Thirteen

Victor Brodman carried Max’s bags to the jetty. Laura walked beside the boy. Max’s eyes glittered as if made of glass. Barbiturates damped down his jangled nerves. Yet his expression oozed nothing less than naked dread.

Victor tried to catch Laura’s eye. How long are you going to be away? Will you leave me your phone number? Can you come back soon? Did last night mean as much to you as it did to me? Will we be together again? These questions were the ones he longed to have answered. That morning he’d tried to grab a few words with her. But after a hurried departure in the early hours from his apartment at White Cross Farm Laura had been busy making arrangements to get Max back to Badsworth Lodge. If the boy put distance between himself and Jay maybe the panic attacks would abate. Some hope. From what Victor had gleaned, once Jay had done that thing of chanting a person’s name, like a mantra, then to all intents and purposes they were cursed. Of course it must be psychological, he told himself. Jay couldn’t have supernatural powers. However, if an individual believes they really are cursed then bad things generally follow.

Down on the jetty Mayor Wilkes performed his busybody routine. He bossed around the man who’d moored the ferry to the jetty when it arrived. Some children from Badsworth Lodge had come to the riverside to wave off their friend. Although most appeared to be there out of morbid curiosity. These children Wilkes chivvied away from the water’s edge with comments like, ‘If you fall in nobody will get you out again. This current is a killer.’ Charming.

The children muttered amongst themselves.

‘Did you hear that Jay has been saying Max’s name?’

‘God, he’s for it.’

‘I wonder what will happen to him?’

‘Whatever it is, I bet he doesn’t make it till the end of the week.’

‘Max’s a bully anyway. He deserves everything he gets.’

Constantly Laura spoke softly to Max. Mainly reassurances that everything would be fine.

Mayor Wilkes prowled the jetty. From his expression you’d have thought he’d bitten a lemon thinking it a strawberry. ‘What the hell are they doing?’ His sour tone intensified as he stared across the water at the mainland. ‘Look at the idiots.’

‘What’s wrong, Mr Mayor?’ Victor enjoyed a brief but satisfying image of pushing Mayor Wilkes into the river.

Wilkes fumed. ‘The ferry should have been here ten minutes ago. It’s still moored to the pier.’

‘Perhaps your committee have cut sailings to save money.’ Victor spoke with an innocent tone, but he knew full well it would irritate Wilkes.

‘That’s utter nonsense, Victor. The crew’ll be sleeping off a hangover.’

Victor glanced at Laura. He’d decided to tell her what she meant to him – as soon as he grabbed an opportunity. Only it wasn’t looking good. Another child was running down the lane calling her name. Nurse Laura Parris wasn’t just popular with the island ranger. Everyone loved her. For a moment, he stood beside Mayor Wilkes as the man grumbled about the tardiness of the ferry. As a breeze whipped tufts of white cloud across the sky part of him planned the day out. He needed to check the shoreline to make sure no deer had snagged themselves again as they grazed on the kelp. Also, he intended to take the children to the castle tower. They loved the climb up the spiral staircase to the very top. He shot another glance back at Laura. Just a minute alone with her, that’s all he needed. His perseverance was rewarded with a smile. From her hand gesture to Max she was telling him to stand there. In a slow sedated way the teenager answered with a nod. At last! Victor’d get his chance to speak to her. He’d already decided to give her the carefully composed note that was in his pocket. Maybe it was a bit schoolboy-ish but it just bore a few words, thanking her for her company, then he’d added his telephone number. Come to think of it, handing her a note on the jetty, would it seem weird? Damn. Regarding the dating game, he was seriously out of practice.

They were within six paces of reaching one another when a boy raced along the jetty shouting, ‘Laura . . . Laura! You’ve got to come to the hostel.’

‘I can’t,’ Laura said. ‘I’m catching the ferry back to the mainland.’

‘You’ve got to. It’s important.’

Her expression became serious. ‘Why? Has something happened?’

‘The manager’s sick. Big sick. All over the stairs.’

‘Go find Lou. I have to take Max back to Badsworth Lodge as soon as possible.’

‘Well, you’re not,’ Mayor Wilkes told her as he pocketed his phone. ‘The ferry’s going nowhere.’ He glared at the vessel as it sat in its dock across the span of water. ‘My guess is the hostel manager has the same as the crew. They’re all sick, too.’

‘We’re stranded here,’ intoned Max, glassy eyed. ‘With Jay.’

I must do something about the bracelet. But what? The question perplexed Archer. There were other dilemmas too. A man and woman ran White Cross Farm. Every morning they rang a gong to announce breakfast was ready. Archer would hurry downstairs, his stomach rolling hungrily as he sniffed grilled bacon. This morning he’d waited until half eight. No gong. No delicious bacon aromas. Just a strange silence. Even though the hunger pangs had started he decided it was important to show the gold bracelet to Laura. He must tell her the circumstances of the find or his head would burst. Laura would listen sympathetically when he described the underground car, and his fight with the mummy creature. For a moment, the eight-year-old stared at the bracelet on his bedside table. Touching it was creepy. Even to look at the dirty gold links made him remember all too clearly those dead features, the mane of black hair, and, worse, the blue eyes. They were beautiful, but they were terrifying, too. The way they blazed out of that mummified head. Archer gulped. His hands turned clammy while his heart thudded hard.

