‘My word, I am sorry,’ said Uncle Nat. ‘He’s been cooped up on this train too long. Cabin fever, probably. It won’t happen again.’
‘Be sure it doesn’t.’ Inspector Clyde eyeballed Hal. ‘If I catch you anywhere near that luggage cage, I’ll throw you off the train myself.’
Uncle Nat closed the door and spun around. ‘Well that was a bold move.’
Hal sighed. ‘Amy says it’s impossible to get to the luggage cage from inside the train. It’s too heavily guarded.’ He went over to the map of the route on the wall. ‘Are we stopping for coal and water anywhere?’
‘At Bristol,’ Uncle Nat replied, pointing over his shoulder. ‘We’ll refuel at Temple Meads station, then take the Great Western main line back to London.’ He moved his finger along the route. ‘We’ll go through Box Tunnel, one of the longest in the country, and over the Wharncliffe Viaduct—’
‘How long are we going to be at Bristol?’
‘A fair while. It’s the last formal function before London. Why? What are you planning?’
Hal looked at the route map and took a deep breath. ‘I think I can prove Lenny and Mr Singh are innocent, but I’ll need help.’
‘Of course, Hal. What do you need?’
Hal explained, and Uncle Nat’s eyes widened.
‘The only way into the luggage cage is from the outside,’ Hal finished. ‘And I have to do it at Bristol.’
‘But no one’s going to let you anywhere near that end of the train,’ Uncle Nat said. ‘They’ll be guarding it like hawks.’
‘Maybe,’ said Hal with a grin. ‘But there is one person they will let near it.’
The Highland Falcon puffed triumphantly under the grand arches of Bristol Temple Meads. A gathering of onlookers waved and cheered as she pulled alongside the platform.
‘Such a beautiful station,’ said Isaac, taking a photograph from the veranda of the observation car.
‘It was the first station designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel,’ said Hal. ‘He built most of England’s railways. I read that in my uncle’s book.’
‘You’re a chip off the Bradshaw block, aren’t you?’ Isaac said. ‘Now grab that tripod, and let’s go.’
He jumped down on to the platform as the train pulled to a halt, and Hal followed. Isaac started snapping pictures, making a show of photographing the carriages, the crowd, and the architecture of the station.
‘It’s nice having an assistant.’ Isaac lifted a camera from around Hal’s neck.
‘Can you pass me that lens? Thanks. If you ever want a job, get your uncle to call me.’
They worked as a double act: Hal setting up the tripod, while Isaac adjusted his camera and focused the shots, moving along the platform as they went. Soon the engine was in view, and Isaac photographed the beautiful A4 Pacific gleaming in the August sunshine.
Hal spotted Joey walking beside the boiler and checking the engine.
‘Can we get close to Joey?’ Hal whispered.
‘Sure.’ Isaac strode towards the fireman, snapping away. A policewoman stepped forward to block their path. Isaac lowered his camera. ‘I’m afraid the royal family don’t want the official photographs to feature police officers.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘I have to capture the fireman working on the engine. It’s the last time he’ll ever do it, and I need that photo.’
The policewoman stepped aside, and Isaac strode past the engine. Hal hurried after him and caught a glimpse of Lenny’s dad on the footplate, handcuffed to a policeman.
‘Mr Bray, would you mind if I photographed you?’ Isaac called out.
‘Nope,’ Joey replied. ‘You do your job. I’ll do mine.’
‘Hal, pass me the Canon 5D.’
Unhooking the camera from around his neck, Hal walked round to stand in front of Isaac, managing to place himself less that a metre from Joey.
‘Joey,’ Hal said, his voice low and urgent, ‘I know who took the necklace, but I need proof.’
Isaac checked the light with a handheld device and framed the shot with his fingers, drawing attention away from Hal, who remained motionless, lips barely moving.
‘Mmm-hmmm,’ Joey muttered, rubbing an oily rag along a metal crank.
‘I’m going to clear Mr Singh and Lenny’s names.’
Joey looked at him, clear blue eyes in a craggy face smeared with coal dust. ‘His fire’s gone out,’ he said, his voice cracking.
