by Martyn Ford
‘Nuh.’
It was definitely a memory. An old one too. Amy had seen that picture. But where? The image in her mind was gloomy.
‘Somehhaaar aaark?’ I wrote on the notepad. ‘Somewhere dark?’
‘Somewhere dark …’ She closed her eyes. ‘Yeah … I have seen it … in … in … Wait …’
Amy strode out of her room and into the hall. I followed her past the porthole window (we used to pretend the hallway was a submarine when we were younger – I miss those games). She pulled on the cord for the attic ladder, which came swinging down with a dusty thud.
She climbed up quickly, lifting herself through the hatch and into the shadow of the loft. I followed, but my wide shoulders got stuck in the opening. With a wriggle I managed to get both elbows on the floorboards, still standing on the ladder, my head poking up and glancing around. She slid a large box forward. It was marked ‘Dad’s stuff’.
You may have noticed I haven’t mentioned my dad so far. Well that’s because he died when I was a baby, so I have no memories of him. I basically never think about the guy. Amy and Mum said he was brilliant though.
There were a few random folders and odd pieces of junk, but then she pulled out a leather-bound book. An old journal of some kind. It was entitled An Ancient Evil. She threw it over to me. I read the cover. ‘The tale of the thousand-year-old body thief. By W.E.’
Then Amy lifted a small statue, a metal man with three eyes instead of two.
‘Oooorrrghh,’ I said.
She passed it to me. I inspected the figure – my black finger and thumb were ridiculously big next to the tiny model.
Placing the little man on the wooden floor of the loft, I turned my attention back to the book. On the spine, I noticed there was a red mark – it looked like dried blood. Holding it to my nose, I sniffed.
Then I opened the journal carefully – it felt fragile. Inside, all the pages were gone. They had been torn from the spine. Weird. However, something fell out. Old brown paper, stained and crinkled like a treasure map, landing in front of me like a clue I was meant to find. It was a note. A handwritten message.
Jack, (That was my dad’s name.)
The Whispered Truth are the star swimmers. The name is just a front. The Whispered Manor is where they sleep. They have answers to questions you should never ask. You kick hornet nest, you get stung. My advice is to run.
Your friend,
Niko Vladovski
‘Braaeergghffguurrrg!’ I yelled, holding the note up for Amy. She took it from me and frowned as she read.
‘Dad knew Dr Vladovski?’ she said. ‘That doesn’t make sense … and the star swimmers? Chester, we should … we should … we should be filming all this.’
The plan was simple: we needed to go to a place called the Whispered Manor. That, according to the note in the attic, was where the star swimmers were based.
But we couldn’t do it alone. And besides, as Amy said, we were meant to be filming everything for the show.
So we contacted Detective Pepper, who arrived at our house with Brian and Silent Cameraman. We had already asked Mum about the note and she was just as confused as we were. However, Brian said we had to ask her again, but on camera. This was a ridiculous thing they made us do every now and then. Brian said even the most authentic reality shows have to ‘bend the definition sometimes’.
We were filming in the dining room.
‘Hey guys,’ Amy said into the camera, with dramatic hands. ‘So just to bring you up to speed with the investigation. Doctor Vladovski has totally gone missing – I know, right? Crazy. But get this, Chester and I found a book in our loft with a note from Vladovski to our dad.’ She held up the piece of paper, presenting it like a product she was trying to sell. ‘As if that’s not confusing enough, our dad died over ten years ago.’
‘Yah, OK. Hang on, Amy,’ Brian said. ‘Say that bit again, but slower – bit more intense. Let’s get the mystery vibe right at the front.’
I sighed.
‘Go from, “But get this …”’
Amy was happy to jump through these hoops.
‘But get this,’ she said, ‘we found a book in our loft with a note from Vladovski to our dad … And as if that’s not crazy enough … our dad died over ten years ago …’
‘Yah, fab, fab,’ Brian said. ‘Now, we need some shots of you looking at the statue and the book on the table. Oh, yah, maybe some shots of your loft if poss?’
All this faffing around was annoying. I still didn’t know how long you could be outside of your body without damaging yourself. And I still couldn’t help thinking about all the awful things that might have happened to it. Maybe it had been left out in the cold? Or in the sun? Maybe it’d been thrown off a roof? Stuffed and mounted on a wall – a Chester trophy? Why would someone do that?
