by James Erith
Archie pulled his ingredients from a carrier bag. He’d had no problem getting the camphor, but when Mr Pike asked him in a most suspicious manner what the distilled water was for, Archie stuttered a little and told him that Isabella wanted it. Without hesitating, old Mr Pike poured out the water from a huge plastic container and handed it over, with no further questions. Archie was most impressed that his sister commanded such respect.
In no time at all, Isabella and Sue had measured out the required parts of each of the elements which now sat in glass beakers, neatly labelled, on the desk. Sue lit a Bunsen burner and began to gently warm the water. Isabella waited for a couple of minutes before adding the ingredients, with the ethanol and camphor going in last. When these had dissolved to her satisfaction, Isabella asked Archie to find a large test tube sealed with a cork. Archie looked underneath the desk and put the test tube upright in a holding device on the desk.
In silence, and as Archie and Sue looked on, Isabella added each component until the beaker was three quarters full.
Isabella asked Archie to clean the apparatus in the sink in the far corner. He did as he was asked, filled it with water and just as he was about to clean it, the door swung open. For some reason he couldn’t explain, Archie ducked under the table.
It was Kemp.
‘There you are,’ Kemp said with big smile. ‘Been looking all over for you girls.’
‘GO AWAY!’ the girls yelled at him.
‘Whoa! Calm down, I’ve come to apologise.’ He looked down at the desk. ‘What’s all this then. Doing some illegal experiments are we? That’s exciting. Creating a bomb or some poison for me or a tiny bit of chemical warfare—’
‘It’s none of your business, Kemp. Leave us alone.’
‘Come on, I’m offering an olive branch. Anyway, have either of you seen Archie?’
Isabella caught Archie staring at her from behind one of the desks, out of Kemp’s eyeline. He was shaking his head vigorously. ‘Er, no. Sorry. No idea where Archie is,’ she said as she brushed an imaginary speck off her lab coat, her face reddening.
Kemp eyed her suspiciously and then his eyes moved to the test tube on the desk. He picked it up before either girl had a chance to react. ‘So this is your experiment, is it? A test tube full of cloudy potions. Brilliant.’
‘Thank you for your interest, Kemp,’ Sue commented, ‘but to be honest this is a very boring experiment dealing with the creation of crystals using camphor, ethanol, distilled water and a couple of other things you probably wouldn’t understand,’ she said in the most condescending manner she could conjure.
But Kemp was interested like a dog after a scent and his tone changed. ‘So, if it’s so boring, why are you doing it in break time?’
‘As I said, Kemp, it’s a simple experiment—’
‘I don’t believe you.’ He stepped closer. ‘It doesn’t add up.’
‘Please go away and leave us alone,’ Isabella said as sweetly as she could, remembering what Archie had said.
But her words fell on deaf ears. ‘Why won’t you tell me what you’re doing?’ Kemp quizzed.
Isabella snapped. ‘Why should we?’
Kemp smiled back. ‘Cos I’ll smash it—’
‘You wouldn’t dare. Give it back immediately.’ Isabella lunged for the test tube, but Kemp was too fast.
‘So come on, what have you got here?’ he said. ‘A lethal poison, a nerve gas—’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not the one being ridiculous.’
Isabella huffed. ‘Well, if you must know, it’s a storm glass—’
‘Oh my God,’ said Kemp slowly. ‘You’re not still going on about this storm, are you? When will you grow up and do what everyone else does. Go and watch the weather forecast. Oh, hang on, don’t tell me – you’re so far up in the hills that you haven’t even got a telly!’
‘Of course we do,’ Isabella raged, taking the bait.
Kemp thrust out his jaw. ‘You lot are so backward – I wouldn’t be surprised if your mum has to shave Neolithic hair off her body. But then we’d never know because she seems to have disowned you.’ He cocked an eye at Isabella. ‘And that old woman who looks after you has whiskers coming out of her face like a cat,’ he laughed. ‘Why don’t you make a potion for hair removal. That would be much more beneficial for you lot.’
