CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
thieves! burglars! criminals!

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

"I SAW THEM earlier," Ralph explains, "from up in the attic. Their names are Vinny and Nev. When all those boxes were being loaded into the house, they arrived in their own rectangular carriage and kept... I don't know, loitering."

"Are they the only burglars?" Effie asks.

     "Should be, yes."

     "Alright..." She taps her foot on the ground, her mind racing wildly. How can they drive out burglars with no Alison to alert?

     "Perhaps we could try and scare them off?" Ralph suggests.

     "But we tried scaring off Alison and Mike when they first moved in, and look at how that turned out," Effie laments... until an idea dawns on her. "In that vein, I might know where we can get some re-enforcements. Follow me!"

     Ralph goes bounding after Effie downstairs, speeding through the halls cloaked in darkness and out into the night. They wade through the garden — which has been considerably cleaned up in preparation for the wedding — and head straight for the newly-built shed in the back. It might be the first time she has willingly walked into the lair of the American musical duo.

"Linda, Lloyd, we need your– oh!"

The pair are locked in an embrace when she walks in. Effie knows this, because when they tear apart, Linda's lipstick is slightly smudged and Lloyd's hair is all scruffy. "Oh, hello! We didn't see you guys there," Linda laughs awkwardly. "We were just– uh—"

"No time to explain! We need your help," Effie cuts them off, though still bewildered to see them being much more cordial than when she last saw them. "There are burglars in the house."

"Burglars?!" Lloyd echoes, a tinge of anger colouring his voice.

"Have you told Alison?" Linda asks worriedly.

"Alison's gone out," says Effie, and Ralph nods encouragingly behind her. "Until she gets home and we figure out a plan, we'll need all the help we can get. I thought I would let you both know — am I right in saying you can give people a static shock?"

Surprised that she remembered, Lloyd perks up in delight. "Uh, yeah, we can. But it's only when people walk through us."

"Do you think you can cope with that for a bit?"

The pair grimace at one another; being walked through as a ghost is a nauseating experience, so doing it multiple times in a row must be incredibly exhausting. Linda then gives a martyred sigh. "Well, what's the worse that could happen? It's not like it can kill us, obviously, so I say we do it... for Alison."

"Amen to that," Lloyd pumps his fist in the air.

"And... who're you?" Linda suddenly asks Ralph. They must not have a clue who he is, either.

"Oh, I'm Ralph," says the trapeze artist.

"Long story!" Effie cuts in, dragging him away before he can start telling it. She and Ralph rush back into the house, panting for breath as they try to relocate their group. She means to inform them that Alison isn't home so they can stop looking — instead, she finds Thomas, Pat, Robin, the Captain and Julian all huddled around a rotary phone as the latter strains to dial a number. "What are you all doing?" she exclaims.

"Alison's not home—" starts Thomas.

"We know!" Effie cuts in.

"— So, Julian here is just trying to telephone the authorities," the Captain adds.

Dialling the final '9', the ghosts let out a triumphant cheer as the line goes straight through to an emergency operator. Effie opens her mouth to raise the point that immediately stuck out to her, but they soon catch on just as quickly — the operator can't hear a word they are saying. To her, she might as well be speaking to thin air.

     "We not think this through," mutters Robin.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" the operator asks.

"Oh! The plague girl can be heard!" Thomas remembers.

"Yes! To the pantry," the Captain agrees, rushing off.

"But how do you know everyone can– oh, I give up," Effie rolls her eyes.

Ralph stays and examines the rotary phone with curiosity. Meanwhile, she tries to keep eyes on the burglars. She goes towards the grand staircase, where she sees Vinny reach for the banister. Lloyd has appeared to stand by him and braces himself as the burglar walks through his body. He immediately jolts back in surprise at the strong static shock, whilst Lloyd clutches his stomach queasily.

"What the...?" Vinny mumbles, rubbing his hands on his trousers.

"Ugh, that felt gross," Lloyd shudders.

"I know," Effie urges him innocently, "but keep at it! It could be a long night."

"Urgh..."

She hears chatter again, and realises the other ghosts have retrieved Jemima from the pantry. "Right, pay attention," she hears the Captain commanding. "Just ask for the police. Tell them a burglary is in progress at Button House, then give them the address. Got it?" When she walks back into the room, she sees the plague-infested girl giving the Captain a cold stare, which makes him shudder. Still, he gives Julian the cue to finish dialling the number again.