No. Stop. Focus on solutions. Stick to the plan.
Either way, we needed to be quick. That seemed obvious. Surely the priority was my body – not making sure we’d got the best shots for the show? That’s why, after watching Detective Pepper adjust his hair in the mirror for the fiftieth time, I stood, slammed my fists on the dining table and yelled, ‘Huhhrrrry uuurrrgghppp.’
Which was, if you don’t speak gorilla, ‘Hurry up’.
I looked down and noticed the table was completely smashed – pieces of wood and splinters around my feet. I was strong.
‘Riiiight, maybe,’ Brian said with shocked eyes, ‘maybe we should take a more passive approach to filming from now on?’
‘Yearrgh.’ I nodded. ‘Maaaybeeh. Yearrgh, goohh ideaah.’
‘Fly on the wall kind of thing?’
‘Fine by me, chief,’ Detective Pepper said.
‘So I’ll just roll myself back, yah,’ Brian whispered. ‘No more interfering until this is resolved. Film what you can,’ he said to Silent Cameraman, ‘but priority is obviously finding Chest-o’s bod. I’ll head back to the studio and calm them down. Boss is panicked about all this. Darlings, I fear if this isn’t over soon my career will be …’ Brian looked as though he was going to cry. ‘We should have guarded the minibus. Chest-o, I’m so sorry.’
I groaned and waved my hand. This wasn’t anyone’s fault. Well, apart from the star swimmers. I knew nothing about them besides the fact they are ‘more dangerous than most angry bear you ever see’ and they happily steal children’s bodies. At least, that was my theory and the note we’d found made it seem all the more likely.
‘Don’t you worry about ya job, sunshine,’ Detective Pepper said, patting Brian on the back. ‘I solve cases like this for breakfast.’
Before he left, Brian gave me a gadget – it was like a small tablet with a screen about double the size of my phone.
‘This is a speech generator,’ he said. ‘Meant for people with disabilities. See, you can type responses, it has predictive text, set phrases, yah, yah? Should help you a bit.’
I typed, ‘Hey, this is pretty handy,’ and the machine read it out. Then I tapped the ‘ha’ button as fast as I could. ‘Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.’
The electronic voice wasn’t perfect. But my choices were limited. I could either speak like a robot, or like a gorilla.
‘Thank you, Brian,’ it said. I grunted in satisfaction. It was quite easy to use too. Even with these massive thumbs I was still pretty fast at typing.
From that moment on, Silent Cameraman simply filmed us. For the first time, the show was actually a reality show. Which is to say, we were acting as ourselves. Well, apart from Loser Amy’s commentary. And, as you have probably noticed, Detective Pepper was basically insane, so it was hard to know when he was being himself and when he was acting up for the camera.
*
The Whispered Manor was about two hours from home. We all stepped out on to the driveway and round to Detective Pepper’s old car. It looked like one of those soft-top American muscle cars you see in movies from the 1970s. Nice leather seats too.
‘Maybe you should drive, Amy?’ he said. �
��I could run through the case on the way?’
‘Nuuurgh.’ I scrabbled with my voice tablet, trying to type no.
‘No probs,’ she said.
Silent Cameraman got in the back with me. I noticed that Detective Pepper’s car had been fitted with two cameras in the front and a small one on the bonnet.
‘Did some digging on ’em, didn’t I,’ he said, holding up a folder. ‘These whispered geezers are lunatics. It’s a cult of some kind, yeah. They shuffle about the place wearing robes. Meditating and that.’
‘This is a nice car,’ Amy said, stroking the steering wheel.
‘Oh, she is a beauty,’ Detective Pepper agreed. ‘I got this motor from a fella used to work down the market – he sold flowers, biggest bunches you ever seen. Tulips. Orchids. Best prices in London.’
Amy pulled away and the car rumbled down the drive.
‘Guy had some trouble,’ he told us, speaking ridiculously fast as he sometimes did. ‘Market got robbed. He needs someone to recover his flowers dun he? He’s on the blower, ring ring. Hello. It’s Pepper. Hour later I’ve got the toerags in cuffs. Gave me this as payment.’ Detective Pepper patted the dashboard. ‘I say no, that’s too much – he says I’m his hero. He says if I was a woman he’d marry me. I said the car will be enough thanks very much goodnight.’
