The Beast of Seabourne (17 page)

She nodded, and her gaze drifted towards the window. “Because that might be an explanation for what happened…” She let the suggestion drift in the chemical air.

“Are you saying that my dad crashed his car because something evil in his house made him do it?” Oz felt like laughing out loud, but didn't.

“All I'm saying is that it can't be discounted completely.

Gwen tells me that the circumstances were…unusual, to say the least. It's unlikely that the authorities would ever consider it as a cause, but you and your mother need to think about that. If there is a restless spirit here in Penwurt, it could be a once in-a-lifetime opportunity…”

“I don't think that—” Oz began.

Though she kept her gaze on the houses beyond, she was quick to cut him off. “Open your mind, Ozzie. Your mother is beginning to. You need to as well.”

Oz shook his head. He could hardly believe he was hearing this old codswallop. And being called Ozzie was intensely irritating. He wanted to tell her he knew what had happened to Edward Bishop, and it had nothing to do with possession by spirits. He wanted to tell her what was fantastic about Penwurt was Morsman and his artefacts, and that the proof of their existence was the black pebble in his pocket. However, Rowena Hilditch was the very last person he would ever confide in. Already he felt he'd told her more than enough. She must've sensed his hesitation, and she turned back towards him, her expression lost in silhouette against the window.

“I can help your mother,” she said.

“How? What Mum needs are lodgers to help pay for stuff, not rubbish about spirits possessing people.”

She ignored him. “In a month or so, I
will
be a lodger here. And if my plans come off, you'll get tenants by the score. They'll be queuing up around the block.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but her words had stymied him. His response caught at the back of his throat, forcing a clumsy and loud swallow before he managed a husky “What plans?”

Rowena Hilditch tilted her head and tapped her nose.

A secret little smile played over her lips. “I'm working on them, Ozzie, rest assured. You'll be the first to know when they're ready.”

She pushed herself off the windowsill and beamed at him. “Right, where to next?”

He took her up to the dorm and heard her little yelp of astonishment at the decorated ceilings and her gasps of amazement at the old photos on the walls, but he was hardly listening. It was a relief when she finally said it was getting late and that she had meetings to get to. Oz took her back to the kitchen, made his excuses, and left her and his mum to it, never more grateful for a chance to get away.

In his room, Oz mulled over what Rowena Hilditch had said to him. The idea that the Beast of Seabourne was actually back on the rampage was silly…wasn't it? He decided to ask Soph for the details. Seconds later, she was there, tilting her head.

“There was a series of well-reported and savage attacks over a two-year period beginning in 1759, which left five people dead and several more injured. No culprit was ever caught, but there were sightings of a large creature. At that time, there was little proper communication, and transport was difficult. Solitary farmhands and shepherdesses were easy targets. However, the local parson's daughter also lost her life. Her death, since her father was a noted historian, brought the events to the nation's attention.”

“What was her name?”

“Jane Beaufort. She was sixteen.”

Oz paused. Giving the victims names somehow made it worse. “So, what do you think this thing was?” he asked eventually.

“Such attacks are usually perpetrated by individuals, either for gain or as a result of criminal insanity. It is, however, understandable that the population of the time would interpret such attacks as supernatural. Superstition was a way of life then.”

“And what about now? The rumours about Skinner?”

“The same explanation might apply. His attack was carried out either for gain or by someone with a disturbed mind.”

That made Oz think all sorts of unpleasant thoughts. To distract himself, he opened his great-great-uncle's medal box and looked at the medals. He had no idea what they were for, but they looked impressive, and he toyed with the idea of looking them up. It was no good; Rowena Hilditch's explanation of the Beast of Seabourne was all he could think about. Sighing, he closed the box and placed it on a shelf near the window, meaning to look at the contents later.

The trouble was, he had no explanation at all for what had happened to Skinner, and although the Beast of Seabourne theory sounded like complete rubbish, until he found a better one it seemed about as good as any.

When he thought about it though, it wasn't only the wacky theory about the Beast that gnawed at him; it was what else Rowena Hilditch had hinted at. Knowing she was hatching plans made his insides quiver. The last thing he wanted was Penwurt's secrets explored by people like…her.

