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  It was dark inside. There was no light in the stairwell. But music was floating down from above. I had heard the tune before. It was ‘Stay Away From Me Baby’. I knew it was meant for me. But who was up there? And why didn’t they like strangers on the island? I was scared – I didn’t want to go up. But I forced myself. My knees were knocking together as I climbed the dark stairs.

  I went around and around. I was glad that I had my torch – it was creepy in there. The music echoed. It seemed to be laughing at me. ‘You won’t get rid of me,’ I said aloud. ‘You won’t scare me off like the others.’ I tried to sound tough, but I didn’t feel tough. I wanted to turn round and run back to the house. I forced my legs to take me all the way to the top.

  There was light coming under the music-room door. The music was very loud. It was definitely coming from the music room. Suddenly the tune changed. Now they were playing ‘The Green Door’. I thought of some of the words. They were: ‘What’s behind the green door?’ The door of the music room was green, and I wanted to know what was behind it. But I was too scared to go in. Whatever was in there knew where I was. Then the door started to open on its own. It just slowly opened.

  I couldn’t believe what I saw. I started shaking all over. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I wanted to turn around and run, but I couldn’t. My legs wouldn’t do what I wanted them to. The clarinet was playing itself. And the saxophone was doing the same thing, They were both floating in mid-air. Someone or something was playing them, but they were invisible.

  I was really scared. My knees were knocking together. I decided to get out of there. Then I thought about the other two boys who had left the island. I wasn’t going to be scared off like them – no fear! No ghosts were going to chase me away. I took a step forward into the room.

  As soon as I entered the room the music stopped. The clarinet and the saxophone floated through the air and landed on the table. Everything was quiet. I went over to the table and picked up the clarinet. It was covered in cobwebs; it looked as if it had not been played in years. I picked it up and blew in it. A cloud of dust came out of the end.

  5

  Something had been blowing those musical instruments only moments before, and now they were covered in dust. Ghosts. It had to be ghosts. The ghosts of Captain Rickard and Alan Rickard. Stan’s father and grandfather. But why were they so unhappy? And why did they want to scare away everyone who came to the island?

  I decided to talk to them. I was still scared. I had never met any ghosts before. But it was worth a try. ‘Listen, guys,’ I said. ‘What’s the matter? What are you trying to scare me away for? I won’t hurt you, or the island. I won’t even touch anything in this room. Come out and show yourselves.’

  Nothing happened. The room was empty and quiet; I could hear myself breathing. Then I started to feel cold all over. I started to shiver. They were in the room with me but they wouldn’t answer. I felt as if cold, cold hands were touching me. Cold hands from the grave. I let out a scream and ran for my life. I tore down the stairs and ran out into the dark night.

  As I ran back to the house the music started up again. They were playing ‘See You Later Alligator’. I knew they were laughing at me. They thought they had scared me off, but they were wrong. I was scared all right, but I wasn’t leaving. No way.

  I got back to the house and went into the kitchen. Stan was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He looked up at me as I came in. I could see that he had been crying; he had been rubbing his one eye and his cheek was wet.

  ‘I’ve just had a radio message,’ he said. ‘They are going to pull down the lighthouse.’

  ‘Who is?’

  ‘The people in charge. The government. They have been talking about it for years, but I didn’t think they would really do it. They are going to put in a lighthouse that doesn’t need a keeper. An automatic one. It will just be a tall tower with a light on the top.’

  My mouth fell open. Stan would be out of a job and so would I. We would have to leave the island. ‘They just can’t do it,’ I said. ‘They just can’t.’

  ‘Yes, they can,’ said Stan. ‘They are coming next Friday. We are supposed to help them knock down the lighthouse.’ He looked very old. He didn’t know what to do. He just sat there shaking his head and staring into the fire. After a while he spoke again. ‘My father died here. And my grandfather. I wanted to spend my last days here too. Now I will have to go and live on the mainland. They will probably put me in an old folks’ home.’

