13 Treasures (6 page)

“It just looks sad to me,” she said. “But buildings like that usually are. Children’s homes aren’t exactly the happiest of places.”

Fabian shook his head. “I didn’t mean because it was a children’s home—I meant because of what went on there… the disappearances.”

“Disappearances?”

“Some kids vanished from there just over a year ago, babies and toddlers mainly. Never older than about two or three. There was a huge investigation and it got closed down.”

A chill wrapped itself around Tanya’s heart as she remembered the newspaper clipping about the missing girl she had found in the library. It seemed that Tickey End had a history of its children vanishing into thin air.

They lapsed into silence, continuing along the lane. Tanya peered into shop windows here and there, trying to take her mind off the children’s home. On the corner of the street a tiny shop was set back from the rest. Tanya recognized it as a shabby, nameless little place with blanked-out windows and peeling paintwork that had stood empty for the past year. Now, however, it was evidently under new management, for not only had it been given a fresh coat of paint but it also had a name: Pandora’s Box. Instantly intrigued, Tanya called to Fabian, who was kneeling down and sketching something in his notebook.

“I’m just going in here.”

Fabian stopped sketching and looked up. “We don’t really have time—we should start making our way to the bus stop.”

“You go on ahead,” said Tanya. “I’ll meet you there.”

Fabian rolled his eyes. “I’ll wait here. Just be quick.”

A bell jangled above her head as Tanya pushed the door open. Inside, the shop smelled of incense. A plump woman with rosy cheeks and a kindly face was sitting behind the counter flicking through a magazine. Tanya maneuvered herself carefully around shelves crammed full of all manner of curiosities.

There were a number of jars and bottles containing dried herbs, plants, and powders. She found herself staring at one labeled DRAGON’S BLOOD, before moving onward past figurines of witches, wizards, and goblin-type creatures, crystal balls and trays of semiprecious stones. Then she spied a bookshelf at the rear and began to make her way toward it. Once there, she scanned the contents—a vast range of tarot, astrology, and the like—hoping to find further information on fairies. Much to her disappointment there appeared to be nothing that would be of much use to her.

Just then, the bell on the door rang as someone else entered the shop. Tanya craned her neck to see who it was, annoyed in case Fabian had come to drag her away. But it was not Fabian. Out of the corner of her eye Tanya noticed an old woman, laden with heavy shopping bags, shuffling about slowly.

Through the window she saw that Fabian had finished sketching and was now looking impatient, and decided to leave. However, as she turned to go around a display of highly stacked boxes she collided with the old woman, who was coming the opposite way. Her shopping bags crashed to the floor, sending peaches and apples rolling in every direction.

“Sorry,” Tanya mumbled, embarrassed. She knelt to help the woman. “Are you all right?”

The old woman stared back at her but did not reply. Tanya saw that her hands were trembling very slightly. Her skin was paper thin, lined deeply, her hair worn long and braided. The clothes she wore were old-fashioned. In several places there were holes that had been sewn up time and again. An odd expression flickered over the old lady’s face. Tanya swallowed nervously, her mouth suddenly dry. Something about the woman’s face was haunting, and she did not like the way she was staring at her.

“I really am sorry,” she said again, averting her eyes as she handed back a bag of the bruised fruit.

The woman rose slowly, and stretched a closed hand toward Tanya.

“I think this is for you.”

Not wanting to seem rude, Tanya held out her hand. She felt a sharp tingle as the gnarled fingers brushed against her own, like a mild electric shock. The woman placed something cold, smooth, and heavy in her palm. Tanya looked down.

It was a tarnished brass compass, circular in shape with a long neck chain. Most of the letters were absent, probably worn away over the years. She stared at it in confusion. Did the old lady think she had dropped it in the collision?

“This isn’t mine.”

The old woman did not answer. Instead, she reached for Tanya’s new scarf, the silky red fabric slipping easily through her fingers.

“A pretty color for a pretty girl. A wise choice too.”

Tanya felt a shiver shoot up her spine.

“What do you mean?” Her voice emerged thin and scared. “Who are you?”

The woman ignored her questions and nodded at the compass.

“Guard it well… and use it wisely.” Then she turned and shuffled from the shop, leaving an unnerved Tanya behind her.

Tanya stumbled out into the sunlight, visibly shaken. Fabian strolled toward her lazily. “You do realize that it’s an hour-long wait for the next bus if we miss this one, don’t you?” He glanced down at the compass in Tanya’s hand and looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Surely you didn’t just buy that old thing?”

“The old woman,” Tanya said, her voice quivering. “The one in the shop. She gave it to me.”

“What old woman?” said Fabian, searching the length of the street earnestly, but the old lady was gone.

“She came out just before I did,” said Tanya, still clutching the compass stupidly.

Fabian’s mouth fell open. “You don’t mean Mad Morag?”

“
Mad Morag
? You know her?”

“Everyone knows her,” said Fabian. He began to jog, and Tanya had to sprint to keep up with him, Oberon’s bone clashing against her knees.

“How do
you
know her?” she panted as they sped into the square and on, past the marketplace.

“I don’t really
know
her. I meant I know of her. I’ve just heard things.”

“What things?”

“Like she lives in the woods in a caravan, and hardly ever goes out. And she barely talks to anyone, except when she tells them their fortunes. And she’s supposed to be a witch.”

The bus came into view, held up by a line of people waiting to get on.

“I wouldn’t pay any attention to her,” Fabian added. “The old girl’s crackers.”

But even after boarding the bus, Tanya could not help thinking of the old woman. She looked down at the compass, and for the first time noticed that the needle was spinning uselessly.

“It doesn’t even work,” said Fabian. “Throw it away. You don’t know where it’s been.”