He looked at Soph calmly watching him, waiting patiently for instructions, and felt his chest swell with wonder. She was truly amazing. Seeing her there, constant and unflappable, put everything suddenly into perspective, and he felt a surge of determination grip him.

He got up and went to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He'd made a solemn promise to his dead father to find out why Soph was here and to do what he could to help her. Those were his priorities, and he wasn't going to let Rowena Hilditch or her wacky theories get in his way.

Chapter 8

Chivyon House

The rest of the week dragged by, and Oz spent most of it racking his brains for a way to approach Bendle. It was lucky he had Soph to help him with that, because Rowena Hilditch, who was supposed to be advising his mother on colour schemes, kept distracting him. Or rather, she stuck her nose in wherever she could. Oz lost count of the times he bumped into her on the stairs or around the door to the old orphanage, peering in at the cavernous atrium longingly.

“It's sooo spooky,” she'd say, smiling and giving him a dramatic shiver.

“Yeah,” Oz would answer with a forced smile, while his brain screamed, “mental.” So far, he'd always managed to find good excuses for not engaging her in conversation. In fact, it was the first time ever that he was actually grateful for having lots of homework to do. Even so, she was never far from his thoughts.

On Saturday morning, Oz was still talking about his anxieties over her vague plans as he, Ellie, and Ruff rode on the free bus to Canal Street market.

“She's obviously round the twist, mate,” Ruff said when he'd finished.

“Maybe,” Oz said, “but she's cunning with it. She knows that all she has to do is mention money, and my mother will sit up like a dog expecting a bone. Mum thinks she's the best thing since sliced Wonder Loaf.”

“Still no lodgers, then?” Ellie asked.

Oz shook his head.

“Well, I wouldn't trust her. She sounds a bit flaky pastry to me,” Ruff said. “Don't think she's a Puffer, do you?”

“That's a thought,” Ellie said. “Is she connected to Gerber?”

“Soph says no, but I've still got her working on that,”

Oz said.

The bus trundled on towards the bustling Saturday market and pulled up in front of the entrance. “Tell me again, why are we here?” Ruff asked as they got up to disembark. Oz had looked for any sign of the churlishness he'd seen in Ruff after the science test, but there was none. Oz's pact with Ellie not to talk about the science test unless Ruff brought it up had been a good strategy; Ruff seemed his old, easily distracted, constantly hungry self.

“I told you; we need to find something that looks like the ceramic ring,” Oz said. “Bendle agreed to see me because I said I'd found a ring wrapped in a note with his name on it. If I turn up with nothing…”

“But we're hardly likely to find something that weird here,” Ruff said.

“When was the last time you were at this market?” Ellie sent him a knowing grin as she set off briskly. “Most of the jewellery and stuff is down at the far end.”

Ruff groaned but then brightened considerably.

“What have you just remembered?” Ellie asked warily.

“That they do wicked doughnuts at the café down that end.”

Ellie gave him a withering look. “Do you ever think of anything but food?”

Ruff frowned. “Can I answer that one after we've eaten?”

Ellie huffed and kept walking. They threaded their way through the Saturday market crowds, and Oz explained what had happened when he'd rung Bendle up.

“‘Course, he's ex-directory, but Soph had no trouble finding his number.”

“What was he like?” Ellie asked.

Oz shrugged. “Bit weird to start with. Thought I was trying to sell him insurance or something. But when I explained that I was from Penwurt and what I'd found, he was all smarmy.”

They passed a stall selling cheap sweets, and Ruff stopped to get some white chocolate mice, candy shrimps, and refreshers.

“My dad loves this stuff,” Ruff explained. “They'll cheer him up.”

“So what happened next?” Ellie asked, turning down the offer of a shocking-pink sugary shrimp from Ruff as she matched Oz stride for stride,

“Soph gave me a printout of what the ring looks like, so I described it in detail, and he got all excited and asked me to take it round to his place as soon as possible.”

“Except there is no ring,” Ruff said, frowning.

