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  Finally Mr Goff spoke.

  ‘Gwen,’ he croaked. ‘Gwen Neary.’

  ‘Hello Bernie,’ said Gwen. ‘Sorry if I scared you.’

  ‘You… you got sick and they sent you back to the mainland,’ said Mr Goff, screwing up his face as if he was struggling with the memory. He looked at Gwen for a long time and tears started to roll down his bristly cheeks. ‘You didn’t get better,’ he said softly.

  Gwen smiled sadly at him.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m with Mabel.’

  Mr Goff’s face lit up. ‘Mabel,’ he said. Then his face fell again. ‘Poor little beggar.’

  Jake realised he was holding onto a jetty post too. His legs were pretty wobbly as well. He tried to remember if he’d ever seen anything on TV about group delusions. Two or more people imagining exactly the same thing at the same time.

  He couldn’t.

  ‘Bernie,’ said Gwen. ‘You were around here when Jake was born. Did his parents want him?’

  Jake stared at her. What was she doing?

  Mr Goff looked out to sea for quite a while. Then he turned back to them.

  ‘I wish I could say yes,’ he said, not looking at Jake. ‘But I don’t honestly know. They kept to themselves mostly. I know when they first came here they weren’t planning on having kids. And the way they’ve treated the poor bloke since…’

  He spat into the water.

  Jake suddenly felt he wanted to leave. He took a step, but Gwen put her hand on his arm and suddenly he didn’t feel so bad.

  ‘I’m glad you got off the island alive, Bernie,’ said Gwen.

  Mr Goff smiled sadly.

  ‘I’m alive,’ he said, ‘but I haven’t really got off the island, have I? I’m here four times a week.’

  Gwen smiled back at him. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Some things take time.’

  Mr Goff turned to Jake.

  ‘She was always like that,’ he said. ‘Cheering us up when things were tough. If she’s your friend now, you’re a lucky bloke. Don’t fight it. You’ve had a rough trot and you deserve her.’

  He ruffled Jake’s hair.

  Jake nodded as if he understood.

  He wished he did.

  But he didn’t.

  Poor Gwen was suffering from oxygen deprivation, that’s why she was having these delusions, but what was Mr Goff’s excuse?

  As Jake and Gwen walked up to the house, Jake realised what he wanted most in the world, apart from Crusher and parents who loved him. It was to go and have a lie down, and when he got up, for everything to be back to normal. For Gwen’s brain to have got better. For Gwen and Mabel’s parents to have turned up. For Mum and Dad to invite the whole family for a long holiday after the magazine people had gone. For he and Gwen to have heaps of time to get to know each other properly.

  ‘A lie down would be good for you too,’ he said to Gwen. ‘Somewhere quiet, like your parents’ boat. Or you could use the Pink Room, that’s quiet.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Gwen, ‘but I’ve got to find Mabel.’

  Jake’s insides lurched as he followed her into the house. He’d forgotten about Mabel. She could be pestering Mum and Dad about Alfonse at this very moment.

  Luckily she wasn’t.

  Mum and Dad were busy in the office.

  ‘I think she’s up here,’ whispered Gwen, pointing up the stairs.

  They crept up.

  Gwen stopped outside the Blue Room.

  ‘This used to be the punishment room in the home,’ she said. ‘We were put in here for days sometimes. One time, to give myself something to do, I scratched a message on the wall for the other kids to see. “We’ll all be free one day,” I wrote. The people running the place saw it and scrubbed it out and kept me in here for an extra week.’

  Jake saw Gwen’s eyes flash.

  ‘So I got my hand through the window bars,’ she continued, ‘and scratched it again on the outside wall.’

  Jake stared at her. That must have been what Mum was doing up the ladder. Scrubbing it off so the magazine people wouldn’t see it.

  Except she couldn’t have, because none of this was true.

  Suddenly from inside the Blue Room came a faint and tearful voice.

  ‘I want Alfonse.’

  ‘Mabel,’ said Gwen, and went in.

  Jake followed her.