The wheels jolted as Amy got the hang of the brakes.
‘Cor she’s keen on the old pedals this one. Point is, motor’s rough about the edges but she’s got sentimental value. Been on some journeys, I tell ya. Monkey chops probably gets it. I bet there’s a part of you that loves that gorilla?’
I was certainly grateful to have Tito. Better to have a body than not.
*
The building was like a broken castle. Every section of its roof was a spike – as if dark rocks had been dragged into the sky like iron filings reaching for a magnet (magnets are cool aren’t they?). A huge wall around the grounds was covered with ivy and CCTV cameras posted on all the corners searched for possible intruders. Above, wispy clouds seemed purple and grey – as though the place had its own climate.
‘The Whispered Truth?’ Detective Pepper said, peering out of the passenger window of his car, curling his top lip and frowning. ‘Who’d call their cult that eh?’
‘Suppose it makes sense they’d have a nickname,’ Amy whispered. ‘The star swimmers want to stay under the radar.’
We’d parked opposite the entrance – a tall steel gate opened up to the rest of the manor. It looked like there was the main structure, then lots of other newer buildings around it. If it wasn’t for all the security, it could be mistaken for an old boarding school. I saw a few pigeons on the perimeter wall. They seemed to be staring right at us.
Was my body in there? Hidden in the Whispered Manor? I felt it might be.
‘I didn’t even know places like that existed in this country,’ Amy said.
‘Plenty of old gaffs about,’ Pepper added. ‘Went on a ghost hunt once in Scotland. Spooky abandoned church. Saw a little girl in a white dress with the face of a horse. She was laughing and running around. Real creepy ya know. I was like, what is this nonsense? Didn’t sleep for a week. Found out later it was just a mask. Good job I didn’t kick her, cos I tell ya, I was tempted.’
‘O … K?’
There was also a person at the front gate – he was in one of those little outbuildings like a car-park attendant at an airport. A completely bald kid, about my age, wearing a long white robe. When he spotted us, he walked calmly out into the road and stood by the passenger door.
‘Oi oi, look lively. Not ya typical security guard.’ Detective Pepper wound down the window.
‘May I help you?’ the strange robed boy asked. He spoke with a soft, gentle voice and kept his hands clasped together at his stomach.
Although I wanted to grab him and give him a rough gorilla interrogation, I thought it best to let Detective Pepper do the talking.
‘We’re just having a little goosey, ya know.’
‘You cannot film here, sir.’
‘Nice dress, matey pops.’
‘It is not a dress. Please leave or I will be forced to call the police.’
‘You’d dial up the old bill ’cos of some friendly bants?’ Detective Pepper turned to the camera and tutted. ‘Listen to this doughnut.’
‘Final warning, sir.’
‘Hang about, buckle up ya boots, kids, we got ourselves a feisty one. What’s your name, lad?’
‘A whispering brother holds attachments not to this world.’
‘You wot, mate?’
‘We do not have names. Part of the initiation ritual is to let go of— My goodness, is that a gorilla?’
‘Yeah, it’s a gorilla, and wot? Scared of a gorilla?’
‘Well, yes, of course.’
‘Now why not open this gate – we wanna have a little chinwag with ya boss.’
‘Cold Rain does not meet with outsiders.’
‘Cold Rain?’ Amy said. ‘Thought you didn’t have names?’
‘Elders do. If you are not in possession of a search warrant, you have no business being here. Especially not with wild animals.’
‘All right.’ Detective Pepper pointed at him. ‘But you put the kettle on cos we’re coming back, you understand? Let’s do one.’ He patted his dashboard.
There was an awkward silence.
‘Amy, I said, let’s do one. Which means go.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ She fumbled with the gearstick.
‘That was the coolest thing of the whole conversation and you mucked it up.’ Detective Pepper looked at Silent Cameraman. ‘I’ll say it again.’ But the robed guy was already leaving. ‘Oi, come back. Oi, mate. Put the kettle on. Let’s roll.’ Amy pulled away. ‘Milk one sugar,’ Detective Pepper yelled out of the window. ‘Milk one sugar, ya sausage.’
