‘That poor man has children and all.’
‘They say the signals were working fine.’
‘Would you look at all these useless men around? They’ve no hope of solving this riddle.’
‘Emily saw him on the train bore the crash,’ said Granny Smith.
At this, all the grannies, and there must have been about ten of them, turned to look at Emily. They had concern in their eyes, which turned to pity when they caught sight of Malcolm. Then they turned away, back to their gossip.
A railway official wearing the heavy, navy suit and high-visibility, yellow vest that passed for a uniform, raised a megaphone to his mouth and started talking. Then he clumsily switched the megaphone on, just in time for the gathered throng to hear his curses. All the grannies roared their displeasure at his language.
‘I’m so sorry. I... I want to thank you all for coming down this morning. I have two things to ask you. Would all passengers who were on the train last night please form an orderly line to my right? You will be brought to the luggage and then you will be asked a few questions by the police. Then could I ask all those who were out and about in the area between nine and midnight last night to form a line to my left? The police want to see if you saw any unusual activity or persons behaving suspiciously. Thanks. There’ll be tea and sandwiches for everyone afterwards.’
After much muttering and arguing, it was decided that Granny Smith would go into the line with Emily and Malcolm, while Granny Annie and the others joined the other line, with one granny dispatched to sniff out the sandwiches. Emily and Malcolm filed into an old luggage storage room, which was brown with age, huge spider webs clinging to the bulbs that hung on long wires from the rusty steel roof trusses. The luggage seemed in good condition, just a few items had tears or scorch marks.
Emily quickly spotted her case. Its being bright pink and covered in Tipp-Exed graffiti about her favourite boybands and movie stars certainly helped. No sign of damage. Good. Malcolm’s bag was a dirty old rucksack. Emily couldn’t tell whether it had been damaged in the crash, as it was torn and filthy to begin with. Malcolm seemed happy, though. They walked through the room and emerged back into the light through a door at the end.
Rickety, old trestle tables were set up outside and railway men asked them to check the bags to ensure that they were theirs and that all was right inside. This they did. Granny Smith was delighted that the kids’ stuff was fine as this would save Granny Annie from having a heart attack. She signed disclaimer forms on the children’s behalf, to confirm that their belongings had been safely found. Then, at the next table, sat two police officers. They asked the children a series of questions.
‘Where did you board the train?’
‘Where was your intended destination?’
‘Did you notice anything unusual about the ticket inspector’s behaviour?’
‘Did you notice any unusual behaviour among the other passengers?’
‘What happened when the train stopped?’
Emily answered most of the questions, with Malcolm mumbling the occasional ‘Aha’ to confirm her recollections. When they asked if there was anything else that Emily thought important, she told them about the strange man who had made the inspector nervous, just bore the crash. The policemen were very interested in this aspect of the journey and took copious notes. They quizzed Emily at length on the man’s appearance and actions, but there was little she could tell them. They thanked her for her help, took her grannies’ contact details and looked to the next people to emerge from the luggage room.
‘By the way,’ asked Emily, ‘Is it true that children have disappeared from that train bore?’
The police looked embarrassed. They glanced at each other.
‘I’m afraid we can’t comment on that,’ said one, ‘It’s part of an ongoing investigation. Thank you for your assistance. Now move along please.’
This unsettled Emily, but Granny Smith held her hand tightly and winked at her as they went back outside the station.
‘We’ll get to the bottom of this, my dear. Don’t you worry.’
As they went looking for Granny Annie, they found a commotion. There were grannies of all shapes and sizes clustering around one spot. They jostled any men or younger women out of their way and some sharp elbows made contact with male ribs.
‘That’ll be the tea and sangwiches,’ said Granny Smith, ‘are ye hungry?’
They declined the offer, still feeling full from breakfast.
‘It’s probably only cheap ham on stale bread, anyway,’ she suggested.
Granny Annie muscled her way out of the mob and came to them.
