Lost Worlds (11 page)

Other people had tried to make friends with him since the accident – befriending him on Facebook, or ‘accidentally’ bumping into him on those rare occasions when he went out,
but he knew what they really wanted. It was obvious. His parents had left him a considerable fortune in their will – money that Great-Aunt Merrily was looking after for him. One day soon he
would inherit that money, and he would suddenly appear on various lists of the richest people in the country. Money attracted friends like sugar attracted wasps. He could see through them, and he
avoided them. He would prefer to be without friends than to have friends who were keeping one eye on the calendar, waiting for him to inherit. But Gecko had fallen into his life – literally
– in a way that was so dangerous, so liable to have caused a serious injury, that it had to be accidental. And Tara had arrived almost by accident as well – nobody could have
anticipated that Calum would have sent someone looking for her when she attempted to hack his website, and nobody could have anticipated that Gecko would bring her back to Calum’s apartment
rather than watch her to find out what she was trying to do. No, it would take a conspiracy of massive and convoluted proportions to arrange for the two of them to arrive in his life at the same
time. It had to have been coincidence, which is why he had trusted them so quickly.

The two of them had left shortly after he had spoken to Professor Livingstone, the night before. They had both been reluctant to leave. Gecko said that he was going to sleep at a friend’s
place, and Tara had said that she was going to take the almost unheard-of step of switching her computer off. The second from last thing that Calum had said to them was:
Be back here at
lunchtime tomorrow
. The last thing that he had said to them was:
Bring your passports.

The doors of the lift opened and Macfarlane pushed Calum out of the building.

His great-aunt’s car was parked just outside the warehouse. It was a Bentley SUV – one of a few demonstration models that the company had built with a view to moving into a new area
of luxury car design. It also had a hybrid petrol/electrical engine – Calum’s great-aunt had wanted one of the test models with the standard V12 engine, but Calum had persuaded her that
a hybrid engine was better for the planet.

Macfarlane moved the wheelchair beside the Bentley and opened the rear door. He moved away and fussed with the boot while Calum laboriously levered himself out of the wheelchair and into the
car. His great-aunt’s chauffeur knew, from long experience, that Calum did not like to be helped, or even watched.

When Calum was seated in the back of the Bentley, Macfarlane folded up the wheelchair and stowed it in the boot. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

‘Would you like some music, sir, or would you prefer silence?’

‘Music,’ Calum responded curtly.

‘Anything in particular, sir? I have been transferring quite a number of albums on to my MP3 player.’

He thought back to Tara, the night before. ‘I don’t suppose you have anything emo, darkwave or post-rock?’

Macfarlane considered for a moment. ‘I have King Black Acid, Dead Can Dance and Mogwai. Which would you prefer?’

‘Surprise me.’

The car started, purring away from the kerb, and music began playing: an instrumental wash of guitars, drums and vocals that somehow made it sound as if the music was being played underwater.
Macfarlane took them down several streets that seemed too narrow for the SUV and then pulled out on to a wider road that led out of London. Calum leaned back into the luxury of the leather seats
and relaxed.

Great-Aunt Merrily’s house was an imposing building on the edge of Richmond Park. It was built of a reddish stone. The view from the front door was one of carefully manicured lawns and
ordered trees. Once upon a time those lawns would have been the house’s own grounds, but now it was a public park. Great-Aunt Merrily still had some influence, however, and there was a
boundary fence around the house to stop people just wandering in on the assumption that it was a tea room or a gift shop.

Macfarlane slowed to a halt on the gravel drive outside the house. He retrieved the wheelchair from the boot, then opened the rear door to the SUV and waited, looking off into the distance,
while Calum manoeuvred himself into it. The chauffeur then struggled to push the wheelchair across the gravel, causing a sound like a torrent of rain hitting the surface of a river, and leaving two
deep V-shaped tracks leading from the car to the front door.

A wooden ramp had been built from the drive to the front porch, taking up a quarter of the stone stairs that had been there for several hundred years. Macfarlane manfully pushed Calum up to the
top, then through the doorway into the relative coolness of the house.

