2006 - Wildcat Moon (26 page)

“I didn’t hear you come in, Archie. Terrible news,” she said. “Just terrible.”

But she didn’t fool him one little bit. She didn’t lodk upset at all and Archie knew that she didn’t mean what she said.

“That means that the little girl from Killivray is an orphan, doesn’t it?” he said with a tremble in his voice.

“I suppose it does, Archie.”

“That’s very sad,” he said, watching Nan carefully, but she turned quickly around and continued to dice potatoes without speaking again.

By the time he had finished stocking the shelves the tiny bar was filling up with customers.

Charlie and Freddie Payne came in first and busied themselves putting logs on the fire and drawing up a blaze. They were followed by a beaming Mr Kelly. The Paynes looked at him as though he were a ghost. Archie looked slyly at him from behind the bar. Mr Kelly was actually smiling, a proper smile that showed his buckled teeth. He had teeth the colour of marzipan.

Archie had never seen Mr Kelly smile before. He must have won the pools or had a big win on the gee-gees.

Then Nan came bustling out into the bar, removing her apron and greeting her customers.

“Why, Mr Kelly, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

Mr Kelly rested his arms on the counter. “I’d like a jug of your best ale to take out, a bottle of ginger wine for the missus and a jar of pickled eggs.”

“Are you celebrating something, Mr Kelly?” asked Nan.

“No. No. The missus had a fancy for a little drink and I thought I’d join her.”

Nan busied herself with filling an enamel jug with frothy beer and then dusted off a bottle of ginger wine she had fetched from the cellar.

“Will that be on the slate, Mr Kelly, or are you paying cash?”

“On the slate, Nan, if that’s all right with your good self.”

Nan took up a notepad and wrote quickly on it.

“Enjoy your drink, Mr Kelly,” she said watching him go with a surprised look on her face.

Mr Kelly went on his way whistling merrily.

“Well, I’ll be buggered. In all the time he’s lived here that’s the first time he’s ever been in here.”

“Do you think he’s come into money?” Charlie Payne asked.

“He’s won himself a smile, that’s for sure,” Nan quipped. “He usually has a face like a blocked drain.”

“Aren’t you going to tell them the news about Mrs Greswode?” Archie piped up.

Nan looked enquiringly at Archie and flushed. He’d surprised her in the kitchen and she knew that he’d seen the look of delight on her face which she hadn’t had time to cover up. Archie Grimble didn’t miss much. He was a shrewd little monkey for all his quiet ways.

“What’s the news?” Freddie Payne asked.

Nan lowered her voice, “It’s just been on the wireless. They think Mrs Greswode from Killivray has taken her own life.”

“Dear God, the poor woman,” Freddie exclaimed.

“All we’ve heard lately is bad news,” Charlie added.

“Are you off now, Archie?” Nan asked.

“Yes. Same time tomorrow, Nan?”

“That’ll be grand. You can pick up your wages then.”

Archie waved to Cissie who was sitting near the fire drawing, and then he left.

“There’s a hell of a change in that lad,” Charlie Payne remarked.

“In what way?” Nan enquired.

“He speaks up more now and he’s starting to look livelier, not so fearful of everybody. You know he reminds me of Benjamin a bit.”

“In what way?” asked Nan again.

“Well, everyone always said he were a quiet lad as a nipper but come out of himself as he got older. I mean he weren’t quiet when we knew him, was he?”

“No,” Nan said distractedly.

“Archie seems to have more to say for himself and gets out and about a bit more. There’s a lot of things changing round here at present.”

“Let’s hope it’s all for the better,” Nan said.

The last of the trippers were leaving the Pilchard Inn. They wound their way along Bloater Row and down onto the beach to board the boat that would take them back to Plymouth.

Fleep stood in the window of the Grockles watching them go-He was starting to feel well again and the last few nights he’d slept better than he had in months. His mind was growing calmer and dearer and he was beginning to remember snatches of the life he’d led before he’d come to the Skallies. Nothing that really made any sense at the moment but hopefully some day he’d be able to piece things together.

