Arnie Jenks and the House of Strangers (12 page)

‘We need to cook up something that will make him sick,' Emily yelled, as they raced through the servants' hall and reached the kitchen making for what appeared to be a storeroom.

‘In my time the vinegar was kept here but I guess things might have changed,' she said, rummaging around frantically.

‘I'd be surprised,' said Arnie, pulling aside a thick nest of cobwebs.

Emily unscrewed a jar and sniffed. ‘Yes!' she claimed triumphantly. ‘Smells right enough. We'll use this neat,' she said, moving to a nearby bench. ‘Anything else you can think of to add?' she prompted.

‘To make him chuck?'

‘What?' she looked at him strangely.

‘Spew. Throw up.' Arnie thought again. ‘Bring up the contents of his guts!'

‘I
understand
what you meant,' she said. ‘Finally.'

Arnie looked around for inspiration. ‘Salt?'

‘I can't see any.' Emily wavered as she moved packets aside on the shelf above. Arnie looked on bleakly.

‘You could help me! You're not the Lord of the Manor here you know!'

Arnie started searching too before stumbling across a pot, which he offered her.

‘Is it salt?' she demanded.

‘Might be sugar.'

‘Taste it then!'

Arnie dug into the crystals and sucked his finger. ‘Yuck!'

‘Good! Bring it over here.'

Emily scooped several handfuls into a bowl and then added some of the vinegar. She stirred vigorously, watching as the little grains circled round and round.

‘They're not dissolving!' he cried.

‘Keep shaking it as you run and they should eventually,' she said, dragging forward a rusty looking thermos flask. ‘I think I know what these are used for,' she smiled, carefully pouring the solution into the container and screwed the lid tight. ‘Now you need to get going.' She offered it to him.

Arnie hesitated.

‘What is it?' she said.

‘Am I doing the right thing?' Arnie looked at her. ‘I don't know how this story is meant to end.'

‘You're not sure if you should help him?' she said astonished, putting down the flask next to Arnie's elbow.

‘He did want me to leave him alone.'

‘But did he
mean
it? He seems confused about a lot of things.'

‘I shouldn't have got involved,' said Arnie dispirited.

‘But you did. No one asked you to release him from that room,' she said half-mockingly.

‘Yeah, but once I'd found him what else could I have done?'

‘Left him there?'

‘Come on Emily!'

‘You were given a choice – you could have walked out of this house into the town. Who knows your next test may have started there.'

‘You think I'm being tested?'

‘Yes of course! Don't you see?'

Arnie shook his head. ‘Not really.'

‘Each person you have met has involved you making a decision whether to interfere or not and if so – how.'

‘I've only wanted to help – I can't just do nothing.'

‘Well you could have. Think of it – take the soldier boy. If you hadn't hidden Thomas in that priest hole or shouted to him from the tree who knows what would have happened.'

‘You mean – he might not have been captured?'

‘Possibly. Or have decided to turn himself in once he had seen his mum, or perhaps just disappeared and been forgotten about. He could still have the use of his leg,' she said seriously.

‘You don't know that,' accused Arnie.

‘I agree!' implored Emily. ‘But neither do you. Just being here has changed things – even me. The talks we are having and things I'm seeing…that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't visited us back in the servants' parlour and brought me here.'

Arnie stared down at the flask.

‘So I'm to leave Dirk where he is then?'

Emily folded her arms.

‘Oh why are you making this so hard for me?'

‘I'm not – but I can't decide
for
you.'

‘But if Dirk was to die…what about David? He would have a horrible time.'

‘You're sure of that? Or do you hope that it is so?'

‘Dirk is…' Arnie floundered, ‘…ill. He needs help…'

Emily cocked her head. ‘
Your
help?'

‘Yes! I don't want his brother to be alone,' Arnie lowered his eyes sadly. ‘Because I know what it's like to be the only one.'

Emily looked at him. ‘Then you've made your decision,' she said gently. ‘Because you care.'

Arnie nodded. ‘You coming?'

Emily smiled. ‘I think you're up to it on your own. I'll be nearby if you need me.'

‘Ok,' said Arnie, gritting his teeth, not quite moving off.

‘Good luck,' she said, patting him on the arm. ‘Trust yourself.'

