by K. M. Peyton
‘Ron Crosset. That’s harmless enough,’ Jodie said. ‘D’you like that?’ she demanded.
‘Ron Crosset’s all right.’
‘We’ll call you Ron then. Say you come from the same school as Nutty and Hoomey if anyone asks. They’ve got no hangers-on on board, have they?’
‘No.’
Arnold tried to think himself into being Ron. Mostly his friends called him Am. It wasn’t very different. His enemies probably didn’t know his name anyway, but changing it wasn’t a bad idea. Who were his enemies?
‘They were foreign,’ he remembered.
‘Lots of foreigners on board,’ Jodie said. ‘We’ve got three French boys, with two teachers, two Germans, the Russian boy wonder and his minders – three of them – two Scandinavians in charge of the instruments . . . lots.’
No gorillas. How come he was strangled with claws?
‘Gorillas don’t have claws,’ John Pike pointed out, when the subject was discussed. ‘Bears have claws.’
But the claw marks were very impressive evidence. Arnold thought, without them no-one would have taken him seriously.
The coaches were now making their way down a minor winding road towards the Dee valley where it seemed they were going to stay in an old hunting lodge. They trundled over a long bridge and through some ancient wrought iron gates, and a large complex of buildings lay ahead: a huge grim stone house with four storeys, small mean windows and high, ancient chimneys tossing off plumes of horizontal smoke; barns and old stable buildings making a large courtyard before it, along with a row of workers’ cottages that stretched down to the bridge. In front of the complex was the wide, rapidly flowing river and a grass valley dotted with grazing deer, and behind and all round, the hills rose up to close with the low, scudding grey clouds. The rain tipped down. When the coaches came to a halt and the engines were turned off, Arnold was not the only face which took in the scene with less than enthusiasm. The driver opened the doors and cold air smelling of wet grass and woodsmoke blew bracingly into the fug.
Mrs Knox stood up and smiled encouragingly.
‘Now, we’re all rather tired and hungry! We’re going straight in to have breakfast and after that we’ll see about settling ourselves in!’
To Arnold, never having left London in his life save to go to Aunt Margaret’s, the place was like something out of an old telly film, completely unreal. He expected to see men in kilts with meat cleavers in their hands waiting in the hall . . . but no, only soft-voiced ladies and hearty schoolteachers directing them to long trestle tables set for breakfast. The floor was of bare stone flags and a vast fireplace stood at the top end burning whole trees by the look of it, yet not making any great impression on the atmosphere of stale damp that prevailed. Large tin teapots with steaming spouts arriving at each end of the tables looked more encouraging. Arnold’s new friends carried him along in the shoving crowd to get a place together in the queue for food and they were given huge plates of bacon and eggs and fried bread and tomatoes. Spirits rose rapidly. At the bottom of one of the tables another place was being laid and a lady was saying, ‘So sorry, we must have counted wrong.’
Stuffed with good food, a steaming mug of tea in his hand, Arnold realized that he was on to a good thing, and became increasingly worried as to whether he was going to be quick-witted enough to remain undiscovered. The dead body and the murder attempt took second place to taking in the difficulties that lay ahead.
‘I think you all know the timetable for the first week,’ a geezer was saying to the assembly. ‘Rehearsing in the morning; outings, sport or free time in the afternoon; recitals and lectures in the evening. There is a large plan of the complex at the bottom of the hall to show you where everything takes place. The main music hall, where we shall have rehearsals of the whole orchestra, is in the old ballroom which is a separate building on the edge of the deer park – a very historical building, by the way, you will learn more about it later. There are various rooms allocated for separate practising on the first floor; the second floor is the adults’ accommodation – no intrusion here please, without appointment. We want to get some peace – it’s our holiday too, remember. Your dormitories are on the third floor, females to the right of the central staircase, males to the left. The day’s timetable will be posted by the front door here. This morning you can settle in, find your way around, and be back here for lunch at one o’clock.’
