The Father's House (23 page)

“Let's give her a shot of tranquilliser,” said one of the men.

“It's in the bag. I'll get it,” said the other. As he dropped her, Thomas appeared.

“Just dump her there,” he said. “Come upstairs both of you, and help me look for the key to the top-floor flat. Drax will give us a whopping great bonus if we can get both women at the same time. He might worm some useful information out of the older one and she can be disposed of afterwards.”

The men dropped Claudia in a curled-up heap on the side path up against the house, and left her.

Lucy's mind raced. The key would not be upstairs. They were going to look for it in the wrong place. That would keep them occupied for a while. With her own ears she had heard the father say, “For the top flat,” and with her own eyes she had seen Aunt Sarah drop the key into her apron pocket. Lucy had no intention of letting those men get hold of that key. Paul was in the top-floor flat. She would never let Traitor Thomas win this game!

She ran in a crouching position along the outside of the privet hedge to the front path, then into the garden and through the laurel arch that separated it from the driveway. The car loomed up in front of her. Darting up to the human bundle writhing on the ground she started pulling and tugging at the knotted cord behind Claudia's back. She loosened it quite easily and Claudia shook her hands free. She pulled the gag down from her face and they scrabbled together at the knot round her ankles. This was more difficult.

“Jump!” said Lucy pulling at her arm. Claudia shuffled till her back was against the house wall, and pushed herself up with her feet.

“Jump round there,” whispered Lucy pointing to the laurels. “Keep working at the knot. I'm going to try and get the kitchen knife.”

Claudia jumped with one hand against the house wall. She fell onto the ground on the other side of the laurel arch and grappled once more with the knot. Lucy bent low and crept towards the lobby door, past the car on one side and Aunt Sarah's bedroom window on the other. The curtains were still closed. She fervently hoped that Aunt Sarah wasn't dead.

She scuttled through the lobby and into the kitchen. Down from the father's flat came the sounds of grumbling and swearing, opening and banging of drawers, and shoving of furniture. Snatching the big knife out of the drawer next to the cooker, Lucy darted out again. As she shot through the door she heard footsteps on the stairs. She ran down the side path, through the arch into the front garden. Claudia was still struggling with the rope.

“Quick!” gasped Lucy, handing her the knife. “Cut it. They're coming.”

She kept watch through the bushes as Claudia hacked at the cord and stood free but dazed. No-one emerged from the side door. Perhaps they were in the kitchen. Lucy's mind worked frantically. Grabbing Claudia's hand, she pulled her down the front path and out through the gate, and pointed across the road to the common.

“Follow that path till the end. It comes out in South Hill. Turn right and go to the third house down. Number 38. Tell George you're from Lucy. Tell them to send for the police – but not if they're infiltrated.”

“What about you?”

Lucy gave Claudia a push.

“Go! Quick! George, number 38. Remember, not if they're infiltrated. His father will know.”

“Come with me.”

“I can't. I've got to get Paul. Quick! Run!” She gave Claudia another push, and vanished into the bushes.

Claudia ran.

Lucy nipped up the side path and slipped across behind the car into the gap between the garage and the garden wall. The rat no longer frightened her. Someone was moving around in the garage. Peering out from the gap she watched as a slight, hooded figure emerged with a hammer in his hands. He crouched low and tapped something into the front tyres and then darted round to the back of the car. Lucy could hear more tapping noises and then the rattling of a chain, the rustling of bushes in the front garden, and light footsteps running across the road.

Paul was her objective. She looked up at the garden wall that towered above her, but no way could she climb it. Passing through the gap she followed the wall round until she reached the lime tree. Crouching behind its trunk she could see the lights in the father's living room and the little barred windows above. Desperately she tried to think of a way to reach Paul. He might still be in the dumb waiter, half-suffocated and too scared to cry, and the tenant would never know he was there till she opened the door looking for her food and found him dead.

Suddenly there was a shout.

“She's gone!”

Lucy flattened her body and moved round the tree trunk until she could see at an angle down the side of the house. One of the men was standing beside the door holding the cord that had bound Claudia's wrists, and another was shouting into the lobby. They dashed about looking in the garage, under the car, and through the laurels to the front of the house. If they searched the garden Lucy would be found. Thomas knew where all the hiding places were.

She could slip out now through the back gate if she wanted to, but she had to get to Paul first, and for that she needed the key. Aunt Sarah always carried her keys everywhere with her. It must still be in her apron pocket.

Now the men were out in the street and Lucy knew they would be back any minute to search the garden. Lucy sidled along the garden wall and back through the gap to the front of the garage. She considered trying to get back into the house via the coal hole, but remembered the cellar door was locked on the outside, and there was no time to try George's key trick again.

A man appeared in the driveway and she ducked down behind the bonnet of the car. It was Thomas with a torch. She heard him move swiftly over to the bushes behind the garage. Peering round the side she could see the light from the torch searching behind the lime tree and over the flowerbeds into the shrubs. She nipped across the path, through the lobby and into the kitchen, and pressed the button for the dumb waiter in the hope that Paul might still be in it.

It seemed to take a thousand years to come purring down, and when it arrived it was empty.

Lucy dashed down the hall, past the cellar, and into Aunt Sarah's room.

Aunt Sarah lay on the bed just as Lucy and Paul had left her. Her eyes were closed and the dressing gown was still smoothed over her. She lay very, very still.

“Aunt Sarah?” whispered Lucy. There was no answer.

