Deadly Games (6 page)

Jenny came to an abrupt halt and David cannoned into her. “What did you do that for?” he complained. “I could have knocked into that lamp and then – ”

“Shush!”

“What's up?” asked Sid. “What's going on?”

“I think I saw something move,” Jenny whispered.

“Gumbo,” said Sid. “She's keeping an eye on us, like.”

“Or any of her hundreds of mates,” muttered David as another soft, scurrying body brushed past him.

“No.” Jenny's voice was sharp with fright. “It's not a rat. It was on the wall.”

“It?” demanded David. “What do you mean, it?”

He could see his twin's shoulders were trembling violently. Then the whole tunnel came alive with blinding white light and the long, lean rats ran for cover.

Shadows leapt from the walls and they could just make out shapes moving, running.

“It's the Roxy all over again,” said David. “But bigger – wider.”

Not only were the walls of the tunnel lit but so was the ceiling, rather as if they were in the middle of a huge, curving screen.

Then the shadows became more distinct. A boy was running down a platform. He was tall, with long blond hair flying behind him, and was dressed in a T-shirt, jeans and trainers. He had a broad, handsome face but his dark eyes were wide with fear. Jenny thought he must be about their age. Behind him hurried Mrs Garland, shouting, waving her hands.

Then the roaring sound seemed to burst through the walls of the tunnel, echoing so insistently in their ears that it hurt.

“Alan!” screamed Mrs Garland. “You've got to stop.”

There was no one else on the platform. A clock showed twelve and the twins knew instinctively that it must be midnight and that something terrible was going to happen. Gradually the roaring sound became louder and louder, until it drowned the. footsteps and the cries of Mrs Garland.

Jenny suddenly realised a tube train was thundering out of the tunnel and the boy was running towards the edge of the platform.

“Alan!” Mrs Garland's cry was as desperate as it was commanding. “You've
got
to stop!”

But he didn't, and as the train came clanking and crashing into Hockley station, Alan dived under its wheels. Screams mingled with the metallic squeal as the driver applied the emergency brakes. David and Jenny could see Mrs Garland running, and now they could see May and Leslie, standing at the very end of the platform.

“You pushed him,” yelled May.

“I saw you! I saw you push him,” Leslie shouted.

Mrs Garland was already on her knees beside the edge of the platform. A couple of disembarking passengers leapt out to join her.

“Alan,” she wept over and over again. “Alan!”

As far as David and Jenny could see, Mrs Garland hadn't touched Alan at all. He had simply thrown himself under the wheels.

Suddenly the images disappeared and the darkness seemed to rise like a damp cloud over the walls until only the Tilley lamp gave a faint but comforting glow.

“Did you see all that?” David asked Sid.

“I did.” His voice was shaking. “So that's the beginning of the story.” Sid's face was chalk-white in the lamplight.

“How do you make that out?” asked Jenny.

“Stands to reason, don't it? May and Leslie saw what happened – ”

“But it wasn't Mrs Garland's fault,” said Jenny. “I can't think why they said she pushed him – that boy Alan went under the train of his own accord. He didn't even hesitate.”

“There are different ways of pushing,” muttered Sid.

“But May and Leslie, they said – they meant – anyone would have thought … ” Jenny was getting tied up.

“Maybe they wanted to blame her.” Sid was reflective. “Maybe they wanted everyone to think Mrs G pushed Alan under that train. Suppose she drove him to it? Suppose she treated him so bad – ”

“And then she did the same to May and Leslie? Maybe she chased them down here and they went
up the tunnel to get away from her,” David reasoned.

“Unless they wanted to kill themselves too,” Jenny put in.

But Sid shook his head. “No, they wouldn't have done that.” He spoke as if he knew them intimately.

“Why not?” asked David brusquely. “They could equally well haunt the tunnel whether they jumped in front of the train or died somewhere else. What does it matter?”

“It
does
matter,” Sid insisted. “They're lost souls, those two. They're leading us somewhere. They want to be found.”

“I don't see it makes any difference –” David began, but Jenny interrupted.

“They contacted Sid for a purpose and we haven't got to the bottom of it yet.”

“Where was that children's home?” asked David. “Was it nearby?”

“Don't you know?” Sid seemed surprised. “It was just opposite the station. Place is a chemist's shop now.”

“
Was
Mrs Garland cruel?” said Jenny. “And did Alan die? Die he
really
die?”

Sid shrugged. “I haven't a clue. I'd have told you if I had. It's all buried in the past.”

“But who told you where the children's home was?” asked David.

“Nell. Who else? She's been dossing around these streets for years.”

“She might be able to tell us the whole story,” said David hopefully.

“Said she knew nothing about them.” Sid clearly dismissed Nell and any help she might be able to offer. “Now let's move on or we'll never get anywhere.” He sounded testy and exhausted and his wheezing seemed to have got worse. “Where's Gumbo?” he asked. “Gumbo! Where are you?”

There was a patter of feet and the rat emerged into the lamplight, its whiskers twitching. As it looked up into Sid's eyes, there was a soft, swishing sound in the tunnel and the twins gazed around them, wondering if the images would start flickering on the walls again. But nothing happened. Gradually the swishing became more pronounced, until David and Jenny realised they were listening to a soft but penetrating voice.

“They hate me, hate me, hate me …” The voice began to whisper, the walls began to whisper – and the whispering surrounded them, just as the images had.

“It's her,” muttered Sid. “It's Mrs G.”