Naturally there was a rude stampede to the dormitories, to bag the best rooms and beds next to best friends. Arnold found that Christian was a man of great authority. Without even seeming to hurry, he was there first, not having lost his way like three-quarters of the others, and in charge of the best bedroom without turning a hair. No-one disputed his right. He stood at the door repulsing hopeful invaders with his cool, scornful stare.
There were four beds in the room, a mix of camp-beds and sagging divans with motley covers. Christian and his friend John Pike accepted the company of Hoomey and Arnold with a certain resignation, seeing that Hoomey was lost without his minder Nutty, and Arnold was lost full stop. Arnold could see that Hoomey was destined to be his mate, not a happy thought, for Hoomey was a wimp of the first order. It was a wonder he didn’t have his teddy bear with him. John Pike had the same authoritative air as Christian: natural leaders of men, but quite nice with it. Christian was older, sixteen or seventeen by the look of him, with an almost pretty face with its sensitive features and clear, long-lashed eyes. Straight blond hair fell untidily over his forehead. His sport was, apparently, polo. Blimey, Arnold thought, I’ve got myself up a funny cul-de-sac here. He sat on his lumpy bed wondering whether he wasn’t dreaming it all.
‘This is your bed. Tailormade,’ John Pike said to Arnold, opening the door of a huge wardrobe. ‘Snuggle down in the bottom here and no-one’ll ever find you.’
‘And shut the door, you mean?’ Terror rose in Arnold at the thought.
John Pike examined the latch. ‘With a bit of wire you could open it from inside. It just might be useful, you never know. Leave it open at night, but if anyone comes in we can close it and they’ll never know.’
Jodie and Nutty, visiting, thought it a great idea.
‘How come you got such a smart room then?’ Nutty asked crossly.
The window in the massively thick wall was in the gable of the great house and had a commanding view down the valley to the west, away from such civilization as there was. The wide river snaked down from its mysterious source in the high mountains beyond, which seemed layered one behind the other in receding shades of rain-dimmed purple. By contrast with the cold magnificence outside, the room was quite cosy, with an ancient red carpet on the floor, an even more ancient radiator exuding a faint warmth, two nineteen-twenties armchairs in faded gold plush covers and a table.
‘Four beds, all the same. You’ll get someone else shoved in. That’ll mean explaining Arnold. Ron, I mean.’
‘Oh, we’ll sort that out,’ said Christian airily.
‘We’ve got to find out who’s trying to murder him,’ Jodie said.
‘Must we?’ said John Pike.
‘Let’s wait till they try again,’ Christian said with a grin.
‘It’ll be fun hiding him, a bit of a challenge,’ Nutty said. ‘Make life more interesting.’
Arnold found their attitude less than encouraging, but all the same liked the feeling of being one of a gang. He was quite content to be carried along, not quite knowing what was going to happen. It was quite a familiar feeling, not knowing what to expect. He felt far less frightened of whatever it was that threatened him, no longer alone. Even if it was, on the surface of it, safer to go back home again, he did not want to leave his new friends. They seemed to make all the decisions too, which was restful. Apart from Hoomey, they were very pushy types, very sure of themselves.
They all went to collect their luggage. Arnold staggered up the stairs with his holdall and the violin. Christian brought his clarinet but John Pike had to see to the remov
al of his drums to the ballroom-cum-rehearsal-room where they were to live. Nobody so far seemed to be claiming the fourth bed.
‘Holy cow, you should see that ballroom!’ John Pike said when he came back. ‘It’s really creepy. It’s got two thousand skulls in it, all mounted round the walls and on the ceiling.’
‘Skulls?’
‘Deer, you know. Antlers on bits of head with empty eye-sockets, peering at you everywhere you look.’
They took this in. It seemed excessively foreign.
Arnold plonked his gear on the fourth bed, but Jodie told him to leave it clear for a bit.
‘You’re bound to get a fourth person. They’re still scrimmaging up the corridor.’
