The Tunnels of Tarcoola (7 page)

‘Yep. Meet you in the garden at eleven.'

‘But you'll see everything without us,' protested Kitty.

‘We'll just have a little look,' David promised her. ‘I can't spend too much time. I've got to make a model for Science.'

‘And I've got a History assignment,' said Andrea.

The boys looked at her with surprise.

‘So?' she said challengingly. ‘So?'

‘Fine,' said Martin. ‘Fine.'

THEY
separated at David's front gate. He let himself in and quietly stowed his backpack in the hall cupboard.

Cooking sounds were coming from the kitchen. His mother had vegetables strewn over the bench and was frowning into the screen of her laptop.

‘The recipe says chervil,' she said. ‘I wonder if Italian parsley would do?'

David's heart sank a little. His mother's cooking was sometimes rather experimental. He preferred weekdays, when his grandfather took over.

‘Can I help with dinner?' he offered.

‘That would be lovely, darling. It says the potatoes have to be cut into two-centimetre cubes.' She pushed a board and a knife towards him, and he perched on a stool beside her.

‘So how was the meeting?' he asked casually.

‘Curiouser and curiouser,' murmured his mother. ‘Is there something I'm missing? Or rather, something you're missing? Some new piece of technology you're hankering after?'

‘No, Mother, I'm just interested.'

‘Well, since you ask, there's a little light on the horizon today. I won't fill you in on all the details, for fear of sending you to sleep, but there's a bit of a legal hitch at the developer's end.'

‘What kind of hitch?'

‘Just the faintest possibility that the developer can't prove ownership. This guy, Harold Buckingham, is supposed to have inherited the property, but he can't produce any paperwork. It's all deliciously Dickensian. Original title deeds, signed and sealed with wax. Haven't been seen for sixty years.'

‘So he can't go ahead?'

‘Oh, he'll find them eventually, I suppose. But it gives us a bit more time to get our case together, and with luck get a preservation order on the house.'

‘Are they really going to wreck the house and the garden?'

‘I'm afraid that's their plan. We're arguing that they should keep the garden and restore the house, turn it into apartments. But I think greed will prevail. He'll make a staggering amount of money.'

David pictured the precious document, yellow and tattered, rolled up into a scroll and tied with faded ribbon. Places like the Haunted House had secret passages and sliding panels. Maybe it was there, hidden somewhere. If he found it he would make sure Buckingham never got hold of it. Of course, he could never tell his mother. She was very strict on the law.

‘David?'

‘Sorry?'

‘I said, how did you go with Martin today? Weren't you helping him with his maths?'

‘Oh! Sure, he's fine. We hung out a bit in the park, too.'

‘Good. Nothing like a bit of fresh air.'

David thought guiltily of the musty smell in the tunnels and the foul air in the shaft. Deeper down it smelled damp and earthy, like mushrooms. Most of all, he remembered the smokiness of Andrea's candles as he jumped.

‘Yeah,' he said. ‘It was good.'

ANDREA
sat cross-legged on her narrow bed, copying Kitty's notes into an exercise book. It was cloudy outside, and not much early-morning light found its way into the room. She tried turning on her bedside lamp.

‘Aarrgghhhh!' Celeste half sat up, platinum hair sticking out, and waved a protesting hand. She had come in noisily just before dawn, smelling of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and Andrea hadn't been able to get back to sleep.

Andrea turned off the lamp and took her things out to the kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled high on the bench and in the sink. Her mother was at the table, reading yesterday's paper and tapping cigarette ash into a half-empty coffee cup.

‘Hello, love. I was just going to make some toast. Want some?'

‘Okay. Thanks, Mum.'

Andrea slipped her books into her schoolbag, which lay on the floor by the door.

‘I'm glad you're up, sweetie. We need to get stuck into that bathroom. It's a pigsty.'

Andrea sighed. Her mother hadn't stirred, so she dug out some bread and put it into the toaster.

DRESSED
in leggings to cover her bruises and an old baggy jumper that she had found under Celeste's bed, Andrea helped her mother do a quick house-clean. As soon as they had finished she mumbled an excuse and left the house.

It was cold outside, with a biting wind. She slipped through the fence of the Haunted House and followed a faintly discernible brick-paved path through the overgrown garden, ducking her head to avoid overhanging branches.

The path led to a semi-circular walled garden filled with thorny rosebushes and edged with trees. In front of the trees was a broken pedestal on which stood a white stone statue of a naked woman, her long hair flowing around her shoulders, her eyes downcast. There were piles of rubble around the base of the pedestal, but the woman was intact.

Andrea folded her hands and looked down, unconsciously imitating the statue's pose.

Faintly, in the distance, she heard the town hall clock begin to strike.