‘All that for cheap ham and stale bread,’ she snarled in disgust, as she downed her sandwich in two bites. She was greatly cheered when she saw that both Emily and Malcolm had retrieved their bags.
‘Any news?’ asked Granny Smith.
‘They haven’t a clue what happened last night. Not a notion. I think we’re going to have to get to the bottom of this one ourselves. We’re having a meeting tonight. Our place. Nine o’clock. When these two are sound asleep.’
She winked at Emily as she said this.
‘We’d better get to the shops, then.’
Chapter 5: GUILTY PLEASURES
They walked the short distance to the village store. It was one of those real old-fashioned shops you sometimes see in the country, with at least one of almost anything you could possibly want on display. There were shovels and sharp knives, bread and butter, cabbage and cauliflower, matches and batteries, strange newspapers and sweets and a thousand other items, some of which were entirely alien to Emily’s eye. The kids hung around the counter, eyeing up the assortment of unusual sweets on display.
Malcolm was amazed to see jars of sweets, of all different colours and shapes, on sale by weight, instead of in a plastic packet. The grannies bustled around the shop for many minutes and returned with armfuls of food, candles and a huge bag of dry cat food. As the shopkeeper, a wizened old lady with thick-lensed glasses and a heavy bainin cardigan, added up the cost of the provisions and packed them into large paper bags, Granny Smith saw that the children were hypnotised by the sweet display.
‘And could you give us two mixed quarters of your finest sweets for these young ones please, Mrs Reilly? They’ve been through a lot.’
Mrs Reilly nodded and even Granny Annie smiled. Obviously her own childhood wasn’t totally forgotten.
After the shop, Granny Smith insisted that she needed a medicinal glass of Guinness for her poor heart. So they all trooped up the hill to Paddy & Mary’s Pub. While Granny sipped her stout, they chatted with the couple behind the bar and Malcolm explored the fishing gear, stuffed fish in glass cases and bizarre bits and pieces that filled the pub all the way to the pungent-smelling peat fire at the back.
Paddy and Mary loved hearing Emily’s gossip, straight from the horse’s mouth. They gave her a free glass of Club Orange with a slice of lemon in it.
Then they drove home, everybody in much better form than they had been on the first leg of the journey. Emily and Malcolm sucked their sweets thoughtfully, discovering exciting new flavours and tongue-fizzing sensations. Their grannies were obviously excited about the forthcoming meeting and chattered excitedly about the preparations that would have to be made. Both Emily and Malcolm volunteered to help and their offers were gratefully received.
As they entered the house, laden down with the shopping bags, the phone was ringing. Granny Smith put her bags on the kitchen table and went to answer it.
‘Hello... yes... ah, hello. How are you?... No, they’re fine... I know... I know... I’m so sorry. (long pause) We should have called you... (long pause) Okay, that’s fine, see you soon. Bye... Bye.’
She returned the phone’s handpiece to its cradle - it was one of those really old-fashioned phones, even having a disk with holes in it to dial a number, instead of buttons - and looked at the others with shame all over her face.
‘That was
their mother,’ she said to Granny Annie. ‘She heard about the train crash on the news this morning and panicked. She’s been calling for the past hour. She was in a right state. I feel so stupid. I didn’t even think to call her. Did ye?’
All shook their heads. Carried away by the excitement and drama of the night’s events and the many people she’d met, Emily suddenly realised that the city, with all its traffic, pollution and bad-mannered people was already a dim memory. Her parents had simply dropped off her radar, she was disgusted to admit to herself.
The sweet in her mouth - a rhubarb and custard concoction - suddenly lost its flavour.
‘Well that’s that. Now, let’s get organised. Emily, the best way you can help is to get Malcolm out of the way, please,’ said Granny Annie.
‘What? What am I supposed to do with him?’
‘Why don’t you bring him down the road to Farmer Blue’s? He’s got a young fellah the same age. Would you like that, Malcolm?’
‘That’d be great!’
‘Then what do I do?’ said Emily.
‘You get back here pronto, young lady. We need your help with the food. You can do food, can’t you?’