No sooner had she spoken the words than Mrs Knox put her head round the door with one of her eternal lists.
‘Any spare beds in here?’
‘One,’ said Jodie.
‘Ah.’ She consulted the list and stared at them all closely. ‘You’re visiting?’ she said to the girls. ‘And one of you is visiting?’ to the boys.
‘He is,’ said Jodie, nodding at Arnold.
‘Who is he?’ Mrs Knox consulted her list.
‘David Smith.’
‘Ah.’
Arnold could feel his heart racing uncomfortably. Mrs Knox had certainly got his measure with her intent peer. Had she already ticked off David Smith? Jodie knew she had taken a risk and cursed herself for not keeping Arnold hidden until all the settling-in had finished. But Mrs Knox turned her gaze not to Arnold but to Christian and John Pike.
‘So, you look like a responsible couple. I’m looking for a bed for the Russian boy. His people want him to stay with them, but what’s the point of his doing a tour like this if he lives apart? He needs to get to know you young people and learn the language. He’ll never do that unless he mixes. But he seems very nervous and wound-up. I’m a bit worried about him, to tell the truth. Are you prepared to take a little trouble to help him settle in?’
The two boys exchanged glances.
Mrs Knox said, ‘He speaks not a word of English. I suppose you don’t know any Russian?’
‘No.’
‘It’s not fashionable any more, is it? Well, you’ll just have to do your best. I’ll go and fetch him.’
She left the room and they all looked at each other glumly.
‘That’s all we need!’ said Jodie. ‘Hiding Arnold and trying to explain what he’s doing in the bottom of the wardrobe to someone who doesn’t speak English!’
Christian grinned. ‘Might be a bit of fun.’
‘Who’s this Russian then?’ Arnold asked.
‘He’s a prodigy pianist. Come over with lots of hype. We haven’t done any rehearsals with him yet so God knows what he’s like.’
‘He’s supposed to be really ace.’
‘He’d better be,’ said John Pike. ‘All the publicity he’s got.’
‘Yes, they make out he’s carrying the orchestra – that brochure they put out, it more or less says, “Come and listen to Boris Whatshisnameski accompanied by a rubbish orchestra but he’s worth your while.” Did you read it?’ Nutty was full of indignation. ‘All pictures of him and his retinue and none of us at all!’
‘He didn’t even come in the coach, did he? He has his own car,’ Jodie put in.
‘What, drives it?’
‘No, he’s not old enough. His minders drive it – his mum and dad, or whatever. Hatchet-faced woman, haven’t you seen her? And her husband and another fellow, youngish, face like a ferret.’
‘She’s not old enough to be his mother,’ Jodie said.
‘She and her husband are his managers,’ John Pike said. ‘He’s their bread and butter. No wonder they guard him like the crown jewels.’
‘Sounds as if he could do with a bit of light relief,’ Christian said. ‘We’ll indoctrinate him with our low standards.’
‘Oh, hark at you! The most dedicated of the lot!’ Jodie crowed.
Christian went slightly pink.
John Pike said, ‘Lay off! He can’t help it. His father’s a General.’
‘My father’s a greengrocer and I’ve got very high standards,’ said Nutty loftily.
‘My father’s a VAT man.’ Hoomey looked as if this explained everything.
‘Mine’s a burglar,’ said Arnold.
They all looked awed.
‘You mean, he makes a living at it?’
‘Yeah. But he’s abroad just now, in Spain.’
‘Crime does pay?’
‘On and off. Mostly off.’ Arnold had discovered this for himself. To be successful one needed brains, just like being a General. Life had its patterns.
This interesting conversation was broken up by the intrusion of Mrs Knox once more. They had been so taken up with yakking that they had forgotten to hide Arnold yet again. He tried to fade behind the door, but her eyes behind their large owlish glasses seemed to pierce like lasers. However she had stopped counting beds and was introducing the Russian boy.
‘This is Boris Khobotov, who is going to stay with you. I want you to make