Kemp was enjoying himself and brushed aside Isabella’s howl of complaint. ‘Now, let me fill you in. Last night the man on the TELLY,’ which he said in a deliberately loud and annoying voice, ‘said that there was going to be a storm at some point over the next couple of days – but not a very big one – and certainly NOT one with WHITE WATER RAFTING.’ He marched over to the end of the room where Archie was hiding under the table.
Isabella gasped.
‘I tell you what I’m going to do,’ Kemp continued, ‘I’m going to do you a favour and put you out of your ridiculous weather misery. I’m going to spin this tube thing like a spinning top. You do know what that is, don’t you? By the time you get over here, either it’ll be smashed to bits on the floor ... or, by some miracle, you may have grabbed it. But if and when this happens, I’ll be long gone out of the door and you can go and do what everyone else does and watch the weather forecast on the telly. You’ll find it comes directly after the news.’
Kemp put the test tube between the palms of his hands and drew them quickly apart. The tube span so fast and so true that for a moment everyone in the room was fixated by it. But Kemp, satisfied with his handiwork, turned, walked quickly towards the door and switched off the lights as he shut the door behind him.
The sound of the latch clicking seemed to accentuate the wobbling noise of the glass. Instantly the girls rushed over in near darkness, but in their haste they careered into the side of the desk and caught their feet on the chair legs, sending both of them sprawling onto the lab floor. A huge noise of scraping chairs and upturned tables filled the lab.
As the noise receded they heard the test tube slow to a stop, followed moments later by a crash and tinkle of glass.
From outside the door came a roar of triumph.
9
Broken Promise
‘Ow! My head,’ Sue groaned. ‘Isabella, get out of the way.’
‘I can’t. I’ve got a chair leg in my face. I can’t move; I’m wedged in.’
‘Will one of you please turn on the light,’ Archie hissed. ‘I’m surrounded by broken glass.’
After a minute or two, and as the children’s eyes began adjusting to the lack of light, Archie could just about make out the shards of glass that surrounded him. Water was everywhere, as well as a warm, sticky substance.
Kemp opened the door and flicked on the light. His face was beaming. ‘What’s going on here, then?’ he said in a mock policeman-like voice. He looked around to see an empty room and then, slowly, Sue got up. Her hair seemed to have come apart all over her face.
Then Isabella rose, rubbing a bump on her head.
Kemp was in hysterics. ‘Brilliant,’ he laughed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘Smile at the budgie.’ He pressed the button and the camera clicked and flashed. Kemp inspected the image. ‘Lovely, you two look gorgeous. Instagram here I come.’
Archie stood up, brushing fragments of glass from his jacket.
‘Archie!’ Kemp exclaimed, his expression changing. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘I’ve been here all the time, you idiot.’
Kemp’s manner changed immediately. ‘You alright?’ He pointed at Archie’s sleeve. ‘Is that blood?’
Archie looked down at his hand – blood was pumping out from a gash at the base of his thumb and covered his hand and his arm.
‘Satisfied?’ Isabella said, as she tiptoed around the larger glass fragments towards him. ‘Happy now?’ she held Archie’s arm and inspected it. ‘Sue, get the first aid box, we need to stop the bleeding. And Kemp, now that you’ve stopped having your fun can you for once be useful? Go an
d find a brush and a mop.’
Isabella led Archie to the tap. ‘This might hurt,’ she said soothingly as she ran the water and placed Archie’s hand underneath. He winced.
Isabella frowned. ‘There’s still a bit of glass in there.’ She turned to Sue, ‘I need a towel and tweezers and then we’ll need to compress the wound.’
Sue barged past Kemp who stood as though frozen to the spot.
Archie gritted his teeth as the water ran into his cut, his blood colouring the water from pink to burgundy. Sue was over in no time and Archie shut his eyes tight as she plucked out the fragment before applying pressure on the wound.
When Archie opened them, Kemp was still standing in the same position.
