by James Erith
‘Strange?’
‘Well, yes. How the children and that old man have vanished without a trace. But I spotted a half-eaten toasted-sandwich lying on the floor of the kitchen. It didn’t look old, if you ask me. I reckon it was discarded quite recently. Bread like that has a habit of hardening overnight and this slice seemed quite edible.’
‘They call those sandwiches emps,’ Sue said. ‘Stands for Mrs. Pye’s Specials. It’s the de Lowe staple food when they’re hungry – more often than not at breakfast. They’re delicious – stuffed with cheese, ham, tomatoes and a poached egg. I’ll try and make one if you’re hungry, but Mrs. Pye’s really are sensational. Have you seen Gus?’
‘I believe he’s somewhere upstairs, rooting around, seeing if he can come up with anything. A few odd noises coming from there. Scrapes and bashes, as if he’s taken to moving furniture around. You might want to go and see how he’s doing.’
Sue carried on through to the corridor that led into the kitchen. She added paper and kindling and then a couple of smaller logs into the belly of the range-cooker and, much to her joy, the fire spat into life.
Shortly, she opened the door, tossed in two larger logs, shut off the lighting vent, filled the kettle and set it on top of the range hob.
Wouldn’t Gus be impressed?
She had half a mind to run upstairs and find him, but her thoughts turned back to strange old Mrs. Pye. She’d drop off a cup of tea for her and then go and find him.
She smiled at the thought. Alone with Gus at last. Sue plaited a section of hair as she let her imagination wander. Was he, she wondered, at that very moment thinking the same thing? Thinking of her? She smiled. Of course he was.
Sue inserted the whistle in the kettle spout and headed out of the door to rejoin the headmaster in the living room. When she saw him, she found he was comparing the portraits with the images he’d taken of the stained glass windows in Upsall church.
‘Mr. Solomon,’ she began, ‘do you think there’s something ... you know, happening?’
The headmaster took off his glasses ‘What kind of happening are you thinking of, Sue?’
‘Some sort of end-of-the-world situation, you know, like Armageddon or something catastrophic from out of the Bible.’
Solomon sighed. ‘There’s no doubt our flooding and plague has remarkable parallels with ancient myths and legends. The question we need to ask, I suppose, is whether these things are in any way, normal. Events that come round as part of the general cycle of life—’
‘Like a freak-of-nature? You think it might be a one-off?’
Solomon raised an eyebrow. ‘Actually, Sue. No. No, I don’t think it is,’ he said, putting on his spectacles. ‘There are too many strange occurrences, too many situations that boil down to something inexplicable and very sinister indeed.’
‘Then, do you think the de Lowes are pivotal? After all, I dreamt of them, and I know Isabella had nightmares about all this stuff and Stone seems to think they’re important.’
‘That’s what I mean,’ Solomon said. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Stone can be a nasty piece of work, but he’s jolly good at his job. He has a nose for sniffing out this kind of thing, an uncanny habit of finding the truth. He’s going nearly mad with the overall confusion and his desperate lack of progress. The clock is ticking ever faster. Untold pressure is building on him in a big way.’
Solomon sat down heavily in Old Man Wood’s chair, removed his spectacles and sighed. ‘Look, I may as well tell you, Sue. The whole situation with the flooding and Ebora is steamrollering out of control. The Americans are going to drop a rather large bomb on North Yorkshire.’
Sue gasped. ‘They’re going to nuke us? Why?’
‘The Ebora virus reached their shores a couple of days ago. It swept across the continent as night follows day. As our American cousins woke up, boof – there it was. Ebora had already made its mark. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?’
The headmaster stretched his arms out and rubbed his eyes. ‘The pattern is continuing like this across the globe. An pandemic of global proportions. But I did hear just before we left that the rates of infection had somewhat decreased.’
‘So, you’re suggesting,’ Sue said, ‘that the virus moved in the dark?’
‘Yes and no.’
‘Now you’re being cryptic.’
Solomon smiled. ‘I think that it has something to do with sleep. My own hunch is that it may be about dreams.’
Sue’s ears twitched. ‘You really think so?’
