Without noticing it, she stepped towards the stairs, closer to Miss Ardman.
Miss Ardman smiled nervously and backed away from the gallery railing. ‘Hello, children.’
‘Hello,’ said Amelia.
‘Yeah, hi,’ said Charlie. His voice sounded as happy and dreamy as James’s. As happy and dreamy as Amelia felt.
They both stepped closer again to the stairs, still smiling up at Miss Ardman. But Miss Ardman, her eyes widening in alarm, pulled away from the gallery railing and hurried off to her room. Amelia suddenly felt cold.
‘Overreactor,’ Charlie muttered.
Amelia elbowed him grumpily, and they headed for the kitchen.
‘Hey, kids,’ said Dad, his apron and eyebrows white with flour. ‘Cookie?’
He held up a baking tray of surprisingly tasty-smelling cookies, fresh from the oven.
‘Ooh, yeah!’ said Charlie. His mood shifted quickly in the presence of sugar.
‘Take two,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve got more cooking.’
Amelia looked at the tray. The biscuits were bright orange with green flecks – another one of Dad’s experiments. She grinned at him in relief. How could any dad so dorky be up to anything bad? Well, apart from his cooking, of course. The cookies were bound to be disgusting, but not evil.
Overcompensating a bit for her earlier doubts, she bit into a cookie with gusto. To her utter surprise, it was delicious. ‘Mm, what are they?’
Dad grinned proudly. ‘Guess!’
Amelia chewed, thoughtfully. ‘Carrot?’
‘Pumpkin and tea leaves!’ Dad beamed.
Charlie coughed and spluttered, spraying orange crumbs all over the floor. ‘These are healthy?’
‘They’re great,’ said Amelia. ‘Can I please have another one?’
Dad shoved the cookies at them both, thrilled to have a winner on his hands.
‘We saw James,’ said Amelia, casually. ‘He said he met Lady Naomi.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you meet her too? What’s she like?’
‘Nice,’ said her dad. ‘Sweet. Just like my Dr Walker Pumpkin Tea-Times! Go on, help yourselves. I know you want to.’
Amelia grinned and grabbed a handful. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
Charlie pulled a face. ‘No thanks, I’m full.’
They walked out to the veranda and Charlie’s eyes suddenly lit up. ‘I nearly forgot – I’ve got something to show you! Not here, though. C’mon.’
He dragged her to the far end of the hotel, rounding a corner and sitting in a little nook seat where they were shielded from view on three sides.
‘Check this out.’ He took from his pocket the little cylinder he’d found the day before, and twisted one of the brass rings. A little light glowed at one end.
‘A torch?’ said Amelia, wondering if they’d finally found something in this place that was less mysterious than it seemed.
But then Charlie twisted the ring again, and the light flared up and opened like a little fan. The fan stared rotating faster and faster to create a cone of light, its point spinning on the end of the cylinder, its flat end like a circular platform a handspan above.
‘Whaaaaaat?’ Amelia peered closer, and Charlie twisted the ring a third time.
Now, on the platform of light, a tiny figure appeared – a man wearing an old-fashioned coat that reached past his knees. The figure rotated on the platform so they could see it at all angles.
‘Whoa. Charlie. What is that?’
‘I don’t know. This is as far as I got last night before Mum came in and busted me for not sleeping. A spy communicator, maybe?’
Amelia looked at the little figure. Her stomach gave a sudden jolt. If they could see the man in the old coat, did that mean he could see them too?
No, she told herself. The figure on the platform was frozen in place, way too still to be actually alive.
Amelia shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a real person. More like a 3D picture of a person. Can it do anything else?’
‘I’ll try.’ Charlie twisted a different ring, and a burst of light flashed out of the other end of the cylinder, blinding Amelia for a moment as it blasted straight into her face.
‘Whoops! Sorry, Amelia.’
She rubbed her face and blinked until her vision came back. ‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know, but look – it’s shut down now.
Or broken.’
‘Weird.’
Charlie shook the cylinder and twisted different rings in various directions and combinations. Nothing happened.
‘Hey, your dad’s a scientist, right? Have you ever seen anything like this in his stuff?’
‘No,’ said Amelia. ‘He’s not that type of ...’
She trailed off, the weight dropping back into her stomach. She didn’t think this thing could be anything of Dad’s. Or anything Dad would know about. But if he and Mum were keeping secrets for Tom, who knew what else they were hiding?
‘Do you think he’d be able to figure it out, though?’ Charlie pushed.
‘No,’ said Amelia. Then realising how snappy she’d sounded, she went on, ‘Actually, James is the one who loves gadgets and puzzles. If you want to ask anyone, you should –’
‘It’s all right,’ said Charlie, pulling the cylinder closer to him. ‘I’ll keep trying on my own for a while.’
Amelia looked at the cylinder, her eyes narrowed. There was this thing in science that Dad always talked about: Occam’s razor. Only it wasn’t really a razor, it was an idea – a principle. It said that whenever you have a problem that needs explaining, the simplest solution is usually the right answer.