The car stalled. The robed kid just stared as we pulled away again.
‘Aw, you’ve proper ruined this one, Amy.’
We drove around the corner and parked up a little way down the street. The huge perimeter wall was still in sight. It looked like we were the other side of the castle grounds now, near a concrete area with a load of wheelie bins. I spotted two brown rats sniffing around the rubbish.
‘So,’ I typed. ‘Does that mean we have to wait for a seated warfare?’ I groaned. Stupid predictive text. ‘Search warrant.’
‘Where on earth am I gonna get a search warrant from eh?’ Detective Pepper said.
‘Um, I dunno, through a judge?’ Amy said. ‘Or however it’s done? You’re the police officer.’
‘Eh? Wot? I ain’t no police officer.’
‘Wheearrgh?!’ I yelled.
‘Nah, nah, nah, I’m a private investigator innit.’
‘Why the hell do you have an office at the police station then?’ Amy asked.
‘Sometimes the cops get a case that’s too hot for ’em, ya know? They dial my number. Ring, ring. Hello, it’s Detective Pepper, I’m in my dressing gown, dinner’s on, I’m having shepherd’s pie with raspberry sauce, make it fast, what do ya need? We’ve got a case, they say, it’s dangerous, ya know. It’s risky, it’s high stakes. We need the Big Shaker. We need the best damn detective in the country. And I say, well, lucky for you, I happen to know who that is. Here’s ya first clue. It’s me.’
‘All right, guys,’ Amy said to the camera. ‘Another interesting revelation, seems we’ve crossed some wires here. But luckily we’ve hired the best damn detective in the country to solve the case. So that’s good. Oh, news just in.’ Amy put her finger to her ear. ‘Looks like the sarcasm-o-metre just exploded.’
‘Hahhg,’ I laughed. That was Just Amy. See, she’s sometimes funny.
‘Easy tiger,’ Detective Pepper said. ‘We’re not in the playground. Even if I could get a search warrant I wouldn’t play by the book. That ain’t me.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ I said. Yes, no typos!
‘I suggest we drive right through that front
gate, grab this Cold Rain bloke, slam him into the dirt and say, oi rainy chops, spill ya wisdom, ya dirty scamp. Tell us where Chester’s body is. And if he refuses we give him a little slap. If he still refuses … well … we give him another slap.’
‘Sure … that sounds good,’ Amy said. ‘Or maybe we wait till dark and let Chester sneak in there and look for his body.’
‘Aw yeah, great idea,’ Detective Pepper said. ‘Send the silverback on the sneaking mission. Makes sense, well done, Amy. Run that through ya sarcasm-o-metre eh. What’s my score?’
‘Six. But I never said Chester should take Tito with him,’ Amy whispered, pointing at the rats near the bin.
*
We strapped Tito in place with seat belts and snacks, then I jumped across the road into my new body. It was such a relief to have the ability back – it made me feel powerful, made me feel free. Small, brown fur, odd smell. Yep. Done. I was in control of this creature. The mind of a rat is not usually very interesting. But this rat was different.
I found a tight hole in the wall, crawled in and scurried through the cold grass towards the main castle. It was dark and the stars above seemed daunting now I was so close to the ground. My path into the building was obvious – I could smell the way to the kitchen. I could smell the cool mud beneath me. I could smell the bin juice on my scraggy fur.
Near some weeds, a little way from the back door, I found a vent panel. Two slats at the bottom were broken – looked like they’d been chewed through. I ran up and into the vent shaft.
My claws tapped on the shiny metal as I scurried along, stopping from time to time to smell the air with my fast twitching nose. A little sniff-sniff-sniff.
At the end of the narrow tunnel I stopped. I could smell something new.
Cheese.
Yum.
I turned a corner. And there it was, right in the middle of the tunnel. Waiting for me. Lit by a heavenly beam of orange light from the vent slats by its side. Like, aaaaaah, choir-singing. Without thinking, I scampered along towards the food. Wait. Stop, I thought. No. But, yes. No. But cheese? I was standing right in front of the small, delicious cube of cheddar now. Beautiful and yellow, rich and heavy. A perfect little lump of dairy gold. Aw man, it looked fresh too – a slight shine and mark down the side from a knife.