‘Yes thanks – I'd better go.' He gave a slight grin and turning, grabbed the flask and scooted through the kitchen and up the stairs into the servants' corridor. Seconds later he was out of the house and away into the grounds.

Arnie paused as he reached the sweeping avenue of trees, hearing a screech of car tyres followed shortly by headlights flaring up the drive towards him. Ducking down he watched the silver Aston Martin fly by, catching only a hint of the people inside, before it disappeared from view. He hurried off to find Dirk.

I'm too late, he thought, approaching the motionless figure on the grass.

Dirk's eyes were closed and only by leaning in, almost touching, could Arnie feel the slightest breath upon his cheek.

Suddenly, Dirk's body contorted, his face possessed, gulping and pleading. Arnie slid one arm behind his neck in support and despite protesting; Dirk eventually relaxed his chin and opened his mouth. Arnie unscrewed the lid of the flask and dribbled the liquid down. Dirk spluttered and retched as each gulp was slowly absorbed until, when he could take no more, he belched and was violently sick.

When he had finally finished, Arnie laid him on his side but his head kept slumping dangerously across his throat. Pulling off his jumper, Arnie carefully arranged it behind Dirk as a pillow. He stood back and watched him for a few moments until he seemed comfortable and at peace, though he couldn't tell whether Dirk was still breathing.

He then heard the cries. Standing up, he could pick out three people stumbling across the front of the house. Moving in closer he recognised Lord Alec Martlesham, younger with slicked-back reddish hair, urgently shouting to another man, who Arnie guessed must be the doctor from the small black bag he carried. Behind them, the familiar figure of Mr Silverthorne.

‘Oh God, if he's already left the grounds…how long were we away?' shouted Lord Martlesham.

‘We got here as quickly as we could Alec – what state of mind is he in do you think?' said the doctor.

‘Disturbed! Very disturbed, it's all my fault! Silverthorne, you rouse the estate workers and get them to search the orchard and paddocks then call John Waverly and get his men to comb the fields…and…the beach…'

‘But where do we start?' cried the doctor.

‘I think I know Roger,' said Lord Martlesham. ‘The river. Come on we must hurry.'

Arnie watched them disperse before he started wending his way carefully towards the house. He was looking to where it would be safe to break cover when someone spoke.

‘Hello, who are you?' said the voice.

Arnie found himself facing a young boy who looked about fourteen or fifteen.

‘I'm…I'm just…trying to get back to the town,' said Arnie, doing his best to sound honest. ‘Do you know the way?'

‘Yes,' said the boy meekly, ‘the main road is straight ahead, then it's signposted left,' he pointed, ‘but don't try and take a short cut across country or you'll get lost.'

‘Thanks,' said Arnie, taking a step in that direction.

‘Wait. I'm looking for my brother, you haven't seen him have you?'

‘No; I haven't seen anyone,' Arnie pretended. ‘I've only just arrived.'

‘That's ok – I'm sure he's around somewhere,' said the boy unconvinced.

Arnie tried to go.

‘Hey, is that my t-shirt you're wearing?'

Arnie felt the sweat rise around his collar as he tried not to look down at the words “RED GUITAR 1968” emblazoned across his chest. His mind raced. Could this once have belonged to the boy who was standing in front of him and until tonight remained forgotten in a drawer somewhere until Towersee had cause to bring it out?

‘I don't think so,' Arnie said, trying to keep his voice steady.

The boy took a step closer. ‘But look! It has an ink stain just there by the “G”. Mine has one exactly like it.'

‘Sorry,' shrugged Arnie, ‘I can't explain it but I don't know how it could be. Weird coincidence though.' He resisted wiping his sweaty forehead with the palm of his hand.

‘Yeah,' said the boy as he made a half turn. ‘It is. Weird.'

He took a pace towards Arnie. ‘I don't get it,' he said, his face a jumble of questions.

Arnie shrugged.

‘Something doesn't make sense but…' His eyes searched Arnie's face. ‘…I can't work out what.' He stared some more, struggling hard. ‘Anyway…' he said finally, ‘I can't hang about, I've got to find my brother.' And the boy took off in the direction of where Dirk lay.

Arnie started walking away until he was sure the boy had gone before breaking into a fast run back towards the house. He reached the French windows outside the Blue Room and leant his weight on the door for support, panting heavily.

