by carl ashmore
Becky went to her bedroom to calm down and fix her hair. For a fleeting moment, she was sorely tempted to use the incident as an excuse to get out of (or at least delay) going to Uncle Percy’s. However, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Joe hadn’t hesitated in leaping to her defence and he had been so looking forward to the trip. Much as she would never admit it, she really didn’t want to disappoint him.
Thirty minutes later, they had all climbed into the car and Mrs Mellor was rifling through the cluttered glove compartment. ‘This should do the trick,’ she said, a tattered CD held triumphantly in her hand.
Becky groaned. This was the moment she dreaded - sing-along-a-parent time, and her mum had the musical talents of a dishcloth. She closed her eyes, wishing she could do the same with her ears.
Manchester Piccadilly station bustled with people as Becky trailed Joe into the gleaming white concourse. She had pushed the budgie incident from her mind and had resumed her grumpy stance at being sent away for the summer. Spotting a trolley, she and Joe piled their cases onto it and watched as their mum paid for two tickets. Then they walked to platform fourteen.
The small platform hummed with activity as commuters rushed from the standing train and scampered up the steps to make their next connection.
‘You’ve got your mobile phones,’ Mrs Mellor said, voice quivering. ‘I’m only a phone-call or a text away. It really isn’t that far and if you’re genuinely unhappy I’ll come and get you at once.’ She bent over to embrace Becky.
Becky knew the hug she returned was half-hearted - she couldn’t help it. Still, as she felt her mum’s trembling body she felt a twinge of guilt and said, ‘We’ll be all right, mum. Don’t worry about us.’ She forced the best smile she could. ‘I’m sure it’ll be brilliant.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Mrs Mellor sniffed loudly. ‘I know it will be. You just look after each other and have a wonderful time.’
Becky and Joe scaled the train’s steps, lugging their suitcases behind them. They moved into the nearest carriage, wedged their cases into an already heaving luggage compartment, and moved down the aisle to a vacant table. Mrs Mellor, tears flowing freely now, trailed them to the closest window.
The train shuddered and Becky’s heart sank further. Throwing her mother a final wave, she felt the train edge out of the station.
‘So what d’you reckon he’s like?’ Joe asked excitedly.
‘Who?’
‘Mr Potato Head. Uncle Percy, of course.’
Becky shot him a dismissive look. ‘Well, if you want my honest opinion, he sounds like a right numpty.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, firstly, he claims to be an inventor. I mean it’s not the coolest job in the world, is it? Secondly, from what I can gather, he’s a recluse and we’ve got to put up with that for six boring weeks … and, unlike you, I actually have a life.’
‘I think he sounds great,’ Joe said truthfully. ‘Mum says he’s well funny and dad liked him, so I don’t see why we won’t. She says he’s got a massive house.’
‘Yeah,’ Becky said with a snort, ‘and it wouldn’t surprise me if we were there to clean that massive house, to cook for him, wash his clothes. And if that is the case, then you’re in charge of washing his pants.’ She gave a doleful sigh. ‘We’ll be a couple of house-slaves, you mark my words!’ And with that, Becky made it perfectly clear that was the end of the discussion.
The train rattled through the Cheshire plains, passing mile upon mile of patchwork fields, thick woodland, and stopping at, it seemed to Becky, every boring village in the North West of England. After a very long hour in which she said nothing to Joe bar the odd grunt, she watched as a rusty sign heralded the final stop: Addlebury.
As the train juddered to a halt, Becky stood up to see she and Joe were the last passengers in the carriage. With a huff, she grabbed her shoulder bag and marched to the luggage compartment to collect her case.
‘Come on. Let’s get it over with, then.’ Becky waited as the doors opened and a gust of warm air brushed her face. Hesitantly, she took her first step onto the platform. Looking round, she saw it was deserted. ‘See… the old codger couldn’t even be bothered to meet us. I say we get back on the train and -’ But before she could finish, a man appeared in silhouette at the end of the platform, his dusky shadow lengthening before them. He strode into the light, a glowing smile on his tanned face.
Uncle Percy was not as old as Becky had expected - maybe fifty years of age - with broad shoulders, shoulder-length grey hair, and warm hazel eyes. ‘Welcome, Becky. Welcome, Joe. How wonderful to see you both again.’
