CHAPTER NINETEEN
Day of the Dead
Rachel’s alarm clock said half-past two. Above the wind battering her bedroom room window, she could still hear the raised voices filtering through the floorboards. Stifling a yawn, she sat on the top of the stairs and listened to parts of her parents’ heated conversation.
‘What if June Wrigley sees him – she’ll probably have a heart attack?’
‘OK, we’ll tell him to avoid the Frumpy Friar.’
‘But it’s his local pub – he has to go in there.’
‘They’re just white lies.’
‘Well, sleep on it – see how you feel in the morning…’
Paul flung open the kitchen door. ‘You’re mad – the lot of you – it will never work,’ he yelled and headed towards the couch to make up his bed.
✽✽✽
Later that morning, Rachel couldn’t stop yawning as she helped her mother with the cleaning and washing up. With the washing up all put away, she sat quietly at the kitchen table sipping on her tea and stared at her mother’s back. Chewing the matter over, she couldn’t hold it in any longer and said, ‘Mum – why didn’t you tell me you had a brother?’
Lorraine choked on her tea. Dabbing the tea stain on her floral dress with a wet cloth, she turned around and met her daughter’s questioning eyes. ‘How did you find out? Oh, it doesn’t really matter now the cat’s out of the bag,’ she said resignedly.
‘I heard you talking to Larry about him on board Suzy,’ Rachel said.
Lorraine gathered her thoughts. ‘Thomas disappeared a year after you were born,’ she said dispiritedly. ‘He’s an explorer you see and an inventor, and he would often disappear for weeks on end. But as the months went by, I knew in my heart, he wouldn’t be coming back.’
‘D’you think he’s still alive?’ Rachel pressed her.
‘We’re twins – and you know what they say about them,’ Lorraine replied with an odd look in her eye. ‘If he were dead – I think I would know. Growing up together, we could always sense each other’s mood.’
‘What did he look like, Mum?’
‘Well, he has long blond hair, and he’s quite tall – about the same height as Ian,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘His blue eyes were bluer than any ocean – just like Ian’s.’
‘Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet him someday.’
Lorraine gave her a brooding look. ‘Um… about that,’ she said, chewing her lower lip. ‘We’re all invited to a meeting tonight at The Nutty Pine. It has something to do with your education and your uncle.’
✽✽✽
The sun sunk behind the moody clouds loitering on the horizon. Along the Forestry Glen, the chilled air grew colder as twilight fell. The Cooks walked quickly towards The Nutty Pine’s gate. Lorraine knocked on the door. Rachel blew into her hands, but they didn’t warm up against the sudden cold. George answered the door, and the Cooks piled inside.
Apart from their hosts, everyone rallied around the round pine table and sat down. Morag and Elspeth came bounding into the room with teapots aplenty. George grinned as he put an assortment of pastries down beside everyone’s steaming cup of tea. Huddled together, Paul and Gladys were too busy talking and laughing to notice the toing and froing.
At the table, Rachel nudged George’s elbow and whispered, ‘George, have you any idea what this is all about?’
George just shook his head. They both watched Morag close the door to the room, and they gazed at the smoky fire as Elspeth stoked the coals.
With the blazing heat warming the cockles of their hearts, Lorraine piped up and said, ‘At least most of you know why we’re all here tonight.’
She sipped thoughtfully on her tea and added, ‘As you all know, Henry Silverback’s chauffeur, Stanley Croom, has been falsely charged with attempted murder and burning down Gravelings’ school. We are here tonight to discuss our children’s education – and this would be a simple matter if my brother were here tonight.’
‘Why’s that, Mum?’ asked Rachel with determined curiosity.
Lorraine looked very uncomfortable and averted her eyes. ‘Well, just before Thomas disappeared all those years ago, he bought Bellingtons and set up a boarding school there,’ Lorraine informed her. ‘He wanted to help the children who were having trouble at home – and at school.’
‘And that’s why we’re here tonight,’ Gilbert added. ‘Bellingtons is barely half full – so we’re proposing that Gravelings’ schoolteachers and its pupils relocate there for the foreseeable future.’
‘But without Thomas, we have no legal power to do this,’ said Morag.
‘Where is he? He should be here by now –’ Elspeth began.