She found her way through to the big stagnant pond and stopped some distance from it. David was sitting on its edge, skimming stones over the greenish water. A huge goldfish popped up its head, looked around in goggle-eyed surprise, then disappeared.

‘Oh! Sorry, fishy,' said David, laughing. He tossed another stone into the pond.

‘Talking to the fishes?' called Andrea.

‘Yeah, if I say the magic words it'll turn into a frog.'

‘Come and see what I've found.' Andrea led the way back to the rose garden and the white lady. ‘Isn't she beautiful?'

She pulled her camera out of her bag. ‘She's sort of like Sleeping Beauty, with all those briars.'

‘Mmmm.' David looked embarrassed.

‘Think of it as art, David!' exclaimed Andrea, laughing. ‘Come on! I reckon we can get through here.'

They found a path that led to another statue in the middle of a round pond, now quite dry. This statue was a small boy, also naked, peeing into the pond. He was surrounded by fish with their mouths open, and the whole construction was clearly designed as a fountain. Some of the fish were broken, and the boy was missing an arm.

‘More art!' said David, grinning.

Another path curved towards the open space in front of the house.

‘Wait!' said Andrea. ‘We don't have to climb through the window any more. I just have to find it . . . '

She led the way round another corner. This wall of the house faced the garden, and there were several glass doors.

‘It's one of these . . . ' She ran along, peering through dusty glass and trying door handles. ‘Ah, here it is!'

The door swung stiffly inwards.

‘What did you do?' asked David.

‘I unlocked it from the inside last time I was here. Come in.'

They shut the door quietly and made their way through the house and down into the dark central area of the cellar. From there they found the trapdoor quite easily. At the bottom of the shaft, David donned his miner's cap and adjusted the torch.

‘Pooh, that smell's bad today!' said Andrea, joining him.

‘Yeah. Have you brought a torch?'

‘Well, no, but I've made a holder for my candles, so the wax won't drip on my hand.'

She showed him the cone-shaped object with a rim, like an upside-down witch's hat, that she had made from cardboard; then she fitted a new white candle into the holder and flicked her cigarette lighter.

There was a faint whoooosh, and a huge blue-tinged flame leapt up.

‘Turn it off!' cried David, but Andrea had already snapped the lighter shut. There was an acrid smell of burning hair.

‘Is my hair on fire?' Andrea was close to panic.

‘No, it's not burning.' David touched the soft thick hair that fell over her forehead. ‘Some of the ends feel kind of hard and bristly. I think it's singed.'

‘Arrrgh! It could've just burst into flame!' Andrea was a bit shaky. ‘What on earth happened?'

‘I don't know, but it's something to do with that smell. Let's see if the air's fresher in those other tunnels.'

Apart from the tunnel they had originally discovered, leading to the beach, and the locked door opposite, there were two more openings: the tunnel they had explored the day before, where Andrea had fallen into the hole, and another facing it.

‘Looks like this is the one to try,' said David.

‘I don't know,' said Andrea. ‘I'd rather go back and have another look at that big cathedral cave.'

‘Let's split up, then,' suggested David calmly.

‘Okay.' Andrea prepared her candle, reached for the cigarette lighter again, and hesitated.

‘Maybe I'll have a quick look at your one first,' she offered.

David led the way. The tunnel opened out almost immediately into a small, roundish cave with a narrow opening to one side. David flashed his torch into the opening.

‘Look, someone's built all this,' he whispered. The rock sides were flat, and the roof of the tunnel was shored up with massive beams.

After only a few metres they stepped into another, larger cave.

‘Eureka!' said David.

‘Wow!' said Andrea, reaching for her camera.

The cave was roughly rectangular, and about the size of a large room. There was a patterned rug on the floor, grey with dirt and dust, and around the walls were cupboards, bookshelves, small tables and chests of drawers. At one end, behind a Japanese screen, were two beds made up with white sheets and thick grey blankets. There was a low table between the beds. On it stood a lamp and some books and newspapers.

The centre of the room was occupied by a long table. There were candles on the table, a few plates, none too clean, and an empty wine bottle.

David examined the bottle. ‘Hmmm. Nineteen thirty-nine. My dad'd kill for something like this!'

‘So would mine,' said Andrea. She was busy lighting the candles. In their light the room was warm and welcoming.

David browsed through the bookshelves. As he pulled out each book, a cloud of dust rose and hovered in the air.

‘Some of these are in German,' he said. ‘I know this one – my grandfather has it. When my great-grandmother was still alive they used to read it to each other and cry.'

‘Let's see.' Andrea peered over his shoulder. ‘
Faust
. My Dad's got something like this. In English, though.'

