Strange Star (7 page)

Already we’d learned a thing or two about the mysterious Mr Walton. Yet we’d still not done what we’d come here to do.

‘I’m going to knock on his door and give back his button,’ I said. ‘And then, since he didn’t answer me the other day, I’ll ask him what he was doing in the churchyard.’ For though the stuffed dead dog showed a softer side to Mr Walton, I still didn’t believe Da’s suggestion, that he’d been there to pay us his respects.

Walking the last stretch of driveway, I held tightly onto Mercy’s arm. I’d never knocked on such a grand front door before, and it made my stomach flutter with nerves. Yet no one stopped us to ask our business. The place was eerily silent.

‘Where’s everyone gone?’ Mercy said. Then, when we’d nearly reached the steps she gasped, ‘Oh!’

A flurry of footsteps rushed towards us. I heard a
thud, a crunch as something – or someone – sank onto the gravel.

‘Oh my word!’ Mercy cried. ‘It’s Peg!’

I stopped in my tracks.
‘Peg?’

It completely threw me.

‘What the heck are you doing here? Why aren’t you with Da? And mind out,’ I added. ‘There’s broken glass all across the driveway.’

Peg didn’t get the chance to explain herself. More footsteps pounded towards us. Then came a man’s voice, terrifyingly angry. ‘Put that down at once, you little heller!’

Another man joined in. ‘If you don’t drop that this minute, I’ll …’

There were thuds and grunts and Peg shouting, ‘Ouch! Get off me!’

It was too much.

‘Let go of my sister this minute!’ I yelled, rushing towards their voices. But the ground suddenly dipped. My ankle turned sideways and I fell down with a thump.

‘Oh Lord, there’s another girl!’ The man sounded close. ‘And another one behind her, look!’

They meant Mercy, I guessed, who was now beside me.

‘Get up!’ she hissed, heaving on my arm.

I staggered to my feet.

‘So much for keeping this a secret. It’ll be round the village in no time!’ said the other man, and to us, ‘Snooping about, are you, girls? Then you’d best turn round and disappear. Sharpish.’

‘Not until you let my sister go,’ I said.

‘Gladly,’ said the man. ‘Take her home and don’t come back.’

I expected Peg to rush towards me; she didn’t.

‘He’s let her go,’ Mercy whispered. ‘But she’s clinging to that stuffed dog creature.’

‘Peg,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘You’ve to come immediately.’

‘It’s not right what they’ve done to this dog,’ she wailed. ‘A pet deserves a burial, don’t it?’

‘That’s no one’s pet!’ the man sneered.

Mercy whistled under her breath. ‘I’ve never seen a dog that big before!’

As we moved nearer to Peg, broken glass crunched underfoot. In the grey daylight, the men appeared as vague, wide shadows.

‘Peg,’ I said. ‘Come here, please.’

‘I don’t reckon she’s going to let it go,’ Mercy muttered.

I’d had enough. So too, it seemed, had the men.

‘You break that animal, girl, and I’ll break you!’ one man said.

‘Grab it from her,’ said the other.

Someone gasped. Groaned. I rushed forward, dragging Mercy with me. A boot caught my kneecap. Fists whizzed past my ear. All around me bodies heaved: one of them was Peg’s. Grabbing and snatching, I felt hair, shirt sleeves, fingers. And the dry, coarse fur of that enormous dead dog. When, at last, I touched a thin shoulder, I grabbed it with all my might.

‘No!’ squealed Peg. ‘Let me alone!’

‘Fat chance,’ I said. ‘You’re coming with me.’

I wrapped my arms tight around her wriggling middle. More shouts came. More flying fists. Mercy yanked my sleeve. It caught me off balance. My feet somehow tangled in her skirts and we fell together in a heap – Mercy, me and Peg still squirming in my arms. Where that stuffed dog was now I’d no idea. But she’d clearly let go of it at last.

