Sam Llewellyn

The Haunting of Death Eric

Gothalinda looked rueful. 'I am afraid I have dropped in to tell you that Castle Bones is no more.'
  'Like, someone nicked it?' said Eric.
  Enid frowned. This was a business meeting, and as usual Eric was missing the point. 'Start at the beginning, Gotha,' she said. 'Tell it like it is.'
  'Sank you,' said Gothalinda, setting her hands in her red velvet lap. 'Vell. A lonk time ago, we took over the studio at Castle Bones. Efferyone used it. Spinal Tap, Motley Crue, Blek Sabbat -'
  'Who?' said Eric.
  '- efferyone. But now is different. Now effery geezer who has a guitar can schtick it in his computer und bingo! Album-quality recording.'
  'It's not the same,' said Buddy soothingly.
  'You know that and I know that,' said Gothalinda. 'But you try tellink Radio Vun.' She made a complicated curse gesture. 'So anyvay. The maintenance is a killer. The staff problems, vell, you try employink an engineer that is a werewolf. Plus there is a curse obviously and a ghost, and at my age you can't be doing with curses.'
  'You don't look very old to me,' said Lou.
  'I'm seven hundred and twenty-vun,' said Gothalinda. 'I've had enough. The pressure got to me. I slid back into . . . vell.'
  'You haven't been drinking blood again?' said Enid.
  'I'm not proud of it. I need help. I must take some time off and go into revamp.'
  'Re what?'
  'Like rehab, but for the vampire community. Anyway, I am looking for someone to live in Castle Bones.'
  'You're what?' said the children, for whom Castle Bones was a much-loved fixed point in rather random lives.
  'I'm retiring,' said Gothalinda. 'After revamp I plan to bury myself in the country. Someone wants to buy Castle Bones. A fat man in a vaistcoat. He says it vill make a very loffly country club mit eighteen-hole golf course and fishing. He says he can deal with the Ghost.'
  There was a silence. 'Castle Bones Country Club?' said Lou. 'I don't get it.'
  'The Castle Bones where Death Eric recorded their legendary Return of Death Eric album?' said Buddy. 'A golf club? No way.'
  Gothalinda spread her delicate white hands in a gesture of hopelessness. 'Vay,' she said.
  'I'll buy it,' said Eric from the sofa.
  'Wha,' said everybody except Gothalinda, who was suddenly (thought Lou) looking just the smallest bit triumphant.
  Eric sat up and fell off the sofa. 'There is a bat there,' he said as Enid picked him up off the floor.
  'Where?' said everyone, looking wildly round the room.
  'At Castle Bones. His name is Norbert and he is very, very like me. Except for the ears, and the wings, and of course he can't play guitar because of webbed fingers, plus he is a bat not a person. But I really like that bat and I will defend his home against any like pig or swine who wants to turn it into a golf ball.'
  'Club.'
  'Exactly. Plus I have never met a ghost and the kids might like it.'
  Enid's face looked like a huge rugged landscape over which clouds were forming. 'I'll call Stiggy,' she said, in a voice that was not at all convinced.
  'Who?' 
  'Stiggy is your latest manager.' The clouds were thick and dark, with thunder in them.
  'Oh. Yeah.'
  'Enid,' said Lou. 'We like Castle Bones. My pet snakes will love it - think of the rats! And there are too many tourist buses and nosy parkers round here nowadays, you said so yourself. This is a good idea at a very good time.'
  'You do not understand,' said Enid.
  'Vot is your problem, Enid?' said Gothalinda.
  'Problem?' said Enid, battering buttons on her mobile phone. 'Castle Bones is all very well. But can the band afford it? I mean, the record company is going, Where's the album? And, You need a new look, and things are tight. Plus ghosts. I dunno.'
  'We have never met a ghost,' said Buddy.
  'They may be extremely interesting,' said Lou.
  'Yeah,' said Enid, sighing a bit, because this was rock and roll, after all. 'If you say so. No problem. Just callin' up the management. Stiggy?' Pause, listening. 'Yeah. See you in five.' She turned to the assembled company. 'He's in the chopper,' she said. 'He'll be here any minute.'
  Sure enough, rotors clattered, the lights on the Stratocaster Hall helipad lanced brilliantly into the sky, a red chopper swooped out of the night, and a figure in a dark suit jumped out and jogged towards the house.
  'Bet he pats us on the head,' said Lou.
  'And chucks us under the chin,' said Buddy. 'And tells us that tourist buses are good publicity.'
  The door burst open. In trotted the suit. On top of it were short black hair, long white teeth, and a round brown face. On the bottom of it were shiny black shoes with little gold snaffle bits on. All around it was a cloud of Mon Skunque Cologne for Men.
'Well hello hello hello,' cried the suit, trotting across the room, patting Lou on the head, chucking Buddy under the chin, and shaking hands warmly with everyone else except Eric, who had vanished. 'Three tourist buses in the drive. Great publicity. Eric here?'
  'Not here,' said a voice from under the sofa.
  'Cool. Fine. Wonderful. Super. Marvellous,' said Stiggy, shooshing the magic of his personality round the room like fire-extinguisher foam. 'And it's Draculetta, innit?'
  'Gothalinda,' said Lou.
  'Like I said, Gothalinda. And how is it over in Skull Manor?'
  'Castle Bones,' said Buddy.
  'Whatever. Dead unhygienic, if you ask me.'
  Gothalinda's manner had become extra chilly. 'I do not remember asking you anythink.'
  'Brilliant. Super. Cool. Fine,' said Stiggy.
  'Gothalinda wants Eric to buy Castle Bones,' said Enid.
  'So do we,' said Buddy and Lou.
  Stiggy's beaming smile did not falter. 'Wild. Excellent. Cool. That old dump? She must be out of her mind.'
  'Stiggy?' said Eric's voice from under the sofa. 'Zat you?'
  'Certainly is,' said Stiggy, wriggling with delight at the idea.
  'You're fired,' said the voice from under the sofa.
  There was a silence, broken only by the click of Stiggy's jaw falling open.
  'The door is on your left,' said Lou.
  'The round thing on the right-hand side is the handle,' said Buddy.
  'Ahahahaha,' said Stiggy. 'Only joking. Lovely, I mean super, marvellous, cool. Castle Bones, eh? How much?'
  'Give her what she wants,' said the voice under the sofa.

The Haunting of Death Eric  © Sam Llewellyn, 2006. Published by Puffin Books.