by Tim Bradley
‘Ok ok!’ said Arnie.
‘Anyway – don’t suppose it can hurt to wait…’ said Dirk vaguely.
‘Uh?’
‘My father will know what to do, he’ll sort everything out…’ Dirk looked distant, away out into the depths of the house. His hands were still lightly trembling.
‘You’re in shock.’
Dirk didn’t answer immediately but looked at Arnie as though he didn’t know him.
‘What did you say your name was again?’
‘Arnie Jenks.’
Dirk nodded and then whispered to himself. ‘Yes, everything will be all right when they get back…’
‘Yeah – ok – that’s sounds good,’ grinned Arnie. ‘He can contact the police somehow.’
‘I’d like you to go now if you don’t mind,’ Dirk interrupted sharply.
‘What?’
He indicated towards the front door. Arnie stood his ground.
Dirk’s face softened. ‘Oh yeah – course.’
Arnie smiled.
‘You don’t know the way do you?’ Dirk realised.
‘But…’
‘Follow the drive until you reach the first cattle grid and from there take the path on your left which cuts across the field. Couple of miles or so and you’ll come out behind the Rose and Crown in the high street.’
‘But it’ll be getting dark soon! I might get lost,’ Arnie tried.
‘Not if you stick to the path. It’s easy,’ said Dirk, forcing a wide smile.
‘But what if I should meet someone? I’d…rather not,’ he pretended.
‘They’ll be no one around. People don’t tend to come here much and unexpected visitors are rare.’
Arnie prickled as he followed Dirk’s instructions reluctantly.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Dirk called after him, ‘when you come to a little bridge that crosses the river you’ll see the lights of the town, can’t go wrong.’
‘Are you sure there is nothing that I can do?’
‘No, really, you’ve…’ Dirk said more upbeat, ‘…been great…very helpful.’
‘Dirk,’ Arnie called, as he reached the outer hall.
‘Yes?’
‘Why did you think I was your brother back there?’
Dirk stared blankly at him.
‘In the bedroom,’ clarified Arnie.
‘I didn’t.’
‘But you looked at me and said…’
‘I was expecting David to find me. He usually does – one way or another.’ Dirk looked distant as his thoughts seemed to drift somewhere else.
‘Now,’ Dirk sighed, ‘I had better think about what to say when Father gets back. He isn’t going to be very pleased.’
‘But it’s not your fault what happened here.’
Dirk stared at Arnie, his eyes quite still.
‘You don’t know my father,’ he said ominously. Then he turned with a flicker of a smile and walked stiffly through the hall towards a room and went inside.
Arnie reluctantly left the house and stood in the front porch gazing uncertainly into the evening sky. The weathercock on the gable end of Shabbington Hall was listless and the air felt suffocating. Arnie sensed a touch of hay fever and rubbed his nose to quell an itch. Then he noticed some very muddy footprints on the ground and, curious, followed them back inside the house. They led to the drawing room.
Inside it was a mess. Books and papers had been thrown all over the floor and a wicker chair lay upturned among the remains of some food trodden into the carpet.
‘The burglars…’ Arnie muttered, examining the wreckage. ‘Why have they done all this?’ Arnie checked the windows and pulled at the latches but they wouldn’t budge. ‘If you are listening Emily, I can’t see a sign of forced entry here.’ He knelt down. ‘So they must have got in through the front door. Though if you or I – Emily – wanted to do the perfect robbery, wouldn’t you start by wiping your feet?’
He made his way around, being careful not to tread on anything, like a forensic investigator at a crime scene: looking at every surface, checking every cupboard and drawer for evidence. ‘So what did they come for?’ he whispered to his invisible friend. ‘Or did something else happen in here?’
Perplexed, he prepared to leave.
‘I can’t work it out. Something’s not right…’
The door behind him flew open.
Dirk was standing there, his face expressionless.
‘Hey, I was just curious – look at all this, these guys really could have hurt you.’