‘Sorry David,' he muttered, ‘I hope everything turns out ok,' as he felt a trickle of perspiration down the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes and waited. After an excruciating silence, a young voice screamed ‘FATHER! I'VE FOUND HIM!'

Arnie shuddered as the echoes of David's cries died away. Suddenly the temperature plunged to freezing. He turned to move but his legs were locked in snow. It was 2014 once more.

Arnie pushed his way into the room, his sodden shoes dripping, his ankles tingling and trudged obediently towards Emily who stood there waiting.

‘Turned nippy again all of a sudden!' she said light-heartedly.

He pulled a weak smile and sat down on a chair by the remains of the fire and lowering his head, squeezed his knees tight.

‘I think I got to Dirk in time,' he said, his teeth chattering. ‘But he seemed pretty weak.'

‘Are you all right though? You look white,' said Emily worried.

‘I was quite scared out there. It seemed so real.'

‘It
was
real. But it's over now,' she said, joining him.

‘Is it?' His face wore a vacant expression.

‘Arnie?' she enquired softly. ‘What are you thinking?'

‘What was it all for?' he said. ‘This “testing” of me.' Arnie searched for an explanation.

‘I'm not sure…' she said.

‘I mean – these people – why would anyone want
me
to meet them?'

‘A lesson in life? That's what Mr Dawson always tells us below stairs; watch and learn. All sorts turn up at Shabbington Hall.'

‘There must be more to it than that…'

‘But you have no idea what?' she said.

Arnie ruffled his hair and sighed as Emily looked about her. ‘I wonder what my lot are doing now,' she reflected. ‘Those grates would have been cleared out and freshly made, the Mistress would be wanting to write letters in here soon – she likes a fire whatever the weather. Folk are funny aren't they Arnie?'

But he wasn't listening.

‘What is it?'

‘I'm wondering about the brother – something I can't nail…'

‘Dirk?'

‘No, David, I felt I sort of knew him in a way – though how could I? We'd never met till today. A
connection
…it's strange…'

‘And you haven't felt that with anyone else?'

‘No.'

‘Not even me?'

‘No. Something
special
about him…' Arnie wondered.

‘I'm disappointed,' Emily said sadly. ‘I thought we rubbed along quite well together.'

‘I'm sorry – I didn't mean it that way,' he said, startled. ‘You're great! Really you are!'

‘I was only teasing,' she smiled. ‘But it's sweet of you to say so.'

Arnie narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

‘Go on…you were talking about David,' she chivvied.

‘I dunno – it just felt odd…like the sensation you get when you go upside down on a roller coaster – your tummy flips over? Yes – that's it – there
was
something familiar perhaps…' He shook his head firmly. ‘But that's rubbish! He is just another stranger.'

The grandfather clock in the hall struck eight times.

Emily moved to the windows and stared out. ‘Look. I think the snow is softening – it's turning to slush. You'll be able to get home soon.'

Arnie was biting his lip. ‘Guess so,' he wavered.

‘You don't sound very certain,' she said, turning back to him. ‘Don't you want to leave here after all?'

‘I thought I did but…'

The door opened interruping them.

‘Ah, there you are,' said Mr Silverthorne. ‘Good news, a neighbouring farmer has dropped by to offer you a lift into town.'

‘How come?' said Arnie, sitting up sharply.

‘At the request of a certain Lavinia Bailey. Apparently she ended up at the Rose and Crown last night – funny eh?'

‘My Aunt – is she ok?'

‘Very bonny I believe. After her car got snowed in she intended to continue here on foot to rescue you, but was eventually persuaded that you'd be quite all right with us. Colourful character – I understand – managed to drink them clean out of sherry, so Bill Travers, the landlord, tells me. He rang Farmer Carter this morning to sort you out.'

‘So,' said Arnie, ‘she nearly made it, but not quite – just a couple of miles short.'

‘Yes – think of that; if she had got here just that little bit sooner…' Mr Silverthorne observed, adjusting his glasses.

‘Yeah,' said Arnie dreamily. ‘If…'

‘Now,' Mr Silverthorne continued more business like, ‘Carter thinks he'll be about half an hour while he does a run around the estate to see how the land lies. Make sure you are all ready for when he gets here. I'll see you before you go.'

