The Secret Lake Page 5

  ‘I’m Stella and this is my brother, Tom,’ said Stella quickly. ‘I’m sorry, Lucy, but we don’t have time to explain any more now. It’s nearly morning, and if Jack’s in the cellar we’d better get in there now, before everyone wakes up again.’

  Lucy cocked her head to one side and frowned. ‘Who is the poor boy, anyway? He’s a thief isn’t he? What’s Emma got to do with him?’

  Stella shook her head. ‘Lucy, you’re just going to have to trust me. You know we’re friends of Emma’s—’

  ‘I know,’ said Lucy brightly.

  ‘Well, Jack’s a good friend of hers too. She’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, I’m sure.’

  Lucy frowned and nodded. ‘All right, all right,’ she said impatiently. ‘But tell me this. Exactly how do you propose to get inside?’

  ‘With a key, of course!’ said Tom grinning. And as he pulled the key from his pocket Lucy’s eyes lit up with delight.

  Moments later they stood by the kitchen door waiting to go in. Stella hesitated then quickly turned to Lucy. ‘Lucy,’ she whispered urgently. ‘Please, when we get out of here with Jack you must promise to go straight back to your house. Don’t try to follow us. We must go our separate ways – otherwise we’ll all be caught! Emma will explain, I promise.’

  Lucy tossed another glance skywards. ‘All right, all right!’ she said, with an impatient sigh. ‘But do let’s get on with it for goodness’ sake!’

  As the key turned, the lock clanked loudly making all three children jump. For a moment they paused, then slowly crept inside. The remains of a small log burned in the fireplace, giving the air a welcome warmth. Stella reached for her torch, glanced across at Lucy, then thought better of it.

  ‘It’s down here!’ whispered Lucy. The children crept after her towards the pantry they had stolen food from earlier. Suddenly Lucy stepped to one side and pointed to the floor.

  ‘I’ve never seen him in such a fury!’ she whispered excitedly.

  ‘Who?’ said Tom, starting to tremble.

  ‘Crawley of course! He beat him three times across the back, then tied him all up! Said the police could wait ’til dawn and the boy could wait with the rats! Mr Gladstone’ll be furious if ever he finds out. But he’s gone back to bed of course.’

  Stella’s stomach felt hollow as she dropped to her knees and felt around in the half-light. Thank goodness Tom had made them come back down. She grasped onto a small handle, then with help of the others managed to pull the door up and open. As it clanked back onto the floor muffled cries rose up from the darkness.

  ‘Hold your breath everyone!’ whispered Stella. She glanced nervously at Lucy, then flicked on her torch – to meet Jack’s terrified eyes gleaming up at her from where he sat bound and gagged against a wall at the foot of the wooden steps.

  ‘Jack!’ whispered Stella in horror.

  ‘Where did you get that!’ gasped Lucy, staring at the torch.

  ‘Australia!’ said Tom, raising his eyebrows. He then dived down the stairs to help his friend.

  The rag around Jack’s mouth was sodden and wet with saliva and it took Tom several seconds to pull it down and around his neck.

  ‘’Ow d’yer get in ’ere, then?’ said Jack beaming. Through his dirt-smudged face Tom could see that he had been crying. But he didn’t let on. Instead he proudly pulled the key from his pocket.

  ‘Get a move on, will you!’ whispered Stella crossly.

  Tom was now desperately fumbling at Jack’s back with the ties around his wrists. ‘I can’t get them off!’ he whispered in panic.

  Stella gritted her teeth. ‘Pull, Tom, pull!’

  Lucy darted into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later holding out the most enormous kitchen knife that glinted in the light thrown up by the torch. ‘Try this!’ she said proudly.

  Stella stared at the knife and swallowed hard. ‘I’ll do it,’ she said quickly. She grasped the knife handle and scrambled down the steps. Tom held the torch steady while Stella cut carefully through the rags and released Jack’s hands.

  ‘I won’t forget this!’ said Jack, flinching slightly. ‘Yer’s really saved me skin this time.’ He grabbed the knife, and in one clean swipe which took the children’s breath away he cut his legs free.

  ‘Now,’ he said jumping up, ‘I thinks it’s time we all went ’ome so ter speak!’

  With wide grins Tom and Stella made their way back up the steps behind him.

  ‘Let’s go!’ whispered Lucy importantly – but then stopped dead as a child’s hand holding out a flickering yellow candle appeared in the doorway to the hall.