Dirk started backing away.
‘No! Don’t go, I really didn’t mean to scare you – stop!’
But Dirk was running now, flailing towards the front door almost falling over himself desperate to get away.
‘Come back! What’s wrong?’ Arnie shouted, dashing outside after him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
To the River
Arnie couldn’t believe how fast Dirk could run. By the time Arnie hit the front drive, Dirk was already lost in the avenue of trees stretching out towards the main road.
Hot on his heels, Arnie tracked the sound of the fleeing Dirk, until he reached the perimeter fence over which the meadows lay. All fell silent except for the soft rustle of the tinder dry leaves around him. He scoured impatiently, searching hard. Then, there was Dirk clambering towards the side of a steep hill that seemed to touch the sky. Arnie bolted, picking up the chase.
He was panting hard when he reached the foot of the escarpment but powered on relentlessly to reach the summit some two hundred feet high. Arnie surveyed what he found.
A valley dipped away below him cut through by a river meandering gently, its journey taking it towards the cliffs and then to its destination – the sea. Below him, a lone figure was still running. Arnie scrambled onwards and down the other side of the ridge until he reached the stubble of a drought-ridden wheat field. He hopped his way across, closing in on Dirk who was sitting on a rope swing close to the edge of the water.
He swayed a moment or two, dragging his feet through tufts of parched grass, before he tilted his head towards Arnie.
‘Why have you followed me here?’ he said softly.
‘I was worried that you might be…you know…’
‘What?’ said Dirk.
‘In a bad place?’
Dirk said nothing.
‘Well, being attacked by robbers isn’t great is it?’ said Arnie.
Dirk reached up a hand and felt for his bruise.
‘And then to see me standing there in the room where it happened – the place they attacked you. Or…’ said Arnie changing tack, ‘…did you meet them by the stairs? You must feel really jumpy to have run off like that. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
‘I thought you’d gone,’ Dirk said calmly.
‘Sorry. I was just a bit curious.’
‘About what?’
‘What they were looking for. Those men must have been desperate! Lucky you didn’t get hurt more.’
‘Why would they want to hurt me?’ said Dirk.
‘You were in their way, you could have spoiled their plan.’
Dirk put his head in his hands. ‘It’s all over now.’
Arnie took a pace forward but Dirk signalled for him to stop.
‘I’d rather be on my own. I think that’s best,’ he said with a crooked smile.
‘I could wait? Just till your dad comes back?’
‘No,’ said Dirk quickly. ‘Better not.’
‘Why? I can help explain…’
‘You don’t want to get mixed up any further with the Martleshams – it won’t do you any good.’
‘But I am involved – if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be locked up.’
Dirk looked out over the river. ‘So why do I feel like a prisoner?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I just want to clear my head, to forget everything…but I can’t…’ said Dirk restlessly.
‘You mean the robbery,’ s
aid Arnie.
‘Robbery?’
‘The one that just happened back there at the house. Though it seems a little odd and that’s what got me confused, why there wasn’t an obvious break in. It seems they may have used the front door. But how? You wouldn’t have let them in.’
But Dirk seemed not to be listening.
‘Unless…’ Arnie put a hand to his mouth. ‘You didn’t help them did you? An inside job – pretending to be unconscious till I found you – an alibi!’ Arnie shrank back. ‘You were part of the gang!’
Dirk exhaled long and slow.
‘I’m right aren’t I? That’s what happened. But why? Is it about money?’
‘No – it’s not about money,’ hissed Dirk.
‘You’re being blackmailed!’ seized Arnie.
Dirk shook his head lightly.
‘A dare?’ Arnie floundered.
Dirk paused before pronouncing, ‘You are so wrong. About everything.’
They both fell silent. Arnie swayed a little unevenly on his feet.
‘So this is not about a robbery then?’ he said finally.
Dirk shook his head. ‘No. It’s about murder. I tried to kill someone.’
Arnie opened his mouth but he could think of nothing to say. Time seemed to slow down and seconds felt like hours.
‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me who?’ said Dirk eventually, staring into space.
‘Yes…um…who?’ Arnie stuttered.
‘My brother David,’ he said unemotionally. ‘We came down here to fish – the trout are good this time of year.’ He pointed towards the bank. ‘We stood there and threw the line far out. David was so excited.’ He paused looking to the water. ‘We watched and waited for ages…then he saw a five or six pounder resting quite still over there against the shale. David waded in but couldn’t quite reach it. So he pushed further on out to scoop it with the net. But he overbalanced and sank deep into the mud.’
Dirk’s eyes were twitching brightly as Arnie edged towards him.
‘He managed to regain his balance and pull himself up.’ Dirk indicated with his hand. ‘And if he had stopped just there and come back out, it all could have been so different.’
‘But he didn’t?’ asked Arnie innocently.
‘No!’ Dirk flared. ‘The stupid idiot went back for the net – the fish was bound up squirming and flapping. “I’ve got it!” David said. Then I snapped, “Yes! You’ve got it David – like you always do!” But then he turned and looked at me – smiling that forgiving smile. “You have it Dirk,” he said. “I caught it for you”. Then it happened.’
‘What did?’ Arnie whispered.
‘I knocked the trout out of his hand and he fell into the water hitting his head as he went under.’ Dirk’s eyes became still as the breeze blew up a little, curling his hair around his cool chiselled face. He looked back to the river.
‘As I watched him sink deeper, everything felt good. It was quiet. No more shouting,’ said Dirk, rubbing his temple. ‘Up here.’
‘But…he didn’t die did he? Before – you said “I tried to kill someone.”’
Dirk blinked several times.
‘I think I would have left him there to drown…’ he sniffed. ‘But then there was suddenly shouting and splashing all around – my father was grabbing at him in the water hauling him up out onto the bank. Father learnt a trick or two in the army and David was soon coughing his way back to life,’ Dirk spat.
‘But you would have got him out. You hadn’t planned to hurt him, had you – it just happened?’ broke in Arnie, ‘An accident…’
Dirk held back, his body motionless.
‘I don’t know what I would have done. All I thought at the time was how very annoying it was when he was nice to me and why should he care.’
‘Because he’s your brother and that’s what they’re for…’
‘You know that do you? You have one?
‘No, I don’t…but…’
‘Count yourself lucky! They are not to be wished on anybody! Especially me.’ Dirk lowered his head. ‘Though…it’s…’ he stammered, ‘it’s not…right to want them…gone. Is it?’ Dirk’s eyes seemed blacker than black.
‘Well, there was a teacher I once wanted to “go away” because he used to make me run cross-country in the rain but I wouldn’t have done anything about it…’ Arnie trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed.
‘Well, I think I just did,’ said Dirk, sitting back on the swing.
Arnie shifted on the spot.
‘What did your brother think?’
‘David pretended it was an accident, that’s so “him”, but my father suspected something – I mean it was quite a coincidence him coming to find us down here. He had been keeping an eye on me for a while…’ Dirk threw his head back.
‘If only David hadn’t caught that bloody fish! He didn’t need to, he doesn’t have to prove anything. I know he is the perfect son my father always wanted.’
Dirk turned towards Arnie with tears in his eyes. ‘So now you know.’
‘But could you have made a mistake? You’re upset – it might not have been as you remembered.’
Dirk shook his head.
‘When we got back I was put in the drawing room while my father worked out what to do. But David couldn’t keep away, he so wanted to make sure that I was all right but that angered me more and I lashed out again. The result of that fight is the mess you saw – not a burglary.’
‘Maybe you can still sort it out…’ Arnie struggled to say.
Dirk stood up and moved behind the swing.
‘Well you have helped.’
‘Really?’ said Arnie surprised.
Yes, you have. You’ve given me a second chance. By letting me out from the room my father and that stupid old solicitor dumped me in you have thwarted their plans somewhat…’
‘Mr Silverthorne,’ whispered Arnie to himself.
