"Better come in and tell Mrs. Stephenson what happened before going back to get them,” Maria suggested. “She's a bit of a stickler for punctuality.” She looked at Peter with concern as she opened the door. “I'll go and get them for you,” she offered in a sympathetic whisper.
They both entered the room, to find all eyes trained on them. Mrs. Stephenson said nothing, merely waiting for them to speak first. She accepted Maria's faltered explanation with the dry comment that everyone seemed to be having accidents of one sort or another that morning.
"Jamie Evans has your books,” she told Peter.
As she spoke, Jamie stood up and walked towards Peter with Peter's satchel in his hands. There was a question mark in his eyes. Peter said, “Thanks, Jamie,” and shook his head slightly, mouthing the words “after school” as he took the schoolbag.
* * * *
"LOOKS LIKE you've got a fan there,” Jamie teased as the three boys watched Maria being driven away in her mother's car, with Maria waving earnestly to Peter from the front passenger seat. The girl had insisted on introducing Peter to her mother, much to Peter's embarrassment. “She seems very nice, but I hope she won't prove a nuisance by hanging around at awkward times."
"Just thank our lucky stars her mother won't let her cycle to school, else we might have her tagging along now,” Peter said fervently, mounting his bicycle and leading the way down the drive.
Despite the unlikelihood of another attack in the same place, he'd felt great reluctance to enter the bike shed that afternoon. Only the presence of Jamie and John gave him the courage. However, they found it free of any feeling of evil.
Now, however, something made the hairs on his neck prickle, as though someone's eyes were trying to bore into the back of his head. He glanced around and his eyes met those of Eleanor Le Grud. Although still calling herself Norah Lahood, Eleanor no longer wore her wig, spectacles or brace. No one, apart from Peter and the twins, noticed the change, however; everyone accepted the new Norah as though she had always been that way. The blue eyes sparked as they met Peter's. And Peter knew the brain behind the eyes would soon be planning vengeance on him with the help of the other Lords of Corruption, and the terrible Thing that had taken over the body of Sujad Cariotis. After one chilling glance, he turned his attention back to his riding.
Until they left the main road he and the twins were too busy paying attention to the traffic around them to talk—and there was also too much noise—but as soon as they reached a quiet street Peter told Jamie and John about the incident in the bike shed. After the twins expressed their horror, the boys fell silent, each wondering where the next attack would be.
"You haven't met my Dad yet, have you?” Peter's abrupt question, as they arrived at the gate of his new home, broke the tension.
"No—and neither has our Mum,” Jamie said, with a chuckle in his voice. “She hasn't had a dinner date—or any other date for that matter—since Dad was killed, and that's about three years ago. She was real nervous this morning."
Peter returned the chuckle. “Funny sort of dinner date when you have to do all the cooking yourself and put up with the presence of three boys!"
Jamie and John found their mother in her new employer's kitchen looking incongruous—to them, anyhow—in one of her best dresses with a large apron covering the front. She had taken extra pains with her hair and make-up and looked absurdly young—even to her sons—and slightly flustered. The twins stifled their laughter when Peter prodded them in the ribs.
Mrs. Evans relaxed at the sight of Peter's obvious approval and bundled them off to start their homework. “Dinner will probably be late, so I'll bring you up a snack in ten minutes if you've all got your heads down."
She was as good as her word but found the boys sitting over their books in Peter's bedroom as though they had only just opened them. They had been discussing Peter's experience in the bicycle shed but came to no conclusion except that it was no longer safe for Peter to be on his own. None of them could think of any way to engineer things so the twins could stay the night.
"We could just ask,” Peter suggested as Mrs. Evans went back downstairs. “There's a spare bedroom with a couple of beds in it."
"No. That probably wouldn't work. What we need is something like the car breaking down,” Jamie said. “But that would only work for one night."
"Peter's Dad will just offer to drive us home,” John protested.
"Unless he's got a rack on the back like we've got, we'd have to leave our bikes behind because they haven't got lights. Then we'll have to walk to school. I'm not going home without my bike."
"Do you know enough about cars to fix something up?” Peter asked.
