Invisible! (5 page)

‘Oh, right.' He smiled. ‘And are there any other rules, Rosie, while we're at it?'

She shook her head. ‘No, just the one.'

‘What if one of us breaks the rule?'

Rosie shrugged. ‘Anyone who breaks the rule is out of the gang.'

‘But he can still make himself invisible.'

‘Yes, but you'd be surprised how little fun it is by yourself. Anyway,' she smiled, ‘none of us is going to break the rule, so it doesn't matter.' Her smile faded as she continued, ‘There
are
crooks about, though. Visible ones. We had a visit from the police this morning,' Briefly, she told them what had happened at breakfast-time.

When she'd finished, Charlotte nodded. ‘My dad heard about it in the paper shop. They used a glass-cutter and got away with two priceless paintings.'

Conrad arched his brow. ‘Priceless?'

‘Well – they're worth millions. Dad says it's happening all over. A gang of art thieves, breaking into big houses, taking pictures and statues
and stuff. The cops reckon it goes to crooked collectors abroad.'

‘Wow! And I thought nothing ever happened in Inchlake.'

Charlotte shook her head. ‘It's not just Inchlake, Con. It's the whole area.'

‘Yeah, but like … the gang's
headquarters
might be here, mightn't it? Hey, listen.' His eyes shone with excitement. ‘We could investigate, right?
The Inchlake Invisible Detective Agency.
What d'you reckon?'

Carrie gazed at her twin. ‘What do I reckon? I reckon you're barmy, Con. A total nut.' She appealed to the others. ‘Am I right?'

Rosie pulled a face. ‘I dunno, Carrie. Maybe, but I'll tell you what – we
could
go invisible and take a look round Inchlake Manor. Search for clues. It's something to do on a boring Sunday, isn't it?'

Peter frowned. ‘There's a problem.'

Rosie looked at him. ‘What?'

‘Clothes. Where to take 'em off and where to hide 'em. It's Sunday afternoon and the sun's shining. That means flocks of people up at Inchlake Ring.'

‘No prob.' This from Conrad.

His sister glanced at him. ‘What d'you mean, no prob?'

‘We're talking about the Manor, right? Well, there's an old building in the grounds. The ice house, they call it. Nobody ever goes there. We could use that.'

Rosie shook her head. ‘We need a
ring
, remember.'

‘It
is
a ring. The ice house, I mean. It's round. Would that work, Rosie?'

Rosie shrugged. ‘One way to find out. Come on.'

They'd expected police activity, but everything seemed quiet as the five children passed between the great granite gateposts of Inch-lake Manor. Weeds poked through the gravel of a driveway narrowed by long-neglected rhododendrons crowding in on either side. At this time of year the house lay hidden beyond a dense screen of foliage. Provided no vehicle followed them through the gateway there was little chance of their being seen.

Rosie looked at Conrad. ‘Where's this whatsit then – ice house?'

‘See that?' The boy nodded towards a gap in the rhododendrons. ‘Through there. There's a
pathway curves right round the back of the house.'

‘How d'you know, Con? Ancestral home, is it?'

He shook his head. ‘A bunch of us used to mess around here, exploring.'

‘Ah.'

It was dark under the trees. The path was narrow, slimy and overgrown. It made Carrie think of frogs and toads, though she didn't see any. Her twin went first, leading them in a great curve till a weird structure appeared in the tangle to their right. It was shaped like an igloo but was much bigger, built with great blocks of stone. Conrad held up a hand and they stopped.

Rosie gazed at the ice house. ‘Where's the door?'

‘Halfway round. Careful when you go in – floor's below ground level.' He led the way round the igloo's mossy curve to a doorless entrance where he sat down, dangling his legs into darkness.

Charlotte peered over his shoulder. ‘Ugh!' She shuddered. ‘It's pitch-black and it stinks. I'm not going in there.'

Conrad chuckled. ‘It only smells like mushrooms, and it's not really dark once your eyes get used to it. Here goes.' He planted his palms on the rim and lowered himself, feeling for the floor with his trainers. When he dropped and turned, his chin was level with the ground.

One by one the others followed. Conrad helped them down. They stood in the light from the doorway and peered nervously into the blackness. Peter thought of monsters. Charlotte fancied she could see something moving. Conrad let out a sudden whoop whose echo was augmented by the screams and gasps of his companions.

‘Daft beggar!' snarled his twin, when she'd recovered enough to speak. ‘Scared me half to death.'

‘And me the other half.' Peter's voice sounded hoarse.

Conrad was laughing so much he had to lean on the wall to keep from collapsing.

Very funny
, Rosie thought but didn't say.
But not half as funny as what I'll do to you when you least expect it.
Aloud she said, ‘Did we come here to play silly games, or do we go invisible and get on with our investigation?'

‘Investigation,' voted Carrie. ‘
If
this place works like a stone circle.'

Rosie nodded. ‘It'll work. I'll go first if you like.'

‘Go on then, but I vote we keep a hand on each other's shoulders all the way round so we don't get separated. Will it be OK like that?'

‘Don't see why not. Everybody set? Then let's go.'

It worked, as Rosie had hoped it would.