‘…though they did that to protect me and they were right. I am still wound up!’
‘That was them in the car wasn’t it!’ deduced Arnie.
‘Yeah, driving off into town to get David checked out and then collect the incompetent local quack to bring here. I’m afraid I wrecked the phone as they dragged me away upstairs.’
Dirk took a few paces back under the canopy of the tree.
‘I’m surprised they’re not back already, they probably can’t find the old drunk. But when they do, I suspect they’ll concoct some story to keep things just as they are. So I can’t wait around any longer. I just needed some time to be sure…’
Dirk trained his simmering eyes on the slowly flowing water.
‘Of what?’ said Arnie, shuffling back a pace.
His move was so quick that by the time Arnie could react Dirk was off, bolting for the hills.
Arnie ran as fast as he could his eyes straining for any sign of Dirk. He narrowly avoided falling several times as he stumbled haphazardly, trying to keep his sight dead ahead.
Then he saw a shape heading towards the tree line over to his far left on the opposite side of the field in which a crop of brown headed sunflowers swayed like periscopes.
He’s heading for the house! Arnie thought, veering that way. The slope of the land was gentler here and so faster to climb. When he reached the top he spotted something familiar. The wooden fence that ran from the front of Shabbington Hall, parallel to the driveway, lay about a hundred yards ahead of him.
As he neared it, to his left appeared a long unbroken hedge and sensing this was the direction to take, he made off. Arnie slowed down as a shape reared up to its full height, silhouetted like a cowboy, arms hanging low by his sides, hands tense, as if waiting to draw his gun.
‘Don’t you ever give up?’
‘What did you mean back there?’ said Arnie, his stomach churning, ‘About me giving you a second chance?’
Dirk seemed to be chewing. He turned his head and spat something into the bushes.
‘Well,’ he said fin
ally, ‘if I can’t get rid of my brother – then I have to do something else. I mean, I’m tired of hearing myself described as the family’s “little problem”. I’m sort of fed up with it all,’ he said with a hint of his voice cracking. He opened his palm and crammed his mouth full of fruit of some kind. ‘Wicked aren’t they?’ he dared, continuing to lick his fingers like a squirrel, before devouring another handful with relish.
Arnie saw that Dirk’s hands were covered in dark blotchy stains.
‘What are they? Blueberries?’ said Arnie, automatically reaching out.
Dirk slapped at his wrists and Arnie flinched.
‘They are an acquired taste. Not for everyone I think,’ Dirk paused. ‘I really wish you’d go. If you don’t then once that car gets back it’ll be too late, you’ll be kept here. You know too much…’
‘What are you going to do?’ Arnie said nervously.
‘I’m going to stt…t…aaay right here. By the time they’ve sss…eeeae…arched the grounds, it will be too…oo late.’
‘What are you talking about, “too late”?’ said Arnie, ‘And what’s wrong with your speech, why are you slurring?’
Dirk leered uncontrollably and clutched at the hedge, coming away with as many prickles as berries.
Arnie lashed out and knocked Dirk’s hand sending the fruit sailing high up into the air.
‘Don’t do that!’ said Dirk angrily.
‘They’re making you sick – they’re poisonous aren’t they?’
Dirk grimaced, revealing purple stains on his teeth and then laughed heartily before being gripped by a spasm. He bent double and tried to be sick but nothing came out. He was shaking all over as he crumpled softly to the ground. Sweat and red saliva covered his lips and dashed his face.
Arnie slumped down and held his shoulders.
‘What are these fruits? Tell me!’
Dirk moaned weakly rolling his head from side to side.
‘They’re Deadly Nightshade!’ said Emily, appearing behind Arnie. ‘We were told never to touch them!’ she urged.
‘I wasn’t going to,’ balked Arnie, thrown for a second by her sudden reappearance. ‘You can see what they’ve done to Dirk.’