To our right, a door creaked open. Someone came out. Their boots went clippety-clip down the steps. Then stopped.

‘What THE DEVIL is going on here?’ a new voice said.

We scrambled to our feet.

‘Crikey,’ Peg whispered, slipping her hand into mine. ‘It’s the scientist man.’

‘Bit late to be scared now,’ I replied. In truth, I was cringing with embarrassment. This really wasn’t going to plan.

‘Mr Walton, sir.’ One of the men addressed him. ‘We’ve had a little incident …’

‘Quiet, Jeffers!’ Mr Walton snapped. ‘Clear that glass up. And take the animal inside. I trust the other one is safe?’

‘Yes, s-s-sir … he’s already in the stable block, as requested. He came in with the previous cartload.’

‘Good,’ Mr Walton muttered. ‘We can’t afford any more mistakes.’

I supposed he meant the glass cases, which would be expensive to replace. Though why anyone would keep a stuffed dog in a stable I didn’t know.

The daylight darkened as a shadow loomed over me.

‘Ah, Miss Appleby,’ Mr Walton said, speaking as if his teeth were clenched. ‘And what, pray, brings you here?’ He was struggling to stay polite – and he wasn’t the only one pretending. Chin up, shoulders squared, I tried my best to seem brave.

‘The other day, sir, we saw you at my mother’s grave.
Did you know her somehow? Only I wondered why you were there,’ I said.

‘Your
mother’s grave
?’ He gave a short, irritable laugh. ‘You’re mistaken.’

‘No, sir. There aren’t many in Sweepfield who look like you.’

‘I assure you, child, it most certainly wasn’t me. Perhaps you should be on your way.’

But I wasn’t about to be so readily dismissed, not when I knew he was lying.

‘After you’d gone I found this button in the grass and I believe it’s yours, sir.’ My fingers shook as I dug deep into my pocket. In the corners, I found breadcrumbs and bits of hay. The button, however, had vanished.

Instinctively, I glanced down, thinking it must’ve fallen out when I’d wrestled Peg. All I saw was dark, fuzzy grey: I’d never find a brass button. Nor would Peg or Mercy who could actually see, not on a gravel driveway. And not with Mr Walton breathing down our necks.

‘So where is this button?’ he demanded.

‘It appears …’ I cleared my throat, ‘… that I’ve dropped it. I had it though, I swear.’

‘She did. I saw it too,’ Mercy chipped in.

I sensed Mr Walton’s attention fixed on me. ‘Miss Appleby. I’m at a loss as to why you came here.’

‘To give back your button, sir. And to ask why you were in the churchyard.’

‘Yet there is no button, and I’ve given you my word that I wasn’t in the churchyard, so you’re clearly wasting your time.’

I didn’t agree. After all, I’d witnessed his cart being unloaded and a whole pig disappearing down a side path to who knew where. Mr Walton, it seemed, was a strange man with strange habits. My suspicions about him were growing.

‘I have work to do, so if you’d care to leave,’ he said.

Sensing he’d moved closer, I stepped back.

‘And in case you’re planning any more
visits
,’ his voice became low and threatening, ‘I’ll remind you that what goes on at this house is nobody’s business. It’s private, secret work. And you …’ He seemed to be addressing Peg. ‘If that animal is damaged in any way, you’ll pay for it, understand?’

Pulling Peg to me, I crossed my arms firmly over her chest.

‘My sister meant no harm, sir,’ I said. ‘There’s no need to frighten her.’ I was feeling distinctly uneasy myself.

‘Do you know what that animal is, Miss Appleby?’

‘Why, ’tis a big dog.’

He gave another short, bad-tempered laugh. ‘Indeed, it is a
big dog.
And if it comes to any harm …’

‘But it’s dead,’ I interrupted. ‘What harm can come to it?’

Maybe Mercy saw the look on his face, for she started plucking at my sleeve.

‘We’ll be on our way now. Good day,’ she said.