  Suddenly I had an idea. ‘Wait a minute. Don’t give up yet, Stan. We’re not the only ones on this island, you know. We can get some help. We can put up a fight to save the lighthouse.’

  Stan looked up at me sadly. He didn’t know what I was talking about.

  6

  I thought I knew why the music was playing. The two ghosts lived in the lighthouse. They didn’t want it to be knocked down. So they played spooky music every time a stranger came to the island – they tried to scare them off. They didn’t care about Stan. He was their grandson and he loved the island. They knew he wouldn’t hurt the lighthouse. That’s why he never heard the music.

  But playing music on Friday nights wouldn’t work, not against the wreckers. They would come in the daytime. And it would only take one day to knock down the lighthouse. Then it would be gone forever. It would be too late to do anything then.

  I had to talk to the ghosts. I had to tell them that I was friendly, that I didn’t want the lighthouse to be knocked down, and that I needed their help to save it.

  I ran out of the house and up to the music room. It was as quiet as death. The saxophone and clarinet lay on the table. I didn’t waste any time. ‘Listen, guys,’ I said. ‘I know you are here. And I know you can hear me. I want you to show yourselves. I’m your friend; I want to help you. I don’t want the lighthouse to be knocked down. I want to save it. But I need your help.’

  Nothing happened, There was dead silence. I felt a bit silly. Maybe I was talking to myself. Maybe there weren’t any ghosts. Had I dreamed it all? Was I going mad? Then I looked at the clarinet and saxophone. I knew I had heard them playing. I started to get angry.

  ‘You stupid ghosts,’ I shouted. ‘Don’t you know that this place is going to be knocked down? The wreckers are coming on Friday. We have to stop them. Stan and I need your help. Playing music on Friday nights won’t stop them. We have to think of something else.’

  Silence. If the ghosts were there they weren’t saying anything. ‘Okay,’ I yelled. ‘Have it your own way. Let them knock down the lighthouse. Let them throw poor old Stan out of a job. You won’t have any home. You will just be blown around by the wind.’

  When I said this I noticed something happen. Some drops of water were slowly dribbling through the air. They looked like raindrops running down a piece of glass. But there was no glass there. There were two lots of them trickling downwards. At first I felt frightened, but then I realised what they were. They were tears – tears running down invisible faces. The ghosts were crying.

  7

  I knew I had won. The ghosts were on my side; they didn’t want the lighthouse to be knocked down. But they still weren’t saying anything. Then I realised why. They couldn’t talk. Ghosts can’t talk.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘this is no good. I can’t see you and I can’t hear you. I want you to pick up the musical instruments if you are going to help.’

  Very slowly the clarinet and the saxophone started to rise in the air. As they did so, the dust and cobwebs fell off. They were sparkling like new. Then they started to play. I recognised the tune straight away. It was ‘We Shall Not Be Moved’.

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ I said. ‘Now you will have to come outside. We need you to scare the wreckers off. You will have to come outside to do that. In the daytime. In broad daylight.’

  The music stopped. The clarinet and the saxophone started waggling from side to side. The ghosts didn’t want to go outside. ‘It’s no good doin
g that,’ I said. ‘You will have to come outside. You will have to scare the wreckers off before they get to the lighthouse. They might blow it up with dynamite from the outside. A bit of music at midnight won’t do the trick. Come on. Come with me now, before they get here. You can practise going out in the daytime.’

  I walked out of the room and started going down the stairs. Halfway down I looked over my shoulder to see if they were coming. They were. The saxophone and the clarinet were slowly floating down the staircase. They were bobbing up and down as they went. I couldn’t see the ghosts. ‘Hang on to those musical instruments,’ I told them. ‘It’s the only way I know where you are.’

  When we got to the bottom I looked outside. The wind was blowing a little bit. It was not very strong, only a breeze. I stepped outside and turned around. ‘Come on, you two,’ I said. ‘There is nothing out here to hurt you.’

