Sowerby was where Peter’s grandma lived. Grandma Fox, not Grandma Rabbit. There was this family joke about Mum and Dad. Something about a rabbit catching a fox. The grown-ups laughed about it at parties but Peter thought it was daft, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood for it tonight. Shame the rabbit didn’t miss the flipping fox, he thought savagely, then I’d never have been born and everybody’d be better off. He was feeling really really sorry for himself.
It’ll be OK at Grandma’s. She likes me if nobody else does. She’ll do me hot milk and biscuits and I’ll tell her what they said. I’ll ask her to let me sleep over, and not to phone Mum and Dad till tomorrow. That’ll teach ‘em. They’ll be worried sick, even though they don’t care about me really. They’ve always been funny about me being out after dark. He smiled to himself. Two o’clock and they won’t even be in bed. They’ll stay up all night and be shattered tomorrow and it’ll serve ‘em right.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that when a van came nosing out of a gateway he was crossing, he had to fling himself backwards to keep from being hit. He hadn’t noticed the gateway or heard the van, which was travelling without lights. His violent evasive action dumped him on the seat of his pants and he sat dazed as the vehicle swung left and roared away, still without lights. Didn’t even see me, he thought, picking himself up. Good mind to report him, except I’d need his number and I didn’t get it. He’d noticed something though. Something familiar. As he knocked dirt off the seat of his jeans with both hands he realized he’d seen the van before, loads of times, but what the heck was it doing coming out of someone’s driveway without lights at two o’clock in the morning? He shook his head, too tired to think about it now. Sowerby seemed pretty close when you went by car, but it was turning out to be quite a hike. He yawned and plodded on.
‘Peter Rabbit.’ Miss Blackburn glanced up from her register. ‘Anybody know where Peter is?’
‘Miss.’ Rosie held up her hand. ‘He went missing, miss. Last night. His dad came to where we’re parked and we went looking, but we didn’t find him. I think Mr Beecroft knows about it, miss.’
A buzz went round the classroom. Lee Kippax scribbled something on a bit of paper and slipped it to Carl Foxcroft. The note passed from hand to hand till it reached Rosie. She smoothed it out and read: What happened, gipsy? Trick go wrong, did it? What if I grass you up? She turned the paper over and wrote, One word from you, and stuff will happen that’ll make the laughing ball seem normal. Keep it zipped, apple-thief. She watched the boy’s face turn pale as he read. He wasn’t going to say a single word.
The twins found her at break-time.
‘When did he go, Rosie? He was with us, walking home.’
‘I know, but he never arrived. Must’ve gone off after we split up.’
‘D’you think it’s got something to do with … you know?’
Rosie shrugged. ‘Maybe. His stuff wasn’t up the Ring though – I checked.’
‘What about there?’ Carrie nodded towards the far corner of the field.
‘No. I looked before school.’
‘That leaves the ice house.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I don’t think he’s gone invisible. He’s run off, that’s all.’
Conrad pulled a face. ‘Or someone’s taken him. It happens.’
‘Yes well … we’ve just got to hope it didn’t happen this time.’
Halfway through lunch, Peter walked into the yard. Rosie and the twins ran to him. ‘What happened, Pete? Where’ve you been?’ He looked pale, but otherwise fine.
‘I … I’ve been at my gran’s. Bit of hassle at home. Ran off.’
‘What sort of hassle?’
‘I don’t feel like talking about it, OK?’
‘Sure. Sorted now, though?’
Peter shrugged. ‘I guess. Listen.’ He looked at Rosie. ‘I saw something funny last night.’
‘What?’
‘Lee’s dad’s van, coming out of a driveway on the Sowerby road.’
‘What’s funny about that, Pete?’
‘Two in the morning, no lights. Practically ran me over.’
‘Hmm.’ Rosie grinned. ‘Maybe old Kippax has a girlfriend out that way.’
‘Maybe. I thought I’d mention it, that’s all.’
She nodded. ‘Glad you did. Good to have you back, too. We thought you’d been murdered.’
