The Beasts of Upton Puddle (15 page)

The toughest question in the world ached in Joe's head for two whole days and nights. Should he defy his mother? He had never done that before. Not to the extent he considered now. To ignore her order to never go to Merrynether Mansion again, to betray her trust and hurt her like that, would change everything between them. When his father had died, Joe had decided he would never let his mum down but would always obey and trust her. Until now, he had never needed to question that.

But he had been chosen, hadn't he? Danariel said he would be a champion among champions, fighting a great enemy. Could he really turn his back on such a destiny? Could he walk away from this newly discovered world of wondrous beasts and adventure?

Agony! Joe pressed his palms into his forehead and tried to stare holes through his bedroom ceiling. If only he could see into the future and know which decision
was right. With a deep sigh, Joe flopped his arms by his sides and glimpsed the red numbers of his alarm clock: 03:17. If only he could sleep.

Joe closed his eyes tight, wishing he could doze off, but the sounds of night denied him that relief. The refrigerator downstairs gurgled, then clicked. The boiler in the cupboard hissed. The weather vane on the roof groaned as the light rain tapped its rhythm on the window, excited briefly by each gust. Every sound reminded Joe of a different animal hidden away in Mrs. Merrynether's vault.

Ten more minutes and he could stand the torture no more. Half past three in the morning or not, sensible or not, Joe decided not to turn his back on destiny. He would go there now, risk a trip through Ringwood Forest, and deal with the consequences later.

By the time Joe reached Merrynether Mansion, it was four thirty in the morning. The ocean blue of early light washed the sky through the trees, and soft rain pattered against their leaves. The gothic silhouette of Mrs. Merrynether's home was a welcome sight, especially after Joe had trudged through the woods in the early hours, terrified the Beast of Upton Puddle may be lurking behind any tree.

Joe pulled his hood tighter around his head and squinted up at the mansion through the rain. What was he supposed to do now? Ringing the doorbell at this hour wouldn't do him any favors.

Scolding himself for yet another stupid decision, Joe headed toward the side of the mansion. Perhaps he'd be lucky with the trapdoor again. But as he approached and saw the padlock fastened securely against the wooden boards, Joe knew there was no way of sneaking inside. The dead weight of decision tormented him once again as he imagined pulling the bell cord.

“Pssst!”

Joe ducked and glanced around.

“Pssst! Oi! Spam fer brains, over here!” The harsh Irish whisper came from an open window on the first floor, and the tiny man in his pale blue waistcoat stood with his stubby hands splayed against the panes.

“Lilly?” Joe whispered back.

“Oi can't believe ya came! Did ya bring da booze, boy?”

“Booze?”

“Me list! Why else would ya be sneakin' around in da wee hours? Ya saw me list and tort ya'd take pity on a poor tirsty cluricaun. I didn't tink ya'd actually get da stoff, but here ya are!”

“How did you know I was here?”

As if in answer to his question, an enormous eyeball squidged against the window next to Lilly, pressing so hard to get out that Joe could see every vein flattened against the glass.

“Dis ting is me new best friend. Flarp can see troo walls, ya knor! I saw him get excoited dat someone was comin', so I followed him. Dat's when I saw ya, boy.”

“Wow! He could see me from in there?”

Lilly pushed the window open a little wider and threw something shiny onto the driveway near Joe's feet: a copper key.

“Dat's da key to da padlock, so stop yackin' and get yaself insoide widdat drink. Oim on me last dregs of Jameson and gettin moity tirsty.”

Without waiting for an answer, Lilly left the window, dragging the reluctant Flarp by his snotty edges.

Joe picked up the key and stared at it. It may as well have been a crowbar or a brick. Joe was about to break in to the Merrynether vaults for the second time. But surely if he explained everything to Mrs. Merrynether, she would understand, wouldn't she? What would he tell his mum? Sickening guilt and worry anchored Joe to the spot.

“I can't do it,” he whispered. He squeezed the key and took one final look at the mansion before turning back to the forest.

“Where d'ya tink you're goin'?” It was more of a screech than a whisper.

Though startled, Joe hesitated and then turned around.

Still accompanied by Flarp, the cluricaun had returned to the window, leaning into the rain while shaking his fist. The globble looked a lot less excited than it had a few minutes before, and Joe wondered if it was actually disappointed to see him leave, or perhaps it could
see the look of dejection in his face.

“I'm going home.”

“Home? But ya can't. What about me whiskey?”

“I didn't bring your stupid whiskey,” Joe shouted back, the hurt obvious in his voice. Flarp turned to stare at Lilly, and it was the first time Joe had seen the great eyeball look annoyed. It quivered in irritation and then drifted off somewhere out of sight as if in disgust. The cluricaun seemed unconcerned by Flarp's protest.

“No booze?”

Joe shook his head, his shoulders slumping as he sulked into the forest. He chose to ignore the frustrated curse that Lilly fired into the wind behind him.

“A witch's itch on ya bum, and may ya have no nails ta scratch it with!”