‘The evidence I need is in the luggage car with Lenny.’ Hal’s eyes flicked to the police officer, but she was looking at Isaac. ‘I’ve tried to get in there, but it’s heavily guarded. Is there a way in from the outside?’
Joey shook his head.
‘What about the skylight?’
Joey’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’d have to be crazy.’
‘I could get through it – I’m certain I could.’
Joey bent down so that his face was obscured.
‘There’s a ladder that goes up the side of the service car and over the top of the train. The boys use it for cleaning the carriages. You can reach it from the tender corridor … But, Harrison, you can’t climb it while the train’s moving – you won’t be able to cling on. It’s too dangerous.’
‘What about when the train’s going super slow? Through a station – like Bath Spa.’
‘I suppose … it’s possible.’
‘Then tell Mr Singh to go as slow as he can for as long as possible through Bath Spa.’
Hal turned away before Joey could talk him out of it. He handed Isaac his other camera. ‘Isaac, I need to get into the tender corridor. Can you get me near the loco?’
Isaac nodded. ‘Stay here until I call for you.’ Then he tailed Joey as the fireman adjusted a giant hose that snaked up into the water tank. ‘Oh dear!’ he exclaimed, shaking his camera. ‘Hal!’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Battery’s dead. I need a new one.’
Hal obediently scurried to Isaac’s elbow, offering him what he hoped was a battery pack from the black case. Isaac unhooked the two cameras hanging around Hal’s neck, pulling them over his own head, and leaned against the tender, looking around as he fitted the battery to the back of his camera.
‘Coast is clear,’ Isaac said quietly. ‘Go now. Quick!’
Hal ducked into the gap between the engine and the service car and slipped into the dark tender corridor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
BELT AND BRACE YOURSELF
The tender corridor was pitch black. Hal could hear the rushing sound of water filling the tank. His heart thumped at the thought of what he was about to do. Yesterday, the idea of climbing out of a window had made him feel sick. Today, he would have to climb on to the roof of a moving train.
Today is different. Lenny needs me.
Uncle Nat had said it would take about fifteen minutes for the Highland Falcon to get to Bath. He had to hope that no one decided to go through the tender corridor in that time, or he’d be caught. The gushing sound stopped, and there was a bang as the hose was pulled from the water tank. Hal swallowed, trying to reassure his jumping heart as his left leg jiggled up and down.
I won’t fall off, he told himself. Mr Singh will drive slowly. I’ll cling on tight. His heart boomed in his ears. I can do this. I will do this.
Standing in the dark, time stretched out forever. Hal wished he had a watch. How was he going to know when they were approaching Bath? He’d have to count the seconds. His chest felt tight. A shock ran through him as the Highland Falcon coughed out a burst of steam, and the tender jolted forward. The wheels beneath him squeaked as they turned, and the train pulled away from Bristol.
As they gathered speed, the tender rocked. Hal braced himself against the walls. His hands were sweaty. He imagined his grip on the ladder slipping and wiped his palms against his trousers. He staggered. It was hard to balance in the dark.
He counted the seconds, adding up to minutes. When he reached what he thought was about fifteen minutes, Hal pulled open the rear door of the tender. He saw tree
s and track whipping past. He looked at the ladder. It was to the right of the door into the service car. If Amy was right, there would be a police officer on the other side of that door. He had to be quiet, as well as careful. Without allowing himself to think, he sprang lightly across the gap, reached out his right hand, and grabbed a rung of the ladder, hugging himself to it. He gasped with joyful relief and then he began to climb, one rung to the next, his confidence building as he went.
At the top of the carriage, the ladder curved forward, hugging the roof, running alongside the skylights. Hal lifted his head and shoulders above the parapet, and, as if shoved from behind by a bully, the force of the wind over the top of the train knocked him forward, pushing his face into the roof, tipping him off balance. His hands and feet fumbled to keep their grip. The wind roared in his ears, and he clung to the ladder for dear life.