Peter smiled wanly. ‘I nearly was, by my gran. Half two, I got to her place. She goes, Do your parents know where you are? I say, No, I want them to worry, and she goes mental. Yells at me, phones them. I get to sleep over, but Mum comes for me at half eight. Nice as pie in front of Gran but goes ape-shape in the car. Can’t say I feel like school.’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Don’t blame you. Take it easy, that’s all. Don’t do too much, and it’ll be half three before you know it.’
‘Oh goody, then I can go home and have Dad yell at me. Can’t wait.’
‘Could be worse though, Pete. Could be floating face-down in the canal or lying somewhere with a broken leg.’
Peter stared at her. ‘That’s exactly what … you weren’t at my place last night, were you? Invisible, I mean. Around eight?’
‘What are you, crazy? Why would I … ?’
‘I dunno.’ He shook his head. ‘Maybe I am crazy. I feel it. Everything seems …’ His face crumpled. He bowed his head into cupped hands and cried so hard his body shook.
Three forty-five. Rosie arrived home to find a police car parked behind the old ambulance. It was drizzling so there was no fire and nobody outside. The rear doors stood open. She mounted the step and looked in. Her parents and the two officers, sitting on chairs and bunks, practically filled the place.
Mummy Bear smiled. ‘Come on in, sweetheart. Room for a little one.’ She budged up and Rosie sat beside her on the bunk, hugging her bag.
One of the officers was talking to Daddy Bear. ‘Before, you said you were here last night. Now you say you were out searching for some kid. Which is true?’
Daddy Bear sighed. ‘I thought you meant like, late. We were out earlier, looking for Peter Rabbit.’
The officer gazed at the big traveller through narrowed eyes. ‘I hope you’re not pulling my leg, sir, because this is no joking matter.’
‘I’m not pulling your leg. What makes you think I am?’
‘Oh come on, sir. Daddy Bear, Mummy Bear, and now Peter Rabbit. Where’d you find the kid – on Mr McGregor’s carrot patch?’
‘We didn’t find him at all. You should be out looking for him now, instead of harrassing innocent citizens.’
‘He’s turned up,’ interrupted Rosie. ‘He was at his gran’s.’
The officer nodded. ‘They usually are, love.’ He turned back to Daddy Bear. ‘So that’s why you were seen driving along the Sowerby Road at eight-fifteen last night – you were looking for Peter Rabbit?’
‘Not me, Sergeant. That’d be my wife and young Rosie. I was with the kid’s dad in his car.’
‘I see. And the only thing you were interested in last night was finding Peter Rabbit?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘So the name Sowerby Old Hall means nothing to you?’
‘Sowerby Old Hall? Not a thing, Sergeant. Should it?’
‘That rather depends, sir.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you’re fond of ancient Greek sculpture. Fond enough to nick a three thousand-year-old life-size bronze statue of Poseidon from the middle of an ornamental pond.’
Daddy Bear pulled a face. ‘Ancient Greek sculpture? I can take it or leave it, Sergeant. Mostly I leave it, because as you see …’ He indicated the snug compartment with a sweep of his brawny arm. ‘We don’t have a lot of room here for life-size statues, of Poseidon or anybody else.’ He grinned. ‘Of course you’re welcome to search the place if you suspect the thing’s cunningly concealed behind a false wall or something. Far be it from me to obstruct a police officer in the execution of his duty.’
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nbsp; ‘Very droll, sir, I’m sure.’ The sergeant stood up. ‘We’ll be on our way.’ He smiled tightly. ‘Wouldn’t want to keep you because you never know – you might have to go out looking for Noddy or somebody. G’night, sir.’
Rosie got up and followed the officers out.
‘Excuse me?’
‘What is it, miss?’
‘Sowerby Old Hall. Has it got like a gateway in a high hedge so if you were walking you wouldn’t see a car coming out till it was practically on top of you?’
‘It might have. Why? Been there, have you?’
‘N-no. We might have passed it last night though, me and Mum.’
‘Very likely, if you were on the Sowerby road. See anything suspicious, did you? Loiterers, parked motor?’
‘No. We were looking for …’
‘I know. Peter Rabbit. Listen. If you do see or hear anything, you’ll be sure and let us know, won’t you?’
‘’Course I will. G’night.’
‘OK if I go out after tea, Mum?’
