The rights to Rex Milligan belong to the late Anthony Buckeridge. Those to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. Those to the Dana girls, Linda Craig and others to the Stratemeyer Syndicate. Death in Paradise and Doctor Who are owned by the BBC. Those to the Tudors are held by Showtime Entertainment, although I am using characters that were all genuine historical people. Other rights belong to Marvel Comics, DC Comics/Warner Brothers/Hanna-Barbera, Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz, Disney, Jim Butcher, Susan Cooper, Joss Whedon, the estates of the late Terrance Dicks, the late PL Travers, the late Enid Blyton, the late Charles Addams, the late Malcolm Saville, the late Ian Fleming and more. I own nothing and make claim to the same nothing.

May 2021

Surrey can be a glorious place in the late Spring, particularly in the remaining parts of the county that have not been absorbed into the ever-increasing vastness that is Greater London. The vineyard was bathed in a hazy morning sunlight, with only a few wispy clouds in the sky and no sign of approaching rain or heavier winds than the gentle breeze currently blowing.

Gregory Dawson, the owner and manager of the vineyard, was inspecting the work of the imported seasonal workers. Post-Brexit, the government had seen sense and allowed temporary immigration permits for farms, hotels and other businesses which required extra staff at certain times of the year. Whilst the harvest season was still a few months distant, the tending of the vines and the distribution of bottles to the suppliers was still a major operation.

From nowhere, a vision flashed before his and his workers' eyes. A gleaming adult human skeleton was dancing in mid-air. Cackling laughter filled the air. Then just as quickly as they started, both the skeleton disappeared.

As panicking labourers began to return to work, Gregory removed his mobile from his pocket, dialled 999 and asked for the police.

Despite the best efforts of the local police service, nothing was found. At the same time every morning for the next week, however, the dancing skeleton and the laughter returned.

By that time, the police had contacted New Scotland Yard. The Metropolitan Police's Department of Queer Complaints referred the matter to other authorities. Whatever was going on required specialist skillsets to unearth.

Mary Pembroke dismounted from her beloved horse Margaret. A strikingly beautiful figure, with red-gold hair and ruddy cheeks, she smiled at her half-sister Elizabeth, who was dismounting from her own horse Kat. The two looked to be about nineteen or twenty and with the tall auburn Elizabeth a beauty in her own right would not lack for attention. Occasionally, somebody would remark that the siblings resembled Mary I and Elizabeth I of England from portraits painted in their younger days but thought no more of it. In any case, the tanned lively girls were hardly the pallid long dead Tudor monarchs, who would have been 505 and 487 in any event. Any resemblance would clearly be a coincidence.

Up until ten months earlier, however, the two had been the spectres of the Tudor Monarchs, haunting the Windsor Castle library together. Having long since patched up their differences in life, it had been a happy continued existence. In July 2020, however, the ghosts had, along with other figures from the Tudor extended family, been brought back to life by the Godhead via a mysterious gemstone in the possession of the Knights of Walpurgis.

They walked their horses back to the stables, where their mothers were awaiting them. Katherine of Aragon (who now prefers to use the Spanish form of her Christian name, Catalina) and Anne Boleyn, both also among those restored by the gemstone, had, ironically enough, fallen in love and were now happily married. Each of the spouses had legally adopted the other's daughter. After a happy round of embracing each other, they went into the main building of Pembroke House. This was a disused mid-sized hotel in Surrey, albeit in one of the areas which was technically within the Greater London area. Anne's old title of Marquess of Pembroke had been discretely restored to her by the British Crown, with Catalina allowed legally to style herself as the Marchioness. Since both their daughters and the similarly restored Lady Jane Grey had all made it perfectly clear that they were not interested in claiming the throne again, it was decided to give them the title of Lady, as would be expected of the daughters of a Marquess. Since Jane's husband Guildford Dudley was discretely awarded the extinct family title of Viscount Lisle, she was also technically styled as a Lady again, albeit Lady Lisle and not Lady Jane. None of them used their titles but had adopted Pembroke and de Lisle as their usual surnames. Mary privately considered the kindly Anne Pembroke to be a much better stepmother than the apparently ruthless Anne Boleyn had ever been.