Lucy touched her face. It was just warm, but there was no breathing. She shook her a little but nothing happened. She laid her ear where she thought the heart was, but there was no sound or thump, and she knew in her own heart that the men were right – Aunt Sarah was dead. She touched the gold chain with the daffodil circle that now hung round her own neck, and her eyes filled with tears. But she had to move.

Pulling back the dressing gown she felt in Sarah's apron pocket and found her keys. There was no time to guess which was the right one. She covered Aunt Sarah up again, kissed her cheek and whispered, “Thank you for bringing me up. Goodbye.” With the keys grasped firmly to stop them rattling, she tiptoed out into the kitchen. She stopped to listen before she ventured out into the lobby. There was someone on the stairs, and Thomas was talking outside.

“She'll have gone for the police. We haven't got much time. Find them keys quick or we'll have to go without them. He'll have left spares somewhere for the old lady in case of emergencies.”

There was a murmur of voices.

“Check her room again. I'll check the kitchen.”

Lucy pushed the keys into the dumb waiter and pressed the button for the second floor. She ran out of the kitchen into the hall. The front door wouldn't open and she realised it was bolted up at the top. Dashing back to the cellar she pulled the key out of the door, jumped inside, and felt in the dark for the keyhole.

Footsteps ran past towards Aunt Sarah's room. With shaking hands Lucy locked the cellar door from the inside and shuffled her bottom down the steps. She started stumbling towards the far end in the pitch dark

“No luck,” shouted someone.

“OK. Let's go!”

Lucy could hear Thomas shouting up the stairs.

“No more time. Get out of here!”

“What about the brat?” called someone.

“Holy Mag!” said Thomas. “I forgot. She'll spill the beans if they find her. She'll have to come.”

The handle turned on the cellar door.

“Where's the blasted key?”

“Just bash it in.”

Within seconds the door had been smashed in and Lucy was being hauled out by the back of her jumper.

“Gag her. Hurry, damn you! Put her in the boot. We'll dispose of her later.”

Something was stuffed into Lucy's mouth and a strip of cloth was wound around her head. Her hands were pulled behind her back and tied together with cord. She was hauled through the kitchen, her legs dragging, and thrown into the boot of the car. The lid slammed down and she was in total darkness.

Scrambling noises crunched on the gravel drive as one of the men climbed into the back seat.

“Shouldn't we set fire to the first floor? Destroy his records?” he shouted.

“No time,” said Thomas. “Where's that idiot gone?”

“He went inside with the kerosene.”

“He can chuck it into the ground floor. I'll tell him to hurry. You! Get the gate open.”

There was some more scrambling in the gravel and a loud rattling of the gate, then a string of swear words that Lucy had never heard before.

“What's the hold-up?” called Thomas from the direction of the lobby.

“I can't open it. The automatic button's not working and someone's tied the gates together with a bicycle chain.”

There was more rattling and swearing.

“We'll ram it then. Get in the car both of you.”

“I've only fired the downstairs.”

“It'll catch. Get in you fool, before the pigs get here.”

Gravel crunched, car doors slammed, and the engine purred. The car reversed violently into the gate, and Lucy was hurled against the back of the boot. At the third attempt the car smashed its way through and out onto the road. There was a thump and it bumped over something.

The driver swore.

“God knows what that was!” he said.

“Never mind that. Just move!” shouted Thomas.

The car straightened up, bumped again, accelerated forward into top speed and hurtled down towards the main highway. After only a few yards it started to judder and swerve.

“It feels like a flat!” The driver's voice was sharp with panic.

“Just keep driving,” yelled Thomas.

The driver rammed down on the accelerator. Every bone in Lucy's body jarred as the car lurched forward and sideways on its punctured tyres, but all she could think of was Paul. She'd promised to look after him for ever, and already he'd be wondering why she hadn't come for him. Police sirens wailed. The car screeched to a halt and its doors flew open. Lucy heard the men tumble out and run across the road to the common and, accidentally, she nearly thanked the Magnifico. Claudia had got there in time!

Lucy had promised him a reward and this was it – the most amazing adventure of his life. George stood with his father behind the police cordon watching the flashing lights, the torches sweeping over the common, and the chasing figures. His mother had told them not to come, to keep out of it. They'd done their bit, she said, by ringing the police and looking after Claudia. But they couldn't help themselves. A pair of busybodies, said his mother. He did sincerely hope that Lucy was alright and that she had managed to find Paul, but nevertheless it was very exciting.

Someone was caught in the bushes on the common. It was a boy. George moved along the cordon and watched as the captive was handcuffed and pushed into a police car. He ducked under the ribbon, ran down to the car, and peeped through the window.

A policeman was sitting in the back seat with David. He put his head out and glowered. “Get back over there behind the cordon,” he said severely.

“That's Lucy's friend,” said George. “You can't arrest him. Take those handcuffs off him. He won't have done anything wrong.”

“Mind your own business and clear off.”

George ran back to his father.

“That's Lucy's friend that they've put in the car.”

“Is it?” said his father. “Look! They've caught another one.”

A man was pinned down on the ground, far over beyond the pond. The scene was lit up as the torches flashed. The man was handcuffed and hauled to his feet, and pushed roughly over the grass to a waiting van.

The crowd was riveted. This was better than a film, thought George, but where was Lucy? He glanced back at the house and gave a shout.

“It's on fire!”

Smoke was pouring out of the further side of the house and tiny flames were licking through the edges of the front door. Suddenly the door to the police car burst open and David jumped out and ran.