Mystery of Banshee Towers (2 page)

“There are some chocolate biscuits in the cupboard,” said Fatty, who invariably seemed to be provided with a vast variety of good food, wherever he was. “By the way, please look firmly the other way if Buster tries to beg any food from you. He is on a diet - slimming, you know. He over-ate himself while he was away. Too many cats about!”

“But surely he hasn’t begun to eat
cats
!” said Daisy, shocked.

“No, ass! But with plenty of cat-dishes around always ready to be licked clean, he did far too well,” said Fatty. “Buster, stand up. Show your tubby figure - oh what a middle you’ve landed yourself with - disgraceful!”

Buster certainly had a tummy. His tail dropped when Fatty scolded him, and he went sadly into a corner and curled himself up, eyeing the chocolate biscuits sadly. Bets felt very sorry for him. “I’ll just let him
lick
my chocolatey fingers, Fatty,” she said. “That’s all, I promise. I just can’t bear to see him looking so left-cut. Here you are, Buster - lick my fingers.”

Buster was pleased. He licked Bets’ fingers and then sat down as close to her as he possibly could. He loved kind-hearted little Bets. She put her arm round him again.

“Fatty - is this meeting about anything special?” she said. “I’d be just as pleased if there wasn’t any Mystery to solve at the moment, I mean - I do like mysteries, but I do like a bit of peace, too.”

“Well, really, Bets - don’t you
want
to belong to the Find-Outers?” said Daisy, quite amazed. “What’s the good of being a Find-Outer if you don’t want to find out anything?”

“Yes, I see all that,” said Bets. “But what I mean is - do we
have
to snoop round and look for problems and mysteries to solve - can’t we just not bother for once?”

“You mean - just play about and enjoy ourselves?” said Daisy. “Well - it does sound rather nice for a change. You know, Fatty, solving mysteries
can
be quite hard work.”

“Well, I’m rather inclined to agree with you,” said Fatty, lazily. “You know. I’ve just been staying with two cousins - both first-class footballers - first-class boxers - first-class cross-country runners - and first-class bores, to tell you the truth! My word, the excuses I had to think of to get out of kicking a football from morning to night - running for miles in shorts uphill and down - and putting on boxing-gloves and having sparring bouts. Thank goodness
that
didn’t last long - qthe sparring. I mean.”

“Why - were you knocked out?” asked Larry.

“Knocked out! Don’t be fatheaded,” said Fatty. “The tiring part about the boxing was that
I
kept on doing the knocking-out - I tell you, it got boring!”

“You’re boasting, Fatty,” said Larry. “Ha - you’ll never get rid of
that
habit! That’s one thing you do better than any of us - boast! You’re superlative at that!”

“Don’t be rude, Larry!” said Daisy, shocked. “Why, Fatty might knock
you
out, if you talk like that!”

“No, I shan’t.” said Fatty. “Larry’s quite right. I do boast just a bit. On the other hand, I do actually do what I boast about. I really
did
knock out my two cousins. I’ll show you the blow I used. You swing out like this with your left, and then - ooh, sorry. Buster! What on earth made you get in the way? Did I hurt you?”

“Funny - you didn’t even knock
him
out,” said Larry irritatingly. Bets cuddled poor Buster, who had received a blow on his fat tummy that had quite winded him. He stared at Fatty unhappily, really puzzled.

“Listen,” said Pip. “Let’s go exploring a bit these hols. My father made a list of interesting spots we could go to see. He said we shouldn’t just mess about doing nothing, he said…”

“He
said
that - but what he really meant was that he didn’t want you under his feet all the time,” said Larry. “My father’s like that too - I mean, he’s an absolute sport, and I’m frightfully proud of him - and he is of me - but I do notice that after about ten days of the hols he always gets this idea of us going off for the day - not just one day, but every day. And
mine
made out a list too - here it is. I’ll read it out.”

He took a neatly written list from the pocket of his flannels and read from it. “Old Water-Caves at Chillerbing. Museum of Age-Old Fossils at Tybolds. Norman Tower at Yellow-Moss…”

“Gosh - those are down on
my
list too!” said Pip, scrabbling in his pocket for it. “Yes - all those are down - and two or three more. Roman Remains at Jackling Museum. Sea-pictures at Banshee Towers, at the top of Banshee Hill. Old Musical Instruments at…”

“I don’t want to see
any
of them!” said Bets, suddenly looking very woebegone. “I wouldn’t so much mind the sea-pictures - I like sea-pictures - but I
don’t
like those ugly fossily things, or those…”

“All right, Bets - you shan’t spend lovely spring days in Museums or Norman Towers or Caves,” said Fatty putting his arm round her. “But we might go and see Banshee Towers. You know why it’s called that, don’t you?”

