The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue (21 page)

‘Why are they there anyway?’ Leo whispered.

‘They’re supposed to frighten other crows away,’ said Ralf.

‘I wish we could take them down.’

‘And do what with them?’

‘I dunno. Bury them? It’s not right hanging them up like that,’ Leo said. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling –’

‘Shhh! Did you hear –?’

Leo tilted his head and listened intently. ‘I can’t hear anything. But, I’ve got this feeling–’

‘Shhh. There! Listen. There’s something–’

There was rustling from the depths of the wood behind them. Then came the unmistakable sound of something large hurtling towards them. A shadow bolted from the trees. A streaking shape hit Ralf’s chest and proceeded to scour his cheek with a rough, wet tongue.

‘Cabal!’ Ralf yelped, his voice cracking.

The dog gave a muffled yip in answer and turned his attention to the other cheek. Ralf hugged him fiercely.

‘I not sure which of you looks more pleased,’ smiled Leo. ‘Do you think Brindle’s out looking for him?’

‘If she is, it’s not because she’s worried about him,’ said Ralf. ‘Feel his ribs! For a dog that’s not being walked enough, he’s way too thin.’

Leo was quiet for a while but then spoke softly. ‘You’ll have to take him back to her, you know that don’t you?’

Ralf nodded. ‘I’ll go in the morning,’ he said stiffly. ‘But I’m going to tell her what I think of her when I do.’ He didn’t meet Leo’s eye. He didn’t want to be talked out of it. He was going to tell the vicious old hag the right way to look after a dog, any dog, but especially this one.

He felt Cabal tense beneath his hand. His ears pricked a second before a mournful lowing filled the air.

‘Sefton,’ said Leo. ‘Sedley’s bull,’ he added when he saw Ralf’s blank expression.

Leo stretched out a hand to calm
Cabal. It did no good. The dog skittered forward a few paces, nose pointing in the direction of the Sedley farm.

Then for the third time since they’d fallen through the hole in Time at the side of the Thames, Ralf felt truly, desperately afraid. Away across the fields was a terrible wail followed by the mournful howl of a dog. Ralf’s neck pricked hotly and his stomach churned.

‘We’re in the wrong place!’ Leo hissed a second before Ralf could voice the same thought. ‘The back gate at the other end of the lane!’ The pair sprinted away from Merle Farm, down the narrow lane in the direction of the Sedleys’. Cabal bounded ahead of them. A second wail came just as they stopped at the gate where Cabal pawed the ground and ran back and forth, growling. There was nothing for a moment and then a low scraping sound. A high full moon broke from behind a cloud and the two boys strained their eyes towards the Sedleys’ farmhouse.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. There was a noise, like a stick being dragged along a panelled fence, a furious barking began inside the house and the boys saw a dark figure flit across the Sedley
s’ yard. In a blur of speed the figure overturned barrels and knocked down tools then vanished behind the house. There was a shattering of glass and the front door bust open to reveal Old Mr Sedley silhouetted in a square of light, all thoughts of blackout regulations forgotten.

An excited sheep dog bounded outside and cut across the yard to reach the first trees. He barked once and Cabal answered with a warning howl. Unthinking, both Ralf and Leo had started to run towards the house but they froze in their tracks as the wail came again. A cry somewhere between a screech and a scream cut the night so close they felt their hair stand on end. Old Mr Sedley dropped to his knees. The sheepdog raced back from where he’d come, tail between his legs, nearly knocking the old man over in its frantic attempt to get back inside.

Leo clutched at Ralf’s arm with one hand and pointed with the other. ‘Look!’

A bank of shadows rolled and undulated from the woods at the edge of the property, surging forward like waves on the sand at high tide. For a second Ralf was transfixed by them but then shook himself and looked up to the moon and back to the trees hardly believing what he saw. The shadows rippled forward on a wind that wasn’t there (the trees were unnaturally silent and still) and seemed to crawl forward towards the light. The bloodcurdling cry came again and Ralf felt all sense of purpose drain from him.

The spell was abruptly broken by a deafening blast as a gunshot shook everything. Ralf and Leo threw themselves flat on the lane. When they looked up again it was to see seventeen-year-old Walter Sedley in the doorway, shotgun in hand, yelling into the night. Alfie was standing right next to him, brandishing a pitchfork.

‘Get away from here!’ Walter shouted blindly into the dark. ‘I’m warning you!’

