Ghost Stories Shade Shorts 2.0 by Gillian Phillips

Author:Gillian Phillips [Mary Chapman, Gillian Philip, Anne Rooney and John Townsend]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781781274927
Publisher: Ransom Publishing
Published: 2013-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

The Land Rover

by John Townsend

The Land Rover

by John Townsend

The track was a jungle of nettles and brambles.

‘Even Tarzan wouldn’t get past this lot!’ Tom sat on a tree stump and took a swig from his can.

Ali was keen to go home. ‘Let’s forget it. There won’t be anything there.’

Tom stood on the stump. ‘I can see something. It’s a roof. It must be one of the sheds. I’ve got to take a look while we’re here.’

Ali sighed. ‘It’ll take all day. Why don’t we come back at the weekend with hedge cutters?’

‘Hey – that’s one of your best ideas yet.’

Tom had never met his great, great Uncle Edgar. The old man had locked himself away for years in the farmhouse. He never let anyone come to see him. And that’s where he died, two months ago, at the grand age of ninety-nine. The police had to break down his front door. He’d been dead for days.

Ali went with Tom to the funeral, where they were surprised at how many people turned up. Uncle Edgar had been quite famous and had won medals in the Second World War. Then he’d worked in Africa, before hiding away in his old farmhouse, which became a real tip and full of junk. It took weeks to clear everything out, before anyone could start on the sheds and barns.

For most of Saturday, Tom and Ali hacked their way up the track to a row of sheds. The timber was rotten. Ivy and brambles had taken hold.

‘No one’s been here for fifty years, I reckon,’ Tom said. ‘This shed’s like Fort Knox. Look at those chains and locks!’

They needed bolt-cutters to open the door, even though its hinges had almost rusted through. A curtain of cobwebs shimmered where bats hung from the rafters. Rats scuttled, as light spilled inside. The first light for fifty years.

‘Yuk. What a smell of mould. I’m not going in there!’ Ali stood outside while Tom went in.

‘Help me pull the other door open,’ he called. ‘I need more light. There’s something in here.’

Shafts of dusty light cut through the gloom, where a rotten rug covered something big.

‘I don’t like it,’ Ali said. ‘There’s something scary here. I felt an icy shiver. I tell you, Tom – I don’t like it.’

But Tom was already pulling the rug to the floor, in a cloud of dust. Ali sneezed and turned away. Old, rat-chewed sacks slid to the ground as Tom stood back, his mouth wide open. ‘Wow! Just look at that beauty!’

Ali shrugged. ‘Big deal,’ she said. But Tom was already wiping the bonnet. ‘Don’t you see, Ali? It’s an old Series One Land Rover. I’d kill to get my hands on one of these!’

They didn’t hear the sound. Like something stirring.

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