Mary looked around. The grounds of Pembroke House are extensive enough to allow us to stable and exercise the horses here, as well as have formal, kitchen and herb gardens and a small park for walking and exercising in. We have a small gym and outdoor and indoor heated swimming pools. All fifteen bedrooms are en suite. It isn't a palace, but it makes the perfect house for the twelve of us. There is even a nursery and creche for Robert and Miriam. Both Guildford and George Boleyn had managed to get their respective Janes pregnant within a week of all four being alive again. Miriam Rochford (the family title of Viscount Rochford was restored to George, which he and Jane had promptly adopted as a surname) and Robert Ambrose de Lisle were much adored by the whole family.

Whoever would have thought that I would be wearing jodhpurs and a riding jacket, Bess a cotton shirt and skinny jeans, Mama a light minidress and Mum a short denim skirt and a t-shirt?! Me and Bess have just been riding, of course. Wearing our current attire and not having to ride side-saddle are yet more improvements the twenty-first century has over the sixteenth!

"Why don't we all have a swim before lunch?" Anne suggested.

"That is a capital idea, mi amor!" Mary and Elizabeth rolled their eyes fondly as their mothers kissed.

They went back inside to shower and put on their swimming costumes, bathrobes and sandals, before walking to the outdoor pool. Katherine Howard, who had been adopted by her predecessors as wives to Henry VIII and now styled herself Kate Pembroke, was sunbathing on a lounger by the pool in a very skimpy bikini. Catalina in a plunge-necked one-piece and Anne in a tankini dived straight in. Mary and Elizabeth in reasonably conservative bikinis went over to talk to their stepmother turned adoptive sister first. "Good morrow to ye, Mary, Bessie! Did you enjoy your morning ride?"

"Very much so, thank you," Mary replied. "Hopefully, you can join us for an evening one, Kate. In the meantime, would like a swim?"

"You should start saying 'Hello' or 'Hi,' Kate," Elizabeth chided. "Nobody says 'Good morrow to ye' outside of theatrical productions these days.

"With digital radio and television, broadband wireless internet, showers, hot and cold running water, flushing toilets, fridge-freezers and central heating, and so much more, Pembroke House is far better than any palace I lived in when I was Queen. Throw in proper roads and cars with satellite navigation, and we have a life we could only have dreamt of in our original lifetimes. Today we really can live like queens!"

"As can everybody else, Bess," Mary told her. "Even the lowest classes have all of these things now. Other than in size and grounds, even a council flat exceeds in every way Hampton Court or Windsor Castle in our day. This is a new world, my dears, and I intend to make the most of it.

"If we plunge in now, we should still have time to swim and sunbathe before our lunch…"

As Mary swam a few laps, she returned to her thoughts. Our wizard, metahuman and former young adventurer friends were promising to give Bess, Kate and me our first assignment before long. I hope that it comes soon. We to find our place in this great new world.

Mary Pembroke had no idea how soon that first solo assignment would come, or how dangerous and thrilling it would prove to be…

"Jinkies! Whoever is causing that dancing skeleton effect and laughter is a genius!" Velma Johnson nee Dinkley was busy looking for clues, as Fred Jones put it. Her husband "Jigger" Johnson and the Paranormal Investigations Bureau that he had founded with his fellow alumnus of Sheldrake Grammar School Rex Milligan, George Jones nee Kirrin of the Famous Five and Jon and Penny Warrender of the Lone Pine Club had been asked to investigate the matter. Since Rex, George and he had married Louise Milligan nee Dana, Jupiter Jones and Velma respectively, their own respective teams had come along. Since Jean Dana was married to Linda Craig, the horsewoman had also been invited.

"That is putting it mildly!" Jon agreed. "Not one of our devices is picking anything up. No radio waves, obvious projection equipment is anything else has been found.

"Mr Dawson, have there been any people interested in buying the property at low price? Is there any former employee known to be holding a grudge against you?"

"Well," Gregory replied, "no to both of those questions. There is a vineyard nearby that has bought up some other local vineyards recently. They are trying to obtain a monopoly of the wine production in this area. In addition, they run holiday cottages with outdoor swimming pools and livery stables for wealthy clients and a large dairy farm at their original site.

"There have been rumours about the earlier takeovers being hostile, if you get my meaning…"

"Really? Do you know their names?"

"Yes, Mrs Milligan. The firm is owned by a family named Crawley. As far as I know, they are not any relations to the Earls of Grantham…"

"Up in Yorkshire?" Rex asked. "I have visited their family seat, Downton Abbey, a couple of times in the past."