  ‘Emma!’ squealed Stella in delight – just as Sophie stepped into view.

  For a split second the children stood staring at one another, no-one daring to breathe. Then Lucy spoke up. ‘Why, Sophie!’ she said, in a voice as stiff as her grin. ‘What on earth are you doing up at this time?’

  Sophie peered down her nose at Lucy then moved a slow stare from Stella, to Tom, to Jack. Gradually but surely a broad smile spread out across her face. She then heaved her chest, took the deepest of breaths – and yelled at the top of her lungs, ‘Crawley! Papa! I’ve caught them!’

  In an instant the house came alive. Floorboards thumped. Voices shouted. Feet thundered down stairways. ‘I’m on me way!’ echoed the yell of Crawley.

  The children fled past Sophie towards the door, the Gladstones’ key clattering across the stone floor as it fell. ‘Caught whom, Sophie?’ said Lucy sarcastically, then dived into the garden after the others.

  12

  Guilty

  Tom, Jack and Stella tore across the lawn towards The Island, not daring to glance back for fear of slowing themselves. And as they raced through the fading dawn mist, Stella’s heart skipped a beat as she glimpsed a group of moles scuttling in a circle by the line of the trees ahead. Her mouth widened into a smile just as her plimsoll struck something hard and she found herself stumbling towards the ground.

  As quickly as her hands hit the sodden grass, she pushed herself up to see Jack and Tom disappearing towards the woods and Lucy heading off to the right. A second later she was back on her feet, but then was immediately winded by the grasp of a man’s thick arm her around her waist.

  ‘Gottcha!’ snarled Crawley in triumph. His breath was hot in her ear.

  ‘Get off me!’ squealed Stella, gasping. Pummelling furiously with her elbows she tried to break free. But Crawley’s grip around her waist continued to tighten and her iPhone was now digging deep into the left side of her tummy through her jeans pocket.

  ‘Ouch! You’re hurting me! Get off!’

  As she struggled from side to side she was aware that the others were now running back in her direction.

  ‘Not ’til I have the boy thief!’ growled Crawley.

  ‘Jack’s not a thief!’ Stella grunted between clenched teeth. She was pulling forward with all her might, but to no avail.

  ‘Stella’s right!’ cut in an angry voice from one side. ‘You’re the only thief around here, Crawley, and I’m going to tell papa!’

  Immediately Crawley loosened his grip and Stella looked up in astonishment to see Emma step from the shadows, still wearing her nightgown and overcoat. Tom, Jack and Lucy came to a breathless halt behind her.

  Crawley snorted indignantly. ‘Well, well, now Miss Emma. Albert Crawley a thief, eh? Who’s been telling you that nonsense?’

  ‘You are a thief!’ said Emma, unwaveringly. ‘And you’ve been stealing our silver! And mama’s money!’

  Stella’s heart was racing. As she felt her iPhone through her jeans pocket she suddenly had an idea – she knew exactly where to find the record button.

  Crawley’s breathing paused in her ear. As his grip loosened again, she slipped the phone from her pocket, slid her finger quickly across and tapped twice.

  ‘Well, well, Miss Emma,’ he snarled. ‘An’ jus’ s’ppose I ’ad been stealin’ your precious silver? Who’s gonna believe you anyways.’ He narrowed his
dark eyes. ‘You lot are in enough trouble as it is already, so best keep yer mouths shut fer yer own good!’

  At that moment Henry Gladstone burst through the bushes.

  ‘What the blazes is going on, Crawley?’ He peered over at Jack. ‘And what in heaven’s name is that boy still doing here?’

  Immediately Crawley freed Stella and stood upright. ‘Sir,’ he said in a barely recognisable voice. ‘It was the boy. He put up a struggle, see. Out of control he was.’ He squinted darkly in Jack’s direction. ‘An’ then when he threatened me with a knife I ’ad to lock ’im in the cellar, sir. Just going to fetch the police, I was, sir, when this lot broke in.’

  Emma stepped forward, her dark eyes gleaming furiously. ‘He’s lying papa! He’s lying!’ She rounded on Crawley. ‘Jack’s not the thief, Crawley! You are! And poor Jacob was never a thief either! Jack’s his son and he told us about you accusing him.’

  A stunned silence followed, broken only by the somewhat flustered arrival of Mrs Gladstone and Sophie, in the company of two policemen.