‘I’ll leave you in the sitting room, sir. Your great-aunt will be down in a moment.’

‘I presume you told her that I was coming?’

‘As soon as I received your phone call, sir. I wouldn’t have wanted to surprise her. I know how much she looks forward to your visits.’

True to his word, Macfarlane wheeled Calum into a room that was crammed with old furniture and older paintings, then quietly withdrew. Calum levered himself out of the wheelchair and on to one
of the sofas. He considered trying to fold the wheelchair up and hide it behind the sofa, but he decided that an action like that would be trying to take a point too far.

After five minutes or so his Great-Aunt Merrily entered the room.

As usual, she was in a rush. She always seemed to be moving from one place to another at speed. Calum wasn’t sure that he had ever seen her settle down or relax. She was a small, delicate
woman, and today she wore a startlingly modern blue silk blouse and a green skirt. She reminded him of a hummingbird – seemingly in motion even when she was standing still.

‘Calum!’ she exclaimed. ‘How delightful. You should have given me some warning – I would have prepared a meal. Or maybe baked a cake. Are you staying?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ he said.

‘Let me look at you.’

He threw his arms wide. ‘Here I am.’

‘You’ve lost weight. Are you eating properly?’

He recalled the pizzas he’d ordered the night before for himself, Tara and Gecko. ‘Yes, I am,’ he said.

‘Good. It’s so easy to slip into eating junk food these days.’

‘Although having your own cook is a good way to avoid the temptation,’ he pointed out. As his great-aunt frowned, he added, ‘I saw Gillian Livingstone yesterday.’

‘Oh, did you?’ His great-aunt sniffed audibly. ‘And how was she?’

‘Still working as hard as ever. She’s coming over this afternoon as well – that’s why I have to get back.’

‘If she had a man in her life, she wouldn’t need to work so hard. And what about that daughter of hers?’

‘Natalie?’ Calum felt himself blushing. He couldn’t help it. ‘Yes,’ he said casually, ‘she was there too.’

‘That girl has too much money and too few inhibitions. I would have brought her up very differently.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you would.’ Calum shivered for a moment, imagining the resulting fireworks if Natalie had been brought up by his great-aunt. ‘Perhaps it’s best for
both of you that it never happened that way.’

Before his great-aunt could respond, the door opened and a maid entered carrying a tray bearing a pot of tea, two cups, a jug of milk and a plate of cakes.

‘You’re staying for tea and a bite to eat, of course?’ Merrily Challenger said as the maid put the tray on a side table and withdrew. She smiled fondly at him. ‘So tell
me what’s been going on in your life. How’s that website of yours?’

‘The Lost Worlds?’ Calum asked, cringing inside. He wished he’d never told his great-aunt about the website. He’d mentioned it a year or so ago, just to make polite
conversation during a lunch where she had insisted on telling him all about the accomplishments of remote relatives he was never likely, and never wanted, to meet. He’d realized while he was
speaking that she didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but every time he’d seen her since she had asked him about it, in the same way she might ask about some passing
hobby like learning the guitar or collecting stamps, or whether he’d got a girlfriend yet. ‘Yeah, it’s . . . going well.’

‘Good,’ she said briskly. ‘Have you managed to find any of those poor lost animals yet?’

He winced. He was pretty sure she’d got the wrong idea about the website. He had tried to explain as best he could that he was helping coordinate a search for missing species, but somehow
during the conversation his aunt had translated ‘missing’ into ‘lost’, and he was pretty sure she now thought he was engaged in looking for cats, dogs or parrots that had
wandered off from the family home.

‘Actually . . .’ he said delicately, ‘that’s not quite the kind of thing I’m doing. It’s more like . . . a conservation project. You know – trying to
look for creatures that are on the verge of extinction, and helping save them.’

‘Oh, how lovely,’ she said. ‘You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for giant pandas. Ever since I was a girl I wondered how evolution could come up with a colour scheme
for their fur where the only place they could possibly hide was on a zebra crossing. There can’t be many of those in their natural habitat.’

Calum raised his eyebrows in surprise. That was a surprisingly sharp comment. Maybe she
had
understood what he’d been saying after all.