‘I know it may sound ridiculous, my dear, but I’m pretty sure we have to think outside our normal areas of understanding. I hardly dare say it, but our human mind is so programmed for a certain way of thinking that “out of the box” ideas are simply shuffled out of the way as if they are entirely insignificant. As a teacher I am, I fear, partly to blame. Our role is to bring children up to speed with the world we live in – to cope with the hustle and bustle of life on our planet. Anything out of the ordinary and we learn to siphon it off. We leave it to be discarded as irrelevant or slam it as nonsense. Do you have any idea of what I’m talking about, Sue, or does it sound like meaningless clap-trap?’
‘No, I think I’m running with you,’ she said. ‘Just about.’
‘Jolly good. Because I believe there are signs just about ... everywhere. Tiny, abstract clues, so remote to our way of thinking that we cannot possibly begin to understand them.’ He leaned down and picked up the portraits.
‘Take these pictures. They date hundreds of years apart and yet I suspect they’re one and the same thing, repeated over and over, as if they are a reminder—’
‘Of what?’
‘I wish I knew, dear girl,’ Solomon said, examining the first and then the second. ‘Now I’m struck by these rather interesting portraits. As you know, fashions change. Art, from the seventeenth century, has a totally different look and feel to art from the nineteenth century. And yet, looking at these, we find the same posture, the same background, and it is almost appears to be one and the same person. My guess is that these portraits are trying to tell us something.’
Sue peered at the pictures. ‘I know it couldn’t possibly be him, but you know, the nose, eyes, the kindly way he looks at everything. Don’t those pictures remind you of Old Man Wood.’
Solomon leaned in and together they studied them. ‘Sue, my dear, perhaps you’re right, impossible as it seems. The problem is, we’ve got two days to figure this out and unless the de Lowes suddenly reappear and tell us what’s going on, I’m not sure we’ve got the necessary skills or equipment – or time – to make a proper go of it. We’re plucking at straws.’
‘Do you think we’re going to die?’
The headmaster smiled in a reassuringly head-masterly way. ‘Yes, I’m afraid to say that I rather think we are,’ he said. ‘At the moment it looks very much like we’re on a path of no return.’ He sighed. ‘Dying is nothing to worry about, my dear, because it is the one certainty in life – aside, of course, from taxation.’ He chuckled inwardly.
‘Our time may just be coming a little sooner than we might have liked.’ He shook his head. ‘It is such a shame considering you and your friend’s abundance of talent.’
The headmaster shook his head. ‘But enough of that depressing talk. I suggest, that from this moment on, we absolutely believe that anything is possible. Agree?’
‘Yes!’
‘Good. With immediate effect we must throw away the shackles of everything we’ve ever been taught. Let’s give our last few days our absolute all. Treat it like a fight to death!’
Sue felt better hearing a more positive tone. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘Where do we start?’
Solomon stood up purposefully and rubbed his chin. ‘My suspicion is that this has something to do with a history that goes so far back in time that records don’t exist – at least not for anyone to make sense of them. First off, let’s try and find out if Mrs. Pye has noticed anything unusual—’
He was interrupted by the whistle on the kettle screeching loudly. Sue rushed off and returned with a pot of tea and several steaming crumpets. She poured a mug for the headmaster and another for Mrs. Pye. Armed with this, and a hot crumpet, she nipped out of the front door and around the foggy courtyard to see her patient.
ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN
A JOKE GONE WRONG
‘Here, Mrs. Pye,’ Sue said, putting the tray down on the table, ‘a nice mug of tea for you and a crumpet, you must be starving. I found one of Old Man Wood’s blue-coloured jams, bit of an odd colour for a jam, if you ask me, but I hope you like it.’
She removed the lid and sniffed it. ‘Does he add colouring to it for a bit of fun, or is it some sort of weird blue fruit he uses?’
She handed Mrs. Pye the tea.
Mrs. Pye sipped as Sue continued to talk and soon nibbled on a crumpet.
‘How’s that going down?’ Sue said, sitting next to her.
Mrs. Pye pulled a handkerchief out of her dressing gown pocket and blew her nose. ‘Much better,’ she said, before slipping it back in her pocket. ‘And all thanks to you, little Sue. You’re a kindly one, aren’t you?’