The hard knock on The Nutty Pine’s front door echoed around the room. Lorraine strode to the living room door and opened it, but she hesitated and said to everyone in the room, ‘If we’re fooled by him – we might have a chance in fooling everyone else.’
The front door opened and closed.
The rushed muffled voices at the door petered out, and a man stepped through the living room door and beamed back at their shocked faces.
‘Oh, my giddy aunt,’ Paul spluttered.
‘Amazing – just amazing,’ Gilbert spouted.
‘I – I can’t tell the difference,’ Elspeth said, utterly spellbound.
Lorraine gently closed the door, holding back her tears.
The long blond-headed man came into the room and removed his trilby hat. His bright blue eyes peered at every face in turn. ‘I could do with a pint of ale – but I’ll settle for a cuppa with two sugars,’ he said with the broadest smile.
‘The – the voice is s-spot on,’ Paul blubbered.
‘I believe most of you have met my brother, Thomas Shire,’ said Lorraine sombrely. ‘Now, I think we could all do with a fresh cup of tea.’
With a goofy grin, Thomas Shire walked up to Rachel and George and asked, ‘Hullo, you two – don’t you recognise the long arm of the law?’
Rachel studied his face, but she still said hesitantly, ‘Ian… um… is that really you beneath that fake tan and long blond hair?’
‘Ah, you found me out,’ he chuckled.
‘That’s a brilliant disguise, Ian,’ George told him, ‘and I bet even Commissioner McDonald wouldn’t recognise you now.’
‘Right, we need to make sure your handwriting is up to scratch,’ Lorraine told Ian. ‘I hope you’ve been busy practising the art of forgery?’
‘I’ve learnt from the best,’ he replied. ‘From now on, I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on my two next-door neighbours. William and Alfred have some pretty impressive criminal skills up their sleeves.’
‘You didn’t tell them about our plan,’ said Lorraine, a little worried.
‘Nope – I just said I needed their help on a case,’ replied Ian slyly.
‘Don’t encourage those two reprobates,’ Rachel told Ian warningly. ‘The Grimhall brothers are bad enough, and I’m pretty sure those two miscreants are responsible for half of the crime in the countryside.’
Ian chuckled. ‘Oh, the Grimhalls won’t be bothering anyone soon,’ he snorted. ‘They tried to steal Bob Jones’ beehives again. Two thousand volts and Finkle snapping at their singed heels sent them packing into the nearest hospital – and it’s going to take a while for their hair to come back down to earth again.’
Lorraine folded her arms and gave Ian a strong penetrating stare. ‘Don’t forget Thomas’ mannerisms,’ she told him. ‘Now, rubbing your left earlobe when you’re puzzled is very important. It’s his little quirks that will add to your disguise, so even his closest friends will be fooled.’
‘Commissioner McDonald would hang and quarter me if he knew what I was about to do,’ Ian griped, but he brushed those thoughts aside. ‘OK, how do we bring Professor Thomas Shire back from the dead?’
‘That’s easy,’ Elspeth said. ‘I know the editor of The Weekly Wrap. I can make you front-page news, so all we need is a plausible story for your disappearance – and especially where you’ve been all this time.’
‘How about telling them you were exploring the darkest regions of Africa, but you were captured by cannibals and escaped,’ George offered.
‘For ten years!’ Rachel retorted. ‘Well, unless Mrs Mullins drove him there and back – nobody’s going to believe that.’
George returned Rachel’s simmering grin.
‘Might I make a suggestion,’ Gilbert interjected. Everyone fell silent and turned to face him. ‘There’s an island about ten miles off the coast. Bellingtons’ pupils make regular visits there to further their education. The monks run it, and they like to keep to themselves, but they help us out when asked. Thomas owns the island, so it wouldn’t be a long shot to tell the newspaper he’s been meditating there for all this time.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Paul said.
Everyone nodded their approval.
‘I would like to point out that Thomas isn’t exactly on speaking terms with the monks at this present time,’ added Gilbert despairingly. ‘I hope the monks don’t get wind of our little subterfuge.’
‘Bellingtons’ headmistress isn’t going to like Thomas turning up out of the blue – and telling her what to do,’ said Gladys cautiously. ‘Rose Dandelion is as stubborn as a pack of mules and then some.’
