The Misfits Club

by Kieran Crowley

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Brian arrived home to a sound he’d never heard before or ever expected to hear – the sound of Mucky McDonnell vacuuming. He wasn’t vacuuming particularly well, since he was standing still and just moving the vacuum cleaner backwards and forwards over the same spots again and again, but it was still a revelation to Brian. He stared at his father open-mouthed until Mucky noticed he was there and switched the machine off.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ Mucky said.

  Brian went up to his room and lay down on his bed.

  After being stuck in the boot of a car, it was almost heavenly to be on his comfortable bed. His joy was short-lived, though, as shortly after he had to get up and have a shower and get dressed for the party, which he’d almost forgotten about. He did his best not to laugh when he went downstairs and saw Mucky dressed in his only suit, his remaining hair tied back in a ponytail. The suit was as old as Brian, and Mucky had been a bit lighter back then, so now it strained at the seams. The material would probably burst if Mucky made any sudden movement.

  ‘Sharon’s meeting us there,’ Mucky said. He twirled around. ‘What do you think, kid? Am I good enough for the pages of Hello magazine?’

  ‘Suppose so,’ Brian said. He had more on his mind than his father’s fashion choices.

  ‘Grumpy little twerp,’ Mucky muttered.

  The party was already underway when Brian and Mucky arrived and the Adamus’ house was teeming with people. Children ran in and out of the large white marquee that took up nearly every square inch of the back garden. Tables were laden down with a huge variety of food – roasted chickens, salads, baked sweet potatoes, suya, quiches, burgers – and a vast array of drinks from apple juice to zobo. Mr Adamu loved cooking food from his home town in Nigeria – and it all smelled delicious.

  ‘Patrick, great to see you,’ Mrs Adamu said, a smile lighting up her face as they reached the back door. She’d been in primary school with Mucky and was one of the few people in Newpark who ever seemed pleased to see him.

  It took a moment for Brian to realize she was talking to his father. He was so used to people calling him Mucky that he hardly remembered his real name was Patrick.

  Mrs Adamu gave Mucky a big hug and kiss, and winked at Brian.

  ‘Plenty of food and drink for everyone. This is a party, so don’t be shy. Brian, show your father around.’

  She moved along to greet someone else as they squeezed into the house. Two of Sam and Chris’s brothers were scurrying around carrying plates piled high with food and delivering them to the adults before returning to get more. Adeyinka, their eleven-year-old sister, smiled hello at Brian as she passed by. Lively music blared from speakers balanced precariously on the back of a couch. A couple of people were attempting to dance. Their attempts were not good.

  ‘Brian, over here,’ Amelia called out from a corner of the living room.

  ‘I’ll see if Sharon’s here yet,’ Mucky said.

  Brian joined Amelia. It was an effort to make his way through the throngs of people, all having a good time. Amelia looked more glamorous than usual. Her red hair was styled and she was wearing a dress. An expensive-looking bag was draped over her shoulder.

  ‘Some party,’ Brian said.

  ‘Sure is. Sam and Chris are helping out in the marquee. Hannah’s queuing for the bathroom.’

  They didn’t say anything for a moment, both of them suddenly a little shy. They weren’t used to being in each other’s company without any other Misfits around.

  ‘How much longer do you have to mind your grandmother for?’ Brian asked.

  He immediately regretted the question. It was the kind of boring one an adult might have asked.

  ‘Oh, a couple more weeks, I’d say. She’s not as strong as people think,’ Amelia replied.

  ‘Hello, everyone,’ Florence boomed as she made a grand entrance.

  She grabbed a glass of wine from a passing tray and began talking quite loudly to the first person who happened to cross her path.

  ‘Yes, she does look kind of frail,’ Brian said.

  Amelia stared at the glass of cola in her hand. Brian was glad when Hannah returned from the bathroom a minute later and the awkwardness faded.

  ‘You mustn’t be in that much trouble with your parents if you’re at the party,’ Brian said.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Hannah said. ‘They haven’t said anything yet, but I know the game they’re playing. I’ll be punished tomorrow. Just you wait and see. They’re tricky like that.’

