Invisible! (16 page)

‘Yeah, that's where she's gone I think.'

‘Weird.' He put the car in gear and it shot forward, slamming Charlotte back in her seat.

She looked across at him. ‘What?'

‘The Manor. It's where my four o'clock appointment is. Hold on.' They screamed round a bend and sped on.

Charlotte felt unreal.

Made it, and still no sign of Kippax.
Rosie hurried up the driveway and mounted the mossy steps. The yellow Polo was parked at the bottom, which meant the nurse was here again. Rosie hoped she wouldn't stop her seeing Miss Massingberd.

There was a bell-push screwed to the door. She thumbed it, glancing over her should.
Come on, Flo Nightingale – it's urgent.
She knew it would be the nurse and not Miss Massingberd who came to the door. It felt like ages before she heard footsteps. The door opened a crack and the nurse frowned down at her.

‘Yes?'

‘Can I see Miss Massingberd for a minute, please? It's
really
important.'

‘Oh it
is
, is it? Why?'

‘It's about her pictures. The ones that were pinched. I know who did it.'

‘
Do
you, now?'

‘Yes, look.' Rosie held out the piece of frame. ‘I think this is off one of them. If Miss Massingberd could just…'

‘I'm sorry. Miss Massingberd is unwell, and besides she's expecting somebody at any minute. If you come back tomorrow …'

‘It'll be too late.' She heard an engine down by the road, knew it was Kippax. ‘Here.' She thrust the gilded strip at the woman. ‘Take this to the old lady. She'll recognize it.'

She was halfway down the steps when the nurse called after her. ‘What's your
name
, little girl?'

‘Rosie.' She flung the word over her shoulder without stopping. ‘Rosie Walk.' She could see the van through thin autumn foliage. Another second and the driver would see
her.
She heard the door close behind her as she raced for the shrubbery.

Too late. She was less than halfway there
when the van overtook her, slewing to a stop in a spray of gravel. The driver's door flew open and Kippax baled out. Before she had time to cry out or change direction he'd grabbed her. A brawny arm circled her neck, a rough palm clamped her mouth.

‘OK, gipsy, where is it?'

‘What?' She kicked and writhed and tried to bite his hand.

‘You know what.
Come on – what you done with it
?' The arm round her neck tightened. She began to choke. Through her tears she could see Lee in the passenger seat, watching. The pressure eased a fraction and she croaked, ‘I don't know what you mean.' She prayed the nurse was showing the strip to Miss Massingberd right now.

‘YOU KNOW ALL RIGHT' He was shouting, shaking her. ‘SPIT IT OUT OR I'LL THROTTLE THE LIFE OUT OF YOU!'

She was choking. Flashes in her eyes like stars exploding and blackness round the edges, flooding in. A hand gripped her flailing forearm. A hand she couldn't see. A
third
hand, and a voice hissed in her ear,
The ice house. Say it's in the ice house. Carrie's
voice.

She battered the brawny arm with both fists.

The stranglehold loosened. ‘Well?'

‘The ice house. I hid it in the ice house.'

‘That's better.' The arm was removed. Rosie sucked in air as the man grabbed a fistful of hair to steer her by. The blackness was receding. ‘Come on – show me.'

She was stumbling through a tangle of neglected shrubs, her head thrust forward. Twigs scraped her face and Kippax kept treading on her heels as they waded through wet leaves. He was panting with exertion as he shoved her along, sounding like a big dog. The ice house came in sight through the trees. What would she do when they reached it? What would
Kippax
do to her when he realized she'd lied?

Hey, Rosie, stay cool. Carrie whispered to you, right? That means the Invisibles're here. Or does it? What if being strangled makes you hear things that aren't really there?

Well if
that's
the explanation you'll be hearing 'em again, dude. Real soon.

The nurse punched in the number, heard the first ring and handed the receiver to the old lady. Miss Massingberd held it to her ear, gazing at the strip of gilded wood on the table. Somebody picked up.

‘Hello? Is this the police? Good afternoon, Constable Stables. This is Miss Massingberd, calling from the Manor. That's right, the Manor. There's been a… development, I suppose you'd say, in the matter of my stolen paintings. Well, a child rang my bell a few minutes ago, claiming to know who took the paintings. A child, yes. A little girl. She handed my nurse part of a picture frame and it
is
from one of my Turners. Her
name?' Miss Massingberd shot the nurse an enquiring glance and lip-read the woman's response. ‘Walk, apparently. Rosie Walk. Oh, you
know
about her?
Is
she a gipsy? I really couldn't say, Constable – didn't see her myself. Oh, I don't think … she'd hardly come up here and ring the bell if she was the thief, would she? Her
father
? But why would a daughter … did you say
double bluff
? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term. Oh, I don't think she's here
now
, Constable. The nurse told me she ran off. Come by all means if you think that's best. You can collect the bit of frame if nothing else. Good, then I'll see you presently. Goodbye.'

The nurse put down the receiver. ‘On their way, eh?'

