Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery (5 page)

A strong
gust of wind rattled the windows, tickling Archie’s cheeks in a
cold draught that made him shudder. If a storm came in, it would
almost certainly rain and wash away the murderer’s footprints.
Guilt surged through Archie stronger than ever before at the
thought of Mr Harriman’s body lying there, cold and alone, while
being drenched.

With a
deep sigh, Archie threw his legs over the side of the bed.
Reluctance dogged his footsteps as he made his way downstairs. He
knew what he was about to do would throw the entire household into
chaos, especially with Ben and Sammy in the house, but there was no
choice. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to remain silent a moment
longer.

His quiet entry into the sitting room was unnoticed for a
couple of minutes, giving Archie the opportunity to gather his
wayward thoughts. He knew his dad would ask why he hadn’t told them
as soon as he had got in. If he was honest, Archie couldn’t really
say why he hadn’t confided in them as soon as possible. In reality
he was struggling to acknowledge that he had actually witnessed a
brutal murder and, in describing it to his dad, by actually saying
the words out loud, then he was confirming what he had seen
was
real. The thought
terrified him.

He was
halfway across the room before his mum noticed his presence,
lowering her sewing as she stared at him. Something on his face
must have warned her to remain quiet because she quickly motioned
for Ben and Sammy to quieten down.

Archie
moved to stand before his father, trying hard not to fidget
nervously.

“
What is it, Archie?” His dad’s voice was crisp yet filled
with concern. Although he was strict with all of his children, he
wasn’t a cruel man and wasn’t usually inclined to shout or use the
strap without severe provocation. He knew something had happened
that had deeply disturbed his usually calm and cheerful son.
Something that had dire implications for someone.

Fighting
back tears, Archie’s blue eyes reluctantly met his
father’s.

“
There is something I need to tell you, Dad,” Archie
whispered, his voice quivering with the fear and lingering horror.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he hastened. “I saw a
murder.” Archie winced and felt his stomach sink to his toes. He
took a deep breath, valiantly trying to stem the tears that
threatened, and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Mr
Harriman,” he whispered, raising horror-filled eyes to meet his
dad’s astonished gaze.

“
You saw what?” Jack, his dad, asked incredulously, shooting a
warning look at Marjorie.

“
Oh, good Lord,” Marjorie gasped, dropping down into the chair
beside the table with a thump.

Taking a
shaky breath, Archie swiped at the tears shimmering on his
eyelashes and, in a shaky voice, repeated. “I saw a man – I don’t
know who – murder Mr Harriman.”

Sucking
in a shuddering breath, the horror of the past few hours began to
overwhelm Archie until he couldn’t stem the flow, and he explained
the events as they happened in the spinney in one long rush of
breath.

“
He came out of nowhere, just after Edward left the spinney. I
was sitting up the huge oak tree, about to get down when he
appeared at the bottom. He was dressed in black and had a tricorn
hat on and seemed to be waiting for someone. To get down I had to
drop on him, so I stayed where I was. But when Mr Harriman came,
the man jumped out of the bushes and put a black strip of cloth
around Mr Harriman’s neck.” Archie didn’t describe the macabre
sight of Mr Harriman’s face mottling red and purple, or the awful
stare he locked on Archie as he lay dying.

He
wasn’t sure his dad, or mum, understood him but once the words
began to flow, they just wouldn’t stop.

Several
long minutes later, he lapsed into silence, only then becoming
aware of the stunned silence that settled over the room. Everyone
froze in shock until the horror that had settled over the room was
abruptly broken by his little brother, Sammy, who piped
up.

“
Oh my, a murder!” Glee laced his voice as he lurched up from
the rug upon the floor and made for the door.

“
Stay right there!” Jack bellowed, lurching from his chair to
turn toward his youngest son. Pointing a long finger at Sammy, he
scowled darkly as he motioned the young boy back to the rug. He
waited until Sammy did as he was told before turning back to a
trembling Archie.