Gumbo began to squeak loudly and a blast of cold air blew up the tunnel towards them as the tube train approached. It clattered past slowly, allowing them to see into carriages crowded with
people wearing the same old-fashioned clothes the twins had noticed on the escalator. Mrs Garland was sitting on a seat in one of the carriages and Alan, May and Leslie clung to one of the handrails nearby. Their voices whispered their way towards Sid and the twins.

“We'll get her,” said May, trying to comfort Alan, who was silently weeping. “You'll see. You'll see. You'll see. You'll – ”

The words began to synchronise with the rhythm of the train and the figures became blurred as the train vanished into the darkness, leaving a smell of cold metal.

“They hated her,” said David. “Really hated.”

“But what did she do to them?” Jenny was far more afraid than she had ever been.

“If May and Leslie falsely accused her – or were going to – then I guess she could have bumped them off,” said Sid.

David turned to Jenny and saw the shock on her face. “No,” he said. “She wouldn't have done that.” He spoke as confidently as Sid had about May and Leslie not throwing themselves under a train. But he had no knowledge of Mrs Garland's personality – just an intuition.

“Why not?” grumbled Sid.

“I'm just sure she wouldn't.” He remembered her face when they had used their willpower to
reach her, and, later, her appearance on the wharf outside their home.

“So am I,” said Jenny, but now she wasn't really so sure. Mrs Garland had great mental strength and she had pushed her way into their minds with such force that it had hurt. If she could do that to the twins after she was dead, what sort of power did she exert over May and Leslie when she was alive?

They walked on uneasily, David taking his turn at the head of the trio with the Tilley lamp. Sid was wheezing harder now, and Gumbo kept running back to him, as if in concern.

“You OK, Sid?” asked David anxiously.

“I'm fine,” was the gasping reply.

“You're not,” said Jenny sternly.

“I'll be all right.” Sid tried to get a grip on himself.

“Let's take a rest.”

“No way,” he insisted. “I don't reckon it's much further.”

“Suppose we don't find those two kids,” David wondered.

“We will.” Sid was emphatic. Despite his wheezing, he sounded confident and almost happy, as if his long years of waiting and hoping and yearning were now almost over.

Meanwhile Gumbo had run off into the darkness yet again.

“That's weird,” said Jenny suddenly. “I thought I heard the sound of a splash.”

“A splash? Water here? Don't be daft.” David
was exhausted and the tunnel seemed endless. There wasn't much space between the old rusting rails and the wall, and the musty smell, mingled with dust and oil, was really getting to him.

“Might not be so daft,” said Sid. “This tunnel wasn't built that far from the Thames.”

“You mean it's above us?” David sounded horrified.

“Somewhere to the left, I think, but there's all kinds of little tributaries that filter into the wharves and docks – ”

“What's that?” said David apprehensively, cutting into Sid's explanation.

“Another splash,” replied Jenny bleakly.

As she spoke, Gumbo appeared in the flashlight, its fur wet, shivering and blocking their path. It crouched, upper lip drawn back, exposing yellow teeth and giving a threatening squeak.

“Move!” said David sharply. “Move over, you stupid rat.” He was tense, feeling trapped.

“Wait a minute,” Jenny said slowly.

“Wait for what?” David snapped.

“It looks as if it's trying to tell us something.”

“You're getting as bad as Sid.”

“Someone taking my name in vain?” began Sid angrily.

“Gumbo looks as if it's warning us about something,” Jenny persisted.

“We've
got
to get on.” David couldn't stand the shut-in feeling much longer.

“Wait!” Jenny warned.

Gumbo bared its teeth and squeaked again, blocking David's path.

“Don't go past her,” said Sid with a quiet authority that neither of the twins had heard before. “Can't you see she's warning us? There must be danger ahead.”

David hesitated. “We can't stay here,” he insisted.

“Should we go back?” asked Jenny, but she didn't sound as if she meant it.

“No way.” David was determined now. “We must be getting near that old yard. I've
got
to have some fresh air.”

“Wait till Gumbo lets us go on,” warned Sid.

“We could be here all night – ”

“Do what he says, Dave.” Jenny could sense danger but had no idea what it might be.

“I haven't got time for that rat to make up its mind – and neither have any of us,” said David, pushing his way past Gumbo.

The rat moved reluctantly aside, its body arched and tense.

“David,” Jenny warned, “I think there's something wrong – ”

But she was too late. He had disappeared into the darkness and all Jenny and Sid could see was
the Tilley lamp. As they hurried to catch up with him, Gumbo gave a piercing squeak of alarm and Jenny could just make out the small black eyes staring up at her.

Then she saw the Tilley lamp fly up in the air and David fall forwards. It seemed a very long time before the splash came – followed by a desperate cry for help. Why hadn't they realised what Gumbo was on about? wondered Jenny frantically. It seemed so obvious now.

Fortunately, the lamp had survived its fall and Sid picked it up, holding Jenny back.

“Where is he?”

“Down there.” Sid shone the light into a wide expanse of water – so wide that the Tilley lamp couldn't pick out its extent at all. Worse still, there was a sheer drop of about five metres. David was treading water below, spluttering and still yelling for help.

“It's the river,” said Sid. “Or a tributary. Part of the tunnel must have caved in.” He waved the lamp around in an attempt to establish the boundaries of the dark water whose surface glinted up at them wickedly, but there was no sign of any foothold that David could reach.

“It's freezing,” he yelled. “I'm going numb.
Do
something!”

“Hang on!” shouted Jenny inadequately.

“What to?” He floundered around, swimming in frantic little circles. “There's nothing I can grab. Nothing.”

She stared down helplessly at her twin and then back at Sid. “What
are
we going to do?” Jenny pleaded hopelessly.