Grimm (11 page)

Rory became so engrossed in scanning the town for the familiar sights he knew that he didn’t notice that the cable car was approaching the end of its journey until it passed under the roof of the station at the bottom. Rory realized with a start that he was about to enter yet another zone that few in Aberfintry would consider doing lightly. After the calm of the journey his anxiety levels shot back up again. Whilst not as legendary as the hotel, the cable car station and Stobo were well known as things to avoid. Rory couldn’t recall ever hearing of anyone who had actually set foot in the building that housed the machinery and the mechanic. But now, as the cable car left the open air and came to rest in the station, he was about to do just that.

Everyone in Aberfintry knew that the cable car station was the sole preserve of Stobo. The place was his, and his alone. With the cable car having been built to serve Hotel Grimm, their reputations went hand in hand. As such, children were warned to keep away from the wee man who had taken over as mechanic since the death of his father who had overseen the building and installation of the machinery.

One of the challenges at school was to see how close anyone dared to go to the cable car station, and as a further test of bravado to see how far they would go in provoking Stobo. Standard practice involved throwing stones on to the roof of the station. Being metal, the sharp bangs of the stones that landed on it sounded like bullets and for Stobo inside, it must have been like being under attack from the guns of a diving fighter plane. The stone throwing also extended to trying to pelt the cable car itself as it made occasional journeys up and down Scrab Hill. The competition wasn’t just to try to hit the moving target, but to see who could still get a direct hit when the car was getting higher and higher and further and further out of range. Gordon Goodman famously held the record for smacking a small rock into the underside of the cable car just after it had passed the first pylon.

Now, Rory looked with concern through the window into the inside of the station. He felt trapped inside his own moving cell which had just delivered him to the heart of somewhere he didn’t want to be. His eye was drawn to a plaque mounted beside the platform which passengers used to get on and off the cable car. It read: “
Constructed in 1946, this cable car was officially opened by Sir Gregory Grimm.”

It struck Rory that he had arrived into a piece of history that
might contribute more to his understanding of Hotel Grimm. Maybe Stobo could unlock some of the secrets of the place, if he was prepared to do so?

Stepping tentatively out of the cable car and onto the platform, Rory could see that the station was in fact a giant workshop, which reminded him of his Grandad’s one, although it was now at least a couple of years since he had been in there. Here everything was on a much larger scale. Large workbenches, containers full of spare parts, an entire substitute cable car on its side, lengths of cable and spare winding mechanisms and more tools than Rory had ever seen in his life neatly stored around the walls. As his gaze reached the back corner however, Rory could see that the station was more than a workshop. Through a half-open door Rory could make out a rumpled bed. It seemed that Stobo either lived at his work or worked where he lived. Rory wasn’t quite sure which way round it was.

A scuff of a foot on the concrete floor made him realize with a start that there was a silent figure, hunched over at work in the far corner. There was only one person it could be, so taking a deep breath, Rory walked towards him. Stobo looked up as Rory approached and then turned his attention back to his work without any acknowledgement. At a glance it looked like he was working on Malky Mackay’s black bike and Stobo continued to tinker with it as if Rory wasn’t there.

Rory tried to look without staring. He had never seen such an oily man. Everything seemed coated in black grime from his flat cap, past his worn overalls, to his cracked stubby fingernails.

“Um … hi there,” said Rory.

The clank of Stobo’s spanner was the only noise that came in response. Rory paused and tried again.

“I was wondering if you had time to talk for a few minutes,” he said hopefully. The same metallic sound was the only reply.

“I was interested in the cable car and wanted to find out a bit about it.”

“Oh aye,” said Stobo, continuing to work away, his face hidden from Rory.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” said Rory, trying to sound as polite as he could.

“Seems as though you’ve already started,” said Stobo straightening up and moving over to a workbench to search for something.

“When was it all built?”

There was silence from Stobo leaving Rory unsure whether he had heard the question or not. Stobo continued to let his fingers rattle through a tin of nuts and bolts to find what he was after.

“You know the answer to that one already,” said the mechanic after a long pause. “Facts like that are in books. What is it you really want to ask me?”

Rory paused. “Well, I suppose I’m interested in what it gets used for now … you know, now that there aren’t really any passengers coming and going.”

“This and that,” said Stobo.

“Is it all still in fine working order though?” asked Rory regretting the question as soon as it left his mouth. For the first time Stobo glanced at him and then looked away again. It was as if he was checking that Rory had asked a serious question.

“Do you think I would be wasting my time here if I didn’t have it working?” said Stobo, finally finding what he was after and returning his attention to the bike. “It’s as smooth as the day it was opened,” he added.

“Were you around that day?” asked Rory spotting his opportunity to prise some more information out of the reticent man.

“Cheeky wee bandit. I’m not that old. My dad told me all about it though.”

“What did he say?”

Again Stobo left a long pause. “There were people everywhere. Everyone in the town queuing up for a go. There had never been anything like it here or anywhere close to here.”