Sue smiled. ‘Well, it’s a great relief to see you looking so much better. For a while I was pretty worried – what would the others say if they’d seen you in such a state, huh? They’d be worried sick.’
Mrs. Pye shook her head. ‘They’ve gone a little in the head, you know?’
‘Really?’ Sue said, raising her eyebrows.
‘Oh aye. I think everyone’s gone a bit in the head to be honest. All these comings and goings, you know. One minute here, the next they’ve shot off. And then strange noises and the children pulling pictures down and making a mess and explosions. I hardly dare go over there. Don’t know what I might find.’
‘When did you last see them?’
‘The children were about this morning. I heard ‘em. Don’t know how you missed them, unless they was taken—’
‘But has anyone been here apart from those soldiers this morning?’ Sue asked.
A little cry came from within her as Mrs. Pye turned away.
‘What is it?’ Sue asked quietly, moving in and holding her hand.
The older woman pulled herself together a little. ‘Now then,’ she snivelled, ‘there was another person.’ She shook her head.
‘Really?’ Sue said softly. ‘Who?’
Mrs. Pye burst into tears once again. ‘You’d never believe me!’
‘Of course I would.’
Mrs. Pye shook her head. ‘But he wouldn’t have taken them. Couldn’t have.’
‘Who?’
‘That boy ... my—’
‘Which boy?’ Sue said, confused.
‘My son,’ she squealed. ‘My baby.’
Sue’s mind raced. ‘Are you alright, Mrs. P? Do you ... do you want to lie down?’
Mrs. Pye squeezed Sue’s hand tight. ‘My child came to me, Sue. He did, really. Then he left – but he couldn’t have taken the others with him. He didn’t mean no harm. Just wanted to see me. Tell me he knew.’
‘Knew what?’ Sue repeated.
‘That I was his ...’
‘His, what?’ Sue said.
‘You know ... mother,’ Mrs. Pye said through her tears. ‘That I was his—’
Sue reeled ‘... Mother?’ she repeated.
‘I always thought there might have been a child. But, you know, the accident and all that.’
Sue remained baffled. ‘Are you sure? Are you sure it wasn’t a ghost or something like that?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Mrs. Pye said. ‘I know perfectly well who it was.’
‘You know him?’
‘Ooh, yes dear. Archie’s friend. Don’t think you girls like him so much.’
‘Don’t like him?’ she said in amazement.
Sue leant back and studied her. Thick hair, fat lips.
Mrs. Pye looked up from her light blue, piggy eyes. ‘You call him Kemp?’ she said.
But Sue knew Kemp was miles away at Swinton Park. ‘Kemp?’
Mrs. Pye nodded. ‘That’s the one.’
Sue shook her head, baffled, when all of a sudden the mist lifted.
‘Oh, Kemp!’ she laughed. ‘But that Kemp only arrived by boat an hour or so ago, with me and the headmaster.’
How sweet that Gus had gone to see her first ... but then again, how incredibly nuts to tell her he was her son. Why would he do that?
Sue shook her head. ‘Look, I’ll let you in on a secret. That Kemp is actually called Williams. Gus Williams.’ And then she added because she couldn’t resist it. ‘My boyfriend.’
Mrs. Pye pulled her handkerchief out once more and sobbed into it.
Sue thought the whole thing most peculiar. Was Mrs. Pye confused? Was Gus confused?
Perhaps she should find Gus and ask him if he’d been over here being Kemp. And if so, that his joke had misfired badly.
ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
FIGHT TO THE DEATH
‘Surprised? Yeah, I bet you’re bloody surprised!’ Kemp said.
Gus took a step back. ‘What are you doing here ... you’re not part of this, are you?’
Kemp sighed and sat down at the chair by the desk. ‘Well, Williams, you could say I got here ... by accident.’
‘What happened to your head?’ Gus asked.
Kemp ran a hand over his white cranium. ‘Burnt off ... it’s a long story,’ Kemp said, and smiled his fake, fat smile. ‘Let’s just say I had a lucky escape.’
‘From what?’
‘Death, I suppose,’ he said, lifting his eyes to meet Gus’.
Gus suspected something fishy. ‘What are you doing ... what do you want?’
Kemp wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘To be honest,’ he began, ‘it wasn’t you I was hoping to find.’
‘Who, then?’ Gus said, confused. ‘Archie?’
‘Nah. The de Lowe’s are a bit indisposed at the minute. Eating for their very lives.’ He grinned. ‘It’s quite possible they’ll never be seen again.’
Gus screwed up his face. ‘I don’t understand. Have you done something to them?’
‘Me? No! Look, there’s no way you could possibly understand,’ Kemp said. ‘It’s none of your business.’ He puckered his lips. ‘Thing is, Williams, what exactly are you doing here, rummaging about Isabella de Lowes’ bedroom like a perv?’
‘I’m with Sue and the headmaster,’ he replied coolly. ‘We’ve been sent by the authorities to help find the de Lowes. They’re in trouble but no one seems to know what it is. You know where they are?’
‘Yeah, ‘course I do,’ Kemp said, thickly. ‘To be honest, there isn’t much I don’t know.’
‘Then tell me!’
‘They’re locked in a small room, not too far from here,’ Kemp volunteered, ‘until they work something out.’
Gus looked confused. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘I have an ... associate, who’s pretty worldly—’
‘Worldly? I thought you were stuck in the hospital, burnt—’
‘I was,’ Kemp interrupted. ‘But my companion had a change of heart.’
‘Who is this guy?’
‘He’s an old man, that’s all you need to know—’
Gus looked quizzically at Kemp. ‘Hey! I know – I saw you,’ he said, jabbing a finger at Kemp. ‘You and an old man in the alleyway moments before the storm broke.’ He rubbed his hands as he remembered. ‘Weren’t you? Someone in a long coat and a hat.’
Kemp leaned in and tapped his nose. ‘As I was saying, Williams, it’s really none of your business.’
An awkward silence fell between them.
‘So, if you’re not here for Archie,’ Gus started, ‘and you’re not here for the de Lowes, you’re here to see the headmaster, right?’
Kemp chuckled. ‘Oh yeah. Hilarious. Nope, wrong again. I’m here for more ... personal reasons.’
‘To see Old Man Wood?’
‘Then who?’
‘I’m here to get Sue,’ he said bluntly. ‘You know, sexy Sue, best mate of freak-of-nature, Isabella-de-bleeding-Lowe.’
Gus’ jaw dropped, and for a brief moment his brain froze as if he’d eaten a tub of ice-cream. Had he heard that right?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said at long last, ‘you said, get Sue. What, exactly, are you talking about?’ His fingers were shaking.
‘Precisely that.’ Kemp creased an eyebrow. ‘You got a problem with it?’
Gus composed himself. ‘What,’ he said slowly, trying to mask his growing anger, ‘makes you think Sue would be in any way interested in you?’
‘Aha. Finally, a decent question, Mr. Williams. You see, this little union I’m going to propose, is based entirely on a lack of rival suitors.’
‘Union? Lack of rivals?’ Gus felt himself perspiring.
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘Jeez, Williams. Don’t tell me you haven’t worked it out?’
Gus shrugged. ‘This disease thing?’
Kemp raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re finally getting there,’ he said. ‘It’s going to kill everyone, except me and Sue.’
Gus shook his head. ‘But I still don’t think she’ll go with you, Kemp. She totally hates your guts—’
‘I didn’t say she would. That’s why I said I’m going to take her.’
Gus felt winded. ‘But she’s going out with me,’ he said softly. ‘She’s not yours to take—’
‘Oh dear, oh dear. Is that right?’ Kemp leered back. ‘Unlucky.’
The curtain swished out of the way.
‘The thing is,’ said a much deeper and rather croaky voice to the other side of him, ‘you’re all going to die.’
‘Bloody-nora!’ Gus said, jumping out of his skin. ‘What the ...’
‘Oh,’ Kemp said. ‘Meet my ... associate. He’s a ghost.’
Gus glanced around nervously as the voice started again.
‘He’ll be doing her a favour, you know.’ The ghost parted the curtain and reappeared moments later wearing an overcoat and hat.