‘All Ian has to do is walk around the school as if he owns the place,’ said George. ‘I’m pretty sure that will help him cement his disguise.’
‘Well, I better be going,’ Ian told them, placing his trilby hat back on his head. He walked to the door and faced them. ‘Professor Thomas Shire wishes you all a very good night,’ he chortled and departed with all haste.
Rachel’s head throbbed. As Ian’s new persona said goodbye for the last time, his trilby hat triggered a memory she thought she had utterly forgotten, so she reached down into her backpack and rummaged about.
With a strained expression, she caught her mother’s eye. ‘Mum, I’ve just remembered something… um… when we were on the island – George’s father wanted me to give you this,’ she told her and placed the opened wax paper parchment onto the table. ‘Sir James Browning sends his regards,’ she added in awe as minuscule forks of blue lightning danced back and forth across the quivering serrated black horn.
Teacups tumbled, and Morag and Elspeth looked half scared to death.
Gilbert’s cheeks drained of colour, and he quickly drew up a chair. ‘Now listen, Rachel – what else did Sir James tell you? Be honest and leave nothing out,’ he said gravely and stared at every shocked face in the room. ‘Our lives might depend on it,’ he added with a haunted look.
From the other side of the room, Reggie flew off his perch and landed on the squattest teapot. Clawing at the thick brown cosy, it ruffled its green feathers and squawked, ‘Browning – Captain Browning, The Scarlet Lady is lost – shall I give the order to abandon ship?’
✽✽✽
‘Mum, have you seen Gladys lately?’ asked Rachel thoughtfully.
‘Er – only briefly,’ she replied absentmindedly, removing the dark cobwebs above the kitchen cabinets with a frilly pink duster. ‘There’s been a surge of tourists since the Bore wave hit the esplanade. She’s been busy keeping up with the demand. Eddie’s business is doing extremely well, too, and he’s milking it for all its worth.’
Paul came into the kitchen carrying a wicker basket. He began pairing his socks in a foul temper. ‘Blasted weather. That’s another three socks lost at sea,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m going to have to weld my socks to the washing line if this blustery wind doesn’t ease off.’
‘They’ve probably found a good home by now, Dad,’ Rachel chuckled. ‘Maybe Gladys’ pet lobster is using them for mittens.’
‘I better pop into town and buy some more,’ he huffed. ‘Anyway, I have some books to return to the library, and I don’t want to feel the wrath of Miss McKenzie when she’s in one of her moods. I’ve seen her make grown men cry with just one look.’
‘D’you mind if George and I cadge a lift?’ Rachel asked. ‘I think it’s about time I joined the local library.’
‘You better get your skates on, Rachel,’ Paul said. ‘What with all these council cuts – the library is bound to be in their sights for closure.’
‘I’ll call Alice and see if she wants to meet up.’
✽✽✽
‘Damn and blast that woman,’ Paul blustered, tooting his horn for the umpteenth time. ‘How on earth did she pass her driving test?’
‘At least Mrs Mullins is in second gear,’ Rachel grinned. ‘It’s a big improvement, don’t you think, George?’
‘Well, yes – but isn’t it against the law to crochet while driving?’ he replied. ‘That large ball of wool is blocking her front windscreen.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Paul roared, and in a furious rage, he threw the steering wheel so hard to the left, the van tipped over on two wheels, then lurched forward and took off at speed, narrowly missing a flock of tourists who were feeding a flock of seagulls by the roadside.
Rachel gripped the vinyl seat cover and prayed the van’s brakes wouldn’t let them down again. Her father hadn’t paid any heed to the speed bumps. Even George look unwell, and his face matched the green traffic light up ahead. With a determined look in his eyes, Paul put his foot down and whooped as he beat the amber light, but he slammed on the brakes and fumed, as Mrs Mullins had ignored the red traffic light and her car now chugged right in front of him.
✽✽✽
Without any regard for pedestrians, Paul bounced his van over the kerb and into the last parking spot in the street, much to the annoyance of the mayor’s driver, who waived a clenched fist out of the posh saloon car’s window, cursing so colourfully, it would’ve made a sailor blush.