  ‘Emma Gladstone, what are you saying?’ Her father’s voice was shaking. ‘This is complete and utter nonsense. To suggest that Crawley—’

  ‘But, papa, I’ve got proof!’ Emma stepped forward again, and pulled a rolled up cloth from under her coat. The children’s eyes all widened.

  Crawley shuffled sideways as Henry Gladstone reached out and took the bundle from his daughter. With a bewildered frown he knelt to the ground and unwrapped the cloth, which revealed an assortment of small silver objects.

  ‘Well I never, Constance!’ he breathed. ‘Here’s your pillbox! And here’s that salt cellar that went missing, and the jug! No coin purse though. Where is it, Crawley? Spent all the money have you?’

  The first policeman stepped forward, quietly positioning himself behind Crawley who ignored Mr Gladstone’s question and was starting to shift uncomfortably.

  Mrs Gladstone’s face was taut and pale. ‘Emma, dear,’ she said, pulling her shawl around her nightgown, ‘where did you find all this stuff?’

  ‘Harry found it for me,’ said Emma, her gaze still fixed on Crawley. ‘Buried in a hole under a bush.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Buried there because Crawley was trying to hide it!’

  Quietly Stella breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Now look ’ere,’ said Crawley sharply, making everyone start. ‘That silver’s got nothin’ ter do with me!’ He shot a dark look at Jack. ‘There’s no proof I put it there! It’s the boy I tell yer! I saw ’im with me own eyes, taking silver from the house ’e was. An’ money ’n all.’

  Mr Gladstone, becoming exasperated, stood up shaking his head. ‘You know, Emma, Crawley is quite right. A pile of our silver in the garden hardly makes him a thief! I’m afraid to say that if you’re going to expound such a ridiculous theory, you’re going to have to come up with some proof!’

  A smile flickered across Crawley’s mouth just as Stella stepped forward, her arm shaking as she slowly held her iPhone out in front of her.

  ‘I’ve got proof,’ she said calmly.

  ‘What in heaven’s name is that?’ said Henry Gladstone briskly. But as quickly as he reached out to take it, he pulled his hand back as a familiar yet oddly disengaged voice filled the air in front of him.

  ‘Well, well, Miss Emma. An’ jus’ s’ppose I ’ad been stealin’ your precious silver? Who’s gonna believe you anyways. You lot are in enough trouble as it is already, so best keep yer mouths shut fer yer own good!’

  For a few seconds no-one moved, apart from the first policeman who started furiously scribbling down notes.

  ‘What on earth’s Crawley doing inside that box?’ exclaimed Lucy, saucer-eyed.

  Emma gave Stella a triumphant smile, then stamped her foot with excitement.

  ‘You see, papa! I told you! I told you Crawley was the thief!’

  But Mr Gladstone, still staring drop-jawed at the iPhone, didn’t answer. Along with his wife and his eldest daughter, he seemed to have gone into a momentary trance.

  Crawley started muttering in bewilderment, then took two paces backwards – into the firm grip of the second policeman.

  Mr Gladstone finally snapped out of his trance and started slowly shaking his head. ‘I’ll make this up to Jacob,’ he said, ‘if it’s the last thing I do.’

  As Crawley struggled with the policeman Jack smiled and nodded gently at Tom and Stella, then sidled towards a bush.

  ‘Where’s that poor boy?’ said Mr Gladstone, suddenly looking all around. ‘Jacob’s son, eh? Well I’ll be damned.’

  ‘Musta been frightened off,’ said the policeman. ‘He won’t be far, sir.’

  ‘Well get someone to go and look for him, will you please? We need to clean him up and take him home to his family.’

  ‘Oh, Lucy, dear,’ said Emma loudly as Crawley was led away. She was staring hard in her friend’s direction and curling her hair purposefully around her forefinger. ‘Isn’t your uncle’s machine from Australia quite wonderful? And to think that he let your cousins bring it with them on their visit to you!’

  As soon as Lucy saw Emma twisting her hair with her fingers, her puzzled frown metamorphosed into a wide smile.

  ‘Oh! Why – yes –of course, Emma – it’s quite unbelievable, isn’t it!’

  She feigned a yawn and tossed her long blonde hair behind her shoulder. ‘Well, cousins, I think we’re all very tired, aren’t we? Time for bed I think!’ And she slipped her arms through Tom and Stella’s, turned them around with her, and frog-marched them off.

  13

  An Unexpected Welcome

  No sooner had the children turned out of sight than Jack’s urgent whisper cut in from one side. ‘Over ’ere! You gotta go! The moles just danced again!’ As they glanced to their right he stepped from behind a tree.