‘No problem, I do it at school even though we never cook at home.’
‘No matter. See you in a while. Wrap up warm now. Bye Malcolm and, sure, you can have a sleepover there if you want.’
Still carrying his unpacked bag, Malcolm was bustled out of the door by Emily. The Grannies winked at each other, which Emily took to mean that his sleepover was pre-arranged. Emily wondered what her grannies were up to and why boys were incompatible with their plans.
Chapter 6: THE FARM
Malcolm was in a hurry. He ran ahead, jumping over some of the puddles, jumping into others. He was smiling, his cheeks red in the chilly, fresh air.
‘Come on, Emily. I want to meet some normal males.’
‘You’ll be lucky to find anyone normal around here.’
‘Is that it up the lane?’
‘Looks good.’
They walked briskly up a narrow lane, with grass growing in the middle of the potholed road and brambles crowding in from both sides. A large, red farmhouse stood at the end of the lane, old and saggy, but well-lived in and welcoming. Some chickens and a goat ambled towards the gate to the lane, curious to see if the visitors brought food. Malcolm dug into his pockets and found a hardening ham sandwich, thrust in there by Granny Annie ‘so as not to waste any food’. Malcolm broke the sandwich into pieces and shared it out between the animals as best he could.
‘Ahoy!’ came a call from the big red barn off to the left of the house.
‘Ahoy!’ answered Emily and Malcolm as one.
A tall, skinny man with a big grin on his face ambled towards them. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a red check lumberjack shirt. He wore no jacket, even though it was freezing out. His cheeks were red, to match his wiry hair.
‘I’m Farmer Blue, but you can call me Johnny,’ he said, shaking hands with them both. They introduced themselves and Emily explained how Malcolm wanted to visit Farmer Blue’s son.
‘Not a bother, sure don’t I know all about it? You’ll have great sport, son. Don’t you worry.’
This confirmed Emily’s suspicions that Malcolm was being dumped for the night. She smiled to herself as Malcolm looked slightly uneasy.
‘Now where’s Roger?’ Farmer Blue asked himself.
Hearing no answer, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. It was the loudest whistle Malcolm had ever heard.
‘Can you teach me how to whistle like that? Please?’
Emily rolled her eyes towards the darkening sky as Farmer Blue nodded at Malcolm. Then she rolled them towards the farmhouse, from where a boy about Malcolm’s age was approaching. He was dressed just like his father and had another happy grin on his face. The boys were fast friends in seconds and ran into the house to play on Roger’s PlayStation, which was ironic, them being in the countryside and all. Boys must be the same everywhere.
‘I’ve a little treat planned for them two and they don’t know it yet.’
‘What is it?’
‘Tonight, when the sun is down and the moon is high, we’re going hunting, yes we are. It’s the Hunter’s Moon, start of the season. Boys o boys, they’ll love it.’
‘What are you hunting?’ asked Emily, squeamish at the thought of killing little furry creatures.
‘Deer, of course. But we won’t get one, don’t worry. We’ll be doing well to even see one. But I’ve got a night vision scope and the lads won’t be carrying guns, just me and me mates.’
‘Just be careful.’
‘Don’t worry, little lady. They’ll have an adventure. Roger has plenty of wet gear for Malcolm and I’ll see they don’t come to any harm.’
Emily felt that she could trust this man with her brother’s life, even though she’d only known him five minutes. A strange feeling. Deep inside, she knew that if her grannies trusted him, she could too. This was clear. He asked her in for a cup of tea and to meet Mrs Blue, but she made her excuses and left, back up the narrow laneway, to the grannies and their mysterious plans.
‘Call back soon and I’ll show you the farm,’ he called after her. ‘You wouldn’t believe the things we do here!’
She waved back and smiled. Yes, she would like to have a look around, she thought, and see if Mrs Blue also wore a lumberjack shirt. Emily was changing.