Nobody knew. “Well,” said Fatty, “a banshee means ‘a woman of the fairies’ - and it shrieks and wails when any misfortune or unhappiness comes to the family in whose house it lives.”

“How very unpleasant,” said Daisy, at once. “I’m very glad
my
family doesn’t own a banshee. I should be scared stiff. Does Banshee Towers own a banshee, then?”

“I suppose it did once, when the family lived in it,” said Fatty. “But now that it’s a museum - or a picture-gallery or something - I expect the banshee has retired!”

“I don’t want to go to see Banshee Towers if the banshee still lives there,” said Bets, decidedly. “So you’ll have to find out, Fatty.”

“I honestly shouldn’t worry,” said Fatty. “It would be a pity to let an old-time ‘woman of the fairies’ frighten you from seeing wonderful sea-pictures. And I believe they really
are
wonderful!”

“Well, we’ll make a few expeditions to show our parents that we really are not the lie-abeds they think we are,” said Larry. “It should be rather fun, actually. We could picnic in these places - and I could use one of them for my holiday essay. It would be something to write about - especially the banshee howling. I hope it wails like anything when we’re there!”

“I shan’t go if it does,” said Bets at once. “Hallo - who’s that at the door? Golly, that loud knock made me jump!”

“Who’s there?” demanded Fatty.

“It’s me - Ern,” said a well-known voice outside. “I’ve been sent to stay with my Uncle Theo - Mr Goon, you know - because one of my sisters has measles and I haven’t had it - at least, Mum can’t
remember
me having it. Can I come in?”

“Of course I Come along in, Ern, we’re all here,” said Fatty, and opened the door. Ern stood there, shock-headed as ever and as plump as Fatty, grinning in delight to see his friends again. Buster at once made a great fuss of him.

“Coo, it’s nice to see you all again,” said Ern, sitting down on the floor and hugging the little Scottie. “I didn’t want to come and stay with my uncle - I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me - but I don’t mind putting up with him if you’ll let me be with
you
now and again. Any mysteries going?”

“Not so far, Ern,” said Fatty. “Help yourself to the chocolate biscuits, but DON’T give Buster any. He’s slimming.”

“Luvaduck - is he really?” said Ern. “I must say he feels a bit solid-like. You look a bit balloony too. Fatty.”

“Ern - please remember your manners,” said Fatty, in a shocked voice. “You must
not
refer to people as ‘balloony’. You might easily get a smack on the nose.”

“Oooh, I’m sorry, Fatty,
reeeely
sorry,” said Ern. “Maybe I’ll pick up a few good manners now I’m with you again. I seem to lose them, like, at ‘ome. Er - I mean HOME.”

“It’s good to see you, Ern,” said Fatty. “We are planning to go on some interesting rambles - and you shall come with us, if you like - if your uncle will let you.”

“Coo - I’d like that!” said Ern. “Well. Uncle says I’ve got to Turn To and Look Nippy, and Not Get Under His Feet, and Use my Loaf…”

“Your
loaf
?” said Bets, in surprise. “Do you have a loaf of bread of your own, then?”

“You don’t know much, do you?” grinned Ern, so delighted to be with his old friend again that his eyes shone like stars. “Using your ‘Loaf’ means using your brains, see?”

“Ah yes,” said Fatty, gravely. “Well if we all intend to go sightseeing and learning about Banshees and Old Musical Instruments, and Roman Remains, we must ALL use our - er - loaves. Are we allowed any butter with them, Ern?”

But dear old Ern didn’t see the joke, though the others roared in delight. Ern didn’t mind. It was sheer happiness to him to be with Fatty, Bets, and the rest. They could pull his leg, correct him, laugh at him - they were his friends and he was theirs. Let them do whatever they liked, as long as he could be with them!

It was fun to have Ern again. He enjoyed the company of the five friends so much, and entered into everything with the greatest delight. He sat listening intently as they went on discussing their plans for the next two or three weeks.

“I suppose I couldn’t come with you sometimes?” he said, at last. “I daresay Uncle would let me off now and again. So long as I do the jobs he sets me, of course.”

“Yes, if he’s kind enough to have you to stay, you must certainly help him in any way you can,” said Fatty “His garden, for instance. I passed it the other day - shocking! Full of weeds!”