‘Must dash – would you lock it up for me, George?’ Paul asked, and without waiting for an answer, he sped off down the well-worn footpath.
They watched Paul as he pushed and elbowed his way through the growing crowd of oddly dressed men and women.
‘I can’t see Alice,’ George told Rachel. ‘Maybe she’s inside.’
Rachel walked a few paces along the pavement; however, she stopped and earwigged on a huddled group that squealed with excitement.
‘I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet him,’ the sprightly woman told the group as she bounced up and down on her toes.
‘I want to ask him about the Lesser Spotted Gillymop,’ announced the grizzled man with the beehive hat. ‘I’m fascinated by its breeding habits. You know they have to tickle one another before they mate – and it can last up to two hours. Absolutely fascinating…’
Rachel stood by the library’s entrance.
George eyed the strange tightly knit groups of people jabbering away nineteen to the dozen. ‘Hey, Rachel – what’s with all the people?’ he asked keenly. ‘Are they going to some kind of weird fancy dress party?’
‘No, George – they’re called Twitchers,’ she informed him. ‘They get very excited if they see a rare bird – now, if I were you, I wouldn’t get too close to them. I passed that lot over by the post office, and they smelt of mildew, mothballs and mulled wine.’
‘But why are they here?’ George quizzed her, still confused.
‘Well, they are either here to see Miss McKenzie,’ Rachel scoffed, ‘or they’re here to see this man,’ she added brightly, pointing at the poster:
Calling all Twitchers both Near and Far
*Come and meet L.C Warbler at noon today*
Lionel will be signing his new book. Please purchase your copy from Miss McKenzie, who will be happy to assist you.
The Whys and Whatnots of Twitching for the Uninitiated
(Free novelty quill with every purchase)
‘Apparently, he’s very famous in the Twitching world,’ Rachel told him. ‘I’ve read a couple of his books, and they were pretty interesting. Er – why are you looking at me like that?’
‘I’m worried you’re going to turn into one of them,’ George grinned.
With the broadest of smiles, Rachel pushed the library door open...
Across the room, her father looked extremely agitated behind Mrs Mullins, who had dumped an enormous stack of books into the arms of a severe-looking middle-aged woman with black horn-rimmed glasses. Five long minutes later and towering over a black marble podium, the bespectacled librarian berated her father as he tried to turn a deaf ear.
‘Now, Mr Cook – it’s just gone noon, and the date on your books clearly state they should have been stamped a minute ago. I don’t have the time to deal with such tardiness today. I have more pressing matters to attend to – ah, Mr Warbler – I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said all high and mighty. ‘I’m letting you off with a warning this time – but don’t let it happen again,’ she added stiffly and stamped his books.
‘Now, I take it we’ve just watched Miss McKenzie in action,’ Rachel sniggered. ‘I don’t think my father will be late with his books again.’
‘What’s up with her hair?’ George asked, slightly bemused at her odd appearance. ‘It looks like she’s got a mad haystack on top of her head.’
‘Ah, there you two are,’ said Alice breathlessly, sidling up to them. ‘It’s a bit busy in here – what’s going on?’
‘Don’t you know, Alice,’ George chuckled. ‘Lionel Warbler is signing his new book – and I think the man has just arrived,’ he added with a nod at the door, feigning interest as the queue of Twitchers gaggled like geese and began clapping at the man in the smart chequered suit who bowed twice to his overenthusiastic audience.
Lionel had almost sat down, but he brushed his long white beard aside and stared spellbound at the man who had walked up to his table.
Rachel watched as her father laid his hand on the man’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. Lionel suddenly grabbed Paul’s shoulders, and they both began a merry dance. The queuing Twitchers joined in with their jubilation, clapping and cheering as someone played the harmonica.
Miss McKenzie stood behind them with the look of absolute horror plastered across her astonished face. Paul and Lionel started to sing another song, but Miss McKenzie wasn’t having any of that nonsense in her library and coughed so loudly they both fell silent.
Paul bade Lionel farewell and rushed out of the library.
‘What the dickens was that all about?’ Rachel asked.
‘Looks like their old friends,’ George remarked. ‘I hope your father remembers I’ve still got his car keys?’
‘Oh, he’s probably off to buy some more socks – he’ll be back,’ Rachel replied and thought about Lionel who, by her father’s words, was as batty as a belfry, but now the two of them seemed like long lost friends.
