Page 12 of Secrets and Seashells at Rainbow Bay
‘We could press this bell,’ Charlie says, pointing to a brass button on the wall. ‘Maybe someone might come then?’
‘Worth a try. Go on, you press it then.’
Charlie pushes hard on the brass bell. We don’t hear anything our end, but we can only hope someone does inside the castle.
Then we stand back and wait.
After a couple of minutes of nothing happening, I press the bell this time, and again we wait.
‘I could get over those gates easy enough,’ Charlie suggests, looking up at the gates, which must be over nine feet high. ‘I’ve got over some that size before. These look like they’d be easy enough to climb, then I could go and see if I can find anyone inside.’
‘Ha, I don’t think so,’ I reply, not wanting to know under what circumstances Charlie has been climbing over gates like these. ‘There’s a reason those gates are that high and have those nasty points on top: topreventintruders from getting in.’
‘But I wouldn’t be an intruder, would I? It’s our castle now.’
‘True. But if you fell from up there then you’d be dead, or severely injured at the very least, so there would be no living in a castle for you then, would there?’
‘If I was dead I could be a ghost and haunt the place instead,’ Charlie says, quick as a flash. ‘Ooh . . . ’ His eyes light up. ‘Do you think thereareany ghosts here?’
‘Don’t be silly – there’s no such thing as ghosts.’
‘But this building is really old – I bet loads of people have lived and died here, some of them probably really gruesomely too.’
I shake my head. What is it with boys and the macabre?
‘A lot of them from ringing this bell when it clearly says on the kiosk we’reclosed,’ a gruff voice says behind us.
I jump at the new voice, and turn to see an older, thick-set man standing on the other side of the gate with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a tweed suit with a shirt and tie and green wellingtons, and he looks annoyed.
‘Oh, hello there; sorry to disturb you. I do know you’re not open today but—’
‘Exactly, we’reclosedto visitors.’
‘But we’re not visitors.’
‘Then we don’t want any,’ the man says brusquely.
‘You don’t want any what?’
‘Whatever it is you’re selling,’ he snaps, turning his back on us and beginning to walk away.
‘But I’m not selling anything!’ I call through the gates after him. ‘I’m Amelia. Amelia Harris . . . I mean Chesterford. I’m the new owner of the castle.’
The man stops walking and turns slowly around.
‘You? You’re the new owner?’
I nod hurriedly.
‘But the new owner isn’t due to arrive until tomorrow.’
‘No, I’m sure I have it right. I was told I could move in on the fifteenth of April, and today’s the fifteenth.’
‘We were told the new owner would be here on the sixteenth,’ he says suspiciously.
‘Er, no, it’s definitely the fifteenth. Look, I have it right here on my phone.’ I begin to look for the email I had from Davies & Davies.
‘No matter, miss,’ the man says, walking back towards the gates. ‘You’re here now. Let me just unlock this gate and we’ll get you inside. No doubt that silly girl got it wrong again.’