"Emergency services. What service do you require?"

"Yes, please, Jemima," the Captain gives her the signal, squatting readily.

There is silence for a moment. Then...

"Ring-a-ring o' roses, a pocket full of posies," Jemima sings quietly, "a-tishoo, a-tishoo..."

"I think that's maybe all she does," Pat winces, all the hope withering away.

"Honestly!" the Captain sighs, exasperated. "Why is no one ever alive when you need them?"

Effie and Thomas exchange a look, the same thought occurring to them. "Well, someone is," he points out.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

     MIKE is fast asleep in bed, a bowl of ice cream rising up and down on the duvet as he snores loudly. Even if they weren't ghosts, it would probably be a challenge to wake him up. Robin is trying his best to make the bedside lamp flicker as the ghosts watch on.

"Still nothing," says Thomas, hunched over Mike.

"Is he dead?" asks Julian.

"I wish," the poet scoffs, then backtracks. "No, I don't. Wait. Hang on..."

"Scratch his head," Robin suggests.

Julian clutches his heart with a horrified gasp. "Thatcher's dead?!"

"No, scratch his head. Or, like, jab him."

"Come on, I'm exhausted!" the politician whines.

"Oh, boo-hoo," Effie teases back, "I have powers that the others don't, woe is me..."

"Alright! Da-da-da, give me some space," Julian ushers them away like lost sheep in a flock. He strains and cries out dramatically as he channels all of his strength, just enough to prod Mike's nose — but it proves absolutely ineffective.

Thomas steps forward and says, "You could try prodding his—"

"No!"

"No?"

"Even that seems a bit desperate," Effie wrinkles her nose at him, having to agree with Julian's disgust on this one.

"Trust me, it'll work," Thomas shrugs.

"Well, look, I just..." Julian squirms, "I don't feel comfortable..."

Luckily, before anyone can even attempt the plan, the Captain strides in with Pat in tow. "Right, Ralph and Fanny are keeping an eye on the burglars, and Kitty, Mary and Norman are continuing with their inventory. Oh, and Effie, good idea to recruit the yanks from the shed. The static shocks seem to be throwing off the young man in particular."

"Thank you," Effie shrugs. "But Linda and Lloyd have names, you know..."

"Yes, yes. Anyway, how's it going in here?" The Captain pauses, notices Mike snoring away, and his expression wilts. "Oh, not still asleep?"

"I have been trying," Julian insists.

"But we need his help! He's our only hope!" the officer barks; next to him, Pat chokes out a delighted murmur of "Star Wars", a reference Effie quickly guesses is beyond her time.

Julian, however, has had enough. He waves his hand dismissively through the air. "Well, I've done my bit. Good luck with it all..."

"Wait! In case of emergency, break glass." Pat's exclamation is lost on them all for a moment, until he gestures to a half-full glass of water stood on the bedside. Surely, if Julian could muster the energy to knock it off, it would shatter and wake up Mike. It seems to be the best idea so far.

"Fine," he sighs, "but if I get RSI, I'm suing!"

He squats and pushes, the glass edging jerkily across the wood. It then topples to the floor without breaking, a puddle of water surrounding the glass perfectly in-tact.

"Ooh, good quality," Julian remarks. He bends right over to examine the glass, flashing the other ghosts an unsavoury glimpse of his trouser-less half; they all avert their eyes and yelp in horror. Then, still squatting, he smirks. "Ah, Made in Britain..."

Whilst Effie is recovering from that image burned into her memory, a flannel shirt hanging on a chair soaks up the remnants of the water. The added weight is enough to spin the chair slightly, in turn shutting one door and opening another. The force causes a domino-effect of toppling furniture around, ending in a coat hanger careening into the TV. It knocks it straight onto the floor with a deafening SMASH! — enough to wake Mike and leave him sitting bolt upright in bed.

He's awake!

"Alright, this isn't funny," Mike murmurs, scanning the room, "stop messing about... seriously..."

"What now? How are we meant to communicate with him?" Effie asks, stood with the rest of the ghosts at the end of the bed.

The Captain snaps his fingers. "Morse code!"

"Will he know Morse code?" Julian asks, not certain.

"Everyone knows Morse code!" he and Pat retort in exact unison.

"Fine, I'll try. But something light. I'm getting crampy..."