“Not yet. But we'll buy something here and show that to him. Hopefully, it'll get him talking about the real one.” Oz took out a much-folded A4 sheet and showed it to them. It revealed a gold-rimmed black ring. On both the inside and outside of the black band was a network of gold filigree that resembled lettering, but not in any language Oz recognized.

“Wow,” Ellie said.

“Buzzard,” Ruff added.

“It's amazing, isn't it?” Oz said.

They reached the jewellery section and Oz suggested they split up. “Give me a shout if you find anything remotely likely. Oh, and just in case we're being followed, use your mobiles—text only. Remember I'm 1, Ellie's 2, and Ruff 's 3, okay?”

In the end, it was Ellie who found the nearest match, on a stall that sold everything from battered dinky toys to headscarves. In one corner of a cluttered table was a yard-square tray full of black jewellery. Ellie's text said simply, “Possible sighted, 2.”

The stallholder was a wiry, cheerful woman with a red face and dark eyes that looked like she'd spent a lot of time in murky, and very smoky, rooms.

“How much?” Oz asked, pointing to the ring Ellie had found.

“For you, dear, 'cos you've got a lovely smile, a fiver.”

Oz turned and consulted with Ruff and Ellie in a huddle. “That's a lot of money to pay for tat,” Ruff said in a voice meant for just the three of them, but which caused the stallholder's eyes to narrow.

“But we need it to get You-Know-Who talking,” Oz whispered.

“Still,” Ruff said.

“Look, I'm not expecting either of you to pay. I've got a bit of birthday money left, so…”

From behind the stall, the dark-eyed woman was watching. “Four quid, that's my best offer,” she said.

Oz nodded but turned back to the other two for their opinion. “We could look around a bit more,” Ellie said.

“All right, all right,” said the stallholder, shaking her head. “Three quid it is. But you're taking the bread from my mouth, you know that?”

Oz grinned and dug out the money from his pocket.

It took them half an hour and a packet of doughnuts to get back to the bus station in town. Mindful of their jaunt to Mr Eldred, they split up, returned to the bus station separately, and waited until the very last moment before jumping on a Number 56 that would take them to Bog Sturgess, a sleepy little village nestling in the hills to the north of Seabourne. They sat in the back, and Oz was relieved to see no sign of any JG Telecom vans behind them.

After half an hour, the bus dropped them off in Bog Sturgess; its main street was lined on the one side by honeycoloured cottages and on the other by the sluggish waters of a river. At the far end was a large coach house with a painted sign that read
The White Swan
. Immediately before it, a stone bridge led over the river to a park, in which sat a lake dotted with ducks. Beyond, a copse of trees swayed lazily in the breeze.

“Wow,” Ruff said. “This looks just like the picture on the box of biscuits I bought my gran for Christmas.”

“Hard to believe somewhere like this is a half-hour bus ride from Seabourne,” Ellie said.

“But what do people do here?” Ruff asked, looking around at the crowds and the quaint shops.

“Maybe they don't do anything,” Oz said. “My mum says it's a place that people come to when they retire.”

“Is that why Bendle is here?” Ellie asked.

“Why don't we ask him?” Oz took out a bit of paper with an address. “Soph, where is Chivyon House?”

Soph's voice reached them from the direction of Oz's right upper arm. “Over the bridge and north for a mile.”

“Brilliant idea to slip the pebble into that MP3 pouch,” Ellie said, grinning.

“Feel like a bit of a nerd,” Oz said.

“That's 'cos you are one, mate,” Ruff said, and dodged forward to avoid the kick Oz aimed at him.

Although it wasn't yet Easter, Bog Sturgess was busy with tourists. On the bridge, a group of backpackers posed for photographs. Ahead of them on the street, a bus disgorged a group of goggling Japanese, one of whom asked Ruff in halting English to take a photo of him, his wife, and his giggling daughters, much to Oz and Ellie's amusement. They crossed the bridge and, following Soph's instructions, headed across the park towards the low hills behind. After ten minutes' walking, at last they came to a kissing gate that led to a canal towpath.