‘Only here a day, and I’m turning into a farmer already!’ she said aloud, as she skipped through puddles of fresh rain. The moon’s swollen face peered over the horizon as dusk fell silently.
Chapter 7: MISSING THEM
The house was quiet as a graveyard. The absence of the sounds of quarrelling children was, at first, a relief for Emily’s mother. Now, though, all was different. She’d had such a fright when she heard the news about the train crash that she almost died bore she spoke to her mother and learned that the kids were okay.
The panic that had gripped her stomach in its squelchy grip had subsided since, but only a little. She had to take a tranquiliser bore she could begin to calm down. The doctor had prescribed the tablets to help her sleep at night, but panic attacks at all hours meant that she often went through a whole week in a becalmed, trancelike state. She admitted that this made her more distanced from her kids and her husband, but she knew of no other way to battle the waves of fear that washed over her. What did she fear? She’d never known the answer to that question, until today. She realised that she feared losing her kids more than anything.
So she sat at the kitchen table. The watery morning sun filtered through the blinds. The radio warbled to itself in the corner. Empty cardboard boxes, sheets of the bubble wrap and rolls of tape sat on the counter top. No packing done today. A mug of tea sat on the table bore her. She sat quietly until the tea went cold. Then she stood up, poured it down the sink and made a fresh mug. This was how she filled her day until her husband came home from work. She switched off the radio, but then it was too quiet, so she turned it back on again. She began to panic.
‘Malcolm! Emily! Get down here right now! Please?’
No answer.
When her husband made it home from the office many hours later, he found her in the kids’ room, asleep on Emily’s bed. She had a smile on her face, hugging Emily’s favourite teddy bear, the big white one that Tom had brought back from a business trip to New York.
A smile, he thought. That’s a nice change. Then he started packing their old life into boxes.
Chapter 8: THE HUNTED
He walked carefully, slowly. Every step was onto loose stones, so he shifted his weight constantly, judging instinctively where the surest footing could be found. Hot clouds of his breath filled the air, as deep inhalations delivered oxygen to his tested body. After a time, he came to the summit. On a rocky outcropping, he stood proudly and raised his antlers to the rising moon. His nose, always sampling and analysing the air, sought out an unmistakable smell, t
hat of a female deer. He felt a powerful, trembling pressure fill his chest, which grew until he released it in a roar which echoed through the valley.
Chapter 9: THE AWFUL TRUTH
When Emily got back to the house, her grannies were at full stretch getting everything ready. Granny Annie was busy at the range, preparing huge lumps of beef and ham for roasting, no doubt for some decent sandwiches. Granny Smith had a duster in her hand and was reaching into all the dim corners of the kitchen.
‘Come on, young lady. Grab a sweeping brush and make yourself useful.’
‘Okay, Granny Smith. Where do you want me to start?’
‘Go into the dining room and do the floor. Then wipe down the table, would you?’
Emily grabbed the sweeping brush, which was one of those old brooms, really, long, wiry twigs tied around the end of a sturdy length of branch. Strange. The great, oak door to the dining room, which was the location for the evening’s meeting, was slightly ajar and surprisingly easy to push fully open. The room was large, much bigger than the kitchen. A long table, made from roughly cut, unvarnished oak took up most of the space. A dozen high-backed chairs were arranged around it and a fluffy, black cat sat right in the middle of the table.
‘Shoo, pussy. I need to clean in here and I don’t want your hairs around.’
‘Tut,’ said the cat. Then it leapt from the table and, in that single bound, was out the door and into the kitchen.
Emily shook her head, dismissing both that the cat had tutted and acted on her command as if it had understood her perfectly.
‘Thanks for that. I’m allergic to that cat, but nobody will listen to me.’
Emily heard the words and froze. Who else was in the room? Obviously one of her grannies was hiding behind the door and putting on a deep voice to scare her. She walked uneasily to the door and pulled it from the wall. Nobody there. She looked out into the kitchen and saw her grannies arguing about the best way to roast ham, whether with or without a honey glaze, while the black cat sat quietly on the kitchen table.