Squishy Taylor and the Vase That Wasn't Page 3

  Mina is still talking. ‘There’s no way that vase is anything special. I keep telling Harry that Mum bought it from a two-dollar shop on Sydney Road, but he’s got this whole other story.’

  ‘Ming Dynasty, acquired during the Opium Wars.’ Jessie nods, sounding like a teacher.

  Mina looks a bit surprised. People don’t expect kids to be as smart as Jessie is. ‘That’s what Harry says, yes.’

  ‘But the police must have looked at the security footage too,’ Jessie insists. ‘What does Mr Hinkenbushel say?’

  ‘Um … the police couldn’t really … help,’ Mina says.

  Mina looks weirded out that we know about Mr Hinkenbushel, so I explain. ‘He’s our next-door neighbour. We hate him so much that we made a revenge video about him one time.’

  Mina laughs again. ‘You’re filmmakers too, huh? I edit video, documentaries mostly.’ She reaches for the laptop on the table and then changes her mind. She stands up instead. ‘All right. Enough. Don’t you kids have somewhere to be?’

  She closes the door behind us and we head down to the lift.

  ‘How can she know there’s no ghost?’ Vee asks, sounding hopeful and nervous at the same time.

  ‘She can’t know,’ I say. I love the mystery of it. Haunting or hoax? ‘I bet Mina was looking at the ghost too. Bet she wants to make a famous documentary about it.’

  ‘If we could just get on the internet,’ Jessie says. ‘I bet there’s something dodgy in the footage.’

  The lift isn’t coming.

  ‘Stairs?’ I suggest, and we turn and pelt for the stairwell, schoolbags bouncing on our backs. When we reach the landing, I look up at the last set of stairs before we go down. These stairs are special, because they go to the roof. They’re more like a metal ladder, and they’ve got a tall gate in the middle to stop people going all the way up.

  Stuff designed to stop people is awesome, because it’s difficult. Difficult equals fun. Vee and I glance at each other, then ditch our bags and race up the metal ladder together. Our shoulders bump and our arms tangle on the rails, but Vee beats me to the gate.

  ‘Guys,’ Jessie calls from below, ‘what are you doing?’

  Vee swings a leg over the gate, then drops down the other side. Too easy. I follow and by the time I’m over, Vee is at the very top landing, by the door. You can tell it goes to the outside, because drops of rain are beating underneath. Also, there’s a sign on the door saying Rooftop Access. It’s locked, of course.

  ‘I reckon the roof door has the same lock as our balcony,’ I say, leaping down the stairs two at a time. ‘The bobby-pin trick would work for sure.’

  Vee laughs. ‘Let’s do it!’

  Jessie shakes her head at us.

  When we reach our corridor Mr Hinkenbushel is arriving home, pulling his keys out of his pocket. We stop talking as soon as we see him and he ignores us.

  I realise he is the only other person, apart from Haunted Harry, who we know has seen the ghost. He was there, on the same screen as us.

  My heart is all fast and brave from climbing the gate and thinking about the locked door to the roof. I don’t stop to think.

  ‘Um, excuse me, Mr Hinkenbushel –’

  He turns and glares at me. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Um, what are you doing about that ghost?’

  ‘What?’ He looks at me like I’m a piece of dirt.

  I don’t feel quite so brave anymore, but I keep talking. ‘The ghost in the footage. We know you saw it too.’

  His face goes red and angry. ‘I didn’t see a ghost, because there was no ghost.’ He gets louder and redder and the spit starts to gather around the corners of his mouth. ‘You kids think you’re so clever, but you’re just nosy, brainless idiots with nothing better to do than –’

  ‘OK, fine, sorry,’ I say.

  We dash through our own door while he’s still shouting.

  ‘Subtle move, Squishy Taylor,’ Jessie says and we all laugh.

  When I skype Mum in the lounge room, everyone wants to talk to her. Alice comes over with a basket of laundry and starts asking about the Greek economy. Of course Mum won’t shut up. Alice stays until every sock is paired. I even help, so she’ll go away faster. Mum doesn’t notice.

  Finally, when Alice leaves, Jessie brings Baby over and lets him bash the iPad. Mum just laughs at how cute he is.

