Return to Ribblestrop (27 page)

‘Shut up, both of you!’ said Sanchez. He had his hand over Anjoli’s mouth and Asilah shoved Israel onto the floor. ‘The important thing is that Tomaz is safe. The ghost
sorted that out, whatever he looks like and for whatever reasons. What we’ve got to worry about is what this man’s next move might be.’

There were grunts of approval.

‘Yeah,’ said Israel. ‘We gotta find out why he’s so keen to get into Tomaz’s house.’

‘But that’s obvious,’ said Sam. ‘We all know Tomaz’s house is full of beautiful things. He must be a robber, and that’s —’

‘That’s why he was poking around Neptune,’ finished Oli.

‘So what do we do?’ said Asilah. ‘If Sam’s right, he’s going to find a way in sometime. Isn’t he?’

‘Oh my,’ said Millie.

Everyone looked at her.

‘I’ve just thought of something else. We are stupid – we are
slow
.’

‘What?’ said Sanchez.

‘When I was in the car with him and Doonie – first day, travelling down. They told me something important. Father O’Hanrahan is an
exorcist
. And it’s one of the
reasons he’s here.’

‘What’s an exorcist?’ said Imagio.

‘Imagine you get possessed by an evil spirit,’ said Sanchez. ‘Or if you buy a house and it’s haunted – with a ghost or an evil presence. You call in an exorcist and
that person is skilled at saying the right prayers and doing all the holy water stuff. Until the ghosts are driven out.’

‘Seems like he’s not much of a match for Lord Vyner,’ said Asilah. ‘At the moment it’s one-nil, easy.’

‘Yes, but he was unprepared,’ said Tomaz. ‘Next time he might do better. I mean, if he comes down to my place with Bibles and holy stuff, Lord Vyner might not stand a
chance!’

Sanjay laughed. ‘He’s gonna get a shock when he looks in that satchel of his.’ He caught Anjoli’s eye and they both grinned at each other.

‘Why?’ said Sam. ‘What’s the joke?’

‘You seen little Joe lately?’ said Anjoli. ‘The scorpion?’

Some of the other orphans were smiling.

‘You did it?’ said Eric. ‘Good man.’

Sanjay said, ‘It was my idea. After we stung that camel’s arse, Anjoli put little Joe in the old man’s satchel, with a few leaves. He’s gonna get a nice surprise,
sometime.’

‘Unless Joe’s asleep,’ said Anjoli. ‘I shouldn’t have put the leaves in. He eats and sleeps for days.’

‘Look,’ said Sanchez, when the laughter had died. ‘We’d better decide what we do. Who votes we go to the headmaster?’

Not a hand was raised.

Millie smiled and took off her enamel badge. ‘That’s the power of democracy, Head Boy. And if you tell him anything, we’ll put that scorpion right up your—’

‘We need an action plan,’ cried Asilah. ‘I’m with Millie. We can handle this on our own.’

‘First idea,’ said Ruskin. ‘I vote we put a guard in Tomaz’s house.’

Millie nodded. ‘That is surprisingly good for one so slow.’

‘We make sure Tomaz is never alone,’ said Israel. ‘Always in threes.’ He went and sat next to Tomaz and put his arms round him.

‘Get radios,’ said Eric. ‘Sort out the tools – just like last time. We don’t wanna be caught short.’

‘Maybe a few
different
plans,’ said Oli. ‘So we can adapt, according to what he throws at us.’

‘Weapons,’ said Anjoli. ‘You can’t beat a good weapon.’

Millie looked at Miles. ‘Why did you muck around with Sanchez’s gun?’ she said, tiredly. ‘We’re going to need it again and the police have taken it.’

‘Yeah,’ said Eric. ‘If we all get killed, whose fault’s that gonna be?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Sanchez.

‘Of course it matters!’ said Millie.

‘I know where the gun is,’ said a voice.

