The Beast of Seabourne

by Rhys A. Jones

  “Five pounds. Can you believe it? So Hamish made the trip—up near Sedbergh in Cumbria, I think—and offered her fifty pounds for it. Of course, we couldn’t be certain that it was the ceramic ring, because we had little to compare it with. But there were markings.” His voice dropped lower still. “Markings similar to the ones that are on the pebble.”

  His eyes strayed away to one side of the screen, and Oz knew he was looking at the photograph again.

  “So, what happened between McClelland and Bendle?” Oz asked after a while.

  On hearing the question, Caleb came back to himself somewhat. “You’ve met him. Some call him eccentric; others would say that he’s a man living on the very edge of sanity. Bendle was lying to you. He monitored everything as well, but he got to the woman after Hamish did. So, he tracked Hamish down and made him an offer. A very good offer. More money than a third-year history and archaeology student could ever hope to see. But Hamish said no.”

  “So, it wasn’t McClelland that went to Bendle; it was the other way around?”

  Caleb nodded solemnly. “I wanted Hamish to keep the ring under lock and key in the university, but he was young. He wanted to cherish it. Enjoy it for a short while. Without telling me, he took it with him on a hiking trip to the Black Mountains in Wales. Maybe he just wanted to have it near him, maybe he wanted to see if he could use it, even, away from prying eyes…” Caleb shook his head. “What happened there is anyone’s guess, but I have my own theories.”

  “What theories?”

  Oz suddenly noticed how quiet the house had become. There was little Sunday-night traffic outside, and with the darkness had come a dead stillness, punctured only by the occasional knocking of the pipes in the ancient plumbing.

  “Hamish was Scottish,” Caleb went on. “He’d spent his life walking on the moors and mountains of Scotland. After coming down south, he’d fallen in love with the hills of Wales, and the Black Mountains were one of his favourite places. He was an experienced orienteer and climber.” Caleb paused before adding in a low voice, “The chances of him getting lost were pretty slim.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I. Not fully. But I don’t think his disappearance was a complete accident, Oz.”

  Oz stared at Caleb. “And the ring?”

  “Disappeared. Like Hamish.”

  There was a long beat of silence. Oz could just about hear the low drone of the TV from downstairs if he listened intently, but he gathered himself and asked the question that needed to be asked.

  “So…why didn’t you tell us all this?”

  “I…” Caleb looked suddenly washed out, a husk of his previous self. “It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, Oz. I let Hamish down. I let his pride and conceit get the better of him. I should have made sure the ring was safe. I should have protected it.”

  “But you couldn’t have known…”

  “It was my job to know,” Caleb snapped. “Therefore, I should have known.” He half-turned away and then muttered through clenched teeth. “I should have known.”

  Oz waited for a few moments, trying his best to understand what all this meant. Finally, he took the initiative and told Caleb the rest of what he, Ellie, and Ruff had worked out, ending up with their uncomfortable theory on why Bendle was attacked.

  “We think Gerber’s been spying on us. He’s given us lab coats that can monitor what we say. We don’t know how much he knows, but we think he found out about Bendle through us.”

  Caleb stared back at him from the laptop screen with a kind of dull horror in his eyes.

  “Oz, this business with Bendle, you need to let it drop. It’s too dangerous. Gerber’s too dangerous.”

  “I can’t. Let it drop, I mean. There’s more.”

  “What do you mean, more?”

  “Something’s attacking the people I don’t like and everyone thinks it’s me. They think I’m the Beast of Seabourne.”

  “The Beast of Seabourne,” Caleb said, with a mixture of derision and surprise. “That’s just a myth, Oz,”

  “But is it, though? We found a letter from Redmayne. Squire Worthy’s son went barmy. He attacked people. Maybe even killed people, and Redmayne said he became uncontrollable. A wild animal. Ellie thinks the fifth artefact was responsible for that.” Oz’s voice dropped into a low whisper. “She thinks that Richard Worthy was the original Beast of Seabourne.”

