Read The Shade of Hettie Daynes for Free Online Page B
Authors: Robert Swindells
them. He smiled unpleasantly. ‘What do you scruffs think you’re doing? Didn’t you get the Head’s note?’
‘We’re just looking,’ growled Rob.
‘Yeah,’ sneered Hopwood, ‘and I’m just looking at
you
.’ He nodded towards the fence. ‘My dad had that put up. He didn’t go to all that trouble just so losers like you could do criminal damage to it.’ He eyeballed them. ‘We’re a long way from school . Old Woollard might not be able to keep an eye on Wilton Water but we can, and we will. Me, Shaun and Nigel. We catch you here, we’ll shove you into that mesh so hard you’ll come out the other side as chips.’
The pair watched the bully depart. ‘No wonder they haven’t bothered with lights and machine guns,’ muttered Harry.
TWENTY-FIVE
AFTER TEA, HARRY pulled Bethan into his room, closed the door and asked, ‘Have you been past the res lately?’
Bethan shook her head. ‘Saturday was the last time, when I took the snapshot. Why?’
‘It’s fenced off, you can’t get on the footpath.’
Bethan frowned. ‘Who’s done that? Why would they want to . . .?’
‘Carl reckons his stupid dad got it done, for safety. And Carl’s made himself chief of the reservoir police. He caught me and Rob there just now.’
‘What the heck’s it got to do with
him
, the red-faced creep?’
Harry shrugged. ‘You know what he’s like, just because his dad’s a councillor. Probably thinks nobody should get a look at the old mill ’cause it used to be theirs.’
Bethan looked at her brother. ‘So what are you saying, Harry – that we should just forget about our investigation? Our first genuine adventure?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I’m not saying that at all.’ He grinned. ‘Think about it, Sis. It’ll be a
bigger
adventure, won’t it, high steel fences and Carl’s performing cave trolls to watch out for. We’ll have to be ice cool, totally focused.’
Bethan smiled. ‘So we go for it?’
Harry nodded. ‘When d’you want to start?’
‘Well . . .’ His sister thought for a moment. ‘I think we ought to wait till after the Hallowe’en Hop. I haven’t made my costume yet, and I won’t be able to focus on anything else till it’s done.’
‘That’s eight days,’ said Harry. ‘With a bit of luck, they’ll have got the water level right down and there’ll be something to see. What’re you going as, by the way?’
Bethan shrugged. ‘I’m thinking of going as a witch’s familiar. A black cat. It’s a dead simple costume to make – black leotard, tail, mask with ears and whiskers, maybe a broomstick to ride on. It doesn’t matter really – Aly’s bound to win as the ghost. Hey.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe the ghost’s guarding a treasure chest. We could end up millionaires.’
TWENTY-SIX
FRIDAY EVENING, HOPWOOD House. The family at dinner: Councillor Reginald Hopwood, his wife Felicity and their son, Carl. The dining room is large, the table long. At one time, staff cooked and served all meals eaten here, but this enviable way of life began to fade when the waters closed over Hopwood Mill, and died altogether in Reginald’s grandfather’s time. Now, meals are Felicity’s job. Today she’s cooked pasta, and the portraits of old Josiah and his wife scowl down in disapproval at the food and the domestic arrangement generally.
Carl sliced open a sachet of ravioli, watched the mince ooze out.
One day
, he promised himself,
I’ll do that to Harry Midgley
.
‘Carl?’
‘Y–yes, Dad?’ Reginald bullied his son, which encouraged Carl to bully others.
‘You
are
keeping a lookout at the reservoir, as I asked?’
Carl nodded. ‘Yes, Dad. I scared two scruffs off yesterday, and today there was nobody.’ He looked smug. ‘They might not take much notice of old Woollard, but they don’t mess with
me
.’
His father nodded. ‘Good lad.’
Felicity frowned. ‘I don’t understand your interest in keeping people away from the reservoir, Reggie.’ She
‘We’re just looking,’ growled Rob.
‘Yeah,’ sneered Hopwood, ‘and I’m just looking at
you
.’ He nodded towards the fence. ‘My dad had that put up. He didn’t go to all that trouble just so losers like you could do criminal damage to it.’ He eyeballed them. ‘We’re a long way from school . Old Woollard might not be able to keep an eye on Wilton Water but we can, and we will. Me, Shaun and Nigel. We catch you here, we’ll shove you into that mesh so hard you’ll come out the other side as chips.’
The pair watched the bully depart. ‘No wonder they haven’t bothered with lights and machine guns,’ muttered Harry.
TWENTY-FIVE
AFTER TEA, HARRY pulled Bethan into his room, closed the door and asked, ‘Have you been past the res lately?’
Bethan shook her head. ‘Saturday was the last time, when I took the snapshot. Why?’
‘It’s fenced off, you can’t get on the footpath.’
Bethan frowned. ‘Who’s done that? Why would they want to . . .?’
‘Carl reckons his stupid dad got it done, for safety. And Carl’s made himself chief of the reservoir police. He caught me and Rob there just now.’
‘What the heck’s it got to do with
him
, the red-faced creep?’
Harry shrugged. ‘You know what he’s like, just because his dad’s a councillor. Probably thinks nobody should get a look at the old mill ’cause it used to be theirs.’
Bethan looked at her brother. ‘So what are you saying, Harry – that we should just forget about our investigation? Our first genuine adventure?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I’m not saying that at all.’ He grinned. ‘Think about it, Sis. It’ll be a
bigger
adventure, won’t it, high steel fences and Carl’s performing cave trolls to watch out for. We’ll have to be ice cool, totally focused.’
Bethan smiled. ‘So we go for it?’
Harry nodded. ‘When d’you want to start?’
‘Well . . .’ His sister thought for a moment. ‘I think we ought to wait till after the Hallowe’en Hop. I haven’t made my costume yet, and I won’t be able to focus on anything else till it’s done.’
‘That’s eight days,’ said Harry. ‘With a bit of luck, they’ll have got the water level right down and there’ll be something to see. What’re you going as, by the way?’
Bethan shrugged. ‘I’m thinking of going as a witch’s familiar. A black cat. It’s a dead simple costume to make – black leotard, tail, mask with ears and whiskers, maybe a broomstick to ride on. It doesn’t matter really – Aly’s bound to win as the ghost. Hey.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe the ghost’s guarding a treasure chest. We could end up millionaires.’
TWENTY-SIX
FRIDAY EVENING, HOPWOOD House. The family at dinner: Councillor Reginald Hopwood, his wife Felicity and their son, Carl. The dining room is large, the table long. At one time, staff cooked and served all meals eaten here, but this enviable way of life began to fade when the waters closed over Hopwood Mill, and died altogether in Reginald’s grandfather’s time. Now, meals are Felicity’s job. Today she’s cooked pasta, and the portraits of old Josiah and his wife scowl down in disapproval at the food and the domestic arrangement generally.
Carl sliced open a sachet of ravioli, watched the mince ooze out.
One day
, he promised himself,
I’ll do that to Harry Midgley
.
‘Carl?’
‘Y–yes, Dad?’ Reginald bullied his son, which encouraged Carl to bully others.
‘You
are
keeping a lookout at the reservoir, as I asked?’
Carl nodded. ‘Yes, Dad. I scared two scruffs off yesterday, and today there was nobody.’ He looked smug. ‘They might not take much notice of old Woollard, but they don’t mess with
me
.’
His father nodded. ‘Good lad.’
Felicity frowned. ‘I don’t understand your interest in keeping people away from the reservoir, Reggie.’ She