"All this reminiscing is all very well," Fred Jones snapped, "but we need to find some clues.

"Perhaps we could hire one of these cottages? That would be a good place to start?"

"Actually, I was thinking that it would be better to send a couple of other groups," George suggested. "Rex, give Luna a ring on your mobile. Ask her to consult with the Ministry of Magic on whether there are any wizards nearby." During a case in late 1999, the Bureau had befriended Luna Lovegood and Rex had become the Muggle Correspondent of The Quibbler, amongst the journalist's other positions.

"In the meantime," she continued, reaching into her handbag for her own mobile, "I need to contact some old friends of ours…"

Old Park House is a stately home on the outskirts of London, the family seat of Sir Jasper Ryde, or Jim as he preferred to be known. A group of teen sleuths had helped him retrieve a stolen painting and later cleared up a faked haunting. Inspired by Dr Watson's chronicles of Sherlock Holmes, they are called the Baker Street Irregulars. Now based in a high-tech converted outhouse in the grounds of Old Park House, the Irregulars are other no longer young adventurers who serve their countries by looking into those problems that can only be solved by those who aren't official.

Dan Robinson, the founder of the Irregulars, is a tall slender dark-haired man. He could have passed for a less hawk-nosed version of the Great Detective himself. Eventually, he learned that he was the legendary sleuth's great-grandson. Thanks to his Royal Jelly Honey elixir vitae, Holmes was still haler and heartier than a man of 167 had any right to be! It also allowed Dan and many another former young adventurer to look much younger than the fifty or more years that most of them had. The Dana Sisters are centenarians! Nancy and Ned Nickerson and the Hardy Brothers are older still.

Dan's mobile rang. He answered it. "Hi, George! … What…?! … You did say a dancing skeleton and demonic laughter… We'll investigate it… Yes, we can visit Pembroke House… Goodbye, George."

From a neighbouring desk, his oldest friends Jeff Webster and Liz Spencer rose to their feet. Both are tall and fair-haired, but Jeff is stocky and Liz slender. Despite being married for some thirty-five years, fierce feminist Liz still hasn't taken Jeff's surname. Their daughter Louise is now in her early twenties and married to Nicholas "Hansel" Zimmer of Storybrooke, Maine. She was heavily pregnant with their first child.

"A dancing skeleton?" Liz asked. "Go on, Dan. We know you want to quote your great-grandfather's 'No ghosts' need apply' speech again! You always do in such cases."

"Thanks for reminding me, Liz! You and Jeff both know it off by heart anyway. We've all seen things that defied rational explanation in any event. Your daughter is married to a fairy tale character and our friends include aliens, wizards, meta-humans, mutants and goodness only knows what else. We take an elixir vita ourselves for that matter.

"Now, I need to visit a group of resurrected Tudors. I never dreamt that I would be saying that!"

Dan was in his car, his large dog Baskerville on a rug in the back. Once he reached the locked gates to Pembroke House, he rang an intercom on the wall beside them.

"This is private property," came a voice over the loudspeaker. It was female, with distinct traces of Norfolk, Kent and France in the accent. Dan recognised it immediately.

"Lady Pembroke, my name is Dan Robinson. We've met at the Tower when you were still a ghost.

"George Jones asked me to visit, so please could you let me in?"

The gates began to swing open. "Come in!" Anne Boleyn called over the loudspeaker.

Dan drove up to the house. He got out and, after attaching his lead, let Baskerville out too. After a couple of minutes, the door opened, and Anne and Catalina emerged to meet him. Even in their casual modern attire, both had a presence about them. Anne looked to be in her mid-thirties (as it was now generally agreed that she was at her untimely demise). Her love rival-turned-wife was fifty when she died but appeared to be the same age as her spouse.

"Lady Pembroke?"

"Yes?" both women replied. I should have remembered that Katherine of Aragon is Anne Boleyn's Marchioness. Technically, they both would be styled as Lady Pembroke. This could get confusing…

"I would like to speak to your daughters, your ladyships. We need their help with an investigation."

"Certainly, Mr Robinson. Please come in.

"Oh, who is this marvellous creature?!"

"This is Baskerville, Lady Pembroke. He is as much a good friend as a pet. Despite his size, he is very friendly. Would you like greet him properly?"