Joe threw him a wide smile.
Becky didn’t.
‘I’m your Uncle Percy,’ he continued, oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm. ‘But you can call me whatever you’d like. I’ve always been partial to the name Colonel Igidor Puffbury if you’d prefer that.’
Even Becky’s lips curled into a smile at that point, although in truth it was chiefly due to her uncle’s peculiar dress-sense. He wore a cream linen jacket with a striking crimson rose in the lapel, a gold tie with the letter ‘G’ embroidered on it, Bermuda shorts and a violet waistcoat. He was also holding the largest pair of driving goggles she’d ever seen.
‘Hello, Uncle Percy,’ Joe said enthusiastically.
‘The pleasure is mine, Joe.’ Uncle Percy gave Joe’s hand a sturdy shake.
Becky offered a considerably more muted, ‘Hiya.’
‘And hello to you, Becky.’ Uncle Percy bowed deeply. ‘My, my, you have grown into a dazzling young woman.’
Becky considered belching just to see his reaction.
‘Please, allow me to lighten your load.’ Uncle Percy leant over and took their cases. ‘I trust you had a pleasant journey?’
‘It was fine,’ Joe said. ‘I like your flower.’
‘Thank you. It’s a Stephanie Rose. It’s unique to Bowen Hall, that’s where I live. Anyway, shall we get going. I know a few people who are most eager to meet the two of you.’
‘Who?’ Becky asked warily. There had been no mention of anyone else.
‘Just my friends,’ Uncle Percy replied simply. ‘Maria is particularly excited. I’ve told her so many stories about you both, she feels like she knows you already.’ Spinning sharply on his back foot, he marched toward the exit. ‘Follow me …’
Becky arched her eyebrows with suspicion. How could he know anything about them?
‘Who’s Maria?’ Joe said, struggling to keep up with his uncle’s lengthy strides.
‘I suppose you’d call her the housekeeper,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘That’s certainly what she calls herself.’
‘You have staff?’ Becky asked.
‘Gosh, no,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Well, I don’t consider them staff, anyhow. They’re my friends. I’m sure Maria would disagree, however. I think she rather likes the idea of being an employee. She even insists on wearing a uniform, which rather puzzles me.’
‘Are you, like, dead rich?’ Joe asked bluntly.
Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘To be perfectly honest with you, I really don’t know. I think some of the patents do rather well, but I leave those things to other people. Most of the profits go to various charities. I have no interest in money, whatsoever. No, as long as we can maintain the integrity of the Hall, that’s all that concerns me.’
Becky stifled a laugh. She didn’t believe a word of it. She followed Uncle Percy to the car park where she froze to the spot. Standing there, glinting in the brilliant sunlight, was an ancient silver car the likes of which she had never seen before, except in history books or very old films.
‘Wow!’ Joe exclaimed.
Becky’s eyes widened with horror. It’s Chitty Chitty Bang Bang! she thought.
‘Do you like her?’ Uncle Percy asked.
‘That’s yours?’ Joe asked.
‘Indeed, she is,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘It’s a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost. There are only two with the original chassis still in
existence, and I’m fortunate enough to possess one of them. Of course, I’ve made some minor modifications to make it a tad more suited to modern driving, but essentially it’s the same car.’
‘It’s ace.’ Joe turned to Becky. ‘Isn’t it, Becks?’
‘Yeah,’ Becky lied, thankful her friends couldn’t see her.
Uncle Percy swung open the passenger doors and gestured for them to climb aboard. Joe leapt in. Becky followed, glancing from side to side to check no one was watching.
Uncle Percy mounted the side step and settled onto the claret leather seat. ‘Now, seatbelts on, please,’ he said. ‘We don’t want any accidents, do we?’
Becky couldn’t help but think that a minor accident resulting in her being sent straight home was a perfect solution to a very big problem.
Fixing his goggles, Uncle Percy turned the ignition key and the engine purred into life. He swung the car down a leafy side street and in a matter of seconds they were surrounded by countryside.
‘Uncle Percy, mum says you’re an inventor,’ Joe said.
‘I am, indeed, Joe.’