They search around the room, until Julian settles for an antique baby doll sat on the armchair (why, Effie has no idea). He resorts to hovering his finger over the baby's eyelids and making them blink. Click-click. The noise alerts Mike. Click-click. He slowly turns around, settling his gaze on the baby doll staring at him. Click-click.

"Aaargh!!" Mike shrieks; he rips off the duvet, grabs his phone and sprints straight into the wardrobe, slamming the door behind him.

"Now I think about it, that does look rather creepy," Effie tilts her head at the baby doll.

"Yes, probably not the best choice," the Captain admits.

Effie perks up, hearing muffled whispers behind the door. Robin follows and sticks his head through the door. He draws back, reporting, "He on phone." Then another silence, as he pokes his head in once more. "Ooh, it Alison!"

     Perfect! Overcome with a burst of urgency, all the ghosts start shouting over one another to try and get her attention; variations of the same message about the burglary fight to get through. It's useless, but the situation is desperate. Suddenly the wardrobe door swings open, a sheepish Mike holding the phone out into the air — Alison must have overheard the ghosts and realised something was wrong.

     "Shush up! One at a time," hisses the Captain, before speaking to the Caller ID screen like a walkie-talkie. "Alison, there is a burglary in progress. The authorities must be notified at once! Over."

     "Oh, my... Mike!" Alison's voice is desperate through the phone, "There are burglars in the house!"

     "What?!" Mike's eyes double in size.

     "Can you just hang up, stay where you are and call the police? I'm on my way."

     "Right," her husband nods quickly hanging up. He reaches to dial 999, only for the screen to go black with a dead battery. "Oh, come on..."

     Effie shakes her head, tutting in disapproval. "Happens in all the films, every time."

     Mike races to plug in the charging cable, finding out just then that the power has gone out. One of the burglars must have cut it — come to think of it, the bedside lamp and the fairy lights strung across the bedpost have also gone dark. They truly are in dire straits. Ne snd the ghosts are going to have to be creative if they can make this work.

     He rushes to the centre of the room, facing away from the ghosts and speaking to the air above him. "Right, if you can hear me, knock three times," Mike over-enunciates; as if he were an oblivious tourist, trying to speak loudly and slowly in English.

     "Why three times?" Julian moans, but knows he has little choice. He balls one hand into a fist and warrior-cries as he manages three, evenly-spaced knocks onto the wood of the dresser.

     Mike turns in their direction, now realising he can be heard. "Right. Okay... where are the burglars now?"

     Julian splutters incredulously. "Well, how the hell am I supposed to answer that?"

     "Yes or no questions, Mike!" Effie despairs, even though he won't ever hear it.

     "Honestly," Thomas mutters under his breath, "what does she see in him?"

     "What weapons have they got?" Mike says, before finally noticing his error. "No, uh– how many burglars are there?"

     "Ah, yes, can do that—"

     "And where are they?"

     So much for having hope. All the ghosts groan in annoyance, realising this is entirely pointless.

     "Are they bigger than me? Or smaller?" Mike keeps asking questions, to no avail.

     Somehow, not all hope has been lost. Pat glances at the open bathroom door, spotting the sink. "I think I've had an idea," he announces, looking back at Julian.

     "Me? Again?" Julian cries. "God! I haven't worked this hard since that animal welfare bill."

     "You had an animal welfare bill?"

     "No, no. I was lobbying against it. Balls to animals..."

     Figures, Effie thinks to herself. All the ghosts follow Pat to the bathroom, and soon the plan becomes clear. Julian turns the tap on the sink, albeit with limited results — but the squeaking does alert Mike. He seems to catch onto what they're doing and rushes to the sink, turning the tap the rest of the way so a rush of hot water gushes out. The ghosts let out a triumphant cheer as he does. The mirror above the sink steams up, providing a perfect place to write a message.

     Mike reaches for a scented tea light candle, which had been sitting by the bathtub and strikes a match. The trembling flame he holds to the candle wick makes Robin's eyes glow. "Okay, Robin," the Captain warns him to calm down.

     "Every time!" Robin grins in awe.

     Effie sniffs the air above the candlelight. "Ooh, orange and cinnamon. Very atmospheric."

     "Okay..." says Mike, now able to see the misted mirror better, "... how many burglars are there?"

     Julian reaches out and draws on the condensation — it's working! — and Mike watches carefully as the number takes its form.

     "Two—" Mike nods, about to leave.

     That should be it. But no, Julian keeps writing, a small 'o' next to the '2'...