"Only enough to empty the petrol tank,” Jamie suggested wickedly. When Peter looked at him in astonishment, he added quickly, “Oh, I've never done it! But it's usually only complete blockheads who do it so it must be fairly easy. All that's needed is a container big enough to hold whatever's in the tank—and, of course, a suitable hose."
"Will you do it?"
"Of course. It's our car. I can hardly expect you to do it. Have you got something to put the petrol in, and a length of clean hose to use as a siphon?"
"I'll go and check."
Peter raced down to the garage where, after some rummaging, he found the things he was looking for. He placed them in a handy position before rejoining the twins.
"When you've emptied the tank, Jamie, we'd better get on with our homework,” he suggested. “If we don't get it done we could spoil everything."
Jamie crept downstairs and quietly let himself out. It was still relatively light and he glanced around to make sure no one was watching. His heart hammered furiously as he unscrewed the petrol cap on his mother's car.
Gosh! I hope Mr. Edwards doesn't come home while I'm in the middle of this. I suppose some kids would find it exciting. I feel like the worst kind of criminal, even though it's our own petrol tank I'm emptying. And goodness knows what Mum and Mr. Edwards are going to say when I tell them what I've done. There was no doubt in Jamie's mind that he would have to tell at least one of them.
Fortunately for Jamie there wasn't much petrol in the tank, anyway. Then he remembered his mother bought petrol on a weekly basis, rationing use of the car so the petrol lasted, and was due to buy more the following day. That's lucky. She'll just think she's run out sooner than usual.
The others looked up expectantly as he reentered the room. Jamie grinned at them but had no time to answer, for the sound of a car coming down the drive sent them all to the window.
"It's Dad! He's early!” Peter cried, and dashed from the room.
Jamie found himself shaking all over at his narrow escape.
* * * *
"COME ON, it's time we were going,” Mrs. Evans said firmly.
It was after dinner and the boys had finished their homework and helped with the washing up. Much to their mother's surprise, the twins gathered their books without argument, put their bicycles on the rack and climbed into the back. Mrs. Evans started the engine, but it died almost immediately.
"I've only just had it serviced,” she lamented, trying to kick the motor back into life. “It was going beautifully."
"Let's have a look,” Mr. Edwards suggested.
Mrs. Evans climbed from the driver's seat and Mr. Edwards took her place. One glance at the instrument panel was enough.
"When did you last buy petrol?” he said with a chuckle. “The tank's empty. I'll drive you home and get it filled for you tomorrow."
"Oh dear! That means I'll have to walk here tomorrow. What a nuisance!” Mrs. Evans looked distressed and embarrassed. “I can't think how come we've used so much."
"You could have a leak.” Mr. Edwards sniffed. “There is a faint smell of petrol fumes. I'd better check that in the morning, too."
"Why don't you all stay the night?” Peter said quickly. “We've got two spare beds and Mrs. Evans could have my room while I sleep on the sofa."
"P
lease!” the twins chorused.
Mrs. Evans looked helplessly at her employer and host. He smiled and nodded. “Okay. You two can stay if you promise to behave,” she said. “But I wouldn't dream of depriving Peter of his room so I'll accept the offer of a ride home."
The twins clambered from the back of the car and unfastened their bikes from the rack. They watched with Peter from the front door as the adults drove away.
Peter sighed and turned to go inside. “Well, that sorts out tonight. It's our main job at the moment to keep the Obsidian Orb and the Book of Obsidian safe while Merlin and the Lady get themselves ready for the next battle. We've got to think of a plan so we can make be together all the time, or there's not much chance of succeeding. Let's go to bed. If we're already in bed when Dad gets back, we stand a better chance of persuading him."
Peter found pajamas for the twins and dug out two toothbrushes from a supply of new ones always kept in the bathroom. When Mr. Edwards arrived home he came up the stairs humming quietly to himself. Peter grinned into the darkness. He recognized the sign that his stepfather was feeling pleased with himself and suspected he might know the reason.
"We're all in the spare room, Dad. Jamie and John helped to bring my mattress in and I'm sleeping on the floor."
The door opened and light streamed in from the wall lamp further down the passage.
"Good heavens! The trouble some boys take to spend the night at each other's place! I hope you're not as uncomfortable as you look, Peter. By the way, whose idea was it to empty Mrs. Evans's petrol tank?"