It was too late. From the direction of the front door came more footsteps. Then another voice, one I knew very well. I should’ve realised: if Peg was at Eden Court, it was because Da was here somewhere too.

‘Mr Walton, I’ve one more question regarding the workbench. Will you be wanting …’ Da stopped.

I imagined how it must look to him – the broken glass, the smashed case, Jeffers the servant frantically trying to clear the mess. And us – Peg, me, Mercy – all being dressed down by the man who paid Da’s wages.

‘I didn’t mean to run off, Da!’ cried Peg. ‘You told me to wait out in the yard, I know. But then the cart pulled up and I only wanted a quick look.’

Though she strained to get free and run to him, I held her fast. She couldn’t worm her way out of this one.

Pa marched us home without a single word. The silence between us bristled like that dead dog’s fur. As we went back along the Netherton road, Mercy whispered that people were staring at us. It did nothing to improve my spirits.

Once we were back inside our house with the door firmly shut and Mercy sent home, Da properly let rip.

‘You pair of idiots! What d’you think you were doing?’

Neither of us answered.

‘Well, I s’pect Mr Walton won’t want my services any more, thanks to you both.’

‘But Da,’ I said. ‘We only—’

He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘Quiet! I’m ashamed of you, d’you hear me?’

Peg started to cry. For once, no one comforted her.

It struck me how different he sounded. How bitter and angry. Everything he said to us these days seemed to be in this same tone.

‘Peg, I told you to wait outside while I spoke to Mr Walton. But Lizzie, what the heck were
you
doing there?’ Da asked.

I kept my gaze down. Whatever I said was going to sound stupid. ‘Umm … I wanted to ask Mr Walton … something.’

‘This isn’t about the graveyard again, is it?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘For goodness’ sake, the man’s entitled to go out in public, isn’t he?’

‘Well, he gives me the shivers,’ I muttered.

‘Mr Walton is doing important scientific work. He’s trying to find new and exciting uses for electricity. It’s truly remarkable what he’s on the brink of discovering, so just think of that rather than reasons to dislike a man you barely know.’

‘Electricity? How?’ I couldn’t hide my interest. ‘Like that other scientist who discovered it could light up a lamp or something?’

‘Exactly. Though Mr Walton says his research will take things much, much further. He’s got big plans, you know. One day, when he’s a world-famous scientist, we’ll all be proud to have him as our neighbour.’

I wasn’t sure about this last part. Even so, I was intrigued. What exactly
was
Mr Walton doing at Eden Court? What made his work so top secret, and so certain to win him worldwide fame?

‘The man’s a genius, Lizzie – a genius who pays my wages. It doesn’t much matter what you
think
of him,’ Da said. ‘So just watch yourself, all right?’

Which, as a girl blinded by lightning, was easier said than done.

The very next night I woke with a start. The moon shining through the window was so bright it made everything glow a soft, hazy grey. Mam always used to say a full moon made her restless. But that wasn’t what had woken me. Outside, a bucket clanked. I propped myself up on my elbows to listen. The geese were making a low keening noise that meant they were nervous. Something was in our back yard.

My first thought was, ‘FOX!’

And it was my fault, I realised in horror, because I’d forgotten to shut the birds up in the barn.

Jumping out of bed, I raced for the stairs. But as my foot missed the first step, I lurched forward, elbows, shoulders, feet bumping the wall on the way down. I landed hard on the flagstones, the wind knocked out of me.

This was a stupid idea.

Yet how frustrating it was to always need another
person’s help. Like now, as I got to my feet, calling upstairs to Da. Through the ceiling I heard his bed creak as he coughed and rolled over. But he didn’t wake.

I tried Peg instead. ‘Come down! I need you!’

As I pulled on my boots, no one stirred, though something outside clattered to the ground. The geese shrieked. If I stood any chance of saving my flock, I’d have to handle this myself. Finding the back door, I opened it.

