'Who's Tod Glarent?'

Zach's father seemed utterly confused, whereas his mother shook her head at the volunteer. 'You never change, you old goat.'

Clifford grinned. 'My wife wouldn't have me any other way.'

'Where is Hilary?'

'Oh, I left her at the garden centre this morning and haven't heard from her since.'

'Which one?'

'Greenache's, you know, the one off the industrial estate in Peach Tree?'

'That's fifteen miles away,' interrupted Mr Garrett. 'How the hell did you get out that far in your buggy?'

'Stephen, Stephen, Stephen, there is such a thing as public transport.'

Mrs Garrett bit her lip, and her husband glowered enough to make Zach uncomfortable.

'I need to get inside.'

Clifford gestured over his shoulder. 'I'd show your parents through to the cafe, but Amy is on the warpath today.'

Zach struggled to keep a straight face; he could already imagine Amy stalking them from the shadows.

'What should we do then?'

'Sorry, dad, you'll have to wait until the museum opens.'

'Don't worry,' Clifford winked, already guiding Zach's parents away. 'I have a plan.'

'No!' barked Zach, not messing around. 'Never mind Amy being on the warpath. If you try anything else, she will kill you.'

The volunteer dismissed the lad's warning and beckoned his parents to follow.

'Dad!'

Clifford looked back one last time. 'Relax, kid. Loftus will make us a nice, steaming cup of tea, I'm sure.'

'Not if his pets eat you, he won't.'

'What?' Mr Garrett stopped still. 'Helen, I'm sorry, but maybe we should just wait-'

The volunteer swiftly linked arms with Zach's father and then his mother, unwilling to let them escape. 'You're not going to get eaten. Worst case, you'll have to share the hay bale sofa with the little monsters, but that's it.'

Zach knew that even if he had the time to do so, he couldn't stop Clifford or his parents from doing what they wanted. So, the lad shook his head and turned toward the museum, only to stumble a few feet later when he glimpsed the chaos being wrought inside.

A dozen or more tattered-looking sandbags were stacked atop one another just beyond the entrance. And the lad was ready to chalk it up to more Flurbury's museum antics until he stepped over the barricade and felt the ice-cold snap of water reach past his ankles.

'What the hell? Amy?'

'She's on the phone with the contractor. Come and give me a hand with this.'

It didn't take Zach long to locate Hilton. The man was on his knees, stacking more sandbags to stop the flooding water from reaching the till sockets.

Zach picked up two from the cart and handed them over. The bags were heavy, rough-textured and smelt like urine. He didn't want to waste time questioning their scent, though. 'What happened here?'

Hilton wiped his soaking wet hands on one of the drier sandbags. 'Turns out the plumber who came yesterday wasn't legit.'

Zach stared blankly. 'Didn't they have identification?'

'Yes,' Hilton fired back. 'Everything checked out.'

Zach knew the Museum Manager was lying by his defensive tone, but it wasn't his job to call him on it. Instead, he tried to see where the water was coming from and discovered bubbles running across the surface.

'The same plumber who fixed the urinal? I vaguely remember Amy mentioning him.'

Hilton splashed water everywhere in a rage. 'The cretin didn't fix the urinal; he came to steal the damn thing!'

Zach forgot who he was talking to and laughed. 'You're not joking, are you?'

Another splash. 'Look around; the guy stole a urinal and some of the connected pipes.'

'But, why?'

'I didn't get the chance to ask, Zach.'

'Right,' the lad answered, studying the route through the entrance hall to the flooding toilets. 'I don't know how much PVC piping goes for, but if they took any copper, it'd fetch a pretty penny in scrap.'

Amy cleared her throat so the pair could hear her over the sound of the rushing water. 'The company said that they'd never sent anybody out!'

'Of course, they'd say that. The question is, will the bastards help us now? Hand me more sandbags.'

The Supervisor did as Hilton ordered and kept them coming, only stopping to speak. 'The company will send someone, but they say it'll cost us extra.'

'Sounds like extortion.'

Amy shrugged. 'Such is the case with the contractors willing to come here. They always try to squeeze us for whatever they can get.'

Zach had been waiting to get a word in. 'You're saying some of them have turned you down in the past? Surely, a big old place like this would guarantee them work.'

Amy walked away as her phone rang, and Hilton held his hands out for another sandbag. When Zach finally passed it, the Manager twisted his lips in a smile. 'The ghosts always scare them away.'

'Not you too,' replied Zach. 'Lana tried to get me with that crap yesterday, and I don't believe in it.'

'Did she tell you about Plunger Pete?'

Zach smirked. 'Let me guess; the guy haunts the museum toilets?'

Hilton frowned. 'This isn't some fiction story; Pete worked here for forty years. Once upon a time, you'd have seen him clearing ancient pipes, refitting waste systems, and even cleaning toilets because he loved his job so much.'

Zach narrowed his eyes. 'Do I want to know what happened to him?'

'Well, my father told me that Pete had been the victim of a cruel prank. He'd come into work happy as ever, until,' Hilton gestured toward the flooding toilets. 'Some staff member who shall not be named decided it would be funny to flush a children's welly and then have a poo.'

'You can't be serious.'

'I'm afraid I am. Poor Pete was almost knee-deep in human waste before he knew what hit him.'

'That's disgusting, but surely escaping faeces didn't kill him?'

'You'd be surprised,' Hilton answered. 'Plunger Pete had snagged the welly, but when he slipped on the mushy brown pile, he knocked himself unconscious and drowned.'

'That's tragic. I hope the staff member was brought to account.'

'Yes.'

The Museum Manager said no more, so Zach moved on. 'You think Pete's ghost caused this, don't you?'

Hilton looked past the recruit to study the walls. 'You work in this place long enough; there's no telling what you'll come to believe. But no, Plunger Pete isn't about to drag your scrawny butt to the Flurbury depths. This mess is all thanks to that phoney contractor.'

'Okay.'

The Museum Manager sighed. 'I only wanted you to know why we can't attract other companies with better ratings. Reputation is everything in this industry.'

'Here you go,' Zach kept handing the Manager more sandbags until they'd effectively walled off half of the entrance hall. 'Where did you get all these anyway?'

Hilton pointed outside. 'Loftus can be a pain in the ass, but he always comes through in an emergency.'

Zach was pleasantly surprised by the revelation; he'd misjudged the man entirely. Then another thought struck him. The sandbags smelt the way they did because Loftus' dog had peed all over them.

'You alright?'

'Sorry, I was miles away.'

'I could tell,' Hilton clambered to his feet and looked around. 'We had better print some signage.'

'To warn the staff?'

'Don't be silly! We need to be ready to open the museum to the public.'