retorted. “You do NOT pronounce the second W.”
“Sorry. Miss War-rick, may I ask you something?”
“Of course. What do you want to ask? Do get on with it, girl.”
“I wondered if you knew anything about Julian Parker’s place, the one we call the haunted house.”
“Certainly I know about it. So what? ” she asked, her bulging eyes focused on Magda.
Magda gulped and carried on. “I've heard people say that Mr. Parker might have murdered his family, because nobody ever knew what happened to them. Do you think it’s true?”
“Humph! I suppose you’re one of those people who believes everything she hears.”
Magda shook her head, not knowing what to answer. But Tense carried on, “Well, let me tell you this. That Julian had a terrible temper, and in MY opinion, he could have murdered the whole family and half of Mayne Island in one of his rages. But there was never a proper police investigation, so it was never proven and he was free to carry on in the worst way, making life miserable for everyone here on the island. That said,” and Tense glared at her again, “You shouldn’t listen to gossip!”
Magda felt confused by this speech. Did Tense Warwick believe Julian was a murderer or didn’t she? “Excuse me,” she said, rubbing the top of her head and tangling her fingers in the hair, “But what do you think happened to his family?”
“It’s not right to speculate, but in MY opinion, they never left Mayne Island. However, nobody knows for sure. And you shouldn’t spread stories you know nothing about,” she admonished in a thunderous voice.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to know more about it. I thought you’d know because you're old enough to remember them.”
“Whether or not I knew them, I can’t claim to know what happened to them,” Tense huffed, “But they had terrible rows, and Julian had no patience with the children. Always yelling at them. Terrible temper.”
Tense continued silently pouring boiling water for a while, then looked up, gazing past Magda at some unseen picture. “Why ever did Eileen stay with that horrible man?” she seemed to ask herself. “I hope she did leave, and took the children with her.”
She looked at Magda sternly. “Never knew anyone who saw her leave, though. Would have had to take a ferry, wouldn’t she? Someone would have seen them leave.”
“So you think he murdered them?”
“Did I say that?” Tense glared at Magda, her face red. “Don’t go saying that Tense Warwick told you they were murdered. You know he still has relatives here who would not look kindly on that sort of remark. Like I said, nobody knows.”
Then, turning away dismissively, she said, “Now, as you can see, I have work to do, so just run along. And be sure to close the gate. Don’t want the deer getting in here. And hand over that seed catalogue you're hiding in your pocket. It's about time your mother returned it to me.”
Magda handed her the catalogue, thanked her and left. She felt perplexed. She wasn’t sure she’d actually understood Tense Warwick, and she didn't know if that was because she was stupid or because
Tense was a confusing speaker, but it seemed to Magda that she thought the family had been murdered yet didn't want to say so.
Magda had to find someone who knew the family better. She wished Shauna and her family were on the island so she could talk to them about it. After all, Shauna’s grandma, who lived in Vancouver, was Julian’s sister. In fact, Shauna's Great-aunt, Miss Ida Parker, lived in Victoria, where Magda had lived before moving to Mayne Island. Miss Parker was Shauna's grandma’s sister, and also the sister of Julian Parker. Maybe she could go talk to her.
Of course, Magda realized, even if Julian Parker had murdered his whole family, it didn’t prove that their ghosts were haunting the old farmhouse. But maybe they were.
Magda sat down and composed another letter to Shauna.
Dear Shauna,
I’m sorry if what I ask hurts your family pride. I don’t mean to insult you, but do you think your Great-uncle Julian killed his wife and all their children? I’m asking you this for the reason that if he did, there might be some truth to the rumours that the “haunted house” really is haunted. I thought that maybe I could talk to your grandmother or your Great-aunt Ida. They were his sisters, and maybe they know the truth about it. What do you think? If I were you, I'd want to know all about it and get to the truth, even if they were my ancestors. Please write back soon and let me know. Your friend forever,
Magda
Magda sealed, stamped and addressed the letter, then rode her bike to the large green bank of mailboxes at the side of the long road and put it in the slot. She wished they had a faster way to communicate, but this was it. They had to rely on Canada Post.
Once she got hold of an idea, Magda had a hard time letting go of it. She thought her day would be wasted if she didn’t do something else to find out the truth about the mystery of the haunted house. Of course, she thought, I can look for the bodies.
At that moment, a shrill whistle and skidding bike wheels got her attention. There stood Brent, knees hanging out of his pants, grinning from ear to ear, asking, “You ready for more haunting?”
Chapter 4:Lonely House
“You ready for some more haunting?” Brent asked.
“Whenever you are,” Magda replied.