  Over the next few hours food was eaten, speeches were made, songs were sung and tears were shed as people celebrated the Adamus having been an important part of the community. And then crowds began to thin out as people drifted away home. Chris was relieved when his cousin-in-law, Garda Debra O’Loughlin, left the party. He’d suspected she’d been keeping an eye on them during the evening, but she had to leave before some of the others as she had an early start the next morning.

  Amelia, Hannah and Brian – with a large slice of cake in his hand – made their way to the marquee where Sam and Chris were finishing up their serving duties.

  ‘How come you had to work at your own party?’ Amelia asked.

  Chris wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘Our mum has a big thing about being a good host and we didn’t want to let her down.’

  ‘Also, if we didn’t work, she’d kill us,’ Sam said.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Hannah whispered. ‘Look at them.’

  The parents of the Misfits had formed their own little gang at the back of the marquee. Hannah’s father was snapping pictures of everyone on his mobile phone. There was lots of cackling and plenty of laughter. Mucky was in the middle of it all, telling a story everyone seemed to find amusing. Sharon was beside him, still wearing her coat, even though the evening wasn’t particularly cold.

  ‘I can’t respect a man who was attacked by a goose,’ Florence chuckled.

  ‘It wasn’t a goose – it was a duck,’ Mucky said.

  ‘The type of bird isn’t really the issue,’ Florence replied.

  This was followed by more laughter. Hannah couldn’t understand it. Her parents appeared to be having a good time.

  ‘Why do parents have to be so embarrassing?’ Sam asked.

  ‘I think it’s the law,’ Brian said. ‘They probably take a course in how to embarrass their children.’

  ‘There they are,’ Mr Adamu shouted across when he noticed the Misfits.

  ‘Our intrepid investigators,’ Mrs Fitzgerald whooped.

  ‘What’s wrong with her? She’s smiling and laughing. That’s not the way she normally behaves,’ Hannah said. ‘Don’t worry, she doesn’t know anything about the real investigation.’

  ‘Still don’t like them talking about it,’ Brian said.

  Whether he liked it or not, they continued to talk about it for the next few minutes, and the others were soon as annoyed as Brian. No amount of please desist gestures or glaring eye contact could stop their parents.

  ‘Remember when they went investigating because they thought there was a secret agent in town?’ Mr Fitzgerald said.

  ‘That’s right. The Amazing Mystery of the Eye Spy,’ Mr Adamu chortled.

  Sharon looked over at Brian. She smiled when he caught her eye. That’s weird, he thought, why is she being nice? Was she actually feeling sorry for him?

  ‘Or when the cat burglar they were chasing for two weeks turned out to be an actual cat,’ Mrs Adamu said.

  Mr Fitzgerald slapped his thigh and whooped with laughter. The Misfits Club was not impressed. Hannah was as stony-faced as a gargoyle.

  ‘They think we’re a joke,’ Chris said.

  Sam was lost for words for the first time in over a year. He couldn’t believe they were mocking the club.

  The parents were still talking, but now Mrs Fitzgerald had turned her attention to Mucky. Brian’s blood froze. He knew what was coming next.

  ‘Which of their mysteries was your fav
ourite, Patrick?’ Mrs Fitzgerald asked.

  Mucky looked confused and a little embarrassed. He didn’t have an answer. He’d barely remembered that Brian was in some kind of club. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped. He stood there looking increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by and the other parents waited for him to say something, until Florence came to his rescue.

  ‘The biggest mystery of them all is how Patrick “Mucky” McDonnell ever got to be so handsome,’ she said. ‘I remember him wandering around the town as a young fella and he was fierce funny-looking back then.’

  She elbowed him to emphasize her point and Mucky went flying, almost crashing through the side of the marquee. All the parents loved that and they cracked up laughing. By the time Mucky had righted himself, Florence had skilfully changed the subject.