He hauled his father to his feet and hustled him inside as Alfie grabbed the demented sheepdog, dragged him over the threshold and slammed the door fast shut. Bolts thumped home. 

Ralf shot a look at the area of trees from which the moving shadows had come.

‘They’re being sucked back in!’ hissed Leo.

He was right. The shadows were retreating, slowly at first, then more rapidly like oil rolling down a hill.

‘The Fall!’ Ralf said. ‘They’re going back through the Fall. There, by the gate!’

Cabal, who was still at Ralf’s heels, yipped in agreement.

The two boys and the dog took a few hesitant steps forward. Even Cabal seemed to be watching in awe as the thick black shadows bubbled back from where they had come. He growled then, low in his throat, and with a bark of challenge raced after them.

‘No!’ Ralf cried, heedless of the sound of his own voice. ‘Cabal get back!’

Suddenly, the boys found themselves doing something neither would have considered a moment before. They ran towards the shadows too. They picked up speed as the shadows retreated before them and, when they reached the gate a few seconds later, they were just in time to see the last tendrils slip back through an iridescent gash in the air by the stile that stood next to it.

In his desperation to reach his dog, Ralf stumbled. Just before he toppled forward Cabal’s head whipped round and he sprang towards his master, teeth biting into Ralf’s coat at the elbow. At the same time, Leo grabbed Ralf’s hood and hauled him back from falling face first through the Fall. The threesome ended in a heap, at the base of the stile, as the shimmering cut fizzled smaller and smaller then winked out of existence.

For a moment Ralf thought it was all over and he lay on his back panting. But then Cabal was moving again, back down Merle Lane the way they had come.

Just by the stand of trees where they’d been waiting earlier they saw something. A car’s dim tail lights faded to pinpricks and the low purr of an engine receded as it moved further away. Then the sound was gone and the lights winked out as the vehicle rounded the bend. A humped shadow slipped into the deeper darkness of the woods at the side of the lane and all three, two
boys and dog raced after it. They kept their footsteps light. Even Cabal, somehow, sensed the need for quiet and flew down the road on feather-soft paws.

Reaching the point at which the figure had entered the woods, they slowed. Creeping forward they followed a rough path in the undergrowth that meandered deep into the trees. They tracked it for long minutes, their breath coming in short gasps, their eyes straining for some sign of their quarry.

Eventually, they reached a clearing.

Cabal ran right and left, sniffing the ground and whining. He nosed a central spot in the dim circle then padded back to Ralf with his tail between his legs.

‘Gone!’ Ralf gasped, bent double and clutching the stitch in his side.

‘Yeah,’ Leo agreed, panting. ‘One question, though,’ he looked over to Ralf with an exasperated smile. ‘Why didn’t we Shift?’

Ralf didn’t answer but Cabal seemed to balk at the mention of the word. Something rang in Ralf’s ear, a high-pitched note that Leo did not hear. Cabal whined pitifully and his ears pricked. With a nose at Ralf’s hand he paced to the far side of the clearing and with a final look back trotted off into the woods.

‘Cabal!’ Ralf cried. But it was no use. His dog had gone.

The next day dawned bright and clear and Ralf and Leo walked in to King’s Hadow in silence. They knew that something was wrong as soon as they reached the High Street. People stood in shop doorways, their faces grave and Ralf could practically feel the tension on his skin. Val was waiting for them by the church. She was in her school uniform but her tie was over her collar, her felt hat askew and her face was bloodless.

‘Have you heard?’ she asked urgently.

‘What’s going on?’

‘There were about a hundred dead mackerel in Sparra’s pond this morning!’ Val hissed.

‘Someone dumped their catch in the pond last night?’ said Ralf. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Val. ‘Maybe they couldn’t sell them because they were too busy with these!’

She rummaged in the satchel hanging from her shoulder and produced a small straw doll. A crude face had been painted on it, the mouth a livid red gash, and it was dressed in a miniature white coat rather like the one usually worn by Mr Hatcher.

‘I took this one down before Mrs Hatcher saw it, but they were all over the village this morning, hanging from trees or just left on people’s front door steps,’ she said.

‘It’s just a doll –’ said Leo, not sounding too concerned.

Val raised her eyebrows and then produced an evil looking steel pin from her pocket. ‘They all had these sticking through them,’ she finished gravely. ‘I can’t believe it! I was up till midnight waiting for you to signal and I didn’t see a thing! No one could have gone down that lane without me noticing. I don’t understand it!’

