‘Is Tilda all right? Is she hurt?’ Miranda was the first person to ask, but the others clamoured with questions too.
Benedict held up his hands, his phone still cradled in his palm. ‘That was Tilda. She’s OK, but there’s been some damage to the shop. I have to go.’
There was no time to think. Everyone piled out of the attic, down the stairs and out of the front door. The rain had returned, streaking down in grey ribbons. Miranda stopped for long enough to swipe a set of keys from a bowl on the hall table.
‘My car!’ she said.
There was a nippy little sports car parked under a shelter. She pressed her key fob and the car chirruped. It was a tight squeeze in the back seat, but they all managed to get in. Miranda got behind the wheel, with Benedict sitting anxiously in the passenger seat. Andrew could see his knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of his seat.
‘Hold on,’ Miranda said, easing the car into gear and flipping on the wipers.
‘We can do better than that,’ Flora said from Piotr’s knee, clicking the seat belt into place over them both.
The car engine revved like a thoroughbred in a stall then glided out, crunching over loose stones and gravel. Nestled in the curve of the seat, Andrew smelled leather and a hint of Miranda’s perfume.
The car glided through the streets as though it were a ghost. Almost soundless, inside and out.
They were too worried by what they might find at the shop to speak.
The car couldn’t go all the way down Marsh Road, so Miranda pulled up at the bollards which stopped the traffic. ‘You go. I’ll park the car and find you in a minute. Go and see that your aunt is all right.’
Benedict stretched his long legs out of the car and pulled his seat forward so that the gang could clamber out after him.
Some confused street lamps had flickered on and the few stall holders who had set up that morning were hastily packing their wares away. The road looked sleek and wet under the oily glow. There weren’t many people about. No fire engines. No blaze illuminating frightened faces. They walked closer.
The junk shop was shut up in darkness.
The glass in the front door was shattered. Sharp teeth were left, jagged in the frame. Beyond that, black.
But there was a light on in the salon next door.
Andrew could see Minnie’s mum, and Tilda sitting in the window seat, looking small and shaken.
Benedict led the way, his long legs outstripping even Minnie. He rushed into the salon, and was holding his aunt in a hug in seconds. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked frantically. ‘Do you need to see a doctor?’
‘She’s not hurt,’ Mrs Adesina said. ‘Just shaken.’
Minnie’s dad came from the back of the salon, carrying a steaming mug. ‘Tea,’ he said firmly, ‘with lots of sugar.’
Benedict let Tilda go, so that she could take the tea. But, Andrew noticed, he left his hand on his aunt’s arm, in just the same way that Andrew had touched his mum while she was in hospital. Just a tiny touch, to remind the other person that you were there for them.
Benedict wasn’t acting like a person who had laid a curse to steal a shop.
‘Could you tell us what happened?’ Piotr asked Mrs Adesina.
‘Please?’ Benedict added.
Flora tugged off her trusty backpack and pulled out her notebook and pencil, ready to record everything they were told. Minnie dropped into a seat at the nail bar. Sylvie stood behind her. Andrew and Piotr joined Tilda and Benedict in the window seat.
Mrs Adesina looked from Minnie to Flora to Tilda and back. ‘Are you children getting involved with something again?’
Minnie gave a small shrug.
‘I don’t like it,’ Mrs Adesina said. ‘It is dangerous. Look at what happened today.’
Benedict leaned forward. ‘Please, can you tell me what happened? I need to know.’ His voice shook.
Mrs Adesina sighed. ‘All right. But I don’t want any of you children getting into trouble. Is that clear?’
Andrew wondered exactly how they could not get into trouble when they were actually cursed. After all, it wasn’t as though they could just decide not to be, was it? It was more like being ill. He didn’t bother to reply to Mrs Adesina, and she seemed to take their silence as agreement.
‘Well, it was just me here. The whole road has been very quiet today because of the weather,’ Mrs Adesina said. ‘I was sweeping; the music was on low. And that’s when I heard it. A smash, then a rustling, crackling noise. I looked outside and smelled the smoke. I knew there was a fire. There’s an extinguisher right next to our front door, so I dropped the broom and grabbed it. I could see the fire then, just inside the door to Tilda’s shop. It was still small, but fierce. I pulled out the pin on the extinguisher and sprayed water right at it.’
‘Mum!’ Minnie said in awe. ‘You’re a hero!’
‘She is,’ Tilda whispered. ‘She saved the shop and she saved me. I was out the back. I had no idea the fire was there until I heard Mrs Adesina shouting my name.’
Andrew wiped his palms against the front of his jeans. Tilda had been inside the building when the fire started? He swallowed. His throat felt so dry it was as if he had inhaled smoke.
‘How did it start? Do you know?’ Flora asked.
Tilda raised her head to look at Mrs Adesina. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, so softly they could barely hear her.
‘The moment the flames were out, I got Tilda through the front door; we locked it and came straight here. She called Benedict and that’s been that. We were too busy getting clear of the danger to worry about what caused it.’
‘Very sensible too,’ Benedict said. ‘I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for my aunt.’
The door to the salon opened and Miranda walked in. She took a look at Tilda, then seemed to relax in relief. The tightness around her mouth softened.
Was she relieved because she had nothing to do with the fire and Tilda was safe?
Or was she relieved because she had set the fire and hadn’t known Tilda was still inside?
But that didn’t make sense. They had been with Benedict and Miranda when the fire started. There was no way they could have slipped away from the attic, started the fire and then come back again without the gang noticing. It was just impossible.
Yet another impossible thing.
Andrew felt his skin shiver. The curse was still going strong. And this time, Tilda had come way too close to getting hurt.
‘Can we see the shop?’ Flora asked.
‘We should call the police,’ Benedict said. ‘This has gone too far now. We need to find out what’s been going on.’
‘The police?’ Minnie said; the disappointment was clear in her voice.
‘Yes,’ her mum snapped. ‘That is absolutely the best idea. We should have done it as soon as we put out the fire. It’s time to call the police. And it’s time that you all stopped investigating, if that’s what you’ve been doing. People who set fires don’t care who they hurt.’
‘But, Mum!’ Minnie began.
‘“But Mum” nothing,’ Mrs Adesina said. ‘It’s time for you children to go on home and leave this to the professionals. Come on, you’ve been out all day. Your parents will be worried. This stops now and you leave it to the police. Understand?’
Minnie sighed. Even Flora looked cross as she closed her notebook.
But a direct order from Mrs Adesina was very difficult to ignore.
Difficult, but not impossible, Andrew thought.