  Hannah’s father was getting people to pose for a photo whether they wanted to or not, still snapping away with his mobile phone. He took one of Florence and Mrs F, then the Adamus. Mucky didn’t need to be persuaded – he was happy to pose. Sharon pulled her coat collar in tighter, as if she was trying to keep out the cold, and Mucky squeezed her shoulder with one hand and made the bunny-ears sign behind her head with the other.

  While the others were annoyed at what they saw as their parents’ mocking, Brian was just relieved that his father was joining in and hadn’t made a fool of himself. It was Amelia who lifted the gloom that had descended.

  ‘I think it’s a good thing that they don’t take us seriously,’ she said. ‘It’ll make it a lot sweeter when we prove them wrong by solving this mystery.’

  ‘You’re right. We’ll show them we’re not a joke,’ Sam said. ‘We’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll face every danger. What’s the worst that could happen?’

  ‘We could die horribly,’ Chris said.

  ‘Really? OK, that’s pretty bad,’ Sam said.

  The twins got called on to do some more tidying up and persuaded the others to give them a hand. Despite her eagerness to help, Amelia managed to break two plates and tip a half-eaten piece of a chocolate-and-cream cake on to the back of a neighbour’s brand-new shirt before Chris decided to intervene.

  ‘Er, you’ve worked hard enough, Amelia, why don’t you take a break?’ he said. ‘We’ve got it from here.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because I don’t mind wash—’

  ‘Very sure. Very, very sure. Sit down, relax, eat some eclairs,’ he said, ushering her away from the kitchen to a place where she was less likely to cause damage.

  Amelia made herself comfortable on the couch. When Brian glanced across at her a couple of minutes later, she had a strange expression on her face. She noticed him looking and smiled, but it didn’t look like a normal smile, at least not to him.

  Something’s bothering her, he thought, but he swiftly forgot about it.

  The party was almost at an end when Amelia left the couch and went to the bathroom to wash her hands. To her surprise, there was still a queue for the toilet. When she emerged shortly after, Brian was next in the queue. She smiled, but once again it was a strange kind of smile, before she stumbled over a rampaging five-year-old. She almost hit the ground, but Brian caught her in time. Her shoulder bag slid down her arm. It was open, but she managed to stop it from sliding off completely and all of its contents from emptying on to the ground.

  For a moment, Brian was stunned. Surely that wasn’t . . . ? Amelia clipped the bag shut and carried on downstairs.

  ‘Hey, do you need to use the bathroom or not?’

  The person behind him in the queue was practically hopping from one foot to the other.

  ‘No, go ahead,’ Brian said.

  ‘Thanks, pal. I couldn’t have held on for much longer.’

  Brian leaned up against the wall. Had he really seen what he thought he’d seen in Amelia’s bag? No, he’d made a mistake. That was it. He was tired and had a lot on his mind. It was a mistake.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  At ten o’clock the next morning, Hannah sat on a couch in her old playroom, her arms folded, a stern expression on her face. Her mother strode into the room, gave the coffee table a wipe and pulled the curtains open with a flourish.

  ‘Why are you sitting there doing nothing?’ she asked.

  Hannah didn’t reply.

  ‘There’s no point sulking, Hannah. You know the rules and the rules are there for your safety. If you’re late, you’re grounded. Your father and I were terrified that something had happened to you.’

  ‘I was only a few minutes late.’

  ‘You were forty-nine minutes late and you failed to answer five telephone calls,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said.

  ‘Other people get to be late all the time and they never get grounded.’

  ‘Well, good for them.’

  She began to hum a Vietnamese song as she tidied up around Hannah, who remained pouting on the couch. When Mrs Fitzgerald swung the window open, Hannah almost leaped from her seat with fright, but she managed to compose herself just in time.

  ‘What a lovely day,’ Mrs Fitzgerald said.

  It was a lovely day. The sun was lazily arcing through the bluest sky there had been in weeks. Mrs Fitzgerald held her cleaning cloth out of the window and shook it free of dust. If she hadn’t started singing again, she might have heard the stifled cough that came from just below the sill.