  ‘Go where?’ said Lucy, clearly put out.

  ‘Home,’ said Stella. She smiled apologetically.

  ‘And where exactly is home?’ said Lucy, frowning, ‘– and don’t you dare to tell me it’s in Australia!’

  The children all laughed.

  ‘It’s not far,’ said Stella brightly. ‘Emma will tell you in the morning. I’m sorry. We will see you again, though!’

  Lucy sniffed deeply, failing to hide her disappointment. ‘Oh – and just in case…’ Stella’s cheeks reddened. She slipped the friendship bracelet off her wrist. ‘Can you give this to Emma from me?’

  ‘What on earth’s that?’ said Lucy with a frown, as Stella quickly slipped it onto her wrist.

  ‘It’s a friendship bracelet.’ Stella smiled and shrugged her shoulders. ‘It means you stay friends wherever you are.’ Already the others were heading off. ‘Thanks again, Lucy. You were brilliant! Emma will explain.’ Then she turned and hurried towards the woods.

  Jack insisted on rowing them back, even though he flinched each time his back brushed the edge of the boat. ‘So much fer our midnight feast,’ he chuckled. ‘Got more than we bargained for there, eh?’ Tom immediately started giggling.

  Between them the children pulled the boat up under the tree.

  ‘Well,’ said Jack, suddenly awkward. ‘I got you ter thank fer savin’ me – an’ fer savin’ me pa by the sound o’ things!’ He cleared his throat. ‘Was sure fine ter meet yer, an’ ’ave a safe trip back!’

  Stella swallowed hard. ‘I hope your father gets well again quickly,’ she said smiling.

  ‘I’m sure ’e will now Mr Gladstone knows the truth. He’ll be back at work in no time is my bet! An’ fer the Gladstones most likely!

  ‘Goodbye, littlun.’ Jack held a grubby hand out to Tom. ‘Yer’s got spunk an’ yer’ll do well in life, nipper.’ Tom smiled and nodded, clutching his trowel in one hand as Jack shook the other. ‘An’ you keep diggin’. Never know what’s you might find in that garden o’ yours!’

  ‘I definitely will!’ said Tom. ‘Bye for now, Jack!’ He climbed up onto the first tree nodule.

  ‘Here, Jack, take this!’
Stella held out the little orange torch. Tom’s already done the tunnel in the dark – I’ll just follow him!’

  ‘Jeepers! Yer really meant it! Cheers!’ With a delighted smile, Jack took the little torch and shone it up into the dark mass of branches. Stella grabbed onto the first nodule and was soon climbing up after Tom.

  ‘Good luck!’ Jack called after her. ‘An’ goodbye again!’ With the help of the torch beam Stella and Tom made quick progress and soon found themselves amongst the densely packed branches which, being so close together, were easy to locate once the torch light had faded.

  ‘We’re here! whisperedTom, suddenly feeling earthen walls instead of tree trunk as he groped for the next branch. He quickly located the first ladder rung, stepped up onto the next branch up and found his head inside the tunnel. ‘Time to go home,’ he whispered as he peered up to a tiny well of daylight in the distance. ‘See you again one day I hope, Jack.’

  ‘Get a move on, will you!’ urged his sister.

  As the children crawled through the undergrowth for a second time, squinting at the daylight, a dry twig cracked outside the bush.

  Tom and Stella froze on all fours, hardly daring to breathe. This time it really was Charlie Green’s breathless snort. Moments later his green wellingtons appeared less than a metre from Tom’s nose. ‘What if he sees it?’ each thought, two pairs of eyes fixed beyond the boots to the log on top of the mound.

  ‘Come on out you two! I know you’re in there!’

  Tom and Stella crawled sheepishly out and were surprised to find Charlie Green now sitting on their log.

  ‘Well,’ he snorted, ‘it ain’t a bad idea. An’ certainly not one worth hidin’ in me bushes for.’

  The children stood up brushing dirt and twigs from their hands, hair and knees.

  ‘In fact,’ continued, Charlie Green, ‘it’s a very good place for a seat. Nice spotta sunlight ’ere most mornings!’ Tom and Stella reddened and smiled stiffly as Charlie Green handed them their lunch boxes. They then skipped off around the bush and out onto the lawn. ‘What’s got into him?’ said Stella as she hurried along shoving sandwiches into her mouth.