“Great! Wait till you hear my great new idea,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got this really cool ancient Hallowe’en tape of ‘spine-tingling’ haunted house howls and screams that I found at the Thrift Store. And my mom's got a really old ghetto blaster with a place for playing tapes. We could hide it in the old house and crank up the sound."
"That would be fun. You want to play it while we jump up and scare the kids?" Magda replied.
"No. The best part of my idea is that we’d be right there with the kids, seeing them fainting and getting hysterical. We’ll still scare them out of their minds, but we’ll be with them, watching them freak out, instead of inside the haunted house missing all the fun! What do you think?”
“Great idea, Brent! I love it! Then we can pretend we’re scared, too. Let’s do it! We'll gat back at them again for those hot pepper cookies and have some fun with them.”
“Okay, I’ll go home and get the tape and player and we’ll meet over at the haunted house and set it all up. We'll have to find the best place to put it.”
"Okay. See you."
Magda turned to go, but from somewhere inside her, that quiet little voice whispered her mom's warning about the old house.
“Wait a minute, Brent. Just wait. It's a great idea, but I'm worried. Remember, my Mom said it’s too dangerous to go back."
“Yeah, I remember. So what?”
"I don't want you or anyone to get in trouble with the adults. It's not our property. We shouldn’t go back there.”
“I'm not worried about all that. I’ll do it myself, if you don’t want to help. Just don’t give me away. You can keep a secret, can’t you?”
“Of course I can keep a secret.” Magda replied in a hurt tone. “And it’s not that I don’t want to have fun. It’s just that Mom said not to.”
“Oh, well. It’s your choice. But she only warned us because she was worried and didn’t want us to get hurt. Right?”
“Right, I guess.”
“Well, we won’t get hurt.”
“I know. But still.”
“We won’t be not knocking down the walls of the house, just walking around inside. There’s not a chance we’ll get hurt. But I guess you have to choose,” he said with a sigh. “Have fun with the rest of us, or not. It’s up to you.”
Magda was torn. On the one hand, she hated to go against her mother, especially when it involved doing something dangerous. She knew how she worried, even now, three years later. Her dad and brother’s drowning accident was still fresh in Jessie’s mind. On the other hand, Brent was right. Nothing bad would happen, to them or the building. They weren’t planning to demolish the house, just go inside and do a little haunting. It was just harmless fun.
“Okay. I’ll come,” she said at last. “As long as we make sure nothing dangerous happens.”
“Of course, silly. We’ll just hide the tape recorder inside and one of us will turn it on. It’s all fun. Nothing and nobody gets hurt.”
“Right.” Magda wondered why it was that Brent could always do whatever he wanted. “Does your mom care if you play in the haunted house?”
“My mom? Noooo. Anyway, I didn’t talk to her about it.”
“Why not?”
Brent shrugged his shoulders. “Well, for one thing, she isn’t home. For another, she’s mad at me because I got in trouble again.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Just a broken window. I was playing with a ball, and broke a window in a house on the beach. She had to pay for it and I’m paying her back. But, the worst part was, the cop talked to her.”
“What did he say?”
“He got mad at her because she wasn’t there when he drove me home. She was gone for the weekend. Anyway, it was a big mess, and Mom said I might have to go into foster care.”
“Foster care! That’s awful. Why?”
“The cop had to come back again the next day. He said not to leave me alone overnight again, without providing supervision for me. Mom said it might be better if I did go into foster care.”
“I don’t want you to go, Brent. You don’t want to go, do you?”
“Of course not. So let’s just drop it now and make plans,” Brent said, looking uncomfortable. “Will you call and tell Jo and Rowan to meet us there, say around half an hour from now?”
“Sure. I will. Should you be doing this, though? I don’t want you to get in any more trouble.”
“Hey, don’t worry,” Brent said with a grin. “We’re not gonna get into trouble, understand? This is just for fun. Nobody gets hurt and we don’t hurt the old house.”
“Okay,” Magda agreed. “I’ll round up Jo and Rowan.”
Brent sped off on his bike, eager to carry out his plans, while Magda went indoors to phone her friends and arrange for them all meet at the haunted house.
Magda was still somewhat unsure of this venture. She knew they weren’t going to hurt anyone or anything. But she was feeling worried about not listening to her mother. However, she reassured herself that it was all in fun and not dangerous to anyone. And that really was the main consideration.
Magda was also worried about Brent. As she rode toward the derelict building, she wondered if he really was going to leave the island. She would hate that. Brent's friends on Mayne Island would miss him if he went. He should be allowed to stay here, not be sent away to live with strangers who didn’t know anything about the kind of boy he was. It just wasn’t right.