The old lady nodded. ‘Keen, our Constable Stables. Very. Doesn't like gipsies by the sound of him.' She looked at the nurse. ‘Did the child look like a criminal to
you
, my dear?'

The nurse pulled a face. ‘No, but then if criminals
looked
like criminals there'd be no need for detectives, would there?'

Rosie knuckled her eyes and sniffled. No fun, being lowered into darkness by your hair. It hurts, plus she was dead scared. Who wouldn't be, alone in an abandoned ice house with a guy like Kippax? Even down here he didn't relax his grip. Her scalp felt tender, as though it was lifting from her skull. He squeezed and she cried out, the sound echoing eerily in the damp blackness.

‘Right, gipsy … where is it?'

‘This way.' She chose a direction at random, creeping forward.
Where are you, Carrie?
Do
something for goodness' sake
, quick.
Don't let me die down here.

They must have been halfway across the floor when Kippax gasped and swiped at something in the blackness. The movement caused a tug on Rosie's hair and she yelped.

‘What
is
it?'

‘Dunno.' The man peered into the gloom. ‘Bat, maybe. Never mind.' He shoved her forward, but they'd taken only two paces when there was a sharp scraping noise and a match flared. Kippax started violently. ‘WHO'S THERE?' The flame steadied, trembling in a draught. He couldn't see the hand that held it. ‘WHO IS IT?'

‘Nobody, Robert Kippax. Nobody at all.' Rosie's heart soared. The voice was distorted by echo and disguised to sound like a ghost's, but she recognized it and smiled. Good old Pete.

Kippax was shaken. Rosie felt the hand that held her hair start to twitch and bit her lip to keep from giggling. The match dwindled and died. The man continued to stare at the place, seeing a greenish blob. ‘I'M WARNING YOU, WHOEVER YOU ARE,' he bellowed. ‘NOBODY MESSES WITH BOB KIPPAX.
NOBODY
.'

‘That's
right
, Robert Kippax, and that's exactly who
I
am. Nobody. Look.' A second match, in a different spot. This one moved up and down,
from side to side, back and forth, its little globe of brightness revealing no part of the speaker. The tremor in Kippax's hand grew more pronounced.
Any second now
, thought Rosie,
he's gonna forget I'm here and let go.
For the moment though he went on deploying the bully's weapon, bluster.

‘YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS. YOU CAN'T STAY IN HERE FOR EVER AND WHEN YOU COME OUT I'LL BE WAITING.' He stared into the blackness, breathing heavily. Rosie stood absolutely still, saying nothing.

‘You are
so
wrong, Robert Kippax.
So
wrong. We
can
stay here for ever, for this is our hoo – ooom.' Rosie nearly burst out laughing as Carrie made the word
home
sound like the hoot of an owl. Its echo had scarcely faded when the voice continued. ‘You have entered our home uninvited, and for that you must be punished.' At this point somebody evidently struck the man because he swung round with an oath and threw a punch, relinquishing his hold on Rosie's hair to do so. She stepped lightly to one side and was lost to him at once.

‘HEY!' The frightened bully spun round, groping for his victim. Three metres away Rosie
stood holding her breath, knowing she was as safe from him now as if she were on Mars. ‘DON'T THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU, GIPSY, ‘CAUSE I CAN. GET HERE – NOW!'

‘Temper, Robert Kippax.' Con's voice, hollow in the gloom.

Kippax turned slowly on the spot, unable to tell where the speaker was. ‘YOU DON'T SCARE ME WITH YOUR SILLY PUT-ON VOICE, SO DON'T THINK IT.'

‘You
sound
afraid, notwithstanding, and I see you've lost your prisoner. Perhaps you should leave.'

‘I'M NOT LEAVING TILL I GET WHAT I CAME FOR.'

‘You'll get what you came for if you
stay
, Robert Kippax – that I promise you.'

‘HOWDYA MEAN?'

‘Stay, and find out.'

‘I'm not. I'm going, but I'll be waiting, and when you come out I'll make you wish you'd never been born.' He moved towards a faint luminescence which marked the position of the entrance. ‘THAT GOES FOR YOU TOO, GIPSY.'

It was then the laughter started. Demoniacal laughter from every direction at once, echoing
and re-echoing till it seemed the ice house harboured a thousand devils. He
tried
to go slowly.
Tried
to hold on to what was left of his dignity but the laughter woke a memory from the distant past – a film he'd seen as a kid, set in a creepy Victorian asylum. He hadn't slept properly for weeks after watching that film, and he'd nursed a secret dread ever since – a dread of losing his mind and being dragged off screaming to a place like the asylum in that film. He quickened his pace, muttering to himself as the laughter ricocheted inside his skull.
I'm not mad, just because I see matches that strike themselves and hover in the air, like … like Lee with that ball. (Runs in families, madness.) I'm not mad. Not mad.
He stumbled sobbing towards the light and looked up and there, gazing down at him, was the most famous pop star in England.

Of course he was.