He tapped his cane and left the room.

‘Half an hour,' Arnie repeated, heaving himself up out of his chair.

‘I'd better let you get on,' sighed Emily.

‘But…what are you going to do?' said Arnie anxiously.

‘Try and get home somehow?'

‘And if you can't?'

‘I'll manage.' Emily forced a smile. ‘I'll just pop downstairs and see what happens,' she said, moving towards the door. ‘You don't have to worry…'

‘Emily! If it wasn't for me then you would still be in your own time – not got caught up in all this. It's
my
fault.'

‘You couldn't help it,' she said, stopping to look back. ‘And if I'm to be stuck in
your
time then I'll cope somehow. At least no one can see me!'

‘No! I won't leave without knowing you're safely home.'

‘But you've got to go any minute…' Emily wiped away a tear.

Arnie held out his hand, which Emily, after pausing for a moment, decided to take. Silently she followed him out into the empty hall and past the stairs until they stopped to look down into the servants' corridor.

They walked forward and waited. Emily felt Arnie's hand squeeze hers tight as he clenched his face in fierce concentration.

‘Arnie what are we doing?'

‘I'm willing the house to allow you back home.'

‘But Arnie…'

‘I've got to try,' he said, screwing up his eyes even tighter. Moments later he blinked and sighed.

‘I don't think anything is going to happen,' she said.

‘It's got to! I want it to!' he stormed.

‘Arnie – you scare me!' she said surprised. ‘I didn't know you could be that angry.'

‘Yes, well, I didn't know that either,' he said feeling slightly wobbly.

They walked a little further through the milky morning light, nearer to where the corridor turned into the passageway leading to the basement, but nothing suggested a hint of change.

Emily turned to Arnie. ‘Worth a try – and for that I'm really grateful…'

She was cut short. A flurry of warm air rolled past them, soft, like a feather caressing their skin. The daylight shrank to dusk. As the wind died down, from the direction of the kitchen, came the sound of swift walking and breathing that quickened, before a shadowy shape appeared. It slowed as it approached them and stopped some twenty feet away. Arnie ducked into a recess behind Emily and hid. The stranger lifted a candle in front of his face.

‘Mr Dawson!' cried Emily.

‘My girl – there you are! We were very worried about you.'

‘You were?'

‘One minute you're with us at the table and then a second later you'd just vanished!'

‘I…I…came up to look for that boy…' Emily improvised, ‘…but I can't seem to find him.'

‘Never mind about that, you leave the searching to me. He has a lot of explaining to do if I ever catch up with him, let alone how he is going to pay for all that broken china!'

Emily stayed rooted to the spot – her face flushed.

‘Come on my dear, let's not dawdle. We're all waiting to eat our supper.' Mr Dawson turned and led the way.

Arnie poked his head out from where he had been standing. Emily glanced round.

‘So you
are
a wizard!' she whispered.

‘No more than you
are
a ghost,' he replied.

Arnie could see that she was trying not to cry.

‘I should go,' she struggled to say.

‘Yes, better had, before this place changes its mind.'

‘I've loved being here with you. Life is going to be ever so dull from now on.'

‘So have I – it's been great.' He cleared his throat. ‘Couldn't have managed without you.'

She nodded and wiping the side of her face on her sleeve, moved off.

‘I hope you don't get into any trouble,' he called out. ‘You can blame me…'

Reaching the junction in the corridor she paused for a second as if thinking to look back, but then turned and walked out of sight and soon her footsteps faded to nothing.

Arnie stepped out from his hiding place. He walked to where she had left him and hung there, undecided whether to go after her.

Suddenly, the dusky light turned from milky brown to a soft white, and a floor that had been red was now slate grey. A burst of wind blew back over him and a bulb flickered dimly. ‘Oh well,' he muttered to himself. ‘That's that Emily.'

From behind, a stumble announced Towersee in the process of dropping an empty tray. He picked it up and slowly tottered towards Arnie. ‘There you are Mister Jenks,' he said without much interest. ‘I am guessing you must be hungry.'

‘I'm famished!'

‘I've got nothing.'

‘What?'

‘Just some stale bread that I'd forgotten to throw out.'