Placing
a gentle hand upon Archie’s bony shoulder, he eased his eldest son
down into the rickety chair beside the table. He was physically
shaking so hard that Jack wondered if he would have fallen anyway.
He had no cause to doubt the truth of what Archie had told him.
Archie never usually told lies, and his upset was clear for
everyone to see. Jack dropped down onto his haunches before him to
look up at Archie’s pale face. Large, haunted eyes gazed back at
him imploringly, and bore testament to the truth of the horrors he
had witnessed.

With a
nod, he smiled reassuringly at his eldest son and stood to collect
his gun.

“
Marjorie, lock the door behind me, and don’t answer it to
no-one.” Archie watched as his dad took his gun down from the top
shelf above the fireplace and checked it for shot before donning
his coat.

“
Will you get the others?” Marjorie asked with a worried
glance at her children. Stepping over Sammy and Ben on the rug, she
followed her husband to the back door, glancing back at her
children with a worried frown.

“
Aye. I’ll go and fetch John Masterson, Georgie and as many of
the others as I can. You sit tight. I’ll shout when I get back.
Until then, don’t answer the door to no-one.” Jack gave the
instructions as he quickly tugged on his work boots, coat and hat.
At the door, he paused to drop a quick kiss onto his wife’s stunned
lips before disappearing out of the door. He rapped sharply a few
times on the outside until Marjorie slid the bolt across with a
heavy thud.

Silence
settled around the room for a few moments, while Marjorie settled
in the chair next to Archie and placed a comforting, work roughened
hand upon his. She wasn’t sure what to do – what to say.

“
Are you sure it was Mr Harriman?” she asked her son, sweeping
back a tangled knot of hair from his brow in concern. She had never
seen her eldest son look so ill.

The
change in him since he had happily left to play with his friend
Edward, to the terrified, almost haunted young boy who sat before
her now, was startling.

“
Edward,” Marjorie gasped. “Was he with you?” She hated to
broach the subject and bring her Archie any more
distress.

“
No. He couldn’t stay and play because he had to visit his
aunt. He had just passed by the spinney with his mum and dad, when
this strange man appeared. I didn’t see the murderer’s face. I was
only going to sit up in the tree for a bit, when he appeared
beneath me. I waited for him to move but didn’t expect –” Archie
paused, at a loss for words.

Clearly
striving for normality, Archie watched as Marjorie set about
calming her two agitated young sons down, before soothingly
answering the terrified concerns of Emilie and Betsy. Eventually
shooing everyone off to bed with a sigh, she left Archie to savour
the warmth of the fire.

She took
a moment to drape a thick blanket over Archie’s knees, giving his
hand a gentle pat in silent reassurance before shooing an awed
Sammy and Ben out of the door again, this time chasing them up the
stairs to make sure they washed their dirty hands before getting
into bed. They didn’t have much money, and the few meagre
possessions they did have were old and worn, but his mum made sure
that all of her children washed regularly and were mostly always
clean.

Once the
room was empty and silence prevailed, she resumed her seat at the
table and carefully sipped a mug of cider while watching her son
pick absently at the edges of the blanket. She should scold him for
fraying the edges of her best furnishings but couldn’t find the
heart. He was so pale, he was almost grey. His dark blue eyes were
large and slightly glazed, and despite being in the comforting
embrace of his home, he still trembled with fright.

Although
milk was usually kept for breakfast, given the ordeal he had been
subjected to, Marjorie poured him half a cup from the pitcher in
the kitchen, and returned to the table. Satisfied, for a short time
at least, when he gulped it down thirstily and gave her a shiver of
a smile in thanks.

“
You’ve torn your shirt, Archie,” Marjorie tutted, shaking her
head reproachfully at Archie. “You’ll have to let me have it, so I
can see if I can mend it, now won’t you? I don’t know if I can
though, it’s in a strange place. Must be climbing that tree, no
doubt, that’s what did it.” She didn’t want to think of the
alternatives, and hadn’t missed Archie’s start when she mentioned
the torn fabric.