Everything in the cave was covered with a thick layer of dust. Andrea wandered around, opening cupboards and sneezing. She found several tins of food, some of them unlabelled and dulled with time, but some with modern labels and familiar brand names. There was a large wooden barrel with a tap. Andrea found a cup and poured out a few drops of clear fluid. She dipped a finger into it and tasted.

‘Careful!' said David.

‘It's just water,' she returned. ‘Doesn't taste too bad. A bit woody.'

David took the cup and sniffed. ‘A suggestion of oak on the nose,' he agreed gravely. He sipped. ‘And definitely too much tannin in the aftertaste.'

Andrea giggled. ‘Does your dad talk like that?'

‘No, Roger Mason, our next-door neighbour. He runs that antique shop in Darling Street. He's always bringing in bottles of wine for my parents to taste with him. He's one of those people who know everything about everything.'

‘Is he the man who gives those history lectures?'

‘Yeah, that's him. He writes books and sells them in his shop, and takes people for historical walks.'

‘Don't tell him about this place!' said Andrea.

‘Never.' David resumed his exploration of the room.

‘There's another tunnel over here!' he called. ‘Oh no, sorry, it's just a sort of alcove.' He disappeared with his torch into a narrow cleft. There was a silence. Andrea stood alone in the centre of the cave, in the flickering candlelight. Faint scraping and rustling noises came from the alcove.

‘David?' Andrea's voice quavered. Suddenly a creature leapt out of the cleft, flailing its arms. It had huge blowfly eyes and a long black snout. Andrea screamed.

‘I'm going to get you!' announced the creature in a hollow voice.

‘David, you rat! What is that thing?'

‘Don't you know a gas mask when you see one?'

‘Wow! It's the real deal, isn't it?'

She took a quick photograph before he pulled off his disguise.

‘There are a few more in there,' he said. ‘I know what this place is now.'

‘What?'

‘It's a bomb shelter.'

‘What, nuclear fallout and stuff?'

‘Could be, but I'm not sure. Nuclear fallout's fairly recent, isn't it? This place seems to be older than that.'

‘Wait a minute,' said Andrea. ‘Bomb shelter? The old lady said something about bombs.'

‘What old lady?'

‘The one Kitty keeps trying to tell you about. The one who lived in this house. She said there were bombs in the war. I think she might have said something about a shelter.'

‘That sort of makes sense. These could be World War Two gas masks.'

‘Oh, you'd know, would you?' scoffed Andrea.

‘I've seen a few documentaries. TV's not all game shows, you know.'

Andrea chose to ignore him. She wandered into the alcove, selected another gas mask and tried it on.

‘Yuk,' she said. ‘It smells horrible.'

‘Better than nerve gas,' said David. He sat down on one of the beds, producing a cloud of dust, and picked up the yellowed newspaper on the low table next to it.

‘Hey, guess what. There's an ad here for the first Harry Potter movie.'

‘That's funny.' Andrea came over to look. ‘See the date? 2005!'

‘I don't get it,' said David, looking around. ‘The house is supposed to have been empty since the war. So who's been down here?'

‘Whoever it was,' said Andrea cheerfully, ‘they haven't been here for a while. Look at all the dust. And they left in a hurry,' she added. ‘They didn't even wash up!' She picked up one of the plates from the table. It had faint smears of an unrecognisable substance.

‘Yeah.' David looked uncomfortable. ‘Did you say something yesterday about men in the house?'

‘I reckon they were security guards, doing their rounds. One came down to the cellar with a torch and nearly caught me. And when I got out there was another one upstairs, looking out the window.'

‘And you think they saw you?'

‘When I was in the cellar the torch went right over my face. I don't know what he saw. Then when I got outside I just ran. It was pretty dark.'

‘We'd better be careful.'

‘We'll just stay away from the front door.' Andrea wandered around the room. The house and the figure with the torch didn't seem so scary now that she had company.

‘Maybe we'll keep using the window in the cellar. It's more out of the way.' David moved towards the entrance.

‘You don't want to go already, do you?' asked Andrea, dismayed.

‘Well, I've got a lot of homework. You can stay if you like.'

‘Okay,' said Andrea. ‘I will.' She sat down at the table.

David turned on his torch.

‘Don't use your candles in that shaft, though,' he said. ‘If you catch fire I won't be here to save you.'

‘Oh. Right.' Andrea sat doggedly at the table. ‘Bye.'

‘Bye.' David walked past her to the entrance. She sat calmly with her back to him. ‘See you, then.'

‘See you.' She didn't turn her head. She sat very still for a while, staring into space.

When she was quite sure David had gone she leaned over and blew out the candles on the table. In the faint light of her own candle, she went as far as she dared back towards the shaft.

‘He could have waited,' she muttered crossly to herself. But at the same time she was glad David had assumed she wasn't scared of staying underground by herself. At least that showed some sort of respect. Maybe.