Mummy Bear was mashing potatoes while her husband set the table. She nodded. ‘I suppose so, sweetheart, but it’s not a very nice evening. Something important to do, have you?’
‘I think so, yes. I’ll try not to be late.’
By six o’clock it was windy as well as wet. She didn’t fancy the climb to Inchlake Ring so she used the fairy ring on the school field, packing her clothes in a plastic carrier bag which she hid in the long grass, weighted down with a stone. It would be dark soon, and it was unlikely that anyone would visit the field tonight.
The wind drove a cold drizzle that plastered her hair to her scalp and made her shiver as she hurried towards the Kippax home. This was why she’d decided not to involve the others – they’d have been half-frozen and ready to give up before the job was done.
The place was in darkness. No car stood on the drive. When the security floodlight snapped on in response to Rosie’s movements, the ring of raindrops round the basketball hoop became a circlet of diamonds. The light didn’t worry her. In fact it made her task much easier, and if some busybody neighbour wondered what had triggered it and came to take a peek, he’d see nothing. If old Kippax had a guard dog instead of a floodlight, she thought, it would be a different story.
She circled the house, triggering another light round the back. There was a garden shed with a window in the side. She wiped off rainbeads and peered in. The light helped, but the shed held only a clothes-spinner, some tools and a motor mower. No life-size statue of Poseidon. Who the heck’s Poseidon anyway?
She tried to see into the house, but all the curtains were drawn. That left the garage. The double garage. Plenty of space in there, but no window. Drat!
She was standing, shivering a bit and wondering what to do, when she heard a car approaching. Powerful headlights slashed across the driveway as a BMW turned in. Rosie sidestepped as the car came growling up the drive, and seized the opportunity to peer inside the garage when its doors swung up automatically and the headlights illuminated the interior. She glimpsed a tall, angular object draped in a shroud of shiny black plastic like a giant bin-bag. That could be a statue, she told herself. A life-size statue. It’s Daddy Bear’s height. A peek under that plastic’s what I need. Just a peek.
She wasn’t going to get it though. As she stared, the car rolled into the garage and the door began to swing down behind it. If there’d been time to think, she wouldn’t have done the crazy thing she now did, but there wasn’t. The door was half down when she dashed forward, ducked, scuttled under the descending rim and jumped clear. As the garage door clicked shut, the car doors opened and three people got out. She was trapped with the family Kippax.
‘Are we watching The Simpsons, Mum?’ Lee hovered by the door which led from the garage to the house as his parents unloaded the car.
‘You can watch in your room. Your dad’s got somebody coming in a few minutes.’
‘Who?’
‘Never you mind. Here – take these through.’
Lee took two bulging carriers from his mother. ‘Who’s coming? Why can’t I see ‘em?’
‘Lee.’ Mr Kippax frowned at his son. ‘Don’t argue with your mother, OK? Put that stuff in the kitchen and go upstairs.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
Lee went through the door. Rosie, motionless against a breeze-block wall, watched as Mr and Mrs Kippax picked up their stuff and followed him. Should she go too, or stay here? Would they lock the door and if they did, was there a way she could escape once she’d seen what was under that plastic?
I’ve got to stay, haven’t I? Take a peek in the bin-bag, then worry about getting out. Laden with carriers, Mr Kippax followed his wife through the door and pushed it closed with his bottom. Rosie heard a latch click home, and at the same instant the garage was plunged into total darkness.
Drat! Never thought of that. No window. Can’t see a hand in front of my face. Don’t know where the switches are. Why didn’t I bring a torch, for Pete’s sake? (Because it’d look a bit funny, that’s why – a torch floating along the street all by itself.) Still, I should’ve been prepared in some way.
Gotta do something. Can’t just stand here freezing. Move. Where, though? She frowned in the blackness, trying to remember the layout of the place. There was a board. Pegboard painted white with tools racked up on it, somewhere to her right. Under the board was a bench with a vice and a power-drill. Shelves below, full of stuff. A lamp, perhaps. A torch. Matches would do. Have to search by feel but that’s OK – I’ve probably got all night.