This wasn’t a fox – I knew straight away. There was no fetid stink, no half-dead birds still flapping. Not even a squabble or hiss. Though my heart thumped hard as anything.

The moon made our yard seem almost daylight bright. Or maybe it was the comet, still streaking across the heavens that filled me with a now familiar dread. Gingerly, I felt my way across the cobbles. Then, to my left, I heard a rustle in the hedge. It sounded absurdly loud, and bigger than any fox. It was, I decided, a person.

I knew I should go inside and shake Da awake. Except there wasn’t time. In five big strides, I’d reached the hedge. I kicked it hard. ‘Come out, whoever you are! And hand over my geese!’

The rustling stopped. Then came a mighty crash, a
rushing sound. Someone leapt from the hedge, out into the lane beyond, and was gone.

Who the heck it was, I’d no idea. But they were big, I was sure of it – easily Da’s size, and all the heavier, no doubt, for having
my
geese tucked under their arms or slung over their shoulder in a sack.

It was insane to think I should go after them: I’d no idea who I’d be following or what might happen if I did catch them up. Yet the instinct to get my birds back was too strong. Standing here
not
knowing felt even worse. I had to do something.

Once I’d found our gate, I lifted the latch. I tried to ignore the fear that crawled up my limbs. So long as I kept straight ahead, away from the ditches, I’d be all right.

Slowly, purposefully, my feet shuffled forward.

There was no Peg to guide me. No Mercy. No Da. I was alone. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to do something completely by myself. In amongst the fear was a little thrill of excitement that focused my mind. Whoever had taken my geese, I’d do my best to track them down. The fact that it was the middle of the night might make things harder. But at least there’d be no villagers awake to see me try.

Out in Crockers Lane, I turned left towards the
village. Only then did I smell it. Just a waft, then it was gone.

It wasn’t sharp like fox. It smelt of wet, musty dog. Of woods and the way fallen leaves smell after rain. Whoever’s scent it was had been there in our hedge. It was very unnerving.

The lane itself was shadowy and dark. I walked as fast as I dared, feeling with my feet and concentrating hard. I stumbled often. Finally, as the lane swung left towards the village green, I smelt it again: wet fur, wet leaves, rain. And I felt a fresh surge of fear. This scent, I realised, was more animal than human. I began to wonder if I was following a person at all.

Up ahead lay the village green, its large open space made pale by the moonlight. The strange smell grew fainter. Instead, I caught the salty sweetness of fresh grass. I walked on a few more yards. Now I couldn’t smell anything. Or hear anything. The person – or
thing
– had vanished. All I felt was the night pressing in on me.

I told myself to be brave. I’d made it this far. Now wasn’t the time to give up. I thought of Mam and how she kept going when times got tough. If I listened hard enough I could still hear her voice inside my head, and it urged me on.

Now I had to decide where to go next. Luckily the church clock had just chimed the quarter hour, so I knew the church was to my right. Which meant the main street with its post office and Mercy’s mam’s bakery was over to the left. It was in this direction that I decided to head.

I’d gone only a few yards when I caught another waft of that strange, leafy smell. It grew stronger as I walked. Soon I’d passed the post office, which loomed shadow-like in the darkness. And then as my feet hit cobbles, I knew I’d reached the sharp left turning onto Mill Lane. The smell was at its strongest here. My heart began to pound. At last I was closing in on this
thing
I’d followed. I only prayed my geese were also nearby.

Mill Lane ran very steeply down towards the river. It was lined with flint cottages that clung to the hillside like fungi on a tree. I had to steady myself against them just to keep on my feet. All the while I listened out for the squawk of geese but instead, to my shock, I heard voices. They were raised and anxious, and coming from lower down the street. As I got closer, I saw pockets of light – the swinging, flickering type that shines from lanterns – and shrank back into the shadows.

‘How the devil did it get out?’ The speaker was Mr Walton.

I tried to breathe normally. But the thudding in my chest seemed so loud now, I was sure any moment he’d hear it.