“That’s what my uncle said,” agreed Ern, mournfully. “Trouble is - I dunno weeds from flowers. Oh, and there’s another thing - he’s letting me have my dog with me while I’m here. What do you think of
that
?”

“
Dog
? I didn’t even know you had one, Ern,” said Pip surprised.

“Well, he’s a bit new, like,” said Ern. “I’ve had him for three weeks. I’m trying to train him good and proper - like you’ve trained old Buster there, Fatty.”

“Good!” said Fatty. “Very good. An untrained dog is a nuisance - nobody likes him. Where is this dog of yours - and what’s he called? What kind is he?”

“I don’t rightly know what kind he is,” said Ern. “He’s a bit of a mixture really; he’s not very big - but he’s got a mighty long tail with a mighty big wag in it - and nice ears that prick up like Buster’s here - and rather short legs. Pity about his legs, really - he looks comic when he runs, you see, and all the other dogs laugh at him.”

“They don’t!” said Bets disbelievingly.

“Well they stand and stare at him, and sort of wink at one another when he comes scuttering by,” said Ern. “His name is Bingo - good name, isn’t it? It suits him too - you wait till you’ve seen him. I like him an awful lot - it’s the first time I’ve had a dog of my own. He’s potty on me you know - thinks I’m the world’s wonder!”

“Just like old Buster then,” said Bets. “He thinks Fatty’s the world’s wonder, don’t you Buster?”

“Woof!” said Buster, agreeing heartily. He went to Fatty and licked his chin, and then put his head on Fatty’s knee, looking up at him adoringly.

“Loving old thing,” said Fatty, and patted him. “Well Ern, I’m awfully glad you’ve a dog of your own. Good for the dog - and good for you, too. You’ll like having someone who looks up to you and thinks that everything you do is right! But look after him well, won’t you?”

“Where is this Bingo?” asked Larry.

“I’ve locked him in the wood-shed at Uncle’s,” said Ern. “You see - well, I didn’t know if you’d like me to bring him along. Buster mightn’t like him.”

“Rubbish!” said Fatty, getting up. “Any dog is a friend of Buster’s if he belongs to one of us. Let’s go and visit this dog of yours and take him for a walk.”

“You’re a real sport, Fatty,” said Ern, his face glowing. “Come on, then.”

They all went out of the shed and made their way to Peterswood Village, Buster dancing round in joy, sniffing along the hedges, barking at a sparrow, wagging his tail without a stop.

“Is your uncle in a good temper today?” enquired Larry.

“So-so,” said Ern, with a grin. “He smiled when I cleaned his big boots for him - and he frowned when I upset the milk. He doesn’t know I’ve come to see you.”,

“Why didn’t you tell him?” asked Bets. “You’re not
scared
of him, are you?”

“Oh, I’m proper scared of Uncle all right,” said Ern. “Bit too free with his hands, he is. I’d like to have sixpence for every slap he’s given me - I’d be rich by now -
swimming
in sixpences! I don’t think he’ll be too pleased if I go about with you too much, so I shan’t tell him anything.”

They came to Goon’s little house, which stood not far from the police station. As soon as they opened the gate a terrific volley of blood-curdling howls greeted them, and something hurled itself against the wood-shed door.

“That’s him - that’s Bingo,” said Ern, in pride. “I hope Uncle’s out. He wouldn’t like that noise at all. Hey, Bingo! I’ve brought friends to see you.”

Buster the Scottie was astonished and rather alarmed to hear the extraordinary noise from the shed. He put his head on one side and pricked up his ears to sharp points. He gave a little growl.

“It’s all right. Buster,” said Ern. “That’s my dog in there. Hey, Bingo, come along out!” And he slipped the catch of the door and opened it.

Out shot something at sixty miles an hour, gave one horrified look at the crowd of children, and disappeared at top speed through the gate.

“That’s him!” said Ern, proudly, as Bingo shot down the road. “What do you think of him, Fatty?”

“Well, I really only caught sight of his tail,” said Fatty. “But that certainly looked fine. Look out, here comes old Goon - your uncle, Ern. He looks pretty bad-tempered too.”

Mr Goon had opened his front door, and was standing there in his uniform, helmet and all, glaring in his best manner.

“ERN! What’s the matter with that dog of yours, barking like that? Has he gone mad or something? Where is he?”

“I don’t know, Uncle,” said Ern, truthfully. “He shot off at top speed. I only hope he hasn’t gone back to my home. He might catch measles, and come out in nasty spots.”