  Whoever Alfonse is, he thought, I wish he’d turn up. With a bit of luck he might know where Gwen’s parents are and whether they’ve got private medical insurance.

  Inside the room, Jake looked around, puzzled. He couldn’t see Mabel anywhere. Not in the ensuite, not under the bed, not behind the dresser. The wardrobe door was open and she wasn’t in there.

  Then he saw Gwen looking upwards.

  He looked up too.

  And gasped.

  High over the bed, her little face streaked with tears, was Mabel.

  For a second, Jake thought she was hooked on the ceiling somehow. But she wasn’t. He could see daylight between her and the plaster. No hook. No rope. No superglue.

  She was floating in the air.

  Her tears were forming drips on her chin and dropping onto the bed. Jake could see the big damp patch they were making on the sheet.

  He didn’t look at the damp patch for long. His eyes shot back up to the incredible sight on the ceiling, his brain struggling to make sense of it.

  ‘I thought she’d be here,’ said Gwen. ‘She’s been here a bit lately. It was where she died.’

  As this sank in, Jake looked up at the silent anguish on Mabel’s face.

  Then he looked at Gwen as she climbed onto a bedside cabinet and reached up to her little sister.

  His own silent anguish started.

  There was no other explanation.

  He had to accept it.

  His first ever real live friend was a ghost.

  16

  Jake ran.

  He ran out of the house into the side garden, squeezed through the hedge into the ti-tree grove, flung himself between the trunks and branches, and slithered down through the tangled undergrowth to the side beach.

  He didn’t care how scraped or ripped he got.

  What did it matter?

  All he’d wanted was a friend and instead he’d got a nightmare.

  He threw himself down on the sand and pressed his face into a pile of seaweed. It was slimy and smelly but at least it was real live seaweed, not seaweed that had died forty-two years ago.

  OK, it was very smelly. And Jake could tell it didn’t give two sucks of a sea slug that he was feeling bad.

  It might be real and live, thought Jake miserably, but I bet it doesn’t give people presents to cheer them up. Or share oxygen with them when they desperately need it.

  Jake flopped over and lay with his cheek on the wet sand, staring out to sea.

  He tried to think of happy things like rolling down sand dunes and staring at ants with Crusher, but things Gwen had said kept barging into his mind.

  Something about being with all the other unwanted kids.

  Something about it being fun.

  What unwanted kids?

  Where?

  Jake’s thoughts started to ebb and flow with the waves that were hissing towards him across the sand.

  He tried to imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by other kids.

  Other unwanted kids, just like him.

  Kids like Gwen.

  Never lonely again.

  Forever.

  That, thought Jake as his eyelids started to get heavy and the waves started to sound like voices whispering his name, that would really be living.

  Even if you were dead.

  ‘Jake, wake up.’

  Jake opened his eyes.

  He blinked a few times.

  Gwen was looking down at him. Behind her was the blue sky. He could hear kids’ voices, laughing and chattering.

  Jake sat up.

  He was cold from the wet sand and his back was stiff.


  But when he looked around he forgot all about that.

  He stared, gobsmacked.

  There were kids all over his beach. Kids of all ages, running around having fun in tatty old fashioned clothes. Playing with his boogie board and fishing gear and beach tennis and snorkle set.

  A boy nearby was building a medieval sandcastle, using Jake’s bait spade to carefully carve out the battlements. Jake’s plastic Star Wars action figures were already in position in the castle. The boy glanced up and saw Jake.

  ‘Hey,’ yelled the boy to the other kids. ‘He’s awake.’

  Before Jake knew what was happening, he was surrounded by kids, staring at him, grinning, whispering to each other.

  Jake looked around for Gwen, but he couldn’t see her.

  ‘Thanks for letting us use your stuff,’ said the sandcastle boy. ‘We haven’t got stuff like this where we are.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said a girl with a hair curl over one eye and a bruise over the other. ‘We haven’t got parents who spoil us.’

  ‘Ignore her,’ said a boy with a friendly face and half of one ear missing. ‘We’d give anything to have parents like yours.’

  The other kids murmured their agreement.

  Jake was about to put them straight about Mum and Dad, but he found that the muscles in his throat had seized up with shock.

  ‘It’s still pretty good, but, where we are,’ said a girl with frizzy ginger hair and painful-looking red marks on her hands. ‘Specially since the Internet.’

  The other kids all laughed.

  ‘Yeah,’ said the sandcastle boy. Jake saw he had the same bruises on his legs as Gwen. ‘It’s good fun these days. All the e-mails come through us. We make sure they all go to the, um, right addresses.’

  More laughter.

  What does he mean? thought Jake. Then he remembered the e-mail that had gone to the travel magazine.

  ‘Viruses,’ said a girl with several teeth missing. ‘We have heaps of fun with them.’

  ‘Websites that eat credit cards,’ said an angry-looking boy with a bandaged chest. He grinned. ‘I invented those.’

  ‘OK everyone,’ said a voice loudly. ‘Back off and let him breathe.’

  Jake realised he hadn’t taken a breath for a while. He took one, and saw with relief that the voice was Gwen’s.

  She knelt in front of him on the sand.

  ‘Jake,’ she said, ‘this is Polly.’ She pulled an earnest-looking girl in a grubby blue cardigan closer to Jake. ‘Polly was in the home with me and Mabel. She found her way back to the island around the time you were born.’

  ‘I came back to look for a key,’ said Polly. She held out her arm. Jake saw that round her wrist was a length of rusty chain held in place by a padlock. ‘I didn’t find one,’ she added.

  Jake reached out slowly and touched the padlock. It was rusted over.

  Gwen put her arm round Polly.

  ‘Tell Jake how his parents felt when he was born,’ said Gwen.

  Polly nodded vigorously, face glowing with memories.

  ‘They were so pleased,’ she said. ‘Your mum and dad. Over the moon. Tickled pink. They wanted you so much. We were really jealous.’

  The other kids all murmured agreement.

  Jake stared at them, struggling to take it in.

  They were all ghosts.

  He was surrounded by ghosts.

  Polly was still gazing at him, her pale face shining. She looked like an ordinary kid thinking about something she really wanted.

  Suddenly Jake didn’t care if Polly was a ghost or Gwen was a ghost.

  He just wanted to believe them.

  ‘Thankyou,’ he said to them both, his eyes hot and his voice thick.

  Before he could suggest taking Polly to Mr Goff so Mr Goff could remove the padlock with WD40 and a hacksaw, Gwen spoke again.

  ‘Jake,’ she said gently. ‘There’s one more thing you should know. It’s about Alfonse.’

  Jake saw that Mabel, face still tear-streaked, was standing at Gwen’s shoulder.

  ‘The reason Mabel came back for Alfonse,’ said Gwen, ‘is that he helped her when she was very sad and lonely. Specially when she was locked up on her own. Teddy bears can be really good at that, eh?’

  Jake felt cold dread seep through him. He saw the way Gwen was looking at him, and suddenly he had a strong feeling he didn’t want to hear any more.

  ‘Just before Mabel died,’ continued Gwen, ‘they took Alfonse away from her and shut him away. That was when she promised him she’d come back for him.’

  Gwen looked at Jake for what felt to him, as his panic rose, like ages.

  ‘You can understand that, can’t you,’ she said gently.

  ‘Alfonse has got a scar on his face,’ said the girl with frizzy hair. ‘I sewed it up for Mabel.’

  Jake stood up.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ he shouted.

  Frantically he pushed his way through the kids and started running across the sand.

  It was crazy. What would a bunch of ghosts know anyway. Making up stories about important stuff just for a laugh. First rule of hotel management. Never trust anybody involved with computer viruses. Specially not anything they say about parents or teddy bears.

  He reached the undergrowth at the base of the slope that led up to the house and started clawing his way up through it.

  I’ll find out the truth, thought Jake grimly. I’ll find it out from Mum and Dad.

  17

  Mum and Dad were still in the office.

  As Jake burst in, he saw them sitting together, heads bent over what he assumed was the bookings book.

  Then he saw it was the photo album, open at his baby photos.

  Mum had tears in her eyes.

  She and Dad looked up, startled.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me,’ said Jake. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Crusher belongs to someone else?’

  They stared at him, even more startled.

  ‘What do you mean,’ said Dad.

  Mum put her hand on Dad’s arm. ‘Let me, Frank,’ she said. ‘Jake, love, I didn’t want to give Crusher to Kevin and Fiona. I did it for all of us.’

  ‘I don’t mean that,’ said Jake. ‘I mean why didn’t you tell me Crusher’s real name is Alfonse. Why didn’t you tell me he belongs to a kid from the children’s home.’

  Mum and Dad looked at each other.

  ‘But he doesn’t,’ said Dad. ‘Does he?’

  ‘How did you find out?’ said Mum to Jake. ‘How did you find out about the children’s home?’

  Jake looked at them sadly. They still couldn’t get their story straight.

  ‘I know everything,’ said Jake. ‘The furniture in the bottom cellar, Mr Goff being Bernie, the ghost kids…’

  Mum was so startled by this she dropped the photo album. ‘Ghost kids,’ she said, standing up. ‘What ghost kids?’

  Suddenly Jake couldn’t stand it any more. He just wanted to get to the truth. Even if it changed their lives forever.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ he said.

  Dad leaped to his feet, alarmed, and dropped what he’d been holding.

  Jake saw it was Gwen’s cardboard doll.

  What ghost kids, thought Jake scornfully. You know perfectly well what ghost kids. OK, let’s see you pretend you don’t know when they’re right in front of you.

  He turned and headed out the door.

  ‘Jake,’ said Mum. ‘Where are you going?’

  He didn’t reply. He just glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were following, then headed for the side garden.

  Jake waited for Mum and Dad to struggle through the hole in the hedge. When they’d made it into the ti-trees, he picked his way between the trunks and branches to a place where they’d all be able to look down onto the beach.

  Just before he got there, Dad gave a yell.

  Jake looked back. Dad was holding his head where he’d banged it on a branch. Jake took a step towards him, concerned.

 
; Then stopped. It’s not bleeding, he thought, and there are more important things to worry about. That was the trouble with parents, you cared about them even when they’d been lying to you.

  Mum and Dad struggled over to him.

  ‘Jake,’ said Mum, ‘What are you doing? Come back inside. You mustn’t be seen. We mustn’t be seen with you.’

  Jake tried to keep his voice calm.

  ‘You reckon you don’t know what ghost kids I’m talking about,’ he said. ‘So I’ve brought you here to show you. Now perhaps you’ll tell me the truth. About Crusher.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And about me.’

  He turned and pointed down at the beach.

  And felt his mouth drop open helplessly.

  The beach was deserted.

  The ghost kids had vanished.

  Jake took a step closer to the top of the slope, straining to see if the ghost kids were hiding behind the rocks.

  They weren’t.

  The beach was completely empty.

  Or was it?

  Jake pushed a branch away from in front of his eyes and suddenly saw, sitting on the sand, three figures.

  With a cold sick feeling rising in his guts, Jake recognized them.

  One was Crusher.

  The other two were the magazine people. They were building a sandcastle. With the bait spade and bucket. Strewn around them on the sand were the boogie board and fishing gear and beach tennis stuff and snorkle set.

  And, thought Jake, weak with despair, my Star Wars figures.

  It was all over.

  The magazine people must know there was a kid on the island.

  They knew the exclusive adults-only retreat was a fake and a sham. And that’s what they’d be writing in their article.

  Unless, thought Jake, I can stop them.

  He flung himself down the slope, crashing through the undergrowth. He was getting even more scraped and ripped than last time, but he didn’t care.

  I’ll explain to them, he thought wildly as fronds lashed his legs and branches whacked him in the face. I’ll explain everything and they’ll understand. They’ve got to. They were kids once. They’re building a sandcastle. They can’t be all bad.

  He burst out of the undergrowth and sprinted across the sand towards the magazine people.

  Crusher saw him first and even though Crusher didn’t show it, Jake felt the relief and love radiating from Crusher’s furry, stitched-up face.