‘Sir, we kept the gates shut,’ said a man. He sounded familiar too, perhaps one of those servants we’d grappled with at Eden Court. ‘We have to be mighty careful, otherwise it puts the horses at risk.’

Horses? Risk?

I recalled then what they’d said yesterday about a second stuffed dog, the one they’d taken to the stable yard. But how could something dead be a threat to the horses?

‘And you fed it, as we arranged?’ Mr Walton asked.

Now I was more confused.

‘The whole pig, sir,’ the servant said. ‘Every last scrap. That village boy’s bringing them every day now.’

‘Then I really don’t see how …’

A new voice cut in. ‘Oh do be quiet.’ The speaker was a woman. ‘This …
situation
… is about the hunt, not the hunger,’ she said. ‘You must understand the nature of what we are dealing with here.’

‘With due respect, I think …’

‘Clearly you don’t
think
, Mr Walton,’ she said. ‘Otherwise we wouldn’t be here having this conversation now.’

There was no comeback. No reply. I didn’t even know there was a woman at Eden Court, for this one didn’t sound like a housemaid. Whoever she was, she’d put Mr Walton firmly in his place and I couldn’t help but be impressed.

‘Well, I do believe it’s passed this way,’ said Mr Walton eventually. ‘Look.’

He seemed to be prodding something squelchy and soft.

‘Is it dead?’ asked the servant.

‘Very,’ said the woman. ‘There are more carcasses over here. See how their innards have been eaten. A fox would’ve merely bitten off their heads.’

It began to dawn on me what they were referring to. I swallowed queasily.

‘Thank heavens it’s only a goose. We really must be more careful in future,’ she said.

Only
a goose? If it was one of mine, then that bird had a name, a character. And with growing horror, I wondered what the heck it was that had come into our yard and taken every single bird.

‘Fortune favours us for the moment,’ Mr Walton replied. ‘The villagers are starting to think the Appleby girl is to blame. She has a penchant for other people’s animals.’

Peg.

In shock, I clapped a hand over my mouth. They were talking about my sister. This was getting stranger and more twisted by the second.

‘Appleby? She’s the lightning girl, is she not?’ the woman asked.

‘She is.’

They were wrong. Peg wasn’t the one hit by lightning; that was me. And Mam.

‘Then that’s not fortune, you fool!’ the woman spat. ‘That’s a considerable
inconvenience
. The last thing we want is
more
attention drawn to her. Or to us.’

By now I was so muddled, my head felt ready to burst. Yet flinching, I remembered Mr Walton at Mam’s grave. How he’d recognised us by our surname that day outside the shop. And how he’d lied about the brass button.

My sense about him had been right. He
was
up to something. And it seemed he had a peculiar interest in us. The question was
why
.

Footsteps came up the hill towards me. The voices sounded suddenly very near. I shrank even further into the shadows and held my breath.

Three, maybe four people passed by so close I smelt the leather of their boots. There was another odour
too – sharp and chemical like the varnish Da used. When they’d gone a safe distance, I breathed again.

Then.

Someone came back towards me. A light was thrust in my face. I recoiled.

‘Don’t you ever give up?’ Mr Walton hissed in my ear. There was no ‘Miss Appleby’ this time, no cool charm.

‘I’m … I’m …’ Lifting my chin, I found the words. ‘I’m looking for my geese. And there aren’t any laws that say I can’t.’

‘Forget your wretched geese. What of our conversation did you hear just now?’

‘Nothing,’ I lied.

‘Did you see anything?’

‘No! Of course not!’ I was amazed he’d even ask.

Further up the street, the woman called to him.

‘Oh do keep up, Mr Walton! Or are you hoping to deprive me of
all
my sleep tonight?’

He went to go, then turned back again.

‘A word of warning,’ he said. ‘If this gets out I’ll know it was you, and you’ll be sorry.’

I smelled something else, then. It was fear, coming off him like fumes.