No Stone Unturned (14 page)

Kelly headed for the small path that ran through the woods past the well and the old shed.

‘There's a better path further on down here, you know,' said Ben. ‘It's not so overgrown and it ends up by the same railway crossing.'

‘I know,' Kelly said over her shoulder, as she ploughed on regardless. ‘I came that way earlier, but I just fancy going back this way. I haven't done it since that day at the well.

Ben reluctantly followed, but the closer they got to the old shed, the more he moaned about how overgrown the path was. ‘This is the worst route, Kelly Hearn,' he grumbled. ‘Can we please just turn back and go the other way?'

‘You came this way the other day, and I didn't make you do it then!' snapped Kelly, increasingly irritated by his whining.

Ben pulled a face but, evidently seeing that Kelly was determined to continue, he shook his head and trudged on.

By the time they arrived at the clearing in front of the shed, the sun had gone in and a chilly wind had started to blow.

Kelly stopped, put Tyson on the lead, and turned to her friend. ‘What do you think this old place used to be? Do you think it was a railway workers' hut? It's old enough and it's in the right place. It might have been put there when they first built the railway. If they used to transport some of the lime and limestone by train then there might be some clues inside. Something to connect it to the quarry.'

‘There won't be any clues,' said Ben, looking most unhappy. ‘Not any more at any rate.'

‘Have you been inside it, then? You seem so sure.'

‘No, but it's so ramshackle. I just don't think it's worth bothering with.'

‘Aw, come on,' pleaded Kelly. ‘It'll be an adventure. And I don't want to try and get inside on my own. It's creepy.'

‘You're right, it's creepy, and it's probably unsafe, too. Come on, you said you had to get home.'

‘Oh, Ben, it's hardly going to take long to look around a mouldy old shed. What on earth's the matter with you?'

‘Well, if nothing else, I think it's going to rain and I don't want to get soaked walking back,' grumbled Ben. ‘Look at those clouds.'

‘Let's hurry up, then,' replied Kelly, more than a little annoyed by Ben's mood. He seemed to blow from hot to cold. One minute he was happy to help her with her research, the next he clammed up. ‘Look, you promised you'd help me with this project. We're supposed to be partners. So the least you can do is give me a hand with these.'

There was a pile of old tiles in front of the shed door, placed there deliberately, it seemed, to stop the door from swinging open. There was no bolt on the door and it was skewed very precariously on its hinges.

Kelly let go of Tyson's lead and began to move the tiles, three or four at a time, to one side. Reluctantly, Ben followed suit, and as soon as the way was clear Kelly took hold of the rusty old door knob and pulled gently. Nothing.

‘Be careful,' said Ben. ‘The door frame's so rotten it looks like the whole thing might fall on top of you.'

Kelly didn't reply. Nothing Ben could say was going to stop her from getting inside. She poked the tip of her tongue out of the side of her mouth and frowned with concentration. She took hold of the door handle with both hands this time, and tugged again, but now she lifted as she pulled. There was a squeak of wood dragging across wood as the door budged a few centimetres. Two more pulls and jerks and the door was open just wide enough to squeeze through. A strong, musty aroma escaped out into the daylight and Kelly took a step backwards.

Ben stared into the utter darkness of the shed. ‘I really don't like it. You can't see a thing in there.' His voice trembled.

‘Chicken!' retorted Kelly. ‘Your eyes'll get used to the dark once you're inside. Look, are you coming or not?' Ben hesitated. ‘Well, I'm going in, with or without you.'

Ben sighed. ‘Oh, hang on a minute. Just let me get Tyson. We don't want him to run off while we're inside.'

He walked over to Tyson, who was sitting patiently a few steps away, and picked up the lead which was trailing from the little dog's collar. ‘Come on Tyson, you can protect us.'

But Tyson had other ideas. He wasn't going anywhere, even when Ben tugged so hard on his lead that his collar nearly slipped over his ears.

‘Look, for heaven's sake, Kelly,' Ben cried. ‘Tyson doesn't want to come in either! I really don't think we should…'

But Kelly had already slipped into the darkness.

‘Tyson and I will have to stay here and stand guard,' Ben shouted after her. ‘It's probably better if we don't both go in anyway, in case we get trapped. No one would ever find us in there.'

Once inside the shed, the foul smell intensified. That, combined with the inky darkness, forced Kelly to stop in her tracks as soon as she was on the other side of the door. She didn't want to breathe through her nose, but then she didn't particularly want to taste the air either, so she covered her mouth and nose with her hand and took shallow breaths through her fingers while she waited for her eyes to adjust.

She heard Ben's shouts and was not surprised that he wasn't following her in.
He had no intention of coming in here from the start
, she thought, and made a mental note to tease him endlessly when she got back outside.

There were, in fact, narrow chinks of light penetrating through cracks in the roof, and gradually Kelly started to make out eerie shapes all around her. ‘Yup,' she whispered. ‘It's creepy.'

Perhaps Ben was right to be cautious. What did Mum and Dad always say about not doing anything silly?

And what
was
that smell? It reminded Kelly of something. Was it stale beer or something? She wondered if some teenagers, or perhaps a homeless person, had been using the shed as a drinking den, but quickly dismissed the idea. No one had been in here for a very long time.

Kelly stood there for what seemed like an age, trying to build up the nerve to move forwards. She held her breath to silence the pounding in her ears. Only when she was certain that nothing was moving inside the shed did she inch a few steps deeper inside.

Her right foot hit something and she gasped, but it was just an old box, tipped on its side. She looked about her again and made out the outline of an old oil lamp on a table to the right. Ahead of her, on the floor, a few planks of wood lay in a pile, like giant pick-up sticks.

