Description: When Things Go Wrong YOU KNOW HOW SOME PEOPLE ARE UTTERLY PROFICIENT liars? People who can cheat at board games and still look the picture of innocence; people who can tell you that their parents are spies, or space explorers, or criminal masterminds and you believe every mind-boggling detail; people who can convince you that the word derrire is French for hungry, and have you spend an entire school trip to Paris telling bemused caf owners that you are bum ; people who never blush, who never look shifty, or stammer nervously, dry-mouthed, as they evade the truth? People who can lie as easily as they breathe, and you are never any the wiser? Well, Grey Arthur isn''t one of those people. "Well, erm, it''s not really that big a problem," he''d said awkwardly, eyes on the floor, tugging one of his wonky ears with his pale grey hand. Tom Golden looked at his fidgeting, evasive, twitchy ghost friend, and he slumped down on his bed with a sigh. "This is so not good, is it?" Tom whined, before taking a deep breath and nodding. "Okay. Come on, break it to me. How big is not really that big?" "Bigger than a small problem, I''ll admit." "Arthur." "I mean, it''s not like huge, not like Godzilla-size." "Arthur." "I just don''t want you to panic or freak out or anything. I just thought you should know, that''s all. It''s fine. Maybe." "Arthur! How big a problem is this?" Arthur looked up at Tom and bit his lip while he contemplated the scale. "Elephant?" he volunteered gingerly. "At worst. At best, more panda-size. Or a large dog. Or a small cow." "You''re going to have to start making some sense soon, Arthur." "Okay," replied Arthur, beginning to pace. It was never a good sign when he began to pace. "You know how everyone is settling in as Invisible Friends, and we all agree that it''s going very well, and everyone is happy, and that it was a good idea. Remember how we all agreed that it was a good idea? I mean, I specifically remember you saying that you thought it was a--" "Arthur!" howled Tom. "This is killing me. Can you just get to the point?" Arthur scowled, obviously not relishing having to say what he was about to say. "Monty''s human kind of worked out that he exists," he said, the words spilling out as quickly as possible before he could think better of it. Tom''s eyes grew impossibly wide and his mouth dropped open. "Now, although it sounds bad, it''s not as bad as it could be," Grey Arthur added hastily. "The good news is she doesn''t entirely believe. She still thinks it''s something to do with magnetic faults and geometric something or others, or latent psychic powers or whatever all that means." Arthur grinned at Tom, that "Aren''t humans odd?" grin that he used quite frequently, but when Tom remained looking serious, Arthur let the smile drop and licked his lips anxiously. "Okay, fair enough, you''re still not happy about it," continued Grey Arthur, before breaking off, an optimistic smile creeping back onto his ghostly face. "But I have something to tell you that will cheer you up. You know, every cloud has a silver lining, that kind of thing." Tom wasn''t quite sure what Arthur could tell him that would cheer him up after that bombshell, so instead of sharing Arthur''s excitement, he waited uneasily to hear what was coming next. Grey Arthur''s smile broadened as he indulged in a dramatic pause. He noticed Tom''s frown deepening, so he sighed and went straight for the grand announcement. " She''s called in Exceedingly Haunted Homes to investigate ." Arthur even punctuated the statement by waving his hands about, jazz style, while looking almost insanely cheerful. It''s possible Tom made a noise in response, but if he did, it was so high-pitched that only dogs and bats could hear it. If this was Grey Arthur''s way of cheering him up, he hated to hear what he would do if he ever wanted to make him worried. Grey Arthur''s jazz hands stopped waggling when he realized Tom wasn''t sharing his enthusiasm, and he slowly placed them in the pockets of his waistcoat while he waited for Tom to say something. It was quite a long wait. Tom stared blankly at Arthur, his mouth moving silently, shaking his head. "What''s the matter, Tom? Why aren''t you smiling? Or blinking? Why aren''t you blinking, Tom? Tom? Tom? Do you want me to get you a cup of tea? Isn''t that what we''re meant to do in these situations? Or get someone to slap you? I mean, I can''t, because of the whole ghost thing, but I could hit you with something, like a book, if that would help?" asked Arthur anxiously, when it became clear that Tom couldn''t work out how to respond. Tom batted away that suggestion with a flick of the hand, and instead sat up straight, loosened his school tie, and looked at Grey Arthur, his forehead a mess of frown lines. "You need to tell me," he said, his voice deliberately calm, "from the beginning, exactly what has happened." 