“I say,” a voice interrupted from the seat behind. “Do you mind if I take a look at that?”

Tanya turned to look at the scruffy middle-aged man who was leaning earnestly toward her. He was dressed strangely, in a thin tattered raincoat that was inappropriate given the weather, and a wide-brimmed hat that left his face partially in shadow.

“I collect antiques, you see,” the man continued. He whipped out an eyeglass and held out his hand. Tanya handed him the compass somewhat reluctantly. A sudden feeling she could not explain, that somehow the man was familiar to her, passed through her mind. She wondered if she had seen him on television, on an antique hunt program perhaps.

She tried to get a better look at his face, but the stranger had ducked his head as he was studying the compass and all she could see was the top of his hat. A moment later he looked up, and Tanya quickly lowered her eyes, not wanting to make it obvious she had been staring.

“How much did you pay for it?”

Tanya stared at him blankly.

“Five pounds,” she lied.

“If it was working it would be worth around fifty pounds,” said the stranger. “But obviously the fact that it’s not lowers the value.” Still clutching the compass with one hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crisp bank notes. “I’ll give you twenty pounds for it.”

For a moment Tanya was too surprised to answer. Luckily, Fabian came to her rescue.

“Why?” he said, doing nothing to hide his suspicion.

The man’s smile never wavered. “I told you, I’m an antiques dealer.”

“No, you said you were an antiques
collector,
” Fabian retorted, quick as a flash.

The man’s smile no longer reached his eyes. It was clear he was finding Fabian tiresome. “I’ll give you thirty pounds,” he said to Tanya. “That’s a good deal, trust me.”

“
I
don’t trust you,” Fabian said immediately. “How do we know what the compass is worth if we only have your word for it? For all we know you could be a rip-off merchant.”

By now the conversation was attracting curious glances and whispers from other passengers. Tanya had barely said a word to the stranger, but the more insistent he became the more determined she was to hang on to the compass for herself.

“Thirty pounds is my final offer,” the man said stiffly, all pretense of friendliness gone. He was undoubtedly riled by Fabian’s last comment.

“Hey!” The bus driver called out. “If you don’t stop harassing those kids you’ll be leaving the bus at the next stop!”

The antiques dealer stood up, red-faced. “I’ll get off now.”

Tanya held out her hand for the compass, and was shocked as the man slammed it into her palm. A guttural growl sounded from his throat as he stalked to the front of the bus. The driver halted abruptly, even though there was not a stop anywhere in sight, and the man got off.

“Good riddance too,” the bus driver muttered as they pulled away, leaving the antiques dealer behind.

“I think I must have had too much sun,” Fabian said, shaking his head. “I could’ve sworn… no, never mind.”

“No, what?” Tanya asked.

“Just as he got up, I thought I saw his watch ticking backward,” Fabian said with a laugh. “Stupid, I know. Anyway, he was far too pushy. The compass must be worth something after all—and probably a fair bit more than he was offering.”

He paused and scooped something up off the floor with a crow of delight. “Look! Silly old fool must have dropped this when he was flashing his cash!” He presented Tanya with a crisp twenty-pound note. “It must have come loose when he pulled that wad out of his pocket. Here, you have it. Buy yourself a new watch.”

“I can’t take that,” said Tanya. “It’s stealing… sort of.”

Fabian rolled his eyes. “As if. You’re never going to see him again, so it’s not like you can return it. Give it to charity if it makes you feel that bad. Or give it to me. I’ll spend it. But I reckon it serves him right. I doubt he’ll even miss it.”

Tanya slipped it in her pocket, not knowing what else to do.

By the time they reached their stop the color had started to return to Tanya’s cheeks. As they walked down the lane toward the manor she realized that for the first time, she was actually looking forward to getting back to her grandmother’s house. However, when they reached it ten minutes later, there was a shock in store.

Warwick’s Land Rover was parked in the courtyard, the trailer at the back stacked high with books. Tanya knew in an instant that he had begun clearing out the library without her, and it appeared that most of the job was already done. She raced inside, leaving Fabian behind. The library door was open, and Warwick was standing at the writing desk with his back to the door.

“Why didn’t you wait for me? I said I’d help!”

Warwick glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “I thought I’d get a head start.”

He turned away from her again and continued to pack a large box. Tanya glanced around. Of all the books that had been in the library the day before, less than half of them remained. It was clear Warwick’s “head start” meant he must have begun clearing the room the moment she had left the house. She moved aside as he strode past her, carrying books out to the trailer.

“What are you going to do with them, anyway?” she asked, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

Warwick grunted over his shoulder, not even bothering to stop. “Charity shop.”

Tanya surveyed the rows of remaining books. None of the titles there looked as if they would be of any use to her.

“What’s going on?”

She turned and scowled. Fabian had appeared behind her.

“Your father has decided to get rid of every book in the house,
that’s
what’s going on!”

Fabian blinked. “What for?”

Tanya did not answer. Instead she left the library and ran upstairs: there was no point in staying to help now. On the way past the grandfather clock she heard the lodgers tittering, and forced herself to refrain from kicking it.

Once in her room she threw herself down on the bed, gasping as something dug painfully into the top of her leg. It was only then she remembered the compass. She pulled it from her pocket and stared at it dubiously. In addition to the needle not working, Tanya saw that instead of an “N” for north, there was an “H” where it should have been. She frowned, wondering what it stood for. And, as she slowly pushed the compass out of sight beneath her pillow, she wondered why the strange old woman had given it to her.

On Wednesday morning Tanya was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of somebody shouting. She peered out from beneath the bedclothes toward the window, where the badly hung curtains were allowing several rays of light through. The clock on the dressing table read six o’clock.