Everyone turned. The voice belonged to Kenji, the orphan in charge of the school tuck shop and bank. He was cross-legged on the floor with his fellow infants, and had been following the debate
with interest. His hand was now raised.

‘Where?’ said Asilah. ‘How do you know?’

‘You said the police had taken it, but that’s not true. Lady Vyner never pressed charges, so the gun was returned.’

‘It’s a Thirty-Eight Special, isn’t it?’ said Nikko. ‘Snubnose?’

Sanchez was nodding.

‘I saw it this morning,’ said Kenji. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’

‘Saw it where?’ said Millie. ‘You’re wasting time. If it’s locked up somewhere, it’s not going to help us. Sanchez needs it in his pocket – or I
do.’

‘That’s the point, though,’ said Kenji. ‘It’s in the headmaster’s safe. And we run the Ribblestrop Syndicate, and that means holding the bank’s
investments.’ He was pulling a chain out from under his shirt. ‘We have to have a secure storage area and that . . . well, that happens to be the headmaster’s safe. I’m the
keyholder. I can get it for you any time, if you want.’

Sanchez felt Millie’s gaze upon him and blushed. ‘That would be very useful,’ he said, quietly.

‘I think so too,’ said Anjoli. ‘I don’t feel safe any more – this is all getting freaky.’

‘Tomaz,’ said Millie. ‘At the moment, is there any way the priest could get into your home?’

Tomaz thought and shook his head. ‘I’ve been wondering about it. You all know the way – you know how it looks . . . it’s just a rabbit hole. Even if he found it,
he’s too fat.’

‘Could he dig it? Make it bigger?’

‘It would take a while, but . . . yes. We do that for Henry. I guess so.’

‘Any other way?’

‘Only by caving. That was how I got in first, from above. I blocked the way as best I could – it’s not easy to spot.’

‘Ruskin’s right: we better get guards down there,’ said Asilah. ‘Groups of three. Through the night.’

‘Oli,’ said Millie. ‘Draw up a rota.’

‘Set spies,’ said Anjoli.

The meeting was breaking up. The children hauled themselves to their feet and there was a flurry of high-fives and hugs.

‘We’re at war again,’ said Israel. ‘Feels good to me.’

‘Millie,’ said Miles, later than evening. ‘I want to ask you something.’

‘What?’

They were alone in the boys’ dormitory and Millie was wondering if she should have brought Anjoli or Sanjay with her. She wasn’t frightened of Miles, but there was something about
him that disturbed her.

‘I want to show you something as well.’

‘Go on then?’

‘You know you asked me if Sanchez ever wrote to me? I said you couldn’t read the letter, because it was personal. You didn’t believe me.’

‘I still don’t.’

‘Do you want to read it now?’

‘He didn’t write to you, Miles. He told me so himself.’

Miles pulled a piece of paper out of his blazer pocket.

‘Anyway, what’s it matter?’ said Millie. ‘Why are you so obsessed?’

‘Something bad is coming,’ said Miles. ‘But I want you to know that I’m going to look after you.’

‘
You’re
going to look after
me
?’

‘Yes.’

Millie sighed. ‘You are seriously cracked – you can’t look after yourself, we’ve all seen that. Show it to me.’

She took the letter and held it to the light. It had clearly been folded and unfolded many times. It was in a childish hand that she didn’t recognise.

She read it aloud.

‘You wrote this yourself,’ said Millie.

Miles shook his head. ‘I didn’t.’

‘It’s not even his signature. Anyway. . .’ She passed it back to him. ‘What am I supposed to say? Big deal. Well done.’

‘Listen, Millie. The ghost comes to see me. Every night. If we climb up on the tower, like last time—’

Millie sighed and turned away. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘I’m not staying alone with you – you’re too creepy.’

‘There’s something written on the wall. I want to show it to you . . . ’

‘You’re writing on the walls as well? I am not climbing that tower with you, Miles. I saw what you did to Caspar.’