     "TWENTY?!" Mike's jaw drops. "I need to get out of here!"

     As he darts out of the door, understandably terrified, the other ghosts stare daggers at a bumbling Julian. Effie swears, she could strangle him if only he were still alive.

     "What are you doing? There's not twenty!" Pat exclaims.

     "No," Julian counters, "I was writing '2 of them'!"

     Pat stares at him for a moment. Then, creeping up in pitch, he shrieks: "Just write TWO!"

     "Well, you know, hindsight's a wonderful thing, isn't it?"

     "You quite literally had one job, Julian!" Effie scolds him.

     "Moron!" Robin snaps at the politician, and she couldn't agree more.

     Running out of ideas like sand in an hourglass, the ghosts vacate the bathroom, which is now starting to smell rather pleasantly like orange and cinnamon. At least the house will smell nice, Effie grimly tries to search for an optimistic spin on the situation.

     "Well, that's just wonderful, isn't it?" the Captain complains. "Michael's gone AWOL, Alison is off-base, and we have absolutely no way of contacting the authorities. We have to do something. Any ideas?"

     "Uh... ooh!" Robin lights up.

     "Yes please, Robin."

     Instead of enlightening the group with his idea, Robin spins on his heel and immediately sprints through the walls. No explanation, nothing.

     "Oh, that's very helpful, isn't it? A deserter. I could have you shot for that, you know!" the Captain yells.

     "Ooh," Thomas winces, clutching his gunshot wound with a harrowed face. The Captain sheepishly seems to retract his statement, rocking back-and-forth on his heels. Either way, the mood in the room is considerably dampened.

     They have officially hit rock bottom in search of solutions.

     "I just feel so helpless," Effie confesses as they all walk out together. "There must've been something else we could do. I feel like we've failed Mike and Alison if we don't."

     "There's no use, Effie, our ideas are spent," the Captain sighs.

     "With respect, Captain, we didn't win the war with that attitude."

     The Captain stands to attention at her words; she swears if the circumstances had been different, there might have been a flicker of delight in his eyes. "Good Lord, you're beginning to sound like me."

     "Oh no, then forget I said that," Effie says, ignoring his frown afterwards.

     The group reach downstairs, where Fanny is watching the burglars load the last of the goods into the back of their white van; she follows them around addictively and barks demands at them. In fact, is she encouraging them? As Effie remains bewildered over her behaviour, the group approach the van as one of the burglars

"You've made your bed. Don't come crying to me when you bend over in the shower, and someone puts drugs in your bottom!" Pat scolds Nev, one of the burglars. Then he cowers slightly, under the puzzled stares from the other ghosts. "... I watched a film about borstal. Bits of it."

The Captain walks over to Kitty, Mary and Norman. "Well, mission very much not accomplished. At least, tell me you got an inventory."

Kitty gulps nervously, reciting an indiscernible list, whilst Mary sings quietly in the background about cups, and Norman only has confused looks to contribute.

"... And a rainbow!" Kitty then finishes, with a wobbly but confident smile.

What. Is. Going. On.

     To their dismay, the burglars shut the van's back doors and start the engine, ready to set off with all the valuables. But an increasingly loud noise from behind grabs their attention: clunk... clunk... clunk...

     "That's it Michael, that's it!" says a familiar voice, belonging to Ralph. The trapeze artist walks backwards out of the house and waves a tall figure through the doorway — the suit of armour that usually stands stationary in the entrance is now moving, albeit very slowly, towards the burglars. And for whatever reason, Mike is inside of it, trying to scare off the burglars.

     Their faces contort in fear as they stare back at the knight. "Oh my God, it's a ghost! I told you!" Nev whimpers.

     The knight stops, wobbling on the spot. He lifts his sword-wielding arm slowly, but disrupts his balance. "No no no, Michael—" Ralph warns him, but it's too late. Mike falls backwards like timber in the suit of armour and hits the ground with a clatter and a clunk. Sighing loudly, Ralph shakes his head. "Well, remind me to never let you onto a tightrope," he mutters.

     The burglars use this as their escape. They leap into the van, hitting the gas and speeding out of the courtyard with silverware jangling in the back.

     Fanny runs after them and screeches indignantly, "Oh, just leaving the witness alive, are we? Not even a threat of violence? At least, take some identification and say you'll be back if he contacts the authorit—"

     "Fanny!" Effie cuts her off.