  Caleb shook his head. “But how can Worthy be a part of what’s happening now, Oz? It makes no sense at all.”

  Oz had a sudden thought and had to quell a sardonic giggle. It was pretty ironic to hear Caleb say something made no sense, when all the while, he was a part of an organisation sworn to protect weird artefacts that hardly anyone had ever seen and no one knew the origin of.

  “I know what it sounds like, but we have to find out what’s happening. First, Kieron Skinner, and now Pheeps.” Oz held the historian’s gaze, defying him to argue. “We have to find out what’s going on before someone else gets hurt…or worse.”

  Caleb was not convinced. “Oz, I’m begging you, wait until I come back. It’ll be another week at most. I’ll try and cut this trip short if I can.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as if to ease a sudden pain. “The trouble is, Heeps has this thing organised with military precision.”

  “I’m not promising anything,” Oz said. “But you’ll be glad to know that we won’t be able to do much this week, anyway. If everything goes to plan, me, Ellie, and, hopefully, Ruff are away on a school trip from Wednesday. So, by the time we’re back, maybe you will be, too.”

  The relief on Caleb’s face was obvious. “Good. That makes me feel a bit better. What happened to Hamish…” Caleb blinked and the words died on his lips. When he spoke again, his voice was low and thick; “…is difficult for me to talk about. But then, one’s own failings usually are.”

  The next day was the last Monday of term. Oz got a filthy look from Jenks during registration and sent back a very rude gesture. When Miss Arkwright asked him to stay behind, Oz felt sure that she’d caught him at it, but all she wanted was to tell him that the Volcano had lifted the ban on orchestra practice and they would recommence this afternoon.

  “Just as well, because Mr Fidler had threatened to hurl himself onto his own baton,” she explained with wry smile.

  Oz caught up with the others and he Ellie, Ruff, made their way to the lab, donned their monogrammed lab coats, and sat the last of the qualifying tests for the science trip. Magnetism and electric motors was not a difficult subject, but Skelton played rough by slipping in a couple of questions from previous tests on electrolysis and the rock cycle as bonus marks. Oz managed to answer everything, although he was a bit ropy on the trick questions.

  “Well?” Ellie said, glaring at Ruff expectantly as they trooped off to the canteen for lunch.

  “Piece of Victoria sponge,” Ruff said.

  “Three cheers for Soph, then,” Ellie said drily.

  “I couldn’t remember the difference between basalt and granite,” Oz said, sounding glum.

  “Yeah, that wasn’t fair,” Ellie agreed.

  “He’s just trying to catch people out,” Ruff said.

  Ellie let out a resigned sigh. “Oh, well, fingers crossed. Nothing we can do about it now. We’ll know for definite this time tomorrow.”

  “So, how is this supposed to work?” Ruff asked. “Does everyone bring a suitcase to school tomorrow?”

  “Suppose so,” Oz said. “There won’t be time to go home if we’re leaving at five PM sharp tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Bit tough on those who don’t make it. They’ll be left standing there with suitcases packed and no room on the bus,” Ellie said.

  Oz shrugged. “That’s Skelton for you. Likes a bit of drama. What are you going to tell your mum and dad if you go, Ruff?”

  “I’m telling them it’s for free. And that’s true as far as they’re concerned, isn’t it?”

  Oz nodded. He wa
nted to talk about Caleb, but when they reached the queue for the refectory, he looked at his watch, groaned, and headed away towards the hall.

  “Where you going?” Ruff asked.

  “Orchestra practise. Concert’s tonight, remember? Now that the Volcano’s lifted the ban, Fidler’s going to have us at it all afternoon.”

  “That means you’ll miss Spanish,” Ruff said, sounding horrified.

  “Yeah, tragic, isn’t it.” Oz grinned back at him. Spanish was his worst subject by miles.

  “Don’t need a triangle player, do you?” Ruff asked hopefully.