Up here, the train didn’t feel slow at all. He stared at the white roof, breathing hard. You’re doing great, he told his hammering heart. Calm down. He carefully slid his left arm between the rungs of the ladder, underneath one and over the next, gripping on as securely as he could. Then he reached down with his right hand, unbuckled his belt, and fastened it around one of the ladder rungs. It held him there, steady, and he could relax his grip as the train slid through the outskirts of a town, houses gathering around the tracks.
Unwinding his arm, Hal eased himself forward, pushing along the ladder with his feet as far as the belt would let him. Then he secured his arm, reached down to untie his belt, straightened his legs, and fastened the belt over the next rung. Like a caterpillar, one rung at a time, he made his way forward. He thought of films where heroes ran over the roofs of speeding trains. They seemed ridiculous now.
The skylights were evenly spaced along the roof. The first one overlooked the generator room. The second was blacked out. His arms ached so hard, they’d gone to jelly. He moved another rung forward, squinting through the soot and smoke and gritting his teeth as his yellow anorak whipped about. He looked around, searching for signs that they were nearing Bath.
The track ran on raised ground, the same height as the rooftops of passing houses. Trees and telephone poles catapulted past. A child in an upstairs bedroom window spotted him and pointed, then was gone. He moved another rung forward. The shrill peal of the train’s whistle almost made Hal lose his grip. It blew once, twice, three times – and again for a long blast. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a station approaching. It was too small to be Bath – and to his horror, beyond the station, he saw a low bridge.
Don’t look. Just don’t look, he told himself, closing his eyes and reaching forward. The third skylight seemed so far away. He had to reach it before the train reached the bridge. He undid his belt, giving up on safety, dragging himself forward rung by rung, trying not to think about losing his grip. Pulling himself up to the skylight he saw the top of Lenny’s head. She was sat on a pile of suitcases with her arms wrapped around her knees. He banged on the window. She lifted her head, leaping to her feet when she saw him, her eyes the size of saucers.
‘Help!’ Hal mouthed.
Lenny leaped across the room, throwing suitcases one on top of another, scrambling on top of them to reach the skylight. Reaching up as high as she could, she flipped open a catch and pulled the window inwards.
Hal threw his arms forward, clasping the base of the window and pulling himself through, plummeting to the luggage compartment floor as the whistle screamed and the train swept under the bridge.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A CAGE OF CASES
‘Uuuuuu,’ Hal moaned, winded by his landing.
Lenny threw her arms around him. ‘You came! You came!’
He gasped, trying to sit up. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Hugging you.’ Lenny released him. ‘Did you get my note? What’s happening? Can you smell that? It stinks in here.’
Hal felt the train slow to a crawl. ‘Oh great – now we’re coming into Bath Spa,’ he groaned. He’d mistimed everything and had nearly got himself killed.
There was a slamming sound, and Lenny shoved him hard. Hal found himself on the ground with a stack of cases being pushed on top of him.
‘What’s going on in there?’
Through a gap in the luggage pile, Hal spied Sergeant Prattle standing outside the cage. He held his breath.
‘Some cases fell over,’ Lenny replied, walking up to the iron mesh and pushing her face against it. ‘Please let me out of here,’ she begged. ‘I promise to be good.’
‘Sorry. Chief’s orders.’
Lenny stuck out her tongue. Sergeant Prattle grunted and left.
‘Your chief stinks!’ she shouted.
Hal heard the carriage door shut.
Lenny pushed the cases off him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
His whole body ached, but it wasn’t from the cases. He shook his head.
‘You climbed over the roof!’ Lenny’s face was a picture of awe. ‘Like an action hero. That’s so dangerous.’
‘It is?’ Hal felt a bit sick.
‘YES! I haven’t got the guts to do that when the train’s moving.’
‘I got your note.’ Hal felt dizzy and wanted Lenny to stop talking. He didn’t feel like a hero. There was a good chance he might throw up. ‘I think I know who stole the necklace. I’m going to get you out of here and clear your dad’s name.’
Lenny sat back on her heels, biting her bottom lip. ‘Really?’ She blinked back tears. ‘You wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it, would you?’
Hal shook his head and then fell backwards a second time as Lenny threw her arms around him again.
‘Ow! Get off!’