  I was wrong about that, but I didn’t know it at the time. They started waggling again. They didn’t want to come out. I waved my arms at them. ‘Don’t you want to save the lighthouse?’

  The clarinet and the saxophone slowly floated outside. Then something terrible happened – they started to blow off in the wind. The wind was blowing the ghosts away. They were drifting off towards the edge of the cliff. I ran over to the clarinet and tried to grab it. My fingers went right through it; it wasn’t solid. When the ghosts touched the musical instruments they changed. They became ghostly. I tried to grab the saxophone, but the same thing happened. There was nothing I could do to help.

  They drifted closer and closer to the edge. Then both instruments fell to the ground. They started to slowly move along the ground in little jumps. I knew what was happening. The ghosts were crawling. They were trying to crawl back to the lighthouse by hanging on to the grass. The wind started to blow more strongly. I was worried that they might blow out to sea. ‘Come on,’ I shouted. ‘You can do it. Keep going. Keep going.’

  And they did keep going. All I could see was a saxophone and a clarinet making small hops across the ground. It took a long time, but at last they got back to the lighthouse. They went inside. I tried to go after them but the door slammed in my face. I opened the door and was just in time to see the instruments floating quickly up the stairs.

  When I got to the music room everything was quiet. The instruments were on the table, covered in cobwebs. And the ghosts were nowhere to be seen. ‘Come on, guys,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know the wind would blow you away. Come back. We will think of something else.’

  But there was no answer. They were mad at me. And I didn’t blame them. After all, I had nearly got them killed, if you know what I mean.

  8

  I told Stan about what had happened. He believed me. I didn’t think he would; I could hardly believe it myself. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I knew something was up there. I thought that it might be Captain Rickard and my dear old dad. But I didn’t really know. I have never heard them myself.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ I asked him. ‘How are we going to stop the wreckers? The ghosts won’t help us now. They are mad at me.’

  Stan shook his head sadly. ‘I don’t see what they could do anyway,’ he said. ‘If they can’t come outside they won’t be much use to us. We’ll just have to try and stop the wreckers on our own.’

  I went up to the music room every day that week. I begged and I pleaded. But nothing happened; the room was empty and cold. There was no sign of the ghosts. I didn’t know whether they could hear me or not.

  At last Friday came. A ship arrived at first light. It unloaded five men and a bulldozer. There was also a tall crane with a huge steel ball on the end. I knew what that was for – it was to knock the lighthouse down. The men set up camp down by the beach.

  Stan and I watched them from the house. ‘I’m going down to see them,’ said Stan. ‘You wait here. I don’t want you losing your temper. Let me handle it. I’ll ask them to go away. I’ll tell them that we are not going to help.’

  ‘That won’t do any good,’ I said. ‘They won’t take any notice. It’s no good talking. We will have to sit down in front of the bulldozer or something like that.’

  ‘First I will try talking,’ said Stan. ‘It’s worth a try.’

  I watched him walk down to the beach. He was bent over and he walked slowly. His white beard was flapping in the wind. A strong south westerly was blowing. I saw him talking to the men – he was pointing to the lighthouse and shaking his head. One of the men started waving his fists at Stan. I could see that they were shouting at each other. Stan turned around and came back to the house.

  ‘It’s no use,’ he said as he came in the door. ‘They won’t listen. They said they have a job to do. They have given us until lunchtime to get all our things out of the lighthouse. Then they are going to knock it down. The only thing I want is my violin,’ he said. ‘Not that I can play it any more – not with these old hands. Go and get it for me, will you, boy?’

  I went up to the music room and picked up the old violin. I decided to leave the clarinet and the saxophone. They belonged to the ghosts. I decided to talk to them once more. ‘Listen, ghosts,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry that you were blown away in the wind. It’s windy today so I know you can’t go outside. But you must be able to do something. We need your help. Stan is too old. He can’t do much to stop the wreckers. They are going to knock the lighthouse down this afternoon.’ I waited a long time. But there was no answer. In the end I turned around and walked away. Stan and I were on our own.