Right now, the problem was all over the place: weird, suspect Tom; crazy Miss Ardman; Miss Ardman’s foul tank of bugs on one hand and amazing jewels on the other; Mum, Dad and Mary all in on some secret Tom knew about … and now this funny little cylinder. According to Occam’s razor, the right answer should neatly link all those things into one story. But what on Earth could link those things together?
‘Hey, look,’ said Charlie. He tried the cylinder again, and the light came back on.
‘Maybe it reset,’ said Amelia.
Charlie nodded, and twisted the ring so that the little figure of the man appeared. So far, so good. He twisted the same ring a fourth time, and this time the man disappeared but the cone stayed in place. The light kind of blinked as though something was loading, and then – to Amelia’s utter shock – she was staring at her own face.
She swallowed hard.
‘It’s some kind of camera!’ Charlie crowed. ‘It snapped you while you were looking at it. A 3D digital camera – awesome!’
Amelia shook her head, spooked. Also, she looked kind of terrible – the light image showed her scrunching up her nose and frowning. Was that really what she looked like when she was concentrating?
She turned away in discomfort, but then froze.
She gripped Charlie’s arm and whispered, ‘I heard something.’
They listened together, and Charlie heard it too.
Footsteps.
Slow, careful, creaking footsteps coming from inside the hotel. Right behind them.
Amelia looked at the walls and thought. It must be that set of stairs they’d seen Tom go down when they’d caught him in the hotel. And they had to come out somewhere near here.
But who was using them now? And why did they sound so secretive?
Silently, Amelia and Charlie crept along the veranda. The back of the hotel was a ballroom which opened onto a large, low deck and led down to a lawn and gardens. It was also completely screened by tall hedges. Anyone coming out this door would be able to move around the back of the garden almost unseen from any of the hotel’s windows.
Anyone, Amelia chided h
erself. As if she didn’t know who it was.
More footsteps, and then a small door opened next to the wide, glass ballroom doors.
It was Tom.
He limped across the deck, down to the garden, through the bushes and then around to the other side of the hotel, in the direction of his own cottage. Amelia saw he was holding a familiar leather bag to his chest. Holding it very tightly, as though cuddling it more than carrying it.
Breathlessly, Amelia and Charlie watched Tom scuttle down the hillside, moving faster than she’d ever seen him move before. Not quite running, but a hurrying, half-skipping urgency, almost as though Tom was … excited. Amelia thought about how she would feel to have all of those jewels wrapped up in her arms, all warm and golden and close to her heart, and she felt a deep, jealous anger towards Tom.
‘That creep,’ Charlie hissed beside her.
The two of them, without needing to discuss it, had set off across the veranda to follow Tom when another sound gave them pause. Not footsteps this time, but a low, bloodcurdling wail of despair.
And it was coming from right behind them.
Before Amelia and Charlie could move, Miss Ardman charged out of the servants’ door and onto the deck. Her head whipped around wildly, trying to see which way the thief had gone, but she was far too short-sighted to notice Amelia and Charlie cowering by the pillar.
Miss Ardman hadn’t made another sound. If that had been her upstairs (and who else could it be?), she wasn’t wasting any energy on noise now. She gathered up her robes until her legs were bare to the knees, then sniffed the air. Her head snapped around to exactly the direction Tom had taken, and she bolted across the lawn, rushing through the hedges. She was fast.
‘Come on!’ Amelia and Charlie raced after her.
As Amelia and Charlie came through the hedges and ran over the brow of the hill, they saw that Miss Ardman was already right at the bottom of the slope. It was impossible for anyone to be so fast. She had almost caught up to Tom, who was pushing his way through the magnolia trees only a second or two ahead of her.
Amelia pulled ahead of Charlie as they galloped over the lawn. They crashed into the trees, almost a minute after Miss Ardman. They’d never been so far down this end of the garden, had never wanted to get so close to Tom’s cottage, but here they were, crashing through the fallen leaves, snapping twigs, not even caring about making noise. It was clear that Miss Ardman and Tom were far too absorbed in their own chase to notice the two kids tailing them.
As they made it to the clearing around the cottage, they heard an ominous hissing. The door was hanging open, almost torn off its hinges, and Miss Ardman’s scarf lay on the step.
After running so far and so fast, Amelia was carried into Tom’s cottage partly by sheer momentum, but partly by something else. The jewels. Ever since she and Charlie had first seen them, they’d been tingling away in the back of her brain. And now, running after them, those tinglings had become more urgent.
Any doubts Amelia had about her parents, any guilty fear about upsetting Miss Ardman again, any question about why they were chasing an angry woman who was chasing a creepy man – all of it was swept away by the sheer joy of running towards the beautiful jewels. Nothing else mattered now.
So there was no hesitation for either Amelia or Charlie as they reached Tom’s cottage. Ignoring all the signs of violence at the doorway (were those slash marks on the woodwork?), they barrelled inside.
Amelia had no idea what she’d expected of Tom’s home, but it wasn’t this. Charts were pinned up all over the place, like timetables, but in an alphabet Amelia didn’t recognise. Dozens of old clocks lay about, and on a desk cluttered by toy trains and empty mugs sat an old computer, wrapped in aluminium foil. Stranger still was the amount of space on one wall given to a contraption that was mostly dials, brass cogs and wire.