‘So what was the last thing you invented?’
‘Erm, let me see … The Gumchumper, I think.’
‘What’s a Gumchumper?’
‘Well, have you ever noticed how much discarded chewing gum litters the streets of every town? The Gumchumper is a device to remove even the most stubborn gum off the pavements, leaving the surface as good as new. It’s like a lightweight vacuum cleaner but considerably more powerful. I’ve sent them to a number of town councils, free of charge, of course. I do hope they use them.’
The Gumchumper? Becky found herself thinking. What a dweeb!
They stopped at a set of traffic lights, when they heard the deafening blast of a car horn. A black convertible car pulled alongside them. Two young men wearing baseball caps and tracksuit tops were smirking at Uncle Percy. The driver, who had very short mousy-brown hair and a flat, pimply face nudged his friend and sniggered.
Becky suddenly felt very exposed.
‘Oh, dear,’ Uncle Percy said quietly. He flashed the young men a courteous smile and said in a loud, steady voice, ‘Good morning, gentlemen.’
The driver responded with a rude hand gesture.
Uncle Percy exhaled heavily. ‘I do loathe bad manners.’
The driver sounded the horn again.
Uncle Percy tutted disapprovingly. ‘Becky, Joe, are your seatbelts securely fastened?’
‘Y-yes,’ Becky and Joe stammered, as the traffic lights flashed amber.
Immediately, the spotty driver revved his engine and a cloud of fumes billowed from his exhaust.
‘Brace yourselves, please!’ Uncle Percy shouted over the din of screeching tyres. ‘Things are going to get rather stirring.’ He reached for the gear stick, flipped open its cap to reveal a scarlet button and pressed it. At once, the Silver Ghost made a deep rumbling sound, like an aeroplane readying for takeoff. ‘I’d prefer you didn’t mention this to your mother …’
The amber light flashed green.
VVRRROOOOM! The black car’s tyres spun furiously and it sped off. At the same time, Uncle Percy placed his foot calmly on the accelerator. There was no screeching noise - no cloud of smoke - but, with a soft swish, the Silver Ghost soared away at an astonishing speed.
Becky had never experienced anything like it. Her stomach performed somersaults. She arched round to look at the black car, now a tiny dot on the horizon.
Smiling contentedly, Uncle Percy steered the Silver Ghost with ease and after two miles slowed to a regular speed. Lifting his goggles, he said, ‘Did you enjoy that?’
Becky and Joe were speechless.
‘That was one of the little modifications I mentioned: an ultra-booster. I know it was reckless, and by and large I do respect the national speed limits, but I also deplore rudeness and those gentlemen were rather loutish. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Y-yes,’ Becky spluttered, still confused as to what had just happened.
‘Are you all right, Joe?’ Uncle Percy asked.
Joe paused for a moment, his mind still playing catch-up. Then his face exploded with delight. ‘THAT WAS GREAT!’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now, Bowen Hall’s not far now, and I believe Maria has prepared a magnificent lunch.’
But Becky couldn’t begin to think about food now. Her thoughts were fixed on one thing, and one thing only. If Uncle Percy could turn an antique car into the fastest she’d ever seen, then what else was he capable of doing?
Maybe he wasn’t such a dweeb, after all. Maybe …
- Chapter 4 -
Bowen Hall
They drove for a further five minutes and then curved right into a narrow road, flanked by giant trees and very thick hedges.
‘We’re here,’ Uncle Percy announced.
Becky twisted her head, eager for the first glimpse of her summer home. She saw nothing but an impenetrable wall of greenery.
‘Where is it?’ Joe asked impatiently.
‘Just beyond that perimeter fence.’ Uncle Percy nodded at the hedgerows.
‘I can’t see a thing,’ Joe said, sounding rather disappointed.
‘That’s the point. Security is of the essence at the Hall, so I’ve installed a number of measures to ensure the average rambler can’t just wander in.’
They passed a succession of wooden signs that read ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY – KEEP OUT OR DIE!’ - ‘TRESSPASSERS WILL BE BLOWN UP!’ - ‘INTRUDERS WILL BE FED TO VERY BIG DOGS!’ and ‘BEWARE OF THE LIONS!’