‘Laura,’ he told himself. ‘She’ll know what to do.’ Archer carefully slipped the bracelet into the pocket of his shorts then went to Laura’s room. After knocking he looked inside. Alarmingly, it was empty. What’s more she’d taken her clothes. Panic jolted him. ‘She’s left without us!’ Where now? Jay’s room? No, Jay might start repeating his name. Or announce he was taking him for a little walk again. No, thank you. He’d had enough of Jay’s ‘little walks’ to last a lifetime.

Archer hurried downstairs in the hope he’d find Laura at the breakfast table. ‘Bloody Laura,’ he said loudly to the empty room. ‘Bloody hell. You’re not allowed to go. You can’t leave us.’ His scared voice echoed back from the farmhouse kitchen walls. ‘Bad Laura.’ He flinched at how babyish he sounded. ‘I’m going to be brave. I’ve been given some jewellery. It’s important.’ When he spoke the words aloud, he realized that the gold chain was vitally important. It had to be. That dead woman with the blue eyes had come back to life to give it to him. She’d fought to push it into his hand so he wouldn’t let go of it. She needed him to take it, to keep it safe, then to give it to someone. But why? And who should he give it to? Archer sat by the table. Nothing was cooking on the hob. However, the cereal bowls were already out. In the middle of the table were boxes of Frosties and cornflakes. The notion of there being no one there to make breakfast troubled him almost as much as knowing that gruesome corpse had come back to life. He glanced at the window, suddenly fearful that the monster face would be staring in. A pair of eyes did watch him. He cried out before he realized it was only the fat old Siamese cat that lived in the barn. Archer decided to fend for himself. He switched on the radio which was perched atop the refrigerator. A DJ announced cheerfully that it would be breezy today with sunshine. Then he played a sad song about being alone.

‘I’m OK, I’m brave,’ Archer insisted to his reflection in the spoon he’d picked up. ‘I’ve been given an important job.’ He continued to address his distorted reflection in the spoon. ‘The woman knew I’m big enough to keep the jewellery safe.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to tell Laura about the underground car, too.’ He recalled the detective shows he’d seen. ‘Something’s not right. The car’s been deliberately hidden.’ He chose the box of Frosties. ‘The woman was hidden in the car. Back seat. Blanket over.’ Chuckling, he relished the role of brainy policeman. ‘Clues. They tell me . . .’ He froze in surprise at his deduction. ‘Murder. The woman was murdered.’ He poured a stream of cereal into the bowl. ‘The woman was brew-tally murdered . . . the gunge stuck to the car’s carpet is –’ he spoke with relish – ‘blood. Dried blood. All poured out from the wound, as she lay screaming. Bleeding. Bosh, bosh.’ He brought the spoon down on the tiger’s face on the box like he was beating it to death. ‘Bashed out her brains. Bosh!’ Hysteria grabbed hold. ‘Bosh, bosh, bosh, brains and blood, and—’

‘I’m sorry.’ A woman with wild hair lurched forward. Her hands slammed palm-down on to the tabletop. ‘Uh . . . I feel like death.’

The corpse-woman’s back for the bracelet! Archer screamed.

With an effort, the woman straightened. ‘I’m sorry, Archer. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m . . . uph . . . I planned to . . . tell you that Laura had to leave for . . . ferry . . .’ The woman grimaced. ‘Lou’s supposed to be here . . . I don’t know . . . sorry about breakfast. Only I can’t face . . . cooking.’ Shuddering, she pulled her dressing-gown collar up toward her throat. ‘We’re both down with a bug. Graham can’t get out of bed. You know my brother . . .’ She rocked unsteadily. He stared, not knowing what to say or do. ‘Victor. You know Victor?’ She gulped. ‘I need the bathroom.’ As she fled the kitchen she managed to say, ‘Archer. Tell Victor. Ask him to—’ The rest of the sentence disintegrated as she rushed to the toilet.

Archer realized the woman wasn’t the corpse-monster from the car after all. It was Victor’s sister. Only she looked a lot different from yesterday. He thought hard. ‘Dishevelled.’ That’s it. Dishevelled. First things first. He’d eat his Frosties, then he’d go find Victor. Archer was pleased. He’d been given another very important job to do. It made the eight-year-old feel grown-up. As he spooned cereal into his mouth he sensed the pressure of the bracelet in his pocket against his thigh. He recalled the words inscribed on the bracelet. Ghorlan~Victor. Might that be the same Victor as Victor Brodman? Had he known the dead woman in the car? Were they family? Or did he murder her? This made Archer freeze mid-chew. If Victor bashed out the woman’s brains, will he do the same to me? The gold bracelet had changed now. Before it had been valuable, something of importance. Now it had become a curse. It made his skin crawl. Like a metallic parasite, it seemed as if it wanted to bore into his leg. If I’m not careful I might wind up dead in the car, too. Dead men tell no tales . . . the same goes for little boys, too.