  9

  After lunch the bulldozer and the crane started up towards the lighthouse. There was a very narrow part where the track went close to the edge of the cliff. The bulldozer and the crane would have to go past there. Stan and I sat down on the track. We held hands and waited. ‘I hope they don’t run over us,’ I said to Stan.

  ‘They won’t,’ he replied, but he didn’t sound too sure.

  It didn’t take long for the bulldozer to reach us. Its big steel blade stopped just in front of our faces. The driver got down. ‘Get out of the way,’ he said, ‘or I’ll squash you flat.’

  ‘No,’ said Stan. ‘We’re not moving.’ His voice was shaking.

  I looked up at the driver. He was an ugly-looking brute, and he was big. Very big. He picked Stan up with one hand and threw him out of the way. Stan landed on the ground with a thump. He didn’t move. He looked as if he was hurt.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ I screamed. ‘He is an old man. Leave him alone.’

  The driver gave an ugly grin. ‘Now it’s your turn,’ he said. He picked me up the same way. I kicked and struggled but it was no good. He threw me out of the way. Three other men came and held me down. The bulldozer and the crane moved up towards the lighthouse. The crane stopped right in front of the lighthouse door. The big steel ball started to swing backwards and forwards through the air.

  Then I noticed something. The wind had stopped blowing. It was very still. I listened carefully. Yes, I could hear music. The door of the lighthouse opened and out came the clarinet and the saxophone. They were playing ‘When The Saints Go Marching In.’

  The driver of the crane couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His eyes nearly popped out of his head. A saxophone and a clarinet were floating through the air and playing a tune. He jumped off the crane and ran down the track. He was screaming his head off.

  The saxophone floated up above the seat of the crane. The crane started moving backwards towards the sea. One of the ghosts had put it into reverse gear. It rumbled slowly towards the cliff. The ghost was still sitting on it. I could see the saxophone – it was still over the driver’s seat. Then the crane started to tumble over the cliff. At the last minute the ghost jumped clear. The saxophone came floating back.

  The driver of the bulldozer let out a roar. He put the blade up and drove towards the lighthouse. Stan jumped up and pulled one of the levers. The bulldozer turned and headed towards the cliff. Stan and the driver were both struggling over the contr
ols. The bulldozer got closer and closer to the edge. The driver suddenly jumped off. Stan tried to jump off too, but his leg was stuck. The bulldozer tipped over the edge and fell. Down, down, down it went. And Stan went with it. It tumbled over and over. And then it crashed on the rocks beneath.

  The ghosts started playing louder and louder. It wasn’t a tune, it was a loud roaring noise. It was angry and sad at the same time. Then both instruments fell to the ground. I didn’t know where the ghosts were. Then I saw the driver rise up into the air. The ghosts were lifting him up. They suddenly dropped him. He fell onto his head. He let out a scream and started running down the track. The other men followed him. They were scared to death.

  I went and looked over the edge of the cliff. The two ghosts picked up their instruments and stood next to me. I couldn’t see them. I could just see the saxophone and the clarinet floating in the air. I knew that Stan was dead. No one would have lived through that crash.

  The ghosts started playing a sad, sad tune. I knew the first lines. They were: ‘We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.’

  I looked at the grey sea. The wind was blowing the spray high into the air.

  The wind.

  ‘Quick,’ I yelled. ‘Back to the lighthouse. The wind is getting up.’ But I was too late. A sudden gust of wind blew both ghosts over the edge and out to sea. I watched as the clarinet and the saxophone drifted away, getting smaller and smaller. They looked like two tiny leaves blowing along in a storm. In the end I couldn’t see them any more; they were gone.

  10

  Well, that is just about the end of the story. Stan was buried in the tiny cemetery next to the other two graves. The wreckers left and didn’t come back. Their union said that the men would not work on the island. They said it was too dangerous.