‘I’m a guardian. You’re safe if you—’

‘I don’t want to be around you!’ shouted Millie. ‘What are you turning into? You were freaky before, but this is a new . . . zone of freakiness. You need a
shrink.’

‘Sanchez brought me back here and I think there were reasons!’

‘What?’

Millie laughed sharply. She stared at Miles. He was in shirt-sleeves, and she noticed the grey cotton was ripped and frayed. He was twisting a cuff in his fingers.

‘I think Sanchez must have spoken to the headmaster,’ he said. ‘He wanted me back here, badly. And I think it was for a reason. I think—’

‘Wait a moment,’ said Millie. She laughed. ‘Look, I don’t want to disillusion you, but . . .’ She shook her head. ‘They say never indulge the fantasies of
dangerous lunatics, so I better set you straight. The reason you’re here, back in Ribblestrop, is because of something I did last term. I changed the letter that was expelling you and I did
it as a joke. Total spur of the moment, off the top of my head decision because your photo made you look a lot sweeter than you are. The letter was on the headmaster’s desk and I scribbled on
it. Posted it. Back you came. Your “best friend” Sanchez didn’t want me to – he said you were a dangerous liar.’

Miles blinked.

‘If you want to look after someone, practise on yourself. No one else is going to.’

Miles stood for a moment, watching Millie as she walked away.

Then, slowly, he climbed onto the desk. He moved to the wardrobe. From there, mechanically, he opened the loft-hatch. With practised ease, he hauled himself up to the roof space. In a moment, he
was out on the parapet, the freezing wind rioting around him, lifting the shirt from his body.

He put his back to the battlements and hugged himself, shuddering in the cold. The stones were covered in scratch marks. They had been getting more intricate each night. He had wanted to show
her, but she’d gone, and he was alone.

Now he simply read them again, to himself.

He crawled further round the tower, for the next section.

The next part ran over the door, sliced in the old paintwork:

There were lights on in all the towers and a sprinkling of stars. Miles closed his eyes and stood up. Then he opened them and looked down at the lawn.

The ghost of Lord Vyner was standing below him, as Miles knew he would be. He was still as a sentry, arms by his sides. He was dressed in a black tailcoat, as if he’d been called out of a
cocktail party. The face was pale, and even at this distance you could see the horrible distortion of the bullet wound.

Miles swallowed and stared at him. Then, carefully, he sat up on the parapet and swung his legs over the edge. The wind was now freezing his body and he was starting to feel the numbness he
craved. As he stared, the ghost did what it had done last night, and the night before. It clasped its hands slowly together and raised them above its head. Its gaze did not leave Miles’s
face.

Meanwhile D.C.C. Cuthbertson, Gary Cuthbertson, Father O’Hanrahan, and Darren were sitting around the same barroom table as before. They surrounded a single piece of
paper.

‘I can’t see it,’ said the old man. ‘You’ll have to read it to me.’

Cuthbertson held it nearer. ‘Can you read the title?’

‘No, I can’t read the blessed title! I’ve still got a headache from hell.’

‘It’s
The Potholers’ Gazette
.’

‘Why have you brought it?’

‘Can’t you guess? I’m always proud when a little police work pays off.’

‘Just tell me what you’ve found out.’

‘That’s the difference between us, isn’t it? Gary and I, we go slow and steady; you move in like a bull. I get results; you get a broken head.
The Potholers’
Gazette
closed down twenty years ago. This is an old edition.’

Father O’Hanrahan went to speak, but the policeman rode over him. ‘Gary tracked it down, from nineteen fifty-one.’

‘Go on.’

‘You’ll be wanting champagne at the end of this. There’s an article here by Barnaby Phipps, who was one of those lads who went rambling and cycling and then wrote all about it.
This is May, and he found himself on our doorstep. Listen.’

Cuthbertson licked his lips and tried to catch the jaunty tone of a fifties youth hosteller: