Kuenzler - My Family and Other Ghosts

Also by Lou Kuenzler

Bella Broomstick

Bella Broomstick

School Spells

Bella Broomstick

Halloween Havoc

Bella Broomstick

Strictly Spells

Bella Broomstick

Midnight Magic

Princess Disgrace:

First Term at Tall Towers

Princess Disgrace:

Second Term at Tall Towers

Princess Disgrace:

Third Term at Tall Towers

Princess Disgrace:

Winter Term at Tall Towers

Scholastic Childrens Books

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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2019

This electronic edition published by Scholastic Ltd, 2019

Text copyright Lou Kuenzler, 2019

The right of Lou Kuenzler to be identified as the
author of this work has been asserted.

eISBN 978 1407 19470 7

A CIP catalogue record for this work is available from the British Library.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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To my family and other friends.

- Lou K

CHAPTER ONE: A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT

It was a dark and stormy night and Ivy Graves woke to see a shadowy face staring in through her bedroom window.

Oh my goodness! she gasped. Its Grandpa Digby!

There were three reasons why Ivy was so surprised:

One: She had never met her Grandpa Digby before. (She only really recognized him by the bushy grey eyebrows shed seen in the faded photo of him in the living room.)

Two: Ivys bedroom was on the eighteenth floor of a tower block (and there was no balcony outside to stand on not even a proper windowsill, really).

Three (and perhaps most surprising of all) : Grandpa Digby was dead.

He was very dead. Or, at least, he was supposed to be.

Grandpa Digby had died ten-and-a-half years ago, on the very same day that Ivy was born. Just as she had come into the world, poor old Grandpa Digby had left it. Ivy had always imagined it being a bit like those swirly doors you see in posh hotels. One person comes in, then the revolving door spins round, and another person goes out. Except, in Ivys case, thered been two of them arriving because Ivy shared her birthday with her twin brother, Ash. Her younger twin, born twenty-two minutes after her (as she never tired of telling him). They had both been born on the same day that poor old Grandpa Digby had packed his mortal suitcase and checked out of the Land Of The Living Hotel.

Yikes! cried Ash, sitting up in bed suddenly and banging his head on the bottom of Ivys bunk above him. Did you see that? I saw a face at the window! A strange, shadowy face with HUGE bushy eyebrows. But but were eighteen floors off the ground and there isnt even a

Balcony, said Ivy, finishing Ashs sentence. She did that a lot. Its a ghost, she added calmly. Hes floating.

A g-g-ghost? Ash made a sound like a gulping goldfish, as the face bobbed past the glass.

Dont you recognize him? Ivy jumped down from the top bunk. Its Grandpa Digby, she said, padding to the window. Wed better see what he wants.

Dont! cried Ash, as lightning flashed across the stormy sky.

Ivy ignored him. She did that a lot, too.

She calmly pushed up the catch and opened the window as far as it would go which was about the width of a jam sandwich. All the windows, in all the flats on the eighteenth floor, only opened to a standard sandwich thickness. It was to stop anything thicker than a sandwich from falling out.

Hello, Grandpa Digby! Nice to meet you, she said, peering through the gap. Sorry. She gave the window another shove. Thats the best I can manage, Im afraid.

No bother, lass. Nice to meet you too, said Grandpa Digbys ghost. He had a thick, dusty voice, as if his throat was full of cobwebs. He floated closer to the window. Thisll do nicely.

Of course! said Ivy, jumping up and down excitedly. I bet you can walk through walls and windows and things, cant you? I mean, you are a ghost She trailed off, wondering if it was rude to mention that sort of thing. Perhaps spooks didnt like being reminded that they were D-E-A-D. But Grandpa Digby just chuckled and gave a musty cough, as the storm jostled him about.

Psst, hissed Ash, tugging at the sleeve of Ivys pyjamas. Psst Ivy. She ignored him (again).

Actually, Im not so good at the whole walking-through-walls thing, admitted Grandpa Digby, still floating outside the window and shouting a little to be heard over the wind. I have a tendency to get stuck halfway through. I once spent six whole weeks wedged sideways in the plaster between the library and the ballroom at Grave Grange.

Library? said Ivy. Ballroom? Shed imagined poor Grandpa Digby lying quietly in the cemetery ever since he had passed away. But it was obvious now that this stormy night wasnt the first time hed been up and about. Wheres Grave Grange? she asked.

Grandpa Digby didnt seem to hear her or perhaps he was ignoring her. Ivy didnt like being ignored.

Wheres Grave Grange? she repeated, shouting a little too loudly so that Grandpa Digby would be sure to hear her above the wind. But he still didnt answer the question.

You should meet my friend Harold the Headless Huntsman, he said, wagging a shadowy finger. Now, hes an expert wall-walker. So he should be, mind you. Hes had almost four hundred years to practise.

Four hundred years? said Ivy. You know people who have been dead for four hundred years? This was so exciting, she couldnt bear it.

Aghhh! Ash did not sound excited. He made a strangled sound like a python might if you tied it in a knot. D-did you say Headless Huntsman?

Pah! Hes a rotten old show-off, thats what he is. Grandpa Digby waved his hand dismissively. Ill tell you what, though, Im not a bad slider myself. Not once I put my mind to it. He floated right up to the glass and peered through the sandwich-sized slit. Yes. I should manage that, no problem.

A slider? said Ivy. Do you mean youre going to try and slip through that tiny gap in the window?

It would certainly be easier than having to hold our conversation from out here, said Grandpa Digby, a little crossly. All this floating about plays havoc with my dodgy hip.

Oh! Ivy had never imagined that floating might be hard work but, as she peered out into the darkness, she could see the old ghosts legs were churning up and down in mid-air as if he was pedalling an invisible bicycle. Sorry, she said, stepping back to make room. How very rude of us, Grandpa Digby. Do come