‘That as well
as the nightmare at the Sedleys’!’ Ralf exclaimed. ‘It can’t be the same person, surely? They wouldn’t have had the time, would they?’ He filled Val in on all they’d seen and heard the night before.

‘This is really bad, isn’t it?’ Val said to no one in particular.

‘How did everyone take it?’ Leo asked, pointing at the doll. ‘I mean, were they scared or is this a quaint little Hallowe’en custom in King’s Hadow?’

‘Leo, they were terrified!’ said Val. ‘Mr Kemp rushed round at about seven this morning taking them all down so some people didn’t see them, but enough did to cause a near panic.’

‘This is very dark stuff,’ said Ralf turning the doll over in his hands. ‘Who do we know in King’s Hadow who is in to Black Magic?’

Val shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ She frowned then gave Leo a half smile. ‘But I wouldn’t go round making any more voodoo jokes, if I were you.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Beyond Words

Everyone was talking about it. Despite Gordon Kemp’s efforts to hide away the sinister dolls, it seemed that every man, woman and child in King’s Hadow not only knew about them, but had a theory as to who had done it and why. Walter Sedley’s tales of eerie night time wails added to the rumours and the village became infected with whispers and fear. The only people immune were Frank Duke, who was actually taking bets on the identity of the culprit (Ben Cheeseman had a shilling on Urk Fitch at 2-1), and Hettie Timmins, who lived in a permanent state of agitation and behaved as though she thought a bomb would fall on the village at any moment.

Over the next few days the temperature dropped even further and the nights fell earlier. Darkness made matters worse and each evening as he walked home Ralf heard, for the first time ever in the village, the heavy thudding of the locking of doors.

Depression hung like a pall over the village and Ralf, exhausted by hard work and disturbed nights, drudged through the cold November days until a knock on the door
brought a telegram from Niall:

HOME ON LEAVE FRIDAY WITH MICHAEL STOP FRANCE MONDAY STOP APPLE PIE PLEASE STOP

Hilda was all of a fluster and started making preparations the moment she got home from work, making up Niall’s bed and peeling apples for the pie. By the time Ralf got home from school the house was spick and span and Hilda was in a clean apron stirring a pot of stew. By quarter past six she was getting twitchy and had started straightening the cutlery on the already neatly laid table but boot steps on cobbles at half past had them both running into the lane where Tom, Ron, Old Bill and Leo were already waiting for Michael’s return.

‘Gordon will have your guts for garters if you don’t shut that door, Hilda!’ a laughing voice called. Then two smiling, khaki clad young men stepped into the light to be embraced by their families.

Perhaps it was the contrast with his loneliness at Janus Gate, or the years he’d spent amusing himself as a child, but that night and the next day were easily the best times of Ralf’s life so far. Niall was all he could have hoped for in an elder brother; energetic, funny and genuinely interested in everything Ralf had to say. The fact that he spoilt Ralf rotten didn’t hurt either. They ate magnificently, laughed, listened to long stories about Niall’s training and his beetroot-faced Sergeant Major, fished on
The Sara Luz
and laughed and talked some more. Ralf didn’t even mind that they all had to go to church on Sunday because Niall was going too.

Niall’s rich tenor burst through each hymn and his enthusiasm seemed to be catching. Voices swelled to fill the little church with song. He and Michael Arbuckle winked and pulled faces at Ralf and Leo throughout the service. It was only at the end of the sermon, when Denning mentioned it that Ralf remembered what had happened on Hallowe’en.

‘We are facing a difficult time and perhaps we in King’s Hadow have a particularly hard task to face in the coming weeks.’

‘I am aware that there have been a series of unfortunate incidents involving animals and – er – fish in the village of late,’ the vicar continued, ‘and there have, moreover, been unsettling events of a different kind. I am referring, of course to the sightings by some of you of lights in the fields and strange, if not to say, diabolical sounding noises from the woods at night.’

As Ralf cast his eyes over the crowd, wondering which of them had been responsible for all the strange things that had happened, he noticed Burrowes. He was sitting in the Lady Chapel, which faced the side of the main congregation. What was he doing there?

Denning’s voice got louder now and Ralf tuned back in to what he was saying.

‘Some parishioners have sought my advice on these matters,’ Denning went on, ‘and I say now to you all what I have said to them. This is a trying time, a time of great uncertainty, a time of great anxiety for all of us. But we must not allow our imaginations to run away with us.’

The Reverend made an attempt at what he thought was a comforting smile. Leo flashed Ralf a look but Ralf was busy watching Burrowes. His eyes roamed over the faces just as Ralf’s had been doing a few minutes earlier.

Denning went on. ‘I am not a man of science. I am a man of God, but I do believe there are, if we but look closely enough, perfectly natural explanations for the things some of you have experienced.

‘Lights in the fields – mayflies.’ Burrowes’ eyebrows shot up at this and Gordon Kemp shook his head. Ralf stifled a laugh. Denning must think they were simple if he thought anyone was going to believe that pathetic explanation.

‘Shrieking in the woods? The barn owl has, I’m told, a cry very like that of a screaming woman. And if these mundane explanations are not sufficient, I think it worth reminding the young folk in our midst that All Hallows Eve is now over and though done in fun, the dolls with pins in upset some people greatly.’ The vicar cast stern eyes over the congregation letting them rest on each of the older children in turn. ‘The pranks must now stop.’

After the service, everyone milled around outside. Ralf and Leo broke away to join Valen and Alfie under the old oak.

‘No ghosts today, then,’ said Alfie cheerfully.

‘I don’t understand it,’ said Leo. ‘If Fear really is what causes them, you would have thought after all those dolls and everything that happened up at the
Sedleys' there’d be Falls popping up all over the place.’

There was a dark blur to their left and the leaves rustled. Seth stepped out from behind the tree.

Leo looked nettled. ‘Did you just Shift?’ he hissed. ‘In broad daylight? In front of a churchyard full of people?’

Seth shrugged. ‘Relax. No one saw. They’re all too busy fawning over Ralf’s big brother.’

It was true. Niall and Michael were causing quite a stir by the gate and many of the villagers stopped to pat them on the back or hear about their training. Hilda was with them, beaming with pride and clucking like an old mother hen.

‘The mood’s changed,’ said Seth. ‘Everyone’s so pleased to see them home; they’ve forgotten to be afraid. I’m betting we won’t be seeing any more Falls for a while.’

‘Unless something else happens,’ said Valen, darkly. ‘I bet that – Wolf, are you listening to me?’

But Ralf could not listen. Cabal had appeared on the edge of the Village Green. He caught sight or scent of Ralf then bounded over to give him a doggy embrace. With his front paws on Ralf’s shoulders he looked enormous. Their conversation forgotten, the children patted and fussed him and he frolicked about. Some of the villagers looked startled at the dog’s sudden appearance but many were smiling. Niall chuckled as he excused himself from the gaggle around him and came across. Burrowes joined them a moment later.

‘What on earth…?’ Niall began but Burrowes, it seemed, was a dog lover. He was all over Cabal with pats and scratches.

‘Oh, he’s a beauty isn’t he?’ the Inspector exclaimed. ‘You don’t see many like this, these days. He must be coming up to thirty inches.’

‘And he’s not fully grown yet!’ Ralf said proudly, scratching behind Cabal’s ears. The dog grinned at him, tongue lolling.

‘But, Ralf, wherever did you get him?’ Niall asked. ‘And how are you feeding him? Hilda must be going berserk!’

Ralf, who’d been revelling in their admiration for Cabal, felt suddenly awkward.

‘Well, he’s not actually mine,’ he admitted.

‘Look out!’ said Leo. Ralf followed his gaze. Brindle, wearing the vile green dress, which was now torn and covered in leaves and mud, was striding across the Green. A feathered felt hat sat askew on her head and she clutched a length of birch in her pudgy, pink fist.

‘You there!’ she shouted. ‘Osborne! I want a word with you!’

Cabal growled.

‘Steady now,’ Burrowes muttered.

Ralf put a restraining hand on the back of Cabal’s neck, fingers entwined in his coarse fur. The action was not lost on Brindle, whose face turned puce. She grasped at a chain hanging at her neck and put a tiny whistle to her lips, cheeks ballooning as she blew.

Cabal winced and dropped to his belly.

Ralf forgot himself at the sight of the distressed dog. ‘Stop it!’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you see he doesn’t like it?’

Brindle did take the whistle out of her mouth but only to make Ralf even more uncomfortable. ‘Burrowes!’ she puffed, joining the group. ‘This boy,’ she sneered, gesturing towards Ralf, ‘has stolen my dog!’

‘What?’ Ralf felt a surge of anger. ‘I’ve done no such thing! Can I help it if he doesn’t like you? He keeps running away because he wants to be with me!’