  ‘You have until three o’clock to complete your list of chores, then we’re going to visit Mrs Finnegan,’ was the last thing Hannah’s mother said before she left the room.

  As soon as the door was shut, Hannah raced to the window. Her friends were gathered in a pile on the path below. Amelia and Brian were holding Sam down while Chris had his hand clamped over his brother’s mouth.

  ‘We’re clear,’ Hannah said.

  They released Sam who immediately began to cough into his T-shirt, trying his best to keep the noise to a minimum. He’d happened to be in the wrong spot when Mrs Fitzgerald had shaken the cloth clean and, inhaling nearly all of the dust, he’d only been able to keep quiet thanks to the Misfits’ intervention.

  ‘Got any food, Hannah? I didn’t have breakfast,’ Brian asked.

  Hannah raided the emergency cupboard and handed him a couple of bags of crisps. ‘Mum could swing by again at any moment, so if she comes in I’ll start singing. That’ll be your cue to shut up immediately,’ she said.

  ‘Got it,’ Sam said.

  ‘So I call this extraordinary meeting of the Misfits Club to order,’ Hannah said. ‘I’ve found nothing on Manuel and Bart so far. All I keep getting is stuff on characters from The Simpsons and a guy from some old show called Fawlty Towers. I’ll keep at it. Not much else I can do when I’m trapped here anyway.’

  ‘When’s the grounding over?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Two days in total, starting at nine this morning, so forty-six and a half hours from now,’ Hannah said.

  ‘You’re stuck here for two days? That’s harsh.’

  Hannah checked over her shoulder. She’d thought she’d heard the faint click of the door handle turning, but it remained in place.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Amelia asked.

  ‘Yeah. I keep thinking that Mum’s going to catch me doing something she disapproves of and I’m going to end up with an extended sentence. It’s making me jittery. Just make sure she doesn’t spot you lot or I don’t know when I’ll get out of here again. The other thing is, remember I told you I found this place online where they analyse old paintings and stuff? I sent a copy of Amelia’s drawing of the painting and I’m waiting to hear back. The only thing is you have to pay for it, so I had to do it on my dad’s laptop and now I’m banned from using it, so I don’t know if they’ve replied or not.’

  ‘There’s no other way you can get in touch?’

  ‘No, they give you an access code and—’

  ‘The access code’s on your dad’s laptop,’ Amelia said.

  ‘I’ll see if I can sneak it out later, but it won’t be easy. They’re w
atching me like hawks.’

  They spent the next few minutes whispering about Rodney O’Reilly and what connection he could have had to the two men in the Impreza, but they knew everything they said was just guesswork at this point. They needed more information before they could figure out what was going on. Who were Manuel and Bart? Why were the stolen items such a random assortment of things? Why had they been hiding them in such an unusual location? And where were they now?

  ‘We have to go back and check out the places they went yesterday, that old farm and the house they parked outside. They must have stopped there for a reason. Maybe that’s where they’re storing the stuff they stole,’ Sam said.

  ‘We’ll go to both places we stopped at and check them out,’ Brian said. ‘Chris, can you print off the address of the farm from the information you got on the tablet?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind,’ Amelia said.

  ‘The more, the merrier,’ Sam said, patting her on the back.

  Brian was confused. Amelia and Hannah had become really close over the last week and seemed to almost be joined at the hip, yet she wanted to spend her afternoon cycling around with Sam and him, rather than stay with Hannah. Something didn’t add up.

  ‘Look, there’s something else we need to talk about too,’ Hannah began. ‘Something Amelia’s discove—’

  Hannah interrupted herself and broke into song. It took Brian a moment to realize that this meant something was wrong – Hannah wasn’t breaking into song because of her happy-go-lucky nature. He felt a hand grasp his and, before he could protest, Amelia was pulling him along the footpath and round the back of the garden shed where Sam and Chris were already hiding. When he looked back towards the window, he saw Mrs Fitzgerald leaning out, a suspicious look creasing her features. Luckily, she didn’t spot them.