2007 Louise Arnold In Good Spirits TIME HAD HURTLED ON RELENTLESSLY FROM THE MOMENT Grey Arthur had established his very own Ghost School, and the colors of England dutifully changed to fit in. Bright oranges, rich reds, and pale yellows seeped into the leaves on the trees, a final shout of defiance against the monochrome winter that lay ahead, and then chilling winds came that stripped everything back down to bare branches. The blue of the sky faded reluctantly to a washy grey. White frost decorated the grass, made clothes left on the line rigid with cold, and encased cars, triggering the merry morning ritual of hot water and deicer. Time crept on, dragging even lower temperatures with it. Hats and scarves appeared out of hiding, and shorts and skirts were consigned to the back of wardrobes throughout the land. It wasn''t long before Christmas burst on to the scene in an explosion of tinsel, flashing lights, and jolly men wearing fake beards. For every change that affected the weather, several more affected the lives that shivered and sheltered from it. A tidal wave of ghosts had been unleashed upon the land following the defeat of the Collector, and there wasn''t a home in England that didn''t feel the effect. Fresh hauntings sprang up across the land. The Laundry Run was undertaken by Poltergeists in previously unseen numbers, causing socks to be The Number One Most Requested Item on Christmas lists across the country. Castles were riddled with Screamers, Chain Rattlers, Headless ghosts, and Thespers, thrilling and terrifying unwitting tourists, tourists who came back again, and again, and again, desperate to soak up the spooky atmosphere. Sadness Summoners filled the empty seats in cinemas when weepy films were being shown, and not a soul left the building dry-eyed. It had been more years than any ghost could count since England had been this haunted, and the ghosts who had made all these changes possible worked hard to adjust to their new lives as Invisible Friends. Mildred Rattledust moved in with Holly Mayer, Tike with Frank Longfield, and Monty, the legendary Montague Equador Scullion the Third, keen to put his own dramatic twist on the role, moved in with Mrs. Wilson, the latest in a long line of substitute teachers for Science. The Harrowing Screamer wasn''t quite ready to be unleashed on his very own human yet, so he remained a guest of the Golden household, living in the shed. He didn''t seem to mind though. "Harry," as Tike had taken to calling him, pottered around with the compost, the spiders, and the stored-away barbecue, and late at night you could see him doing very strange things in the garden indeed. Tom thought it best not to ask. Screamers aren''t very forthcoming with answers. So that was how it was. Tom''s first ever haunted Christmas, full of laughter and turkey, crackers and party hats, advent calendars and visits from relatives who insisted on being kissed good-bye. The festivities disappeared, and the new school term loomed ever closer on the horizon. With Christmas out of the way, strange things happen. Snow stops being beautiful and exciting, and starts being cold, seeping into your shoes, making your socks damp and your toes numb. The Norwegian spruce in the corner of the lounge stops being green and harboring presents, and starts looking sad, shedding pines and turning brown. December, the month of presents and time off school, turns into January, the time of having to go back to lessons and getting smacked in the face with a "snowball" that is mostly ice and dirt. The final thing to break the festive mood entirely, though, was the revelation that the old cricket field in Thorbleton was being turned into a theme park, and every morning at six a.m. trucks would rumble past the house. Mum and Dad, who only mere days ago had been eating mince pies and telling jokes about reindeer, now spent their time writing angry letters to newspapers and standing at the window, twitching the curtains and tutting. The Season To Be Jolly was officially over. The first day back at school was very much like every other first day back at school--a mixture of missed gossip, renewing dusty friendships, admiring new pencil cases, and bemoaning the end of the holidays. However, some time after the final bell had gone, things took an altogether different path. ... 2007 Louise Arnold In Short Supply AS BLEAK WINTER DAYS GO, IT WAS ONE OF THE BLEAKEST. Ice etched ornate patterns on the outside of the Science room windows,

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