Turning into the first doorway they came to, the group found themselves in a large, oak-panelled bedroom dominated by a huge four-poster bed. Its dusty canopy was supported by figures like those on the staircase ('What's with all these donkeys?' Scott thought), except these had been given a semi-human, gargoyle shape. A bulky, two-door wardrobe stood opposite. But what really caught their eyes was the antique dresser beside the boarded-up window... Its mirror and drawer handles were gleaming with gold!
Bobby gave a low whistle.
"Is that for real?" he asked.
"Looks like it," Scott said. Grasping its heavy, ornate handle, he pulled open one of the drawers.
Bad idea... Nestling inside was what looked like a freshly severed human arm!
Recoiling with a yelp, he turned to see the rest of the 'body' swing down horribly from the canopy of the bed.
When all the yelling had died down, Carl and Bobby turned to him censoriously.
"Scott!"
"Sorry," he murmured.
"Hey, look at this!"
Gary had found an old-fashioned perfume bottle, complete with rubber bulb spray, on a stool beside the bed.
"Is there stuff in it?" Carl asked.
"Yeah."
Bobby looked wary. "Well don't sp-" he started to say.
Too late. Gary had already given the rubber bulb a good squeeze, filling the air with musky, damp droplets.
"Phwoar! That stinks!" Carl exclaimed, coughing and spluttering.
"Thanks a bunch, Gary!" glowered Bobby, wiping his eyes.
"Well, look at it this way," Gary declared. "No ghost'll come near us now."
"Nor will anyone else!" Bobby shook his head irritably. "You're such a jackass, dude!"
"Jeez!" Gary exclaimed. "What's a little perfume?"
"It's not perfume," Scott retorted, sniffing the front of his T-shirt and grimacing. "It's shit!"
"Maybe it's a new range," Gary suggested, and started to smirk. "L'Air du Tomcat... Chanel Number One..."
The tension quickly dissipated. "Aqua di Giyuck?" Carl proffered. "Egopisste..?"
Unable to contain themselves, the lads burst out laughing. As they did...