  “Triangle player?” Oz said. “Hy pot news for you, Ruff; the answer is no.”

  Ruff groaned and Ellie made eyes to the ceiling. Oz just turned with a grin and left them.

  Mr Fidler had organised drinks and sandwiches, so no one would have any excuses for not turning up to the hall on time. Because there’d been no practise for almost a week, everyone was in a state of nervous tension, which was, Oz surmised, not a bad thing. This way, everyone was concentrating on getting the music right, and there was no mention at all of the Beast of Seabourne or Pheeps, even from Martha Trump and the other Creeps. Thanks to S and S, Oz’s timing and rhythm were, for once, spot on and even earned him some rare praise from Fidler in an indirect way. When the brass section once again got ahead of itself, Fidler tapped his baton on his music stand and shook his head in exasperation.

  “No, no, no. How many times do I have to tell you? Follow me. I am the conductor, the brain of the orchestra. Oz, on the other hand, is our beating heart. Listen to it. Feel it. Let it guide you.”

  He’d never been called anyone’s beating heart before, and he quite liked it. It was certainly better than a “manic hobnailed octopus,” which was what Fidler had called him the last time Oz’s enthusiasm had got the better of him. They practised up until the bell and had to hurry for the buses, with the result that he missed Ellie and Ruff in the bus bay. But on the way home, he got a text from Ruff. It said Spanish had been “rubbish” because they’d had to pretend they were at the hospital, and instead of saying he’d broken his arm, with romperse el brazo, Ruff managed to mangle it so it came out as remar con los brazos—using his arms as oars. Ellie’s confirmatory text was full of typos, and Oz guessed she’d been shaking with laughter as she’d sent it.

  Before Oz knew it, he’d got home, changed, had his tea, and was in the car heading back to school, feeling more nervous than he thought he would.

  “Got everything?” Mrs Chambers asked him.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. I’ll drop you off, and then I’m off to pick up Rowena.”

  “Rowena?” Oz shot her a glance. “Didn’t know she was coming.”

  “She jumped at the chance,” Mrs Chambers said airily, not quite able to hide the hint of forced nonchalance in her voice.

  Oz went quiet, mulling over what possible reason the Cuckoo might have for coming to a school concert. His silence triggered a couple of worried glances from his mother and eventually an answer to his unvoiced question.

  “I think she wants to come and scope out the school,” explained Mrs Chambers nervously. “She’s trying to branch out, take her holistic message to young people.”

  “Don’t tell me she wants to come and give us a talk.”

  “Probably.” Mrs Chambers shifted slightly in her seat and shot Oz an accusatory glance. “I know you don’t like her much…”

  “I never said that,” Oz said. “It’s just that some of the stuff she says is a bit weird; that’s all.”

  “I know,” agreed Mrs Chambers wanly. “But she means well, and she is good company. She knows her own mind and has a view about almost everything.” Her voice trailed off before she added as an afterthought, “And she has feng shui’d our lounge very nicely, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Oz muttered, the memory of how he’d barked his shins on a coffee table, which was five feet from its usual position, still sharp in his head. He sighed. “I know you like her, Mum; it’s just…well, I hope she likes you, that’s all.”

  “That’s a strange thing to say.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes, it feels like she’s more interested in Penwurt, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “Why wouldn’t she be interested in Penwurt?” Mrs Chambers protested. “You keep telling me it’s ‘amazing’ and ‘brilliant,’ don’t you? Although all I can see is that it’s full of damp,” she added under her breath. There was another lingering pause and another couple of glances from Mrs Chambers, who eventually added, “I mean, so what if she wants to use the dorm? It’s the last place I’d want to hold a meeting, but Rowena sees its…potential. And it’ll mean a bit of money coming in. She’s even talking about holding healing weekends if it all goes well.”