Joe's alarm clock read 05:34, which meant he had a mere twenty-six minutes before his mum came in with tea and cereal. Joe lay on his bed again, staring at the ceiling again, thinking about the creatures he would never see . . . again.

Bright Friday morning sunlight invaded the room through the ruffled gaps in his curtains, and Joe watched the slow twirl of tiny dust particles in the light. Usually that would fascinate him. He'd calculate the subtle fractal patterns, count the visible specs, and imagine what it would be like to be a microscopic bacterium swept along
in the currents. But today all the magic had gone.

Nothing compared to Merrynether Mansion. The same choice tormented him, and now he faced a new temptation to disobey his mum: the key. He'd resisted the first urge to use it, but how long would he be able to keep that up?

Joe lifted it into the light and stared at it, feeling numb. Free entry to a world of wonder that so few others would see, and he could do nothing about it. Still, he'd keep the key with him all the time . . . just in case.

At six o'clock, Joe's mum came in with a tray and a smile. “I made you something special today.”

Joe looked at the tray as she placed it on the bed and sat next to him. “I made this last night. I know how much you like it.”

The scents of toasted fruit bread lightly buttered and spread with damson jam wafted under Joe's nose. “But I thought I was being punished.”

“I saw that look in your eyes when I sent you to your room yesterday, and I realized just how important that place is to you.”

Joe sat upright with the speed of someone who had been woken with a cattle prod. “I'm allowed to go back?”

“I didn't say that.”

Joe slumped.

“I just want you to know I'm not doing this to upset
you.” She touched his shoulder. “And I need you to understand I'm stopping these visits to Mrs. Merrynether's for your own good.”

Joe nodded but avoided eye contact. “I know.”

“Will you tell me what's really going on? We don't usually keep secrets from each other, do we?”

Joe stayed silent, frowning at his breakfast, sifting through ideas. He wanted to tell his mum about all of it, even confess the pointless trip in the middle of the night, but surely she would think him a liar. At least she wasn't mad at him, which meant he still had a chance to turn things around.

“If you don't tell me, I can't help you, Joe. Is it something to do with bullying at school? Is that why you haven't been switching on your mobile?”

Joe couldn't believe his luck. She'd served him the answer right alongside his breakfast. All he had to do was take the truth and sprinkle it with a little seasoning—just to make it more palatable. A second or two of silence and a brief but timorous glimpse into his mum's eyes were all he needed.

“I knew it!” she said. “Someone's been picking on you, haven't they?”

Joe held his silence a little longer.

“You don't have to tell me who it is, but if that's what's happening, I can have a word with Mr. Henderson and he can do something about it.”

“Well”—Joe lifted his head—“I
was
chased into
the woods, but I didn't actually get beaten up. I didn't mean to stay away from school. It's just that I was a bit . . . frightened.”

Joe's mum nodded. “That explains a lot.”

“And that's when I ran to Merrynether Mansion. I knew I'd be safe there and that there'd be a phone. I busted mine when I was trying to get away. I had to know if the others were okay.”

“So you really did see the Beast?”

“Yes.” Joe nodded furiously.

His mum sighed. “I believe you, but I'm still concerned about this Merrynether woman. That list was hardly the sort of thing she should be getting a young boy to collect for her.”

“But it really wasn't her list. That was somebody's idea of a joke. Why would an old lady want a calendar full of Belfast's Best Buxom—?”

“Yes, I remember what it said. No, I don't think she would have put that on a shopping list.” She stared at Joe thoughtfully.

“Please, Mum. Don't stop me going there. I've learned so much. Please?”

A smile formed on her lips. “All right, but on one condition,” she said, raising her voice above Joe's whoop of joy. “I want to see a marked improvement at school in the next few weeks. Understood?”

“Understood.” Joe grinned.

She stroked his hair and stood. “Enjoy your fruit
bread. Don't let me down.” She left the room, still smiling.

Throughout the next week at school, Joe became the new center of attention but not in a good way. The teachers acted the same, apart from a noticeable suspicion in their eyes when they spoke to him, but the others in his class taunted him with growls and impressions of the Beast in the woods. Predictably, Duggan was the worst, and Joe found it impossible to resist a cutting remark every time the bully targeted him.

By Friday, it was obvious to everyone that Duggan had had enough. When the final bell sounded, a hungry group of spectators gawped at Joe as he endured a week's worth of frustration in the form of a severe pounding outside the school gates. It didn't last long—Duggan clearly knew a crowd would draw unwanted attention from any number of nosy teachers—but it was, nevertheless, a thorough battering.

As the sneering bully wandered off with the dispersing mob, Joe staggered into Ringwood Forest. Bruised by Duggan's knuckles and feeling sick to his socks with the hammering in his head, he collapsed at his favorite tree stump, not caring about how long he'd have to sit there. At home his mum would press a pack of frozen peas against his eye and try to comfort him, but Joe wanted the soft sway of leafy branches and the open air. He wanted the healing warmth of nature.