Jamie, completely missing the suppressed chuckle in Mr. Edwards's voice, sat bolt upright. “It's all my fault, Mr. Edwards! It was my idea. I did it."
"Well, don't do it again. Playing around with petrol is dangerous.” Mr. Edward tried to sound stern. “I'll put it back in the morning and explain to your mother if you like. And you know you're always welcome to stay here. There's no need to resort to criminal activities. You only have to ask.” He tried to sound hurt but only partially succeeded.
"Thanks, Mr. Edwards,” Jamie said gratefully. “The trouble is Mum's quite likely to think we're making nuisances of ourselves—taking advantage of your good nature—that sort of thing.” He paused. “Also, we can hardly keep leaving her to spend the night on her own."
"We could put up one of the camp beds in here for me and Mrs. Evans could have my room,” Peter burst in eagerly.
"Hang on. You're going too fast for my addled brain. Let me get things straight. Are you talking about a longer stay than just one night?"
"Yes.” Peter sat up and plunged on boldly, “Why can't Mrs. Evans be a live-in housekeeper instead of just a daily help?"
There was a brief pause while Mr. Edwards thought this over. Three pairs of eyes anxiously tried to read his expression in the poor light coming into the room.
"Well, for a start Mrs. Evans has her own home. Why should she give it up?"
"She could always rent it out, Mr. Edwards,” Jamie said seriously. “Why don't you ask her? John and I are all for it."
"All right, I will. But I think you boys watch too much television. This is fast becoming like a scene from an American sitcom.” He turned abruptly. “Now good night and get to sleep. If I hear another sound from you—"
He left the sentence unfinished and went out before the boys could answer, quietly closing the door.
"G'night, you two,” Peter said, his voice muffled by the duvet as he snuggled into it. “We'd better take him at his word. He's not always as soft as he looks."
Mr. Edwards, still standing by the door listening for any noise, grinned to himself as he turned away. Boys! he thought with an inward chuckle. Cheeky monkeys. Who'd have ‘em?
Chapter 5
The Silver Mares
"DAD, I HAVEN'T seen Argent since we came to Auckland,” Peter said that Friday evening at dinner. “Could we go riding at the weekend?"
"Well, we have to arrange for Mrs. Evans's furniture and other things to be brought here. Also, we'll need to go to a real estate agent to put the house on the market for rental. I don't think I'll be free to take you until Sunday."
When Peter's face fell, Mrs. Evans looked from the boy to his stepfather. “Oh, I'm sure I can organize things this end. And it will probably be a lot easier without three boys and a large dog underfoot."
"What about the cost? A day's riding is rather expensive."
"Oh, Bart won't charge Jamie and John,” Peter put in quickly.
"It's true he wouldn't take anything last time,” Mrs. Evans said thoughtfully. “What Susan Brown finally accepted for the boys’ keep would barely have paid for their food."
"Oh, well, don't worry about it,” Mr. Edwards said hastily. “If you're sure you can manage on your own, I can take care of that."
Mrs. Evans laughed. “I only have to supervise things. Everything's packed and the carrier will do most of the work."
Peter was already thinking about the next day. He was really looking forward to seeing somebody else of the Earthlight—someone who could perhaps tell him how things were faring with Merlin and the Lady. He hadn't seen any more of the six Lords of Corruption since the incident in the bike shed, with the exception of Eleanor and Justin, who took every opportunity to discomfit him and glowered whenever he chanced to meet their gaze. With Jamie and John's popularity having extended to Peter, they quickly found that being spiteful was unwise.
It's possible the six of them are just hoping to lull me into a false sense of security. Or possibly they're already plotting something new. I must be on my guard all the time, especially over at Bart's. With neither the farm nor the forest safe any longer, I could find myself beset at any time.
* * * *
"YOU LOT really are keen,” Mr. Edwards remarked the next morning as the boys cleared away the breakfast dishes without being asked.
"I wish you'd get another dishwasher, Dad,” Peter said. “Washing up's such a bore. The first thing the dishes seem to do when I put them back in the crockery cupboard is get dirty again! I'm sure Mrs. Evans hates washing up just as much as you and I do."