She crabbed right, keeping the breeze-blocks at her back. Go slow. Don’t trip. Don’t knock anything over. When she thought she’d travelled far enough she raised her right arm and felt for the board. It wasn’t there. On a bit, then. Slowly, slowly. Now, try again. Nothing. It’s here somewhere though, unless I imagined it. Wish Daddy Bear was here. Shut up. There – I’ve found it. Smooth and cool, just like me. Now for the bench … there. And underneath, down here somewhere … all sorts of rubbish. Careful then. Lift things one by one, feel ‘em, put them on the floor. That way you won’t be looking at the same stuff twice. Looking at! If only.
Time passed. She couldn’t identify most of the items her groping hands found, but none of them was a torch or lamp. She’d cleared the top shelf and made a start on the lower one when she heard a click. The lights came on. Mr Kippax, in the doorway, growled an oath as he spotted the stuff on the floor. Rosie shrank away as he strode towards her, murder in his eyes.
Lee laughed out loud and slapped his knees as Bart Simpson pulled down his jeans and mooned the Prime Minister of Australia while a band somewhere struck up The Star-Spangled Banner. Mega! Way to go, Bart. Best episode ever, this.
‘Lee!’
Oh-oh. ‘Yes, Dad?’
‘I’ll give you “yes dad”. Get down here now.’ Oh heck – now what have I done? ‘Coming, Dad.’
‘What you been playing at, eh?’
Lee gaped at the stuff all over the garage floor. ‘Wasn’t me, Dad. Never left my room.’
‘Don’t lie to me, boy.’
‘I’m not. I haven’t been in here, Dad. Honest.’
‘So who did this? Your mother? The Invisible Man?’
‘I dunno, Dad, but it wasn’t me.’
‘Oh, wasn’t it? Well I’ll tell you one thing – it’s you’s going to put it all back, and you’d better be quick about it. I’ve somebody coming any minute and he’ll not see my place looking like a tip. Go on – get it sorted before I kick your backside.’
Not fair. On his knees on the concrete floor, stacking stuff under the bench while The Simpsons performed to his empty room. Why do I always get the blame? He wished he had Bart’s guts. He’d run through to the kitchen where Dad was putting the kettle on for his visitor, drop his jeans and moon the miserable so-and-so. Better, he’d wait till the mysterious visitor was actually here, drinking tea in the front room, and do it to the pair of them. Yeah, that’s what old Bart’d
do. Who did this, though? Somebody must have. It wasn’t like this when we got back from Safeways. What if somebody broke in? Is still here? He glanced around, moistening his lips with his tongue, but the garage was brilliantly lit. No murky corners, except …
He gazed towards the angular object under its black shroud. Could be hiding under there with whatever it is. Trouble was, he didn’t dare go look. Not because he was scared of what he might find, but because he was scared of his father. What’s under that sheeting’s none of your business, boy. Understand? He’d said that months ago, when the first mysterious shape had appeared, and Lee knew he meant it. It wasn’t the actual words so much as the dangerous light in the man’s eyes as he spoke them. Lee knew that light. The black sheeting had covered many an intriguing item since then and Lee had stayed well clear. You didn’t mess with Bob Kippax when he got that light in his eye.
The Invisible Man. Lee drew in a sharp breath, peering about him. What if …? He moistened his lips again and croaked, ‘Rosie? Rosie Walk, are you here? Did you do this? Say something, for Pete’s sake.’
No, don’t.
Rosie stood beside the statue of Poseidon, holding her breath till Lee decided she wasn’t there and went back to stacking away the stuff she’d got out. Now the lights were on she could see she’d groped in vain. There was no flashlight. No matches.
It was a statue. She’d lifted a corner of the giant bin-bag while Lee was busy and seen a greenish foot and the shaft of what might be a spear. She didn’t know for sure it was Poseidon, but it’d be a strange coincidence if it was some other statue after Peter’s midnight encounter with Kippax’s van in the gateway of Sowerby Old Hall.
So I was right. Kippax senior’s our thief. I bet he lifted those two Turners from Inchlake Manor too. So. All I have to do is get out of here, go visible and tell the police. That’ll teach ‘em – case solved by prime suspect. Prime suspect’s kid anyway.
Her train of thought was derailed by the sound of a motor. Lee shot a glance towards the garage door and began to work faster, but the door to the house opened and his father strode through.
Invisible! Page 6