Archie looked him in the eye. ‘You SWORE on your life, you wouldn’t do this kind of thing,’ he said. ‘You swore – on – your – life,’ he repeated, his voice hard and accusing. ‘I held my side of the deal, but at the very first opportunity you couldn’t resist it, could you? It’s now totally clear to me that you value your life as pretty much worthless. What would your parents think? Do you think they’d be proud of you?’
Kemp’s face fell and the colour drained from his cheeks. ‘Sorry, Archie,’ he said. ‘I ... didn’t realise ...’
And with that, he turned and fled for the door.
The girls began to clear up the mess. But Sue noticed something a little strange as she swept the glass into the dustpan. The glass they were clearing up wasn’t the test tube with the storm glass experiment in it, but a much thinner glass that was typical of a large beaker.
In which case, she thought, where was the test tube?
As he watched her expression, Archie’s smile had grown until he was beaming at her. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said at last. ‘So, come on – spit it out.’
Sue burst out laughing. ‘Archie, you’re impossible. One minute you’re best friends with that oaf Kemp and the next you’re ...’ she sat down heavily on the table top. ‘Right, come on, where is it?’
‘What?’ Archie cried with feigned shock.
‘Where is … what?’ Isabella said. She hadn’t clicked.
Sue tutted. ‘Oh come along, come along, Sherlock Isabella. Time to use those famous powers of deduction.’
‘Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about—’
‘The storm glass, silly.’
‘In fragments in the bin.’
Sue bit her lip. ‘That’s beaker glass, isn’t it, Archie?’
‘Beaker glass?’ Archie said, thickly.
‘Well it’s definitely not the test tube, is it? You’ve got it, haven’t you?’
Archie laughed out loud. ‘Yup!’ He very slowly moved his gaze towards his trousers and pointed at his crotch. ‘It’s right here.’ Then, very deliberately and very slowly he began to unzip his fly.
‘Don’t you dare!’ Sue exclaimed. ‘If you pull anything out that isn’t a test tube …’
Archie reached in and very gently teased it out. ‘DA-NAH,’ he said, his eyes sparkling.
Sue had gone bright red.
Archie held the test tube up in the air. ‘Sorry, couldn’t think of anywhere else quick enough,’ he said. ‘Thing is, I had no idea quite how uncomfortable it would be so when I crouched down I lost my balance and wiped out the beaker.’
Isabella looked delighted but horrified at the same time. ‘A storm in your pants, Archie. Now that must be a first. Be thankful the storm glass didn’t break down there – or just think where we’d be plucking glass fragments from!’
All three burst out laughing as Archie put the tube on the holder.
Isabella wagged a finger at him. ‘Just a minute, Archie. The very least you can do is give it a wash before either of us has to handle it.’
10
A Pointless Experiment
After school, the children walked up the long, steep lane home, stopping, as Isabella had promised, for a swing on the rope that hung off the great branch of the oak tree. By the time they arrived home it was almost dark, the air heavy and surprisingly warm for the time of year.
They walked into the stone courtyard which was flanked on three sides by stone outbuildings and waved at Mrs Pye whose head had appeared at one of the two windows in her flat opposite the cottage. Using the dim glow of the outside light, Archie and Daisy immediately set about kicking their football, the scuffing noises of their kicks and the thumping of the ball echoing back off the grey stone walls.
Isabella watched them play and her mind turned back to the conversations with Solomon and Kemp, who had both been so rude about their cottage. It wasn’t that bad, she thought, as she studied the exterior.
OK, so it was a bit of a mishmash of a moors farm but it wasn’t too unusual, was it? It was made from local Yorkshire grey stone and old, thick timbers, and the roof was covered in moss and lichen, which seemed to hang over too far as though it was in need of a haircut. And it was old. Very old. Just by looking at the blackened and slightly crooked chimneys it was easy to see that they must have been there for an awfully long time.
Her keen eye noted how the stones were generally larger than most other farmhouses in the area and she wondered if they had been taken from the ruin. In any case, Isabella liked the way the occasional stone-free area was in-filled with red brick or exposed timbers. She reckoned it had a cosy feel, especially with the large wisteria that covered the end of the courtyard wall and with the windows which were squished here and squashed there out of proportion to one another. How had this happened? Had the builder simply slapped it up stone by stone without any plans in the hope that it would turn out reasonably well?