  Then she has to go. ‘Love you, Squishy-sweet,’ she says, blowing me a kiss.

  It makes me want to cry when she hangs up.

  Geneva feels like it’s on Pluto, rather than just a plane ride away.

  I’m still cranky about missing out on Mum-time when it gets to goodnights. I hardly notice how quiet Vee is. But I do notice when she takes the torch up to bed.

  I ask, ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she mutters. ‘Just so I can see stuff if I need to.’

  Dad does his new round of equal forehead-kisses, but I duck my head away at the last minute.

  ‘What’s up, Squisho?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I mutter, just like Vee muttered to me. I want him reach in and give me a proper cuddle. But he just leaves.

  I can’t sleep because I’m cranky about sharing my mum and dad. I think about Mum laughing with Jessie about Baby. I squeeze my eyes closed. I try to think about the vase mystery instead, but it’s not fun. It’s just scary. I roll over and pull my blankets tighter.

  I wake up to a light darting around the room. It takes me a moment to realise it’s Vee with the torch. What’s she doing?

  She flicks it off after a minute and I lie in the dark.

  The bunk ladder starts creaking and our bedroom door eases open. Vee is sneaking out.

  I’m thinking about following her when she comes back in. Dad, stumbling and sleepy, is with her. He stands by our bed, saying, ‘It’s four in the morning, sweetie. There are no ghosts. Just go back to sleep.’

  He’s using his special Dad-voice. My Dad-voice. It makes me remember all the things I was mad about when I fell asleep.

  After he leaves, I can’t hold it in anymore.

  ‘He’s not your dad, you know,’ I say.

  ‘Wha-at?’ Vee asks.

  ‘You think you can have my dad? Well, you can’t, he’s mine.’

  Jessie rolls over in the bunk underneath mine. ‘What are you guys talking about?’ she says sleepily.

  Vee says, ‘I just had a bad dream.’

  She sounds like a whingey little kid. Which is annoying.

  ‘All I’m saying is, he’s my dad, not yours,’ I say.

  ‘Squishy!’ Jessie says. ‘Don’t be so selfish. She’s just freaked out –’

  ‘Me? Selfish? You’re the selfish one! You stole all my Mum-time tonight and didn’t even think about what you were doing.’

  ‘Whoa! Squishy, it’s the middle of the night and you’re being a weirdo,’ Jessie says.

  I don’t say anything.

  Then I say, ‘I’m not talking to you guys.’ Just in case they don’t understand the silence.

  I realise Vee is crying. Sometimes I’m so much more mature than she is.

  ‘Vee?’ Jessie says. ‘What’s up?’

  Vee takes a sobby little breath. ‘It’s the ghost. I can’t sleep because of it.’

  ‘There is no ghost,’ Jessie says.

  ‘But we saw it,’ Vee insists.

  ‘We saw a video,’ Jessie says. ‘It could have been anything.’

  Vee keeps crying. Even though it’s annoying, I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for her. I’m so angry and twitchy, my bones are itching to do something.

  ‘Maybe we should try to scare off the ghost,’ I say, because there’s something scary-exciting about the idea.

  Jessie is silent.

  ‘Jessie?’ Vee asks.

  ‘OK, fine,’ Jessie says. ‘There’s no ghost. But we can do it if you really want.’

  ‘Can we do it now?’ Vee asks. ‘I can’t sleep.’

  ‘All right,’ Jessie says. ‘Where
?’

  I know exactly where.

  ‘We have to make sure we clear out the whole building,’ I say. ‘That means we have to go up on the roof.’

  We tiptoe around the dark kitchen with the torch, looking for good things to take. Jessie finds a bobby pin and Vee gets our oldest recipe book, the brown one with gold writing on the front.

  ‘This one’s just like the big book in the movie,’ she whispers.

  I pull open the spice drawer, because there was turmeric and holy basil at my grandmother’s funeral. I know funerals are different from ceremonies to scare away ghosts, but they’re both for saying goodbye to dead people. I want to take candles and the lighter, even though we’re not usually allowed, but Jessie makes me put them back. She’s so bossy.

  Jessie slides everything into a green bag, and then spots the iPad. She grabs it too and I take the key off the hook by the door.

  We tiptoe out into the dimly lit corridor, and down to the bright stairwell. We run up to the ladder.

  I climb the gate easily and Vee follows. Jessie reaches up to pass the bag to me. She starts climbing, but stops with one leg over the top.

  ‘I’m stuck,’ she says. She’s clutching on, and doesn’t want to lift her second leg over the top.

  ‘Come on,’ Vee says. ‘Just hold tight and lift your foot over.’

  Jessie’s knuckles are white. She’s almost lying along the top of the gate and the foot near me keeps trying to find a new spot. She looks like she doesn’t trust herself to put it down.

  I remember how scared I was looking down from our balcony, how shaky and slippery my hands felt.

  ‘You’re OK,’ I say. I step up under her. ‘Tread on me.’

  I guide her foot and hold it steady on my shoulder.

  ‘Uh,’ she says. ‘Is that OK?’

  She’s kind of heavy, and her foot is mashing my ear.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say. ‘Just a bit squishy.’

  Jessie half-laughs, half grunts, then she’s over the top and climbing down the other side. Her foot catches my curls and yanks at them.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Sorry!’

  We stand, breathless, by the Rooftop Access sign.

  ‘You better be able to pick that lock,’ Jessie says.

  But, just like I thought, the lock is the same as the one on our balcony. All it takes is just the right jiggle, and I’m done. Awesome. I push the door and it swings open.

  We’re out on the roof. It’s wide with a wall all around the edge. The main thing I notice is the city, out beyond the wall. It’s huge and sparkling all around.

  ‘Eeee!’ squeals Vee, running out across the clear space and spinning in a circle.

  It’s stopped raining and the air is cold and clear. I can hear the sound of cars below, but so far away.

  Behind us, the door we came out of looks like the entry to a little shed.

  It’s the perfect place.

  Vee scatters a circle with the basil and places the recipe book perfectly in the middle. I mark our foreheads with turmeric, swiping up with my finger like they did at my grandma’s funeral.

  Jessie hunches over the iPad.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, leaning over her shoulder.

  ‘Getting the footage of the ghost,’ she says. ‘Hang on … it’s pretty low on battery … but … here we go.’

  The ghost is still there, standing tall and still on the screen. We all stare at it as it fades to white and disappears into an empty corridor.

  Then Jessie touches the screen. ‘I’ll put it on loop,’ she says. We watch, mesmerised, as the ghost appears and disappears. Jessie places it beside the recipe book in the middle of the circle.

  ‘Hands on the book,’ Vee says, as we sit cross-legged around it. We place our fingers on the cover.

  Vee looks up and says, ‘Now we need to chant.’

  ‘Chant what?’ Jessie asks, looking a bit embarrassed.

  I think about the Om Namah Shivaya chant my grandmother used to do, but that doesn’t seem right.

  ‘What about, go away ghost?’ Vee asks.

  But I shake my head. ‘We don’t just want it to go away,’ I say. ‘We want justice. We want to return the vase to the temple.’

  Then Jessie gets inspired. She’s the one who knows good words. ‘Ghost be gone and justice will follow.’

  Vee grins and I say, ‘Perfect.’

  So we all chant together:

  ‘Ghost be gone and justice will follow.

  ‘Ghost be gone and justice will follow.

  ‘Ghost be gone and justice will follow.’

  We sway around the recipe book with the screen light shining up on our faces. Jessie is looking down at the iPad, and Vee and I are looking out into the darkness. My voice sounds different and special when it’s exactly in time with the others. The night feels enormous, spreading out from the roof. Our voices get louder and louder until it feels like something big will happen. The wind blows our hair, smelling of dried basil. We slowly stop chanting.

  Everything feels quiet and good.

  ‘Do you think it worked?’ Vee asks.

  I nod. I think it must have.

  Jessie is still focused on the iPad. ‘Hey,’ she says, snatching it up. ‘It was a hoax! Look – the video’s been edited.’

  She points her finger to the screen, at the doorframe behind the ghost. The frame jumps sideways when the ghost appears, and the shadows get darker in a flash. It jumps back again when the ghost disappears.

  ‘Someone pasted video over the top here,’ Jessie says. We stare as it loops again and the doorframe jumps.

  ‘So there was no ghost?’ Vee asks.

  ‘No ghost,’ I say. I’m actually disappointed.

  ‘But there was someone who edited video and stole a vase,’ Jessie says, as if to make me feel better.

  The iPad’s battery is showing 2% charge. I watch the loop flip through again. There’s still a mystery to solve.

  Then, out of nowhere: BANG!

  The door at the top of the stairs slams shut.

  Vee screams and we all scramble to our feet and run for the little shed.

  There’s no handle on the door. Nothing to pull on. Just a keyhole. We scrabble down the side, trying to squeeze our fingers in the tiny gap.

  No use.

  We’re stuck here on the roof.

  ‘Help! Help!’ Vee shouts as we all run to the edge of the building. The wall is concrete and comes up to my chest. I have to stand on tiptoe to see the street properly. The few tiny people under the streetlights don’t look up. Anyway, if they did, they wouldn’t see us up here in the dark.

  ‘Do you think the ghost locked us up here?’ Vee asks.

  ‘No!’ Jessie says. ‘There is no ghost, remember? Someone edited the video.’

  For the first time, I feel a little bit scared. I glance at the closed door. ‘Do you think the person who made the video locked us up here?’ I ask.

  ‘No!’ Jessie says. ‘It was the wind and our own stupid fault.’

  I think she’s probably right. But we are stuck on a roof in the dark. So it’s a bit scary anyway.

  In a big rush, all I want is Mum. And the iPad is right here. I grab it.

  ‘Good plan,’ Jessie says. ‘Message Mum.’ But I’m not messaging Alice. I tap through to Skype.

  Bloobleep bloobleep.

  ‘Squishy, no,’ Jessie says.

  But it’s already connecting.

  Mum’s face comes up. She’s not at her desk. She’s at home with wet hair and a dressing gown.

  For one second she squints at me, confused.

  Then the iPad goes black with a little white turning circle in the centre. It’s run out of battery.

  ‘You idiot, Squishy,’ Jessie says. ‘Skype takes so much more power.’

  We watch the last light on the screen fade. This is it. We’re really alone up here. For some reason, the black screen reminds me of Dad not cuddling me goodnight. I bite my lip and my eyes blur fro
m tears. Both my parents have deserted me.

  Jessie is frowning. ‘We need to get a message to someone.’

  She tries to turn on the iPad again, but the battery is definitely flat. Vee rips pages out of the recipe book and runs to the edge and starts folding a paper aeroplane. She throws it down to try and get someone’s attention, but it just death-spirals into the darkness.

  I watch it go and think it needs a message. I try to write Help on the next one with wet turmeric instead of a pen, but it ends up a big yellow mess. Jessie stands beside me, flashing the torch towards the street, but nobody notices.

  Finally we slide down with our backs against the wall. I’m out of ideas and this has stopped being a fun adventure. It feels like we’re going to be here for the rest of our lives. I’m getting cold. I realise I don’t even care about the vase. I just want to go home and eat breakfast.

  Vee shivers, and says, ‘I’m hungry.’

  I realise I can see her face. ‘It’s starting to get light,’ I say. The sky is turning pale all across the horizon.

  ‘We have to figure a way out,’ Jessie says. ‘Mum and Tom will wake up soon.’

  I pull back up to my feet and lean my elbows on the wall, looking across the street. The angles of the buildings and the trees below look very familiar.

  ‘Is that Boring Lady’s office?’ Vee asks, joining me and pointing.

  She’s right, it is. And Boring Lady is already at work. She must start early. She’s directly across from us, and two floors below. Which means –

  ‘That must be Haunted Harry’s balcony just down there,’ Jessie says.

  We’re looking straight down at a balcony with a table and some pot plants.

  And a big white vase with blue decorations.

  Vee stares down at the vase. ‘We brought it back. We did it.’

  ‘Vee!’ Jessie’s got her grown-up voice on. ‘There was no ghost.’

  ‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘we haven’t finished the job yet. The vase needs to go to that temple in China.’