The Ghastly Gerty Swindle With the Ghosts of Hungryhouse Lane by Sam McBratney Read Free Book Online

charming little peck on the cheek. Gerty just smiled. She was ever so pleased.
    Then they went to work. The Victorian lounge-sofa was a lump of a thing, and the grandfather clock didn’t exactly feel like a feather, either. Then they shifted some items from the attic, including a large and ancient bottle Gerty had wrapped in a velvet curtain for protection. The Edwardian baby carriage and the old teddy bear would certainly bring a pretty penny, thought Alexander. And the elephant’s foot. No doubt about it, Mumsy-wumsy sure knew what stuff to pick.
    This was the third big house they’d done in two years. Soon Alexander hoped he’d have enough cash to live the high life in some flashy spot like the Bahamas, or maybe even Rio. The climate was very good in Rio, he’d heard. No need for oil of eucalyptus there! Or Mother, either. Gerty played no part in his long-term plans.
    They filled the van in thirty-five minutes.

    â€œAre you sure they won’t suspect you?” said Alexander through the window of his van.
    â€œNo. I was out all afternoon, wasn’t I? Went to the village for some stamps. I’ll be in touch when I’ve gathered up enough stuff for a second run. Two trips should do us, then I’ll split. Take care now, you hear? We don’t want things swishing around in the back. Half of those lovely goodies are mine, duck. I want to be comfortable in my old age.”
    â€œDon’t worry about a thing,” Alexander said with a sly little smile. I’ll send you a postcard from Rio, he was thinking. “See you, Mom.”
    â€œAnd have that chest seen to,” cried Gerty. “There’s nothing worse than a summer cold.”
    It was a comfortable drive home for Alexander. He was disappointed, in a way, that he didn’t even spot a policeman, for there was an odd kind of excitement in driving a van full of somebody else’s property under the very nose of the law. Back at the shop, the jeweler’s assistant from next door helped him to unload the goodies.
    And now, on his own at last, Alexander uncovered the six stolen pictures from Hungryhouse Lane. Five of them weren’t up to much—perhaps a thousand each. Nice frames. But the sixth picture had all the moody charm of a landscape by Rembrandt. Oh man, we’re talking big money here, thought Alexander. Sunshine, here I come! The old magical thrill ofstealing things surged once more through muscle and vein, making him lightheaded.
    That was when he saw the monkey. He saw it quite plainly—the ghostly outline of a little monkey in a jacket and short trousers. And a fez. It seemed to be nibbling something. Nuts?
    Well, of course, this had to be an extraordinary trick of the light. Alexander knew that it would be gone when he looked again. And so it was. He gave himself a shivery sort of shake and smiled.
    You’re the one who’s nuts, Alex, he thought. Sillybilly!

9 …
    â€œThey’ve Got Lulubelle …”
    On a dry patch of ground near the top of the pond field, Amy Steadings laid out the picnic blanket and caressed its green tartan with such a long, sad sigh.
    â€œI’ve always used this blanket for picnics. It doesn’t seem to get old. It’s the very same blanket as it always was….”
    The Sweet kids watched in amazement as the old lady’s eyes misted over with great big wobbly tears. They had never seen a blanket make anyone cry before.
    Amy attempted a recovery with a smile. “You see, my friends and I used to come here and picnic in the old days. My, but I wish I had a penny for every glass of barley water and sparkling wine that we spilled! Memory is the strangest master of all, you know. One can’t choose what to remember and what to forget. There comes a time when you can’t share yourmemories with anyone at all. Your friends and loved ones have gone. They have all gone.”
    Amy ended with her lower lip trembling and out of