Architecturally it was deformed, but perhaps these quirky anomalies helped it blend in to the rocks and the forest beyond. Somehow, she concluded, it worked beautifully.
Mrs Pye waddled out into the courtyard. ‘Go on, tell me,’ Mrs Pye demanded, ‘I’ve been waiting all day for the news – did you make the team?’
‘Yeah,’ Daisy replied, ‘but if we lose I’m not allowed to play again. If we win then they’re going to change the rules for everyone.’
Mrs Pye looked a little confused but opened the door and they followed her in, making their way across the hallway with the large fireplace and from there down into the kitchen.
‘Is that good or is that bad?’ Mrs Pye asked as she tossed some vegetables into a large pan.
Archie smiled. ‘It’s both, Mrs Pye. Wow that smells good – what’s for tea?’
Mrs Pye tapped her nose. ‘Wait and see,’ she said, ‘be ready in fifteen.’
The kitchen was the centre of the house and drew them in with its feeling of warmth – of being used and loved. On the floor were big worn Yorkstone slabs, which bore a glossy sheen from continual use, and above were huge, old, oak timbers – as hard as iron – that ran in neat lines above their heads like ribs protecting the room, although a keen eye would notice that one beam, right in the middle, seemed to be missing.
Fixed into these large timbers were hooks of different sizes which held a range of kitchen assortments and herbal delights, like bunches of rosemary, lavender, thyme, dried meats and fruit. It was almost a mini delicatessen of gourmet foods.
Although the kitchen was a curiosity in itself, the children would point out to their friends that it wasn’t entirely a throwback to medieval times. Yes it was large and tall and made predominantly from stone and wood, but it was always bright and snug.
This was helped in part by two old wagon wheels that were suspended from the ceiling by three strong metal chains. On each wheel rim were eight electric candle bulbs – and being on a dimmer, the light brought real character, especially when turned down. It was then that Old Man Wood’s brilliant stories were truly brought to life, the wrinkles in his old face bursting with astonishing expression and meaning.
Opposite the fireplace was a large white porcelain sink and above this was a Gothic-style window through which they could see for miles across the Vale of Yor
k towards the low peaks of the Yorkshire Dales. On either side of the window were oak cupboards and drawers capped with thick worktops, like coffin lids, the grain of which Archie liked to trace with his finger. Above these, at intervals, were wall units where discreet lighting shone down from each recess, gently illuminating the work surfaces. At the far end, on the wall, was the latest addition to the family; a large flat screen telly, which Mrs Pye reckoned was simply marvellous.
Running down the middle of the room was a large, rectangular, dark brown oak table with an immense richness of depth and shine, and surrounding it were eight matching high-backed chairs that were usually tucked in under the table’s edge. Next to this was a brick inglenook fireplace where the old cooker lived. It was an old-fashioned metal range fired by wood, which Old Man Wood lovingly filled up every day from the wood store next to the larder.
Knowing Mrs Pye didn’t like to be disturbed while she prepared supper, the children slipped out, made their way through the hallway and up the large staircase, along the corridor past the bathroom and then up the top stairs to their bedroom, the floorboards creaking at every step.
‘Well, come on then,’ Daisy said, slinging her bag on her bed. ‘Show me this amazing thing that’s been in Archie’s pants.’
Isabella pulled her books out of her briefcase and stacked them neatly on her desk. Then she changed her top, slipped into a pair of cotton trousers and brushed her hair. Daisy and Archie watched her patiently from the green sofa, knowing full well it wasn’t worth rushing her.
‘Right,’ Isabella said as she unwrapped the test tube from her scarf, ‘let’s have a look.’ She leant the glass between two books on the table. Three pairs of eyes stared at it.
‘Bit foggy, isn’t it,’ Daisy said. ‘So, does that mean it’ll be foggy?’
Archie raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t be silly, Daisy, this is serious science.’
Daisy giggled and elbowed Archie as they continued to stare at the test tube.