Not that Amelia was looking at these things, precisely. They just flashed across her mind as she stared at something even more astounding.
Miss Ardman was stalking Tom. There was no other word for it. Her body was hunched and poised like a cat’s, ready to pounce. Her hands were held like claws, and Amelia remembered how strong and heavy they could be. She almost felt sorry for Tom, even if he was a lying pirate thief.
Amelia held her breath. Charlie was silent too. They were so close to the jewels – Amelia could swear she felt the warmth of them from here. Amelia looked sideways at Charlie, her eyes huge.
What are we doing here? she asked him silently.
Charlie seemed to know exactly what she meant.
The best thing would be to quietly edge out of the cottage before either Tom or Miss Ardman noticed them. But they stayed where they were. Amelia was frightened, but leaving the jewels would have been unbearable.
Tom and Miss Ardman must surely have known they were there, but were so focused on one another they’d barely blinked. They were locked in a bizarre sort of stand-off that looked as though it could last all night.
Tom’s back bumped into the brick wall. Miss Ardman took a step towards him.
And then Tom burst into tears.
Amelia blinked. She hadn’t seen that coming.
Tom was now hugging Miss Ardman’s case like it was his long-lost love, and begging her, ‘But I need them, I need them! Just one?’
Miss Ardman growled deep in her throat – a dark, chilling sound like a crocodile’s roar. She stepped closer to Tom and hissed, ‘Give me the bag.’
Tom whimpered. ‘I – I – I can’t.’
‘You must.’ Miss Ardman stepped closer again, her hands twitching. She was desperate to snatch back the bag, but at the same time worried about the jewels being broken in the process. ‘Give it to me,’ she said more quietly.
Tom took a shuddering breath and raised his head. He looked Miss Ardman straight in the face, and said, shakily and with great effort, ‘I can’t. You’ll have to. Can you –’
Without warning, Miss Ardman sprang at Tom, hitting him so hard with the back of her hand that he flew across the room and hit the wall, crumpling to the floor. She must have had the reflexes and precision of a ninja brain-surgeon, because with no wasted movement, the case was now safely under her arm.
She spun away from Tom so that she was turned more towards Amelia and Charlie, and opened the case to check the jewels were all still there. As the top of the bag opened and shimmering golden light spilled out, Amelia and Charlie both sighed with delight, and began moving closer to them.
Miss Ardman slammed the case shut instantly, and glared down at the kids. ‘You!’
Amelia cringed, waiting for the blow that would knock her to the wall like Tom, yet still not able to back away from the jewels. But instead, it was Miss Ardman who backed off, one hand holding the case to her, the other reaching out as if to fend off Amelia and Charlie. ‘No more,’ she said hoarsely. ‘Just go. Quickly now, while you still can.’
In the corner, Tom groaned and pulled himself upright, holding his head, but focused on the jewels.
Miss Ardman swung about wildly, trying to keep watch on three people in two different places. ‘Stay down,’ she hissed at Tom.
And Tom said the last thing Amelia expected.
‘I’m sorry.’
The tears were gone. This was the Tom Amelia knew: gruff and surly. ‘Sorry you had to deal with me like that. I should have been stronger …’
Miss Ardman shook her head. ‘Your kind are never strong enough. I thought I warned you about even bringing my food up to my room.’
Amelia and Charlie looked at each other in bewilderment, and then Amelia’s lip curled in disgust. Miss Ardman couldn’t mean the centipedes, could she?
‘I thought you understood,’ Miss Ardman went on. ‘I thought you knew how dangerous it was for you.’
Tom shook his head. ‘I underestimated …’
‘About what?’ Charlie blurted out.
Tom looked over at him and glared. ‘What are you two doing here, anyway? Didn’t your parents set you straight about trespass?’
‘You’re mad at us?’ Charlie retorted. ‘We were right about you. You were stealing! And she can prove it – you’re a witness,’ he told Miss Ardman. ‘You can tell our parents, and then you,’ he grinned triumphantly at Tom, ‘will be fired.’
Tom growled in frustration. ‘Both of you, out of my house now! Or it’ll be me talking to your parents and you getting in trouble.’
Amelia set her jaw. ‘No.’
‘What?’
‘We’re not going,’ Amelia said. ‘We saw you. You stole, and we’re going to the police, and then you’ll be arrested, and –’
A tremor hit the house, shaking the windows in their frames and sending several clocks crashing to the floor.
‘What now?’ said Charlie.
Amelia stiffened. A harsh wind gusted out from the far room of Tom’s cottage, and the air was suddenly full of dust and sand.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ said Miss Ardman, and without waiting for an answer, she reached up to her neck, put her fingers into the flesh of her throat, and twisted. She pulled out a small object and dropped it onto Tom’s coffee table.
The instant she did, Miss Ardman became a towering, scaly, sharp-clawed creature, with wide, yellow eyes and a frill of vicious spines like a frill around her head and shoulders.
A reptile monster in a dress.
Amelia was amazed she didn’t faint, and disappointed not to. Unconsciousness would have been wonderful compared to this – standing face to face with …
She had no words.
The Four-Fingered Man Page 5