“Did your Dad get to go on it that day?” asked Rory.

“Aye. Aye he did. The queues were enormous but Sir Gregory wanted him on there as a thank you. And maybe just to check that it was actually working. Dad always said it was one of the best days he
remembered in this place.

“Things a bit different now?” said Rory.

Stobo snorted and for a moment Rory thought that this was the only comment that he would give, but he continued. “Aye just a bit. It was once a curiosity or even something exotic in the town. Now it’s just seen as part of the hotel and it’s rubbished because of that.”

“But you’ve done nothing wrong,” said Rory.

“Neither have they,” said Stobo with a fierce glare. Rory looked away embarrassed.

“So what
does
it get used for now? What kind of ‘this and that?’” asked Rory before Stobo had a chance just to repeat his earlier answer.

“Well let’s just say we do more goods than passenger transport now.”

“Things to keep the hotel going?” asked Rory.

“Food goes up,” said Stobo, “… and some of it comes back down again cooked.”

“You get some of Ramsay’s food?”

“I do. He looks after me very well.”

“Is it as good as he says?”

“Probably better I would say,” said Stobo, his mood lifting.

“Do you get frustrated that it’s only used for carting stuff up and down the hill?” asked Rory.

Stobo seemed to ignore the question. “What did you think of your journey?”

“It was great,” said Rory. “Over too quickly I suppose. Those telescopes are brilliant.” There was a longer than usual pause from Stobo. When he did speak it was softer and more quietly.

“Well there’s your answer. It’s a beautiful thing this machine, not something to be feared. It should be doing what it was made to do. It would have broken my dad’s heart if he knew what had happened here.”

“At least you’re still caring for it. I mean still looking after what he built. He’d be pleased about that.”

For the first time Stobo looked at Rory. He gave a short appreciative nod. “Aye, son, aye I think he would be.”

A buzz went off in Rory’s backpack as his mobile phone announced that a text had been received.

It hadn’t taken long for Rory to say goodbye to Stobo. The man’s monosyllabic style had not lent itself to a long drawn-out farewell. Leaving the cable car station and walking back into town he stared again at the text. The good news was that Bonnie was still communicating with him. The bad news was that visiting another graveyard wasn’t really Rory’s favoured way of spending a Saturday afternoon. However, not only had Bonnie’s view about his plan for the hotel been correct, but the last time she had asked him to look at something had led to meeting Grimson at the mural. Rory concluded that her recent track record of good judgment meant that the Park Street Cemetery had to be his next stop.

Rory’s fear was that he would have to spend a long time reliving his disastrous meeting at Hotel Grimm, but that was short-lived. Perhaps the fact that he had greeted Bonnie by saying “You were right and I was wrong” had helped.

“I know,” said Bonnie, sounding unsurprised and unperturbed. “Hopefully there’s not too much damage done. You’ll need to tell me everything you saw today, but in the meantime, I’ve been doing some work behind the scenes. Follow me,” she said pushing the joystick on her chair forward and buzzing off. Rory dutifully trooped along behind her.

The gates of the cemetery led them into a narrow tree-lined road which wound its way between a series of low hills with neat rows
of gravestones. Bonnie appeared to know exactly where she was headed. “It’s that one,” she said stopping abruptly at another block of stones that to Rory looked the same as all the others. “It’s the one at this end of the third row. Have a look.”

In the silence of the graveyard, Rory stepped closer, finding that he was almost doing it on tiptoes. Not knowing why Bonnie had brought him here, Rory shivered as he approached the grave that Bonnie had pointed him towards. There were some fresh flowers on it and there was a small card pinned to them. Rory looked at the words on the stone. “Much loved daughter and sister. Died Tragically”. It was Lottie Gilchrist’s grave. For someone who had died in 1948, the gravestone looked remarkably well kept. Rory leaned in and peered closely at the card on the flowers, not wanting to pick them up and disturb the scene.

Rory tried to work out what he was seeing. “Who’s been looking after this?” he said out loud.

“Presumably a Gilchrist,” said Bonnie. “The surname begins with G.”

“I thought Grandad said that all of the Gilchrists moved out of town,” said Rory.

“Maybe they come back to look after it,” said Bonnie.

As Rory stood there pondering, the gathering breeze blew a piece of paper towards him and it stuck around his leg. Reaching down he peeled it off to find it was a page from the previous week’s
Chronicle.
Crumpling it up, Rory looked around for a bin and then stopped dead.
The Chronicle.
Edited by Derek Goodman.

“Is this DG? Derek Goodman,” asked Rory holding up the paper and showing Bonnie.

She looked unconvinced. “But why would Derek Goodman be calling Lottie Gilchrist “Auntie?” Surely your Grandad would have mentioned if there was a local link like that?”

“The card says “Never known but never forgotten”,” said Rory. “Lottie Gilchrist died young, so Derek Goodman wouldn’t have known her.” He hadn’t worked it all out but something felt like it was falling into place. With determination Rory turned and began to stride back up the cemetery’s narrow road.