The Twitchers’ queue moved forward, and the book signing began.
Rachel had the strangest feeling someone was breathing down her –
‘Can I help you?’ a stern voice asked.
Rachel swung around and faced Miss McKenzie’s icy cold stare; the librarian loomed over her with questioning grey eyes.
Rachel gulped. ‘Um – I wish to join the library,’ she said nervously.
‘Do you now…’ muttered Miss McKenzie very slowly and thoughtfully. ‘Well, as you’re underage, you have to be vetted before you’re allowed to borrow books from the library, so you’ll need to fill out a form.’
The librarian suddenly whipped out a thick form from nowhere.
‘Er, can I borrow a pen?’ Rachel asked, looking beyond her eyebrows.
Miss McKenzie sighed and plucked one of the pens she had sticking out of her wild bushy hair. ‘Now, please write in clear block capitals – and no smudges,’ she told Rachel, handing her a feather-quilled pen. ‘You can use that empty table over there by the Horticultural Section. Nobody will disturb you there,’ she added and marched towards Lionel, whose waning smile still kept the Twitchers’ cameras clicking away.
Rachel sat down and faced the library form. George and Alice left her to get on with the endless questions. Alice wandered into the History Section, while George decided to delve into the Archaeology Section to see if he could dig anything up about the island that had sunk.
Rachel painstakingly answered question after question. The question about Name your next of kin seemed ridiculous, as she didn’t realise libraries had such hidden dangers. The last question had her stumped: the form needed a signature from the parent, guardian or close family relative. Her father should’ve been back by now. The radiator beside her continued to scorch her right leg, so she decided to give the form to Miss McKenzie, who didn’t appear that busy shuffling paper.
Rachel coughed. ‘I’ve filled out the form,’ she told Miss McKenzie, handing the form and pen back into the librarian’s pale, freckled hands.
Miss McKenzie pushed her heavy glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and said, ‘Now, I just need a signature from a family member –’
Rachel heard the whispering voices, and even the Twitchers fell silent as the man by the door let out a roar of laughter.
He strutted towards Miss McKenzie, who let out a cry of shocked surprise and grabbed the podium for support; she looked as if she was about to pass out as the tall, tanned man gave her a broad smile and said, ‘Well, Gabby, it’s been a long time – how the devil are you?’
Gabby McKenzie swooned.
Ian Inchman looked the part as he played Thomas Shire to perfection. His bottle-blond hair looked lighter in the library than in The Nutty Pine’s dining room. Rachel had to play her part as well, and she had to remember that Ian Inchman lay buried beneath his clever disguise.
‘Oh, Thomas, I – I thought I would never see you again,’ said Gabby dreamily, clutching her hands against her chest as her eyelids fluttered.
Thomas went up to her; he took her trembling hands and patted them affectionately. ‘How could a man forget a face like yours,’ Thomas told her with a sultry sigh. ‘Are you married yet, Gabby?’
‘No, Thomas – I’m still waiting for the right man,’ she replied, her cheeks blushing as her eyes misted over with raw emotion.
Rachel looked on in wonder. Ian’s acting was so convincing, he had the librarian eating out of his hands, but she needed to break up these pair of lovebirds. ‘Um, excuse me, Uncle Thomas – but I need you to sign my form,’ she said. ‘Dad’s gone missing, so could you sign it instead?’
Gabby’s eyes bloomed. ‘Well, I never. I must be getting old – I forgot your sister had a daughter, Thomas, and what a charming young lady she is too,’ she giggled, beaming down at Rachel, who couldn’t believe the transformation that had come over the love-struck librarian. ‘Oh, you don’t need a form, you sweet, sweet child – your Professor Shire’s niece and that should be good enough for anyone,’ she added in a mad twitchy voice and ripped the form up into little bits and pieces.
As the form’s confetti fell to the floor, somebody yelled, ‘Thomas – it’s good to see you’re back in the land of the living.’
Paul bustled into the library and shook Thomas’ hand. ‘It hasn’t been the same with you gone, Thomas,’ he told him enthusiastically.
‘It’s good to see you too, Paul – it’s been too long,’ said Thomas, an undertone of sadness in his voice as he returned Paul’s firm handshake.