‘Actually,’ he replied, ‘I’m more interested in creatures that haven’t yet been discovered, or that are supposed to already be extinct but which still survive in
little colonies somewhere remote.’

She smiled at him. ‘Bless you, Calum, I think you think your great-aunt is rather simple in the head. I do know what it is that you’re doing. I’ve even logged into your website
once or twice and taken a look. It’s very impressive, you know. You are doing exactly the kind of thing that your dear mother and father would have wanted you to do. They would have been
proud.’

Calum felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn’t expected the conversation to turn so personal so soon.

‘Well,’ he said, blinking a few times so that his eyes would dry out, ‘that kind of leads me on to something that I wanted to ask you.’

‘Ah, this wasn’t a social call then?’ she said gently. He could sense the sadness behind the words.

He smiled reassuringly. ‘It wasn’t
just
a social call. I do enjoy your company, you know. It’s just . . . it’s not easy getting here. Not with . . .’ He let
the sentence trail off, but patted his right leg.

‘I know. I understand. You don’t like admitting to any weakness. Your dear father was just the same. He was asthmatic, you know, but he never let that hold him back. And I’m
glad that you do make the time to come. Now, what is it that you need? I presume it’s money? It usually is.’

‘It’s money,’ he confirmed.

‘I do hope it’s not for a Ferrari.’

He sighed. How many times? ‘No, it’s not for a Ferrari. I want to send some . . . friends of mine abroad.’

‘A holiday! How lovely! And how considerate of you!’

‘Not exactly a holiday. They’re going to go and check out a rumour that a particularly rare . . . animal . . . has been seen in Georgia.’

She clapped her hands together in delight. ‘Wisteria and mint juleps and men with white hats and white suits!’

‘No, not the American state of Georgia,’ he corrected. ‘The former Soviet republic of Georgia. It’s near Turkey.’

‘Oh.’ She sounded crestfallen. ‘That doesn’t sound like much fun.’

‘It’s not meant to be fun – it’s meant to be a serious scientific expedition.’

‘But . . . a former Soviet republic? Isn’t that dangerous?’

He shook his head. ‘Georgia’s very stable, apparently. Unless you go to the borders you can be pretty sure nothing bad is going to happen. And besides, my friends are going to be
accompanied by an experienced guide. They’ll be perfectly safe.’

Calum had crossed his fingers, and moved his hand down behind his leg, where his great-aunt couldn’t see it.

Great-Aunt Merrily gazed at him, frowning. ‘You aren’t planning to go yourself, are you? I really couldn’t approve of that.’

‘No,’ he sighed. ‘No, I won’t be going.’

She tipped her head to one side and stared at him. ‘This is important to you?’

‘Yes.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, it’s important.’

‘And how much do you think you will need?’

He had totted the figures up in his head the night before, while he was trying to get to sleep. ‘With flights, and hotels, and equipment, plus the payment for the guide, as well as
insurance and inoculations . . . I think –’ he swallowed – ‘fifty thousand pounds ought to do it.’

‘That seems an awful lot,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure the hotels in Georgia can’t be that expensive.’

‘There is some special equipment that I need to get hold of – research equipment. And there’s going to be a guide as well – I can’t let them go by themselves. So,
all in all, it isn’t cheap.’

She nodded. ‘Very well then. I can see that you have your heart set on this. I will transfer the money to your account later on, while Mr Macfarlane is driving you home.’

He let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. ‘Thank you.’

‘And now help yourself to another cup of tea and a cake, while I tell you what your cousin twice removed has been up to . . .’

Calum managed to stay awake for the next couple of hours while his great-aunt gave him an exhaustive rundown of the events that had befallen various members of the Challenger family. She made
sure that he was eating properly, that he was getting regular check-ups at hospital and that he was going to the dentist at least once every six months – everything that great-aunts were
expected to do. In the absence of parents, of course.

All the time she was nattering on, he was thinking about the practicalities of getting Gecko and Tara to Georgia. Which airlines flew there? What were the hotels like? Would they need visas? Was
it going to be safe for them? So many questions.