He remembered being thrown out of the room he’d been renting in Paris, walking out in the snow with no idea of where he was going. He’d met a man in a bar and out of the blue he’d told the man all his woes, unburdened himself to a complete stranger. And then later, later…it was no good he couldn’t remember any more.

It was early when Nan came knocking at Bag End to tell Martha Grimble the news.

She followed Martha into the kitchen and sat herself down next to Archie at the kitchen table.

He eyed her warily; he hadn’t forgotten the look on her face when the news about Mrs Greswode had come on the wireless. Why would she be glad that Mrs Greswode was dead?

But when she leant across and ruffled his hair, he smiled; he couldn’t be cross with Nan for long.

“Nan, you look flustered, is everything all right?” Martha asked.

“You’ll never believe what I’m going to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep this morning so I got up early and went for a walk and guess what?”

“What?” Archie and Martha Grimble said together.

“The Kellys’ front door was wide open and banging in the breeze. I stopped and listened and there wasn’t a sound coming from inside the house.”

“Maybe they were all still asleep,” Archie said.

“No. The little ones are always awake early. They make such a racket that I can hear them in here,” Martha said.

“I had a feeling in my water that something was up. I went inside and…”

“And what?” asked Archie excitedly.

“Martha, I had to put a handkerchief over my face first. It stank to high heaven in there. Anyhow I called out but there was no answer.”

“Where were they?” Archie asked with interest.

“The kitchen was deserted, Martha. The fire was out and the table was piled high with dirty dishes and a baby’s bottle lay on its side dribbling milk from a leaky teat.”

“Get to the point, Nan.”

“You’ll never believe,” she said. “The Kellys have done a moonlight flit.”

Martha Grimble put down her tea cup and stared at Nan.

“They never have!”

“What’s a moonlight flit?” Archie asked but no one answered him.

“The place is empty. They’ve gone, I tell you. Upped and bloody gone without a word to any bugger.”

“What’s a moonlight flit?” Archie asked again.

“It’s when someone ups sticks and buggers off in the dead of night,” Nan said helpfully.

“Well, who would have credited it?” Martha Grimble said.

“I heard nothing, Martha, and I live next door,” Nan exclaimed.

“Come to think of it, Nan, I woke in the night and was sure I heard a baby cry. But I thought it was probably the wildcats in your yard and went back to sleep.”

“Fancy not even saying goodbye, and where would they go? They hadn’t a penny to bless themselves with,” Nan said.

“They were a funny family except for that one boy.”

“Peter,” Archie said. He’d always liked Peter but he’d never had a chance to make friends because of the other Kelly boys.

“She owed me fifteen pounds,” Nan said. “She had a lend because she said she needed to buy some things for the new baby that was on the way.”

“You’ll not see that again.”

“That’s a fact. And Mr Kelly came in last night for beer and ginger wine. That was odd because he’d never been in before. Well, that’s one slate that’ll not be settled. Ah well, more fool me!”

“Have a cup of tea, Nan, and then you can take the bread over with you, it’s due out of the oven any time now.”

“Oh, go on then, I will. Did you hear the sad news about Mrs Greswode?” Nan said avoiding Archie’s gaze.

Martha winked at Nan and nodded towards Archie. She didn’t like to talk about bad things in front of him.

Archie took the hint, got up and went to fetch a comic from his bedroom. Then, when they were chatting away at full steam he slipped back into the kitchen and curled up in a high-backed chair in the corner near the door where they wouldn’t notice him. It was called Earwigging.

“The poor woman must have been half out of her mind to do such a thing. You’d think she’d have wanted to live for when they find the child, wouldn’t you?” Martha said.

“You would,” Nan replied.

“But I don’t think there’s much chance of that now after all this time, do you?” Martha said despondently.

“I don’t suppose so,” Nan said glumly.

“Have they found Mrs Greswode’s body?” Martha Grimble asked.

“No. I don’t suppose they will or it’ll be unrecognizable by the time it’s washed up. A body was washed up down the coast a few weeks back and it had been half eaten by fish,” Nan said.

Archie felt sick at the thought. He wondered had that happened to Thomas and Benjamin? He hoped not.