Paul instantly put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. ‘And you’ve probably guessed this is our daughter, Rachel,’ Paul told Thomas proudly. ‘You didn’t see her growing up, more’s the pity.’
Thomas rubbed his left earlobe and said, ‘And that is my loss.’
‘Lorraine will be over the moon at your return,’ Paul beamed.
Someone coughed. Alice and George stood behind them.
Rachel grinned and said, ‘Uncle Thomas – I’d like you to meet my friends, George and Alice.’
Thomas shook their hands, but he peered over Rachel’s shoulder. By the dusty Horticultural Section, a woman huddled against the steaming radiator with a couple of overstuffed suitcases by her side. ‘Would you excuse me, I’ve just seen someone I know…’ he said with concern.
George and Alice fell in behind Rachel as she followed Thomas, who approached the sobbing woman with softened steps. The smell of musty mulch and cut grass wafted up their nostrils. The lanky woman with the green hair looked up at Thomas as he touched her bony shoulder.
Rachel hadn’t seen her Rural Studies teacher in months: Miss Minnie Moffatt looked downtrodden and appeared gaunter than ever.
‘Oh, Thomas – it’s wonderful to see you again after all these years,’ said Minnie brokenheartedly. ‘It’s nice to have a friendly face to look into.’
Thomas went down on one knee. He gently squeezed her hand and asked, ‘Minnie, why are you all alone in here and crying?’
‘I’ve – I’ve just been sacked from Plums,’ she replied, holding back a torrent of tears. ‘I’ve been thrown out onto the street, as I can’t afford to stay in my lodgings anymore – and my parents don’t have any room.’
Rachel smiled down at Minnie. ‘Look, Miss Moffatt – I’m sure my mum and dad will be able to put you up,’ she told her.
George joined in the conversation. ‘I’m lodging with Mrs Nook and Mrs Cranny. They live along the Forestry Glen,’ he added. ‘The top floor needs a good dusting, but it has a bed and a bathroom. They took in the likes of me – so I’m sure they would take in another lodger for free.’
Alice put her two pennies’ worth in. ‘I’ll sleep on my floor if it means you have a place to stay,’ she told Minnie.
With arms linked, Paul and Gladys joined them. ‘C’mon, Minnie – you’re coming home with me,’ said Gladys firmly, her demand not expecting no for an answer. ‘I have plenty of room back in my cottage.’
‘I’ll get the suitcases, Gladys,’ said Paul.
Gladys gave Paul an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
Minnie wiped away her tears. ‘And after all this time, I thought I didn’t have a friend in the world,’ she said pitifully.
‘Friends are there when you need them the most,’ said Rachel, but she stared at Thomas, recalling the wise words of the man beneath the tanned veneer and bright blue eyes.
✽✽✽
‘I go and make the arrangements,’ said Thomas, chewing the news over.
Rachel and George had explained to Thomas the course of action that had transpired at The Nutty Pine. Of course, Thomas (or Ian) knew most of it, as he was there for the most part. Almost back to her old self, Minnie thanked Thomas with a warm hug. Bellingtons hadn’t a Rural Studies teacher, but he told her he would create a post just for her.
‘Well, I better go and see Lorraine,’ Thomas said. ‘Would you care to give me a lift, Gladys?’
‘No problem,’ she replied. ‘I’m looking forward to peace and quiet on board my ship. I’ve just about had it up to my neck with tourists.’
‘I s’ppose I had better get to work, too,’ said Paul with a yawn so wide and for so long, a bluebottle flew into his mouth that made him splutter until he managed to spit most of it out.
‘Do you mind if I tag along, Mr Cook?’ George asked. ‘I’ll take some fresh sea air over this stuffy library,’ he added, giving back his car keys.
‘The m-more the m-merrier,’ Paul coughed and had a funny feeling the fly was still tickling his tonsils. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have a quick cuppa and a bun at Aunt Mildred’s Café. I still have a peculiar taste in my mouth,’ he added sourly.
‘That just leaves us, Alice,’ Rachel said.
‘I found something in the History Section,’ said Alice with a raised eyebrow. ‘I think you’ll find it quite interesting.’
✽✽✽
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