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      CALL OF THE WILD

      by

      SARAH EVANS

      BLURB

      Tales of mermaids and ghosts, of love and revenge.

      THE FIRST LADY

      'This is so spooky,' the girl blurted out, shattering the strained silence in the oak-panelled room.

      'No one asked you to stay. You can leave any time you like,' said the technician, Jeff, as he adjusted the state-of-the-art digital camera. He added under his breath, 'And the sooner the better.'

      'But I don't want to go. This is too exciting.'

      'Oh,' he said without enthusiasm.

      'Look,' she said, nettled, 'I won't get in the way, promise.'

      'Okay.'

      Effie wrapped her thin arms around herself and leaned against the Jacobean arched window to peer at the river below.

      'It will be dark soon,' she announced.

      'Mmm. We're almost ready,' Jeff fiddled with the camera again.

      'That should take in most of the room.' He turned to a weasely little man with a Renaissance goatee and John Lennon glasses and said, 'What do you reckon, Tim?'

      'Cool.'

      'What does that do?' Effie asked Tim.

      His glass flashed, reflecting the overhead spotlight. 'It's a barometer. It'll record any changes in atmospheric pressure.'

      'And that?'

      'Sound equipment to record any noises. And that,' he pre-empted her next question, 'is the thermometer to measure the temperature. Okay?'

      'Yes, thank you.' Effie shivered. 'Do you think anything will happen?'

      'Nah,' said Jeff. 'But if it does, we'll get proof.' He twiddled a dial.

      'Don't you believe in ghosts, then?' said Effie.

      Jeff rolled his eyes. 'Do you?' He turned away before she answered and shrugged at Tim. 'Who invited her anyway?'

      'You don't have to talk about me as if I didn't exist.'

      Jeff shrugged his shoulders again. 'Whatever.'

      'And I'm here in case you need to know anything about the place.'

      'And we're here to prove one way or another if there are any ghosts. We don't need a flippin' history lesson about Warwick Castle,' said Jeff. He settled his bulky frame into one of the fine old chairs and took out a Mars bar. 'And you don't have to stare at me like that. I'm not going to damage your precious furniture. I'm house trained, you know.'

      Effie huffed and sat in one of the window alcoves as far away from him as she could. Jeff snickered and bit off half the bar in one go. Tim's glasses glinted while his thin, white fingers tinkered with the equipment. An uneasy silence fell.

      The room gradually darkened. Pools of black filled the corners, spilling over and lapping the wainscoting. The legions of waxy-faced portraits gleamed dully in their huge gilt frames before the night hungrily swallowed them.

      'Shall I turn on the lights?' Effie asked, making the two men jump.

      'Gawd, woman, you frightened the life outta me,' grumbled Jeff.

      'Sorry. Shall I, then?'

      'No. No lights,' he said. 'If there's a disturbance the spotlight will come on automatically.' He sighed and settled back, watchful now. The minutes ticked by into hours.

      'I can hear something,' Effie whispered.

      'What?' Jeff was immediately alert.

      'Listen.! Oh, I think it was your thingy over there.' She pointed to the barometer. Tim checked it.

      'It's okay. Nothing's changed.'

      There was silence.

      'Did you hear that?' Effie stiffened.

      'Christ, woman, stop imagining things.'

      'No, really.'

      'I can't hear anything.'

      'Me neither,' said Tim.

      'Footsteps.' Effie shivered and pulled her cardigan closer around herself. 'And I feel so cold. I'm scared!'

      'For heavens - '

      'She's right, Jeff. The temperature has dropped twenty degrees since we set up. And it's falling as I speak.' Tim shone his torch and squinted at the mercury. He jotted some figures down in his notebook.

      'Listen.' Effie held up her finger for quiet. 'Listen…'

      The three of them strained to hear. The barometer began jerking in a series of wild zigzags. Three pairs of eyes swivelled to watch it.

      'Gawd,' said Jeff. His breath ballooned white. He dragged his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. He was pouring sweat in spite of the iciness that now pervaded the room.

      'It's freezing.' Effie's teeth chattered together. She rubbed her arms to generate warmth. It didn't seem to help.

      The spotlight snapped on, then plinked off.

      'Damn bulb has gone,' said Tim. 'Unbelievable.'

      'There's a spare in the bag.'

      Tim flicked on his torch. Nothing happened. He banged it against his hand. Still no light. 'Damn, damn, damn.'

      'Here's mine,' said Jeff. He fumbled about and handed it to him. But Tim couldn't get that to work either.

      'Listen!' said Effie. 'Those footsteps, they're coming closer-'

      'The camera's jammed!' Tim clicked and fiddled in the dark. 'Can you seriously believe it? Damn!'

      'I think there's somebody standing outside the door,' Effie muttered through stiff, cold lips. The others strained to hear. The latch rattled.

      The temperature plummeted several more degrees.

      Paralysed, they stared at the heavy oak door. Ever so slowly the door swung open.

      'Oh Lord!' Effie screamed and bolted.

      A small, white-haired old man stood in the doorway, backlit by a halo of gold. Jeff sat rooted to his chair, clutching the armrests in a death grip. Tim almost toppled over and grabbed the tripod for support.

      'Good evening, gentleman. I thought you would like a little refreshment,' said the newcomer. He held up a tray of steaming mugs, a plate of Digestive biscuits and a lamp.

      'Gawd, Max, you scared us witless,' said Jeff. He began to laugh. It held a hysterical edge. 'You really had us going. What with the footsteps and all. Eh, Effie? Effie? You can come out of hiding now.'

      'Effie?' said Max.

      'Yeah. She scarpered when you appeared.'

      'Ah, you mean Ethelfleda.'

      'I didn't catch her surname, but she was here when we were setting up. Wasn't she, Tim?' Jeff turned to his partner. 'Tim? You okay?'

      Tim opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. His face was parchment white in the lamplight, his eyes huge behind the steel frames of his glasses.

      'She went straight through the wall,' Tim managed to croak out at last.

      'What?'

      'The wall, Jeff. She went straight through the flippin' wall.'

      'Princess Ethelfleda, the daughter of Alfred the Great,' Max said. 'She was the first mistress of Warwick, you know, back when it was a wooden fortress.'

      'No,

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