“Oi, wait for me Zizz Boy,” said Bonnie, whizzing her wheelchair into life to catch up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I think that Grandad has got a bit of explaining to do,” Rory shouted back to her. “I think he’s been playing a few cards just a little too close to his chest.” There was a hint of anger in Rory’s voice. Leaving the gates and still walking fast, Rory marched down the road away from the cemetery, crossing over the bridge before heading up the hill to the town. Oblivious to Bonnie’s cries for him to slow down, it was only as they reached Aberfintry’s main street that she managed to catch him.

“Stop for a minute would you?” she said. “Give me a chance, Rory. Top speed on this can’t quite keep up with you when you’re in that sort of a mood.” Rory mumbled an apology as he slowed down.

“We need to think things through properly before we speak to your Grandad,” said Bonnie. “Also, you’ve not even told me what happened this morning up at the hotel, although you’re probably avoiding that. Did it go as badly as I think it did?”

“Sorry,” said Rory. “My head’s just spinning at the moment.” He plonked himself down on a bench and ran through the events of the morning. Bonnie was not surprised to hear Granville Grimm’s reaction but she was amazed to hear about a bathroom full of Grog’s pets, a portrait of her in Grimson’s room, and the fact that Rory had returned on the cable car. “I’ve always wanted a ride on that, right from when I was little,” she said.

Bonnie’s voice tailed off as she looked over Rory’s shoulder with a quizzical expression. “Who is that weird looking guy?”

A man had emerged from the library and was checking the contents of his carrier bag. As he set off walking, his limping gait was unmistakable.

“What is
he
doing here?” said Rory.

“He’s not the butler guy you’ve mentioned, is he?” asked Bonnie.

“The one and the same,” said Rory, trying to imagine what could possibly have brought Grog into town. At that moment, there was some shouting from nearby.

“Heh … what have we got here?”

“I think someone … or something … has escaped from Hotel Grimm!”

“Don’t go near … you might just drop down dead.”

Gordon and Gracie Goodman had emerged from a side street and were approaching Grog with mischievous curiosity. At first, Grog was oblivious to comments being directed at him, but Gordon and Gracie edged closer and closer, leaving him in no doubt that he had been targetted.

“Heh. What are you doing in
our
town?”

“Yeah, get back where you belong.”

Grog kept his head down and did his best to carry on walking. For a split second, the thought of slipping quietly away and avoiding this messy situation, passed through Rory’s mind, but he dismissed it.

“Where is Malky Mackay when you need him?” Rory muttered, getting off the bench and jogging over to where the incident was unfolding.

“Leave him alone you two.”

“Watch out!” said Gracie turning round, pretending to be afraid. “Zizz Boy is here!” Gordon took a swipe at Grog’s carrier bag. It fell to the ground spilling books.

“Oh no, you’ve dropped your things,” Gordon said with mock concern.

He reached down and picked up a book. “
Looking after Reptiles?
Trying to take better care of yourself?” he mocked.

“Leave me alone,” croaked Grog as he struggled to bend down and get the books.

“Do as he says. Leave him alone,” said Bonnie, arriving at the scene.

“Oh no!” said Gracie throwing her hands up in horror. “There’s
two of them! Zizz Boy and The Worm. We don’t stand a chance Gordon!”

“Find something better to do, Gracie,” said Bonnie. “What’s he done to you?”

“He’s from up there isn’t he?” hissed Gracie Goodman. Her finger stabbed the air and pointed towards Hotel Grimm.

“He’s got as much right to be here as you have,” retorted Bonnie.

“Not after what that place has done,” Gracie spat back.

Rory picked up the last of Grog’s books and helped him get them back into his bag. The man looked Rory in the eye and gave him a firm nod of thanks.

“Why should you care anyway, Zizz Boy?” said Gordon, turning his attention to Rory. Spotting his chance, Grog slipped quietly away.

“He’s trying to make up for the past, isn’t he?” said Gracie.

Rory felt the heat build in his face. Surely they didn’t know about the Zizz slogan? If the Goodman twins found out that he wasn’t responsible for that, it would be far worse than the ribbing he got for having become the Zizz Boy.

“Gone all quiet on us now, hasn’t he,” said Gracie.

“Got something to hide, Zizz Boy?” chipped in Gordon.

“Come on, Rory,” said Bonnie. “Let’s not waste our time here.” She headed off giving Rory a cue to follow her. The jeers floated through the air behind them.

“Aww … they make such a lovely couple.”

“She’s got the brains … he’s got the … What has he got exactly?”

“What was all that about?” asked Bonnie when they were out of earshot. “Making up for the past and having something to hide.”

“Don’t look at me,” said Rory still prickling from the exchange. “Remember it’s Grandad who’s not been telling us everything he knows,” he added, stalking off towards Boglehole Road.

“Bringing You The  News You Need About Your Town”

Strapline for
The Chronicle