His stepfather chuckled. “Give me a chance, Peter. I think Mrs. Evans would agree it's pointless putting in a dishwasher when we need a new kitchen!"
Mrs. Evans, buttoning up her coat with one hand checking its pocket for her keys with the other, turned back from the door. “Oh, it's not that bad. At least it's bigger than my own and it might be a bit shabby but it's well laid out.” She looked at the twins. “Now you two make sure you behave yourselves."
They both grinned at her; they knew the words were a mere formality and their mother considered them more mature and responsible than most boys their age. Jamie's heart lifted to see his mother looking happy for possibly the first time since his father's untimely death. She's really very pretty. He looked at Mr. Edwards, whose gaze was fastened on his mother. And he's noticed....
"Come on, dopey!” Peter's impatient voice broke into Jamie's thoughts. “If we want to go out we'll have to get a move on. It's a long drive to Bart's and there are still beds to be made, you know. We promised your mother we'd do them."
"Well, there doesn't seem to be much for me to do down here so I'll go up and start on them,” his stepfather said.
By the time he finished, the boys had the kitchen looking respectably clean and tidy. They had even swept the floor and now stood impatiently at the front door waiting for him, dressed for outdoors. Peter had put Dreyfus's leash on and the dog sat waiting at the door. He was the first one out when Peter opened the door.
"Bart's expecting us. I gave him a call,” Mr. Edwards said as they scrambled into the car. “He seemed delighted—goodness knows why—that you were coming and said to tell you the new stables and barn were finished and they're better than the old."
"Oh good! Mer—my Uncle Paul said they would be.” Peter bit his lip as he just managed to stop the forbidden name slipping out, and Jamie and John both sent him sharp warning glances. For
tunately his stepfather seemed not to notice either the slip of the tongue or the twins’ darting looks. His mind was preoccupied with turning the car.
"By the way, have you seen your aunt and uncle since we moved?” he asked Peter as he drove onto the road. “Your uncle hasn't been in to work and I tried to ring them twice but got no reply."
"I think they must be away,” Peter said quickly, remembering the empty garages and the two Lords of Corruption who had so easily invaded the house. “Maybe Uncle Paul went to join Aunt Angela."
"Perhaps we'd better give them another call to see how they are. They've been very good to us and it's the least we can do, especially as your aunt hasn't been well."
"Yes, that's true.” Peter could think of nothing else to say.
When they arrived at the stables Bart was waiting and, much to their surprise, had his own black stallion saddled. Peter introduced Bart to his stepfather and Bart proudly showed them around the new barn and stables, which were bigger than the ones Sujad burnt down.
"My goodness! That was quick work on the part of the insurance company and the builders,” Mr. Edwards said in wonder. “Insurance companies usually act with the speed of a lot of shackled wet hens."
Bart laughed. “I believe Peter's uncle did some string-pulling. He's a shrewd fellow. I understand you're his new partner?"
"Yes. Eventually I'll buy him out. He says he's had enough and wants to retire."
Bart merely nodded. He didn't need to ask why.
"I've acquired a couple of good mares for Jamie and John,” he said as a stable hand came forward leading two horses. “They're a lot faster than the ones you had in the holidays but every bit as placid."
Gasps of delight came from Jamie and John as they gazed at two silvery-white mares nobly tossing their manes and tails as though to show off their aristocratic pedigrees.
"Silvera and Crystalline,” Bart announced proudly, and added pointedly, “They come from the same stable as Argent."
So Peter mused, like Argent and Dreyfus, they were gifts from the Earthlight.
Another stable hand led Argent from her stall and Peter instantly forgot everything else in the pleasure of reunion. Argent seemed just as pleased to see him again as he was to see her. The three boys wasted no time in climbing into the saddles and were soon happily clip-clopping out of the yard in the wake of Bart and Obsidianus, with Dreyfus running alongside. Mr. Edwards climbed back into his car and looked at his watch. By the time I get back the carrier should have moved Sylvia's things. Maybe when I've helped her sort things out we can go somewhere special for lunch. He, too, left the stable yard in a buoyant, expectant mood.
The Third Age of Obsidian [Quest for Earthlight Trilogy Book Three] Page 5