  Oz squirmed in his seat. This was not what he wanted to hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her what Ellie, Ruff, and he had been thinking because…because it just sounded like kid’s stuff. Just because she’d written a book about the Beast of Seabourne didn’t mean she could curse people with it. Didn’t mean she was in Gerber’s pocket either, and so far, they hadn’t found any link between the two. Still, Oz couldn’t just let it go.

  “But you don’t believe all that stuff she says, do you?” He threw her a questioning glance.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Oz. I thought your dad was chasing wild geese until Soph turned up. If that pebble isn’t proof that there are strange and mysterious things in the world, I don’t know what is.”

  Oz heard her words, but he couldn’t help feeling there was something a bit contrived about them. As if she were saying them to convince herself more than him.

  “Yeah, but Soph’s different. She’s real, and the only reason we think she’s weird is the technology that made her isn’t something we understand.”

  “Well, perhaps that’s true, but we need to pay our bills, Oz, and Soph hasn’t done that yet, has she?”

  Oz thought about telling her about their treasure hunt but didn’t. After all, it wasn’t something they could rely on. He still felt that, somehow, she would disapprove, too. Besides, though Soph was totally brilliant, she wasn’t magic; she couldn’t make money appear out of thin air. She could do some amazing technological things and had lots of answers to lots of questions, but Oz had already figured out that you had to know what sort of question to ask her. He didn’t think “Can you get us out of our money troubles?” would work too well. He decided to change the subject. “So, are you going to this soiree thing of hers?”

  Mrs Chambers shook her head. “I’ll be too busy in the kitchen.” She looked across and must have seen the concern he felt written in his face. “Look, I did try rainbow healing, but all it did was give me a headache, worrying about one of the tubes falling on me while I slept. But don’t tell her that,” she said with a resigned smile.

  Oz grinned. He felt suddenly a bit better. “I won’t,” he said. But all the way to school, he couldn’t stop from thinking about the Cuckoo.

  The concert featured a school choir, a year ten dance group, the witch scenes from Macbeth by year eleven, and a recorder quartet. Mr Holland’s sixth form art class had decorated the hall with giant Easter eggs and a few Easter banners, but the place still smelled of wax polish and slightly of stale sick from where a year seven girl had thrown up in assembly that morning.

  However, none of it mattered, because the main attraction was undoubtedly the orchestra. Oz concentrated as hard as he ever had, and when the first half finished with the theme from Indiana Jones, the crowd stood and gave them a standing ovation, so they played it all again—twice. At halftime, Oz managed to catch up with Ellie chatting with a group of her hockey-playing mates, one of whom happened to be Natasha Stilson, a very pretty dark-haired girl that Oz quite liked. She sent him a single flashing smile before turning back to her group of friends.

  “Orchestra’s brilliant,” Ellie said, breaking away to join him. “Miles better than anything
else. And all the girls think you’re cute.”

  “Really?” Oz said, wiping sweat from his face with a paper napkin Ellie handed him.

  “Obviously, I put them right on that,” Ellie added. “Especially Natasha. We can’t have her thinking the wrong thing, can we?”

  “Natasha?” Oz said, trying to sound vague.

  “Yes, Natasha. As if you hadn’t noticed,” Ellie said, grinning.

  Oz turned away, cursing the heat that suddenly flared in his cheeks.

  “Ruff didn’t make it, then?” he said quickly, hoping to change the subject.

  Ellie shook her head. “Had to help his dad again. Said he might make it for the second half.” Ellie’s eyes narrowed and flicked up over Oz’s shoulder. “Here comes your mum and Cuckoo Hilditch,” she muttered.

  Oz half-turned, in time to feel himself being grabbed in a hug, which was, to his immense relief, mercifully brief. His mother wore a proud, ear-to-ear grin and put both thumbs up when she released him.

  “You were fantastic, Oz,” she said, her eyes shining.

  “Thanks, Mum.” Oz noticed that she had something folded over her arm. Something that looked vaguely familiar. “What’s that?”