The Claygate Hound

Every year, Class Six at Malham Primary went to Claygate for school camp. It was fantastic. There was a farm, an adventure playground and best of all, Claygate Wood, a wonderful, mysterious place to explore.

When they arrived Class Six was buzzing with excitement.

Ryan and Zeb climbed down from the bus and looked around.

“Cool!” Ryan said. “Let’s explore.”

“Not so fast, you two,” Mr Weston, their teacher, called. “Unpack first.”

Chatting and joking. Class Six boys hurried to their bunk room. Ryan and Zeb raced ahead and grabbed a bunk by the window.

They tossed for the top bunk. Zeb won.

“You can see all the way to the woods from here,” he said.

“Trust you two to get the best bunks,” Martin Davis complained.

“Tough,” Ryan said. “We were here first.”

Billy Dunmore climbed on to Zeb’s bunk and sat beside him. “I wouldn’t sleep here,” he said.

“Why not?” Zeb asked.

“Too near the woods.”

“So?”

“So
, the Claygate Hound might come and get you!”

“The
what?”

“It’s a ghost dog. It has huge fangs and mad red eyes. It haunts Claygate Woods. Look!”

Zeb stared. Something was moving amongst the trees – a dark shadowy shape.

“That’s it!” Billy hissed. “And if we can see it – it can see us. I wouldn’t sleep this near the window. Not even if you paid me!”

The chatter in the bunk room died away. Everyone was listening now. Billy smiled. He liked frightening people. He told them scary stories to make them nervous. Then he laughed at them and called them chicken or scaredy-cat.

“Shut up, Dunmore,” Ryan snapped. “It could be anything out there. It’s not your stupid ghost dog. You made that up.”

“I did not. There
is
a hound. My brother was here last year. He told me all about it.”

“Oh yeah?” Zeb folded his arms and looked bored. Freezing Billy out was the only way to make him leave you alone.

But Billy just grinned. “I’ll wait till tonight. Then I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Don’t bother,” Ryan said. “We don’t want to know.”

Just then the door opened and Sally Palmer peered in.

“Oi!” Martin shouted. “No girls in here!”

“Mr Weston sent me. It’s time for tea,” Sally announced.

“Come on, Zeb,” Ryan said. “I’m starving.”

At tea they met Granny Hatcher. She lived in Claygate Farm. She was thin and spindly with grey hair. Ryan thought she looked rather like a scarecrow – as if she’d been made out of old broom-handles.

She served them steaming bowls of homemade soup and thick slices of fresh-baked bread and butter. It was delicious.

“Apple pie and custard,” Zeb whispered, when he saw pudding. “I think I must have died and gone to heaven!”

Across the table Billy Dunmore gave a sour laugh. “People who die in Claygate don’t get to heaven,” he said.

“Give it a rest, Dunmore,” Ryan snapped. “We know what you’re going to say: the horrible Claygate Hound gets them. Right?”

Billy grinned like a hyena. “What’s the matter, Ryan? Am I getting to you?”

“No!”

“Poor old Ryan,” Billy went on. “Away from home and scared of ghosts…”

“Shut it, Dunmore,” Zeb said. “Or I’ll…”

“Or you’ll what?”

Everyone at the table was watching.

Mr Weston was at the other end of their table.

“Or you’ll what?” Billy asked again.

“You want to watch it, young man,” a soft country voice said. “Our hound don’t like being talked about.

Startled, the boys looked round. Behind them stood Granny Hatcher. She stared hard at Billy. Her eyes shone like black diamonds.

“If he hears you, he might come and get you. So, if I was you, I’d eat a bit more and say a bit less.”

Then she smiled at Zeb. “Was it you that admired my pie?”

Zeb nodded enthusiastically.

“Have another slice, dear. Tuck in. I like to see a lad enjoy his food.”

“Weird, or what?” Zeb said after tea. “Do you think Granny Hatcher’s scary? It was spooky the way she just
knew
what was going on.”