     At the same time, Fanny seems to snap out of the strange obsession that had taken hold of her. Horrified at her compliance, she turns around, shame colouring her expression. "What have I become?" she whispers.

     "... Bitches! Bitches!"

     Wait a minute. Effie would recognise that voice anywhere. She squints into the darkness, looking for any sign of its owner. She sees the dogs first, barking and racing across the grounds — and there is Robin next to them — followed by Barclay Beg-Chetwynde, hunting rifle in hand and his quilted jacket thrown over his pyjamas. They disappear into the road... there is the loud screech of tires, the headlights going haywire as the van crashes into a tree. The silverware toppling out of the back of the van sounds like tinkling wind chimes from here. Then she spots a familiar young woman, her worried face and bright yellow coat standing out in the darkness like a beacon of hope.

     Alison.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

     POLICE cars are parked in the courtyard of Button House, illuminating the walls in flashes of blue and red. With the burglars caught red-handed, they are loaded into the backseats and driven away — and it was thanks to Robin. He had run and alerted Barclay's dogs, setting them on the trail of the burglars in their getaway car. Barclay, too, realised it was a burglary and stopped them before they could go any further.

     Having finished their shocking duties, Linda and Lloyd stagger out of the house tiredly. They could almost look hungover. "How did it go?" asks Effie cheerily.

     "I think I'm gonna be sick," Linda moans back.

     Meanwhile, Lloyd flinches and clutches his stomach. "Aw, don't say that, or you'll make me too..." he mumbles, before they slink back off into the night to the shed.

What a night, Effie thinks, looking around the courtyard crawling with policemen. In the middle of them all stands Ralph. His arms are folded across his chest, as if trying to shield his leotard as much as possible. She strolls over to meet him, tilting her head sympathetically.

     "Thank you for helping us tonight," Effie tells him.

     "Did I, though? Did I really help?" asks Ralph.

     "You did. And that was sweet of you, to stay with Mike at the end."

     It was true. After Julian mistakenly told him there were twenty burglars, Mike was desperately trying to figure out what to do, and Ralph had been lingering at his side giving unheard moral support. "It was nothing," he shrugs now, "I just thought I'd, you know, keep an eye on him..."

     "Well, like I said, you did good."

     Ralph stares at her, then off into the distance, his face flashing in bursts of blue and red. "I'm sorry about earlier," he apologises, "but I was just... scared. After I– uh, died, I... I've felt like an imposter. I died doing the one thing I adored and knew I was good at, and it just completely threw me off. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. It was so soul-crushing and embarrassing, that I've simply found it easier to remain unseen and unknown."

     "Oh, Ralph, that's in the past," Effie smiles encouragingly at him. "You cannot change what happened. Besides, you should have nothing to be embarrassed about. We're an odd bunch ourselves. I mean, have you seen Julian?"

     Ralph lets out a quiet laugh, nodding as if to agree that her point is a fair one.

     Effie then adds, "Now, don't count me as the fount of all wisdom in this house, but I will say this. Almost every new experience can be a valuable one. That is the principle I hope I lived my life by, and I'd like to start abiding by more in this... afterlife, purgatory, whatever you call it. And I think it could do you some good to do the same."

Just then, Alison appears at her side, still shaken by it all. But she shoots a gently curious look towards Ralph. "Who's this?" she asks.

"Oh, this is Ralph," Effie responds casually, "he's a ghost, like us."

"And I didn't know?" Alison gapes.

"Hang on, she can see us?!" Ralph's jaw drops, equally as stunned. He seriously didn't know that?

Effie sucks in a breath through her teeth, realising the night isn't quite over yet. "Oh, you two have quite a lot to catch up on..."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

( date: 13th november, 2024 )

the "2 of them" joke might be one of my favourite moments from the whole show, it has me in stitches every time!! anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was incredibly fun to write.

in other news, does anyone remember that i was aiming to finish act one by christmas? well, i'm getting closer than ever to that goal, because we only have three chapters left. and all three of them i'm really looking forward to for various reasons — expect humour, emotions and wholesomeness.

the very next chapter diverts from the show and focuses on a particular part of effie's backstory, so get ready to go down memory lane...

▕▔▔▔▔▔▔▿▔▔▔▔▔▔▏
horrible histories
icon of today:
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[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

( kind of in keeping with the
burglary/robbery theme, here is
the polite highwayman! )

have a good day/evening,
— IMOGEN  ♡