They left their things on a dank ledge and scrambled out of the ice house. It felt good to breathe fresh air, though it was a bit cold. They moved slowly between the trees, careful where they put their feet. Presently the foliage thinned and there loomed the Manor, looking semi-derelict with its faded paintwork and dusty windows.

Rosie pulled a face. ‘Bit of a dump, isn't it? Inchlake Manor. I expected something really posh.'

‘Yeah, well.' Conrad nodded. ‘It used to be posh when the family had it, but there's only the
old lady left now. Miss Massingberd. She can't keep up with it.'

‘Hmm.' Rosie shook her head. ‘Can't imagine priceless paintings here, can you?' She frowned. ‘Wonder how the thieves knew?'

They worked their way round to the front of the house, keeping to the fringe of the trees. A flight of mossy-looking steps led up to great double doors, which were closed. Somebody had parked a yellow Polo at the foot of the steps.

‘Who's is that, d'you reckon?' whispered Charlotte. ‘Doesn't look like a police car.'

Conrad shrugged. ‘Search me.'

His twin giggled. ‘That wouldn't take much doing right now, Con.'

‘Shut up.'

‘Let's take a closer look.' Rosie set off across the lawn. The others hung back and she turned, grinning. ‘It's OK. You're invisible, remember?' They'd forgotten, which was easy when they could see each other. They followed, wearing sheepish expressions.

There was a sticker on the inside of the car's windscreen,
NURSE ON CALL
.

Rosie nodded. ‘That explains it. District nurse. Miss Massingberd must be pretty decrepit.'

‘She is,' confirmed Conrad. He looked at Rosie. ‘What we gonna do?'

‘Find a way in, have a snoop round.'

‘You mean inside the house?'

‘Sure, why not? Nobody's going to see us.'

‘So we just march through the door?'

‘Well, perhaps not
this
door. No point taking unnecessary risks. There'll be a side door somewhere. Stay close, and no talking.'

They crept along the front of the Manor, peering into windows. Great dim rooms lay beyond the streaky panes, their furniture shrouded in sheets. Turning a corner they found a conservatory built onto the south wall of the house and, in the angle of the wall and its cast-iron frame, a door which squealed open when Rosie tried it. Hardly daring to breathe, the Inchlake Invisibles tiptoed inside and stood on a floor of terracotta tiles, gazing around.

It seemed Miss Massingberd used the conservatory as a sun lounge. A small table stood beside a wicker armchair. There were books and tea things on the table, crumpled cushions in the chair and a footstool nearby. It looked as though the old lady might have been sitting here until a few minutes ago. Behind the furniture an open
door gave on to a dim corridor. Many of the conservatory's windows had cracks in them, and Rosie noticed that one had no glass at all but was boarded up with a sheet of plywood. The wood looked new, and Rosie wondered whether this was where the thieves had got in. She was walking towards it when Carrie hissed a warning. A door in the corridor had opened and a frail old lady was shuffling towards the conservatory, one hand hooked through the arm of a strapping nurse.

‘Freeze!' hissed Rosie. ‘Not a word.'

It felt weird, standing like statues as the two women came slowly across the tiles. Impossible to believe they wouldn't be seen the instant Miss Massingberd glanced up. Or the nurse. Carrie began rehearsing an excuse.
The door was open. We were exploring. We thought it was an empty house …

The nurse steered Miss Massingberd to her chair, practically brushing against Charlotte, and steadied the old lady as she sank into it. ‘There.' Charlotte had to take a rapid step backwards as the nurse straightened up. ‘Are you
sure
there isn't somebody who would come and
sit with you? It must be a nasty shock, knowing thieves have been in your house.'

Miss Massingberd shook her head. ‘Not so much a shock as a disappointment, dear.'

‘Disappointment?'

‘Oh, yes. You see, I had planned to sell those paintings to pay for repairs to this place. It's falling to pieces, year by year. A hundred jobs need doing and there's no money.'

The nurse looked sympathetic. ‘Yes, it must take a lot of keeping up, a place like this. Weren't the paintings insured?'

‘Oh no, dear. Far too expensive, insurance. They expect you to install all sorts of alarms and lights and whatnot which cost a fortune, and when you say you can't afford it they refuse to insure.'

The nurse shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, Miss Massingberd, really I am.' She smiled. ‘If you're sure there's nothing more I can do for you, I'd best be on my way.'

‘Windows.'

‘Windows?'

‘Yes, windows. Or rather, their
frames.
They're the most urgent problem. Rotten wood, you see.'

‘Ah – yes, I see. Well …'

‘Practically falling out, some of them. Rattle on windy nights. One good storm and – whoosh! – they'll be gone. Then where shall we be?'

‘I … really don't know, Miss Massingberd. I'll see you tomorr …'

‘Man was up just a couple of days ago. Carpenter fellow from the village, what's his name? Kipper. Kepler. Something like that. I'd called him to come and inspect the frames, you see. Prepare an estimate. Well, I expected there'd be money, from the paintings. Now …' The old lady shrugged. ‘Nothing. Not a bean. Better if I'd sold the bally pictures years …' She broke off and gazed at the nurse. ‘Don't you have patients waiting, dear? Oughtn't you to be on your round, or whatever it's called?'