‘Thank you – thank you.’ She shook him side to side with joy. ‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my whole life. I owe you – big time.’ She pulled back. ‘Your baby sister’s lucky. You’ll make a pretty good big brother. Although next time, could you be a bit quicker?’
Hal laughed.
‘Now tell me what we’re doing.’ Lenny got to her feet.
‘Where’s the smell coming from?’ asked Hal.
‘Over there.’ She pointed at a tan suitcase with two gold buckles sat on its own in the far corner. ‘I moved it as far away as possible.’
Hal knelt down in front of it. ‘It’s locked.’
‘Yeah,’ said Lenny, wrinkling her nose. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘We need to open it,’ said Hal. ‘Can you open the lock with something on your tool belt?’
‘They took my tools, but …’
Lenny raised her boot and stamped the heel down on the first lock. The gold catch sprang open. She did it again on the second catch. Hal lifted the lid and gagged, immediately closing it. A revoltingly ripe smell wafted out.
‘Eurgh!’ Lenny covered her mouth and nose with her jumper. ‘What is that? It’s disgusting!’
The case was full of small lumpy black bags tied shut. Hal tugged his sleeve over his hand and gingerly lifted one up between pinched fingers. ‘It’s dog poo.’
‘Dog poo?’
‘This explains everything,’ said Hal, reading the label. ‘Now we know where the princess’s necklace is.’
‘We do?’
‘Quick – we need to move all of this poo into a new suitcase … We need one that will shut.’
‘Why?’ Lenny looked horrified.
‘We’re taking it with us.’
‘You’re nuts,’ said Lenny, casting around for a suitcase that would open. ‘Why do you want to take the poo with you?’
‘I’ll explain in a minute.’ Hal opened a small blue suitcase and shook the clothes it contained out on to the floor. ‘Quick – let’s swap the stuff.’
‘Ugh!’
‘C’mon!’ Hal snapped. ‘Our ride out of here will be arriving any minute.’
Trying not to gag, they speedily transferred the bags of dog poo into the empty blue case.
‘Now take your boots off,’ said Hal.
‘Have you lost your marbles?’
‘Just do it.’
Lenny dropped to the floor, unlaced and yanked off her boots, while Hal stacked a pile of suitcases.
‘Put your boots sticking out so it looks like you’re sat behind them,’ he said.
There was a rattle of keys. Hal fell to the floor. Grabbing a large suitcase with one hand and Lenny with the other, he pulled them towards the cage door, and they ducked behind the case.
‘Grub’s up!’ Amy entered the corridor pushing a silver food trolley covered in a white tablecloth, accompanied by Sergeant Prattle.
Peeping over the case, Hal watched the detective pull a key on a wire from his belt and open the cage door.
‘Aw, look – she’s sulking!’ Amy pointed at Lenny’s boots.
Sergeant Prattle snorted. ‘Silly kid.’
Amy lifted the tray of food. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said. ‘It’ll only take me a minute to give her her food.’
‘I can’t leave you alone with her.’ Sergeant Prattle shook his head. ‘Inspector’s orders. She might become violent.’
‘Aw.’ Amy smiled. ‘Are you protecting me from an eleven-year-old girl? How sweet.’
Hal nudged Lenny forward, putting a finger to his lips, miming for her to get on to all fours. He held up a finger and listened.
The Highland Falcon let off a shrill whistle, and the carriage was plunged into darkness as the train disappeared into a tunnel.
‘The trolley!’ whispered Hal, his voice covered by the roaring dark. ‘Go!’
Lenny scrambled forward, and Hal followed right behind her. He lifted the tablecloth covering the food trolley, and Lenny clambered in, bringing her knees up to her chin to make room for him. Hal scrambled in backwards, clutching the blue suitcase. It was a tight squeeze, but they just fit. Hal pulled the tablecloth back down as the train shot out of the tunnel and light returned to the carriage. Lenny gave Harrison a thumbs-up as Amy took the food to Lenny’s boots, chatting away as if she were sat there sulking. She wheeled the trolley out of the cage, and the police officer locked it.
The Highland Falcon Thief Page 15