“Have you seen Lena?” Martha asked.

“I called in yesterday. She’s not looking the best. She’s taken the loss of this baby really badly. She’s getting on in years and time is running out for her.”

“God help her. The world can be a cruel place, Nan.”

“Alfredo looks real cut up about it. She hadn’t realized she was in the way and was further gone than they thought. She had bad pains but before they could get the doctor she was already losing the child. She was in agony and there was blood all over the place by the time the doctor got here from Rhoskilly…”

Nan and Martha Grimble turned suddenly as Archie fainted clean away, slipped out of the chair and hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Later that night he lay on his bed looking up at the ceiling and thinking of what Mr Galvini had said to him: “Maybe we all running away from something. Some of us knows it and some of us don’t…Then one day maybe we go away as quickly as we come. No one knows what the future is holding for us.”

He wondered where the Kellys had come from and where they’d run away to? He wondered what would happen to him and his mammy in the future and if Romilly Greswode would even have a future.

He got up and lit the stub of candle and placed it in front of the Virgin. Then he knelt down and prayed as moonlight slipped into the room and glinted on the silver bird that hung around his neck.

Later he lay in bed thinking of all that Nan had said that morning. Over and over again he whispered the words: Moonlight Flit Moonlight Flit. Moonlight Flit. The words had a kind of magic quality about them.

It sounded like something that fairies did.

It was late evening when Archie put the key in the lock of the chapel door and turned it. He stepped swiftly inside the wobbly chapel, closed the door and locked it.

The dying rays of the sinking sun lit the round window and a myriad of colours dappled across the altar.

He wiped away a layer of dust from one of the pews and sat down.

He tried to imagine William Dally and the other kids standing hi here on the night of Thomas Greswode’s funeral.

Stooping down, he picked up a dusty hymn book from the filthy floor. It was damp to the touch and the pages were melding together with age and mould. He prised the pages apart and looked down. Hymn number 15, ‘Eternal Father Strong to Save’…

The hymn that William Dally said they’d sung!

He looked up at the hymn board.

Hymn number 15.

He turned the pages of the hymn book as quickly as he could.

Hymn number 176. ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’…

He felt a shiver whisper up his backbone. It was as if no time at all had passed since the night when William Dally and his friends had been right here in the wobbly chapel. They’d sung their favourite hymns and even put the numbers up on the hymn board.

Then Wilf had locked hi Gwennie and she’d frightened the life out of them popping up from behind a rock down on the beach. And not long after the black man had blown his brains out in here and the chapel had been locked up and abandoned.

He looked around warily; more fearful now that he knew someone had killed himself in here. He didn’t like to think of funerals and people blowing their brains out.

Then he remembered what Benjamin had said in his letter;

You’re a scholar and a gentleman, the type of boy who could find outthings like a proper detective if he put his mind to it and stopped beingafraid of every bloody thing.

He stood up very straight and thrust out his chin.

He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid of ghosts or any bloody thing! So there.

He had muscles now and he was growing stronger.

He wondered why on earth would anyone come in here to kill themselves?

And why did the black man want to kill himself? Was it because Thomas had died?

Or because of the row he’d had with Mr Greswode? He didn’t know and he’d never know.

He wandered around and paused dose to the door. There was a stone receptacle for holy water but it was dry as a bone. Next to it, set into the wall, was a metal-fronted collecting box and he wondered who had last emptied it before the chapel was closed down? There was a rusted-up keyhole on the box and some words written in Latin on the front.

He made his way over to the font and walked around it.

The top was covered with a thick round wooden lid, shaped like a millstone. He tried to lift it but it was stuck fast. He noticed, though, that there was a small hole in the middle of the lid.

With enormous effort he clambered up on top of the font and sat there looking around him at the ruined chapel.

He couldn’t for the life of him fathom out what Benjamin had wanted him to find in here. Unless, unless he’d just wanted him to do something brave for once in his life. Maybe talking about there being mysteries to solve was just to get Archie interested!

There was nothing to be found here. The best thing he could do was to lock the place up, throw the key away and leave well alone.