She
continued to whitter on, something about the amount of sewing she
had from the big house, Brentwood Manor, but Archie wasn’t
listening. Her voice dulled to a steady, monotonous rumble as his
ears picked up new noises. Outside there was an increasing rumble
of voices as the village men were mustered in search of Mr
Harriman, and the murderer. Archie shuddered.

“
Let’s leave the men to it, dear, there is nothing more you
can do tonight. Go and get to bed,” Marjorie urged, not missing
Archie’s shiver of fear at the noise outside.

Archie
turned his attention back to his mum, who was now standing before
him. He wanted to object, but the thought of sitting around doing
nothing but waiting and listening to his mum ramble on, was awful.
Nodding slowly, Archie reluctantly bade his mum a quiet, “Good
night,” and went to this room.

As he
passed the first bedroom, he could hear Betsy and Emilie chattering
about who the murderer could be, and if dad would take them to work
in the morning. Leaving them to it, he quickly passed the half-open
doorway and closed the door to his bedroom with a quiet
click.

Unsurprisingly, his two brothers were wide awake and jumping.
Literally. Up and down on the bed as they waited for Archie;
bristling with impatience for all of the gory details.

“
Was it
really
bad?” Ben panted as he bounced up and down on his knees over
and over.

“
Was there lots of blood?” Sammy squeaked, as he was jostled
by Ben before they fell off the bed in a tangle of arms and
legs.

Archie
tutted, and shook his head in disgust. They just didn’t understand.
He was about to turn away from the bed when Ben’s head popped up
from the other side of the bed.

“
Did he scream?” he gasped before Sammy’s arm appeared around
his neck and he was tugged back down to the floor.

“
Shut up you two,” Archie scolded in disgust. “Get to bed
before Mum comes up and tells you off!”

He could
hear the muffled giggles and thumps as the young boys wrestled,
completely oblivious to the seriousness of the afternoon’s
events.

They
would learn soon enough, Archie thought, feeling far older than his
eight years. Tugging his boots off, he gave the twins a few more
minutes before climbing gratefully between the covers of his bed,
and leaning over the side to glare down at Ben who was sitting on
Sammy’s chest.

“
I’m going to fetch Mum if you don’t get in this bed now,” he
snapped, fighting the urge to allow his lips to fall into a glimmer
of a smile.

His
threat worked. Within moments two warm, wriggling bodies were lying
beside him in the bed, elbowing and jostling for
position.

He
didn’t want to, but after several moments of wriggling and sighing,
Archie leaned over to the rickety table beside the bed and blew the
candle out, shivering as darkness immediately enveloped the room.
He hated the dark, he really did. When he got a house of his own,
he was going to live with the candles on all the time. For now
though, he knew that Ben and Sammy wouldn’t sleep with the candle
flickering, they would just continue bickering and elbowing, and
Archie needed the peace and quiet to gather his
thoughts.

Carefully eyeing his younger brothers through the gloom,
Archie turned his back and settled down against the pillow, trying
to find sleep.

After
several long moments, it was clear that sleep was going to be a
long way off. To begin with Ben and Sammy continued to shuffle and
murmur, as they found a comfortable spot and gave in to the need to
elbow and thump each other one last time.

Eventually, silence settled around them until Archie could
hear nothing but the howling winds, echoed by the faint murmur of
his sisters’ quiet conversation in the next room.

Downstairs his mum added more wood to the fire. The heavy
clang of the poker against the iron grate echoed up the chimney
breast. They were everyday sounds Archie had never really paid any
attention to before. Until now. Now they were familiar noises that
bespoke warmth and safety.

As the
sounds eventually quietened down, he became aware of the persistent
winds gathering outside, rattling the window panes with increasing
gusto. In the far distance, the faint barking of a dog heralded the
continued search of the villagers as they sought to find the
remains of one of their own.