Kelly walked on towards the centre of the shed and blew out steadily, trying to calm herself down. Then she felt a rush of icy air on her face. She span round. Had Ben managed to force the door open some more? No. There were still only a few centimetres of light showing through the door frame. She caught a reassuring glimpse of leaves blowing in the wind outside.

‘The wind must be picking up,' Kelly told herself, and turned back to face the far end of the shed once more. She wished she had a torch with her. And why was it so cold? It was summer, for God's sake.

Then the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. A noise. Inside the shed. A creaking sound. It reminded Kelly of the sound of rigging on an old sailing ship, rocking back and forth on the ocean. Or was it footsteps on creaky floorboards? Had Ben decided to join her? No. She knew the answer to that, and besides, Kelly was beginning to realise that the sound wasn't coming from behind her, but from above her head.

Then she remembered her camera. Accepting that she would have to inhale the bad smell, she removed her hand from her face and fumbled around in her jacket pocket until she found what she was looking for. Pointing the camera up into the darkness, her hands trembling, she quickly pressed the button.

Flash!

A movement.

Something above her head. Dangling from the ceiling.

Kelly screamed and dived towards the door, her back arched, fully expecting something to grab her before she got there. She threw all her weight against the creaking old wood and burst out into the light, just avoiding banging into Ben. Tyson jumped up at her legs, clearly sensing something was amiss.

‘There…was…something in there,' panted Kelly, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Hanging from the ceiling. I took a photo. I caught a glimpse but couldn't make it out.' She didn't dare look back.

‘Don't worry,' Ben reassured her, standing back to inspect her for any sign of injury. ‘It was probably just a bat. We see lots of them at night around here. That shed's a perfect roost for them. With all those holes in the roof, they can fly in and out, as easy as ABC.'

‘But there was a noise,' said Kelly, trying to regain her composure. ‘It didn't sound like bats to me.' She narrowed her eyes. ‘You weren't trying to play a trick on me, were you? You know, to teach me a lesson for going in there?'

‘Of course not!' said Ben. ‘You don't really think I would do that, do you?'

Kelly shrugged, pushing her dishevelled hair back from her face.

Ben looked offended. ‘I wouldn't. Ever. I wouldn't do that to you. But you're right, I didn't want you to go in there. I don't like this place. Nor does Tyson.

‘Well, you were right about one thing,' Kelly conceded. ‘I didn't see any clues in there that would link this place to the quarry. And I'm not going back in for another look.'

* * *

When she had calmed down again and Tyson had stopped leaping about in excitement, Kelly took the dog's lead and followed Ben in silence along the path through the woods and back in the direction of the caravan site.

‘Do you know what?' said Kelly, a few moments later. ‘I think we need a map of this area. We need to find out exactly what all these buildings were used for, and we're clearly not going to be able to find out by just looking at them. Do you think your mum and dad would have old farm plans or local maps or something?'

‘They might.' Ben sounded rather distracted.

‘Well, it's worth asking, don't you think? If they don't have anything, perhaps we could ask Tony at the farm. We really want something that dates back to the nineteenth century. And any pictures of the place when the quarry was still open would be brilliant. Will you ask?'

‘I will. But my father is very busy. I can't promise anything.'

‘I know. Just see what you can do,' said Kelly. ‘And I'll spend some more time on the internet. I can't stay online for long at home because it's my mum's laptop and she gets fed up when I'm on it for hours. But I can use the internet when I get back to school tomorrow. I'll see what I can find out about Wilmcote quarry and the railway.'

They reached the last stile where the footpath came out onto the lane near Kelly's site.

‘I'd best get back now.' Ben handed Tyson over the stile to Kelly.

‘Okay.' She felt a lot more settled now that home was in sight. ‘How about we catch up after school tomorrow? You could come and meet me at the bus stop. I get off at the village green.'

‘Sorry, I can't do that. I won't have time to come down there and get back in time for my supper.'

‘What time do you eat?'

‘Five o'clock sharp.'

‘My bus gets in at four. That's plenty of time,' said Kelly.

‘Well, not really. Not if we have any news to share about the quarry. We wouldn't have time to talk properly, or go and explore. How about I meet you at the canal bridge, at six o'clock, after I've had my supper? We'll still have a couple of hours before it gets really dark.'

‘All right,' Kelly agreed, starting to walk off up the lane. ‘I'll see you then. Sorry, I mean,
we'll
see you then.' She waved one of Tyson's front paws at Ben.

Ben smiled and waved back. ‘Bye.' Then he called after her, ‘Oh, and don't forget to bring that old boot with you. I still want to have a look at it.'

PART 4

Chapter 18 – Christmas 1859

T
he winter of 1859 was harsh for the people of Wilmcote. Snow came well before Christmas, fell deep, and lasted for fourteen days, wrapping the village in a thick white blanket which the children adored but the adults loathed. Work in the quarry, which was dangerous at the best of times, became utterly treacherous.

For the first few days of the snow, Richard Greenslade forced his men to keep digging, terrified that production would otherwise fall too far behind schedule. But eventually, with the loaded trams struggling on frozen tracks, and the ponies repeatedly getting stuck in snow drifts, he was forced to reduce his workforce to a skeleton crew, who could work only the shallowest and least dangerous rock face. With a heavy heart, he sent the rest of his labourers home until further notice.

Without work to go to, the men gathered in the ale house, complaining about their lack of pay, while those lucky enough to still be earning a wage huddled around the lime kilns, complaining about frostbitten fingers and toes, and rocks so slippery that they spent more time on their backsides in the wet snow than on their feet.