"Mr Robinson?" Dan was seated in a tastefully decorated sitting room, which he was somewhat surprised to note had a PC, a large digital flatscreen television, a Blu-Ray player and a state-of-the-art stereo with digital radio. He rose to his feet, but Mary motioned for him to sit before she and Elizabeth sat down in the comfy settee opposite the equally comfy armchair that he was sitting in.

"That's me. You must be the Lady Mary and the Lady Elizabeth, your Royal High…"

"We aren't members of the immediate current Royal Family, Mr Robinson. As such, that honorific is not ours in your century. Lady is correct, if you want to be formal. If not, I am Mary, and my sister is Bess. Our adoptive sister, when she joins us, answers to Kate.

"Mr Robinson…"

"Since you want us to be informal, please call me Dan. I brought my beloved dog Baskerville with me, but the Marquess is currently spoiling him rotten." Anne Boleyn was famously fond of dogs. That clearly hasn't changed.

Dan looked at the two young women in front of him, dressed in riding gear as they were. As with their mothers, the two radiated a sense of authority that made him realise exactly how they had become the first two truly lasting Queens Regnant in England's history. That was not to say that there weren't differences between the past and present versions of the two. Both queens had Henry VIII for a father and could be ruthless when necessary. Not for nothing had the elder half-sister earned the nickname 'Bloody Mary,' the fanatical Catholic who, as the old song The Chapter of Kings put it, made 'fires and faggots burn.' 'Good Queen Bess' was described as a 'glorious dame' in the same song but could be as ruthless to her enemies as only a Tudor could be. The fate of Mary Queen of Scots was testimony to that! Dan sensed little of that from his hosts. If anything, Mary seemed to be perfectly charming and graceful.

"You are wondering why my sister and I aren't what you expect, Mr – Dan," Elizabeth spoke. "Being a ghost for over four centuries…"

"Some 460 plus in my case, Bess!"

"Thank you, Mary. We have learned an awful lot about what God truly values and that is people, not Catholics or Protestants alone. All we want now is to live our new lives as a family. Bloody Mary and Good Queen Bess are dead and gone. Mary and Elizabeth Pembroke are who we are now.

"I beg your pardon for the use of that stupid nickname, Mary."

"That is what they call me Bess. I earned that title with Jane and Guildford's beheadings and by every one of those two-hundred-and-whatever souls I had burned at Oxford, Smithfield and wherever else. Sometimes, in my dreams, I can still hear their cries…" Mary burst into tears and was pulled into a comforting hug by her sister.

"I killed more Catholics than you did Protestants, Mary. They don't call me 'Bloody Bessie.' No, I'm 'Good Queen Bess,' the one who defeated the Spanish Armada."

"You reigned for forty-four years to my five-and-a-half. Pro rata, you would have to have killed thousands, Bess."

"Forget the past, sister. Our guilt is wiped clean, remember? God has granted us a fresh chance and I don't want us to waste it on regret.

"Mary Tudor is dead! You are Mary Pembroke now and Mary Pembroke is not and never will be that woman!"

Dan realised that Elizabeth was as charming as her sister. She won the hearts and the hand of the Doctor. I can see why!

"Oh, hello," said a voice from behind him. A buxom lass with red-gold hair entered clad in a minidress that seemed to have been painted on. This was clearly Katherine Howard. She has a figure to die for, but she doesn't have the aura that Mary, Elizabeth and their mothers all have.

"My adoptive mothers seem to think that you have some fun adventure in mind for the three of us," Kate continued. "I hope that there is! We could do with some excitement and romance…"

"I do indeed have a case that we think you could offer invaluable assistance with. A Surrey vineyard has obtained a laughing and dancing skeleton.

"How would the three of you feel about going on an outward bounds holiday?

"I believe that the Ladies Mary and Elizabeth have both learned to drive and share the use of a Land Rover Discovery? If so, please can you be at the following address tomorrow morning at ten o'clock for a briefing?" He handed Mary a piece of paper. The address of Old Park House was on it. "If not, I could send some of my teammates to pick you up. Could I give you my mobile number?"

"You may, Dan," Mary said, removing her mobile from where it was charging. She entered the number that he recited into her Contacts. "Thank you.

"I will drive the Land Rover to this address tomorrow morning. See you then."

As Dan got up, the three ladies stood up and raised their hands. Instead of shaking them, he knelt and kissed the backs of their hand in turn. "Until then, goodbye!"