‘Yeah!’ Alfie piped up, stepping forward. ‘What’s the stick for, eh?’

Brindle turned furiously to face him and the birch came up, almost of its own accord. Leo put a gentle hand on Brindle’s arm but her face contorted in disgust.

‘Don’t – you – touch – me,
’ she said venomously.

‘Gonna get aggro at Leo now are you?’ Alfie asked.

‘Be quiet! No one can understand a word you say!’ Brindle snapped. She transferred her glare from Alfie to Ralf. ‘Not stolen him?’ she asked snidely, pulling a broken padlock from one of her ample pockets. ‘Then how do you explain this?’ She turned to Burrowes, who’d been watching the whole exchange with an expression of distaste. ‘Deliberately smashed! And with my own axe too! It will cost me a fortune to have it replaced with the price of metal as it is. What do you intend to do about it?’

‘Now wait just a second,’ Niall said. Ralf could see his brother’s usually merry eyes were hard with anger. ‘If Ralf says he didn’t take him, he didn’t. Anyone could have done that. And what are you doing leaving axes around where children can find them anyway?’

‘You go, Niall!’ said Val happily.

For a minute or two everyone was talking at once. The villagers in the churchyard were edging closer to better hear the show and Cabal was adding his whines to the general confusion.

‘That’s enough!’

Burrowes’ shout had the same effect as a gunshot. The silence was sudden and absolute.

‘Now, Miss Brindle,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m afraid my presence in King’s Hadow is in connection with a far more pressing matter than dog theft and therefore I am going to do nothing about it. You may, if you so wish, report this incident to Sergeant Minter and he will investigate the damage to your property. Until such time as he does, I will have to ask you to refrain from accusing anyone, however much you’d like.’

Brindle was furious and bristled further at the Inspector’s next comment. ‘He’s a fine animal. A good guard dog?’

Brindle sniffed. ‘When he isn’t running off.’

‘He didn’t kick off the night Charles Hart disappeared, I suppose?’

‘Why should he? That happened way out at Chax Forest.’

Burrowes ignored the comment. ‘Where did you get him?’

‘Hastings, if you must know.’ Brindle looked sideways and fiddled with the padlock in her hands. ‘But, I don’t have all day to stand around answering questions,’ she snapped. ‘It’s a fine state of affairs when hard working people are let down by police in this manner. But it’s no more than I expect from you John Burrowes. Even as a child you were a good for nothing wastrel with ideas above your station!’ She slapped her thigh with the birch. ‘Come!’

Cabal slunk over to her and with a reproachful look at Ralf, allowed Brindle to replace the collar he had slipped earlier. Brindle looked at Ralf and then at his sister who had hurried over at Burrowes’ shout. ‘Expect to hear from Sergeant Minter, Hilda.’

Hilda gave a curt nod. ‘Good day, Zilla.’

Burrowes excused himself then, shaking hands with Niall and doing a funny little bow at Hilda. She smiled graciously but frowned at Ralf the moment Burrowes’ back was turned.

‘Well?’

It took a while to convince his sister that Cabal really did come and go of his own accord and even longer to tell her of his concerns regarding the dog’s welfare.

‘Can you not just shoo him away?’ she asked in an exasperated sort of voice.

‘Be fair, Hild,’ said Niall. ‘There’s not much the lad can do if the dog’s seeking him out. Probably senses someone who’s like to be kind to him.’

‘I suppose,’ said Hilda. ‘She always was rough with her livestock. D’you remember that old horse she used to have. Skin and bone it was when the knackers came.’

Ralf blanched. ‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’

Niall shook his head. ‘Not unless someone catches her beating the poor brute. She’ll just lie else.’ 

‘Anyway,’ said Hilda, taking her brother’s arm, ‘this is getting us nowhere and I’ve got potatoes to peel.’

‘We’ll be along in a minute,’ said Leo, looking back towards the church.

Ralf followed his gaze. Major-General and Mrs Kingston-Hawke were standing by the doors, deep in conversation with the vicar. With them, dressed in a tailored coat and fur stole, was Gloria.

‘Urgh!’ said Val, disgusted. ‘She’s wearing half a dead fox!’

‘She’s back!’ Seth exclaimed. ‘Excellent.’

‘I was so busy watching Burrowes, I didn’t even notice her,’ said Ralf. The admission, oddly, made him feel as though he’d somehow let her down.