‘Great,' moaned Arnie.

‘It's fine for toast. I turned the grill up a bit high – should kill the mould. I've left it on the table in the Great Hall. That should see you right till you get home.'

‘Thanks a lot,' Arnie mumbled sarcastically, turning round to leave. He paused. In front of him the portrait photographs of Dirk and David hung side by side on the wall. He studied their faces quizzically and a big thought struck him.

By the time Towersee had reached the kitchen and struggled down the steps trying not to slip, Arnie was half way up the main staircase making for Mr Silverthorne's study.

*

Arnie stood outside the room summoning up the courage to knock. As he raised his fist tentatively, the door swung open and Mr Silverthorne gasped, throwing up his hands theatrically.

‘You nearly gave me a heart attack! Doesn't do at my age!'

‘Sorry – didn't mean to…I just well…'

‘Luckily, I'm built of rather sterner stuff than my appearance may suggest but I would rather not have it put to the test!'

‘Does Lord Martlesham have any children?' blurted out Arnie.

Mr Silverthorne blanched and his lips squelched like an oyster being prised out of its shell.

‘Does he?' Arnie persisted.

‘Now – why would you ask a question like that?'

‘I…think I saw them – back there.'

‘What?' Mr Silverthorne stumbled. ‘How could you – where?'

‘I…meant…um…in a photograph. Down the corridor on the way to the kitchen.'

Mr Silverthorne let out a short sigh of relief and clasped his chest reassuringly.

‘So does he?' repeated Arnie.

The solicitor looked him squarely in the eye.

‘He had two sons.'

Arnie stiffened.

‘What…what happened to them?'

Mr Silverthorne considered his answer. ‘It is something that we never discuss. It is too distressing.'

‘But His Lordship…' continued Arnie.

‘…has put it behind him. It was a truly awful business.' Mr Silverthorne felt for his walking cane.

‘What was?' said Arnie, his eyes widening.

‘It was a very long time ago. And I don't feel the need to elaborate further.'

‘But…'

Mr Silverthorne put out his hand to restrain Arnie. ‘Promise me you will let this matter drop?'

Arnie stared as long as he could bear before nodding the tiniest of nods.

‘Now, if you will excuse me – Lord Martlesham requires my attention and I must not be late.' And grabbing his briefcase he walked quickly towards the far landing and up the stairs.

Arnie slipped his right hand out from behind his back.

‘Well Emily,' he said, looking at his crossed fingers, ‘I think I've just broken my promise.'

Arnie sloped downstairs and entered the Great Hall. At the end of a long table he found a cup of tea swimming in milk, decidedly lukewarm, and some curly burnt toast waiting for him. He sat down and wondered what on earth he should do next.

He was deep in thought when Towersee came in with Arnie's school jacket and shirt hooked over his index finger.

‘All cleaned up and pressed for you Mister Jenks – I had to do them by hand. Try not to get ‘em so creased in future.'

Arnie swung his head round as Towersee draped the clothes over the back of a chair.

‘Had enough?' he continued, jabbing a gnarled thumb pointedly towards the abandoned breakfast.

Arnie leapt up. ‘Mr Towersee, is Lord Martlesham about? I want to ask him something.'

Towersee was perplexed, his bulbous eyes wobbling jelly-like. ‘Gone out,' he said gruffly.

‘But I thought Mr Silverthorne was with him.'

‘Not that I know of.'

‘I'd like to speak with him please.'

‘Can't. He's down at River Cottage,' Towersee said impatiently. ‘Fallen tree knocked a chimney pot off.'

He tried again. ‘How long will he be gone?'

‘Didn't say.' Towersee moved to clear the table. Arnie nipped forward and stood in his way.

‘Mr Towersee, can I ask you a question about people who once lived here?'

‘Well – I'm not sure…'

‘They would have been a bit older than me in 1974, I guess, when that photograph that hangs back there down the corridor was taken.' Arnie pushed on, ‘I wondered what had happened to them.'

‘I don't talk about family business,' the butler said firmly.

‘But Mr Silverthorne started telling me, only he had to rush off.'

‘Oh yes?' said Towersee guardedly, ‘What did he say to you –
exactly
? I'm too long in the tooth to be caught out that easy.'