Becky did a double take. ‘You have lions?’
Uncle Percy laughed. ‘Good heavens, no. Don’t take those signs literally. I just thought they were funny and they certainly get the point across. We never have any unwelcome visitors.’
Becky nodded. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised.
The Silver Ghost turned left and Becky saw a wrought-iron gate set back from the road. Bringing the car to a halt, Uncle Percy removed his goggles and climbed out. He approached a piece of foliage at the side of the gate and inserted his hand until it disappeared, swallowed by leaves.
Becky watched, intrigued, as the foliage slid to the left and an electronic keypad appeared.
Uncle Percy bent over and stared into it. The pad made a soft whirring sound and a fine ray of brilliant white light beamed from its center, gliding over his left eye. ‘Percy Mathias Halifax,’ he said. Then he did a very strange thing. He plucked a strand of hair from his head, inserted it into a tiny slot on the panel. A second later, a shrill beep rang out, a light bulb flashed green and the gate slowly opened.
Uncle Percy returned to the car to see two very puzzled expressions staring back at him. ‘Oh, they’re just some of the precautions I’ve installed: A retinal scanner, voice remodulator and a DNA verifier.’
‘You can never be too careful,’ Becky said, pretending she understood what he’d just said.
Facing forward as they entered the grounds, Becky saw a stretched driveway, lined with dozens of spruce trees. But where was Bowen Hall? She felt Joe’s hand tighten around her arm. Glancing over, she saw his eyes were fixed on something in the distance. Following his gaze, she saw eight very small, coffee-coloured animals frolicking in a field. ‘Are they dogs?’
‘Oh, err, no, they’re horses,’ Uncle Percy replied, somewhat vaguely.
Becky looked again. She couldn’t believe it! Horses? They were no taller than her knees. ‘Are they babies?’
‘Fully grown,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘The Eohippus is just very small. I didn’t expect to see them, they’re usually very shy, but I think they must be rather enjoying the sun. As a matter of fact, we have lots of rare animals at Bowen Hall.’
‘Like what?’ Becky said eagerly. She adored animals.
‘Well, we have some hazel dormice - they’re quite rare, and a family of Natterjack toads. We’re very fortunate.’
‘How about budgies?’ Joe smirked at Becky, who scowled back at him.
/> ‘No budgies I’m afraid.’
‘And how big are the grounds?’ Becky asked, keen to steer the conversation away from budgies.
‘A few thousand acres. There’s a lovely lake, stables, a maze, a sizeable forest, that’s where Will lives - ’
‘Who’s Will?’ Joe cut in.
‘He’s a good friend. A fine chap,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘He tends the grounds.’
‘And he lives in the forest?’ Joe asked, intrigued. ‘Why doesn’t he live at the Hall?’
‘He’s the outdoorsy type,’ Uncle Percy said simply. ‘Besides, he’s got a wonderful tree house he made with his own hands. You’ll like Will.’
‘A tree-house?’ Joe breathed.
‘Yes. It’s an amazing construction and very comfortable. I’m sure he’ll let you sleep there one night, if you ask him nicely.’
Becky realised if she heard this a few hours ago she wouldn’t have believed a word. Now, anything was possible. As they reached the end of the driveway, Becky and Joe let out a simultaneous gasp of astonishment.
Uncle Percy smiled. ‘Home sweet home.’
Becky couldn’t believe her eyes. Before her stood an enormous Jacobean mansion of red and orange brick with large windows that reflected the sunlight from countless panes of glass. A central clock tower overlooked a series of weather vanes, domes and spires. Passing a central fountain, the Silver Ghost stopped before a series of stone steps. Uncle Percy leapt from the car, opened the rear doors, and Becky and Joe stepped out.
Then, with a shattering bang, the front door burst open, and a short, elderly woman wearing a black and white uniform appeared. She had curly black hair, a round, pink face and a wide smile that showed off her misshapen teeth to full effect.
Becky thought she resembled a human skittle.
‘It’s the children – the children …’ the woman screeched with an accent, rushing down the steps, her apron billowing before her. ‘Jacob! It’s the children.’ A very thin old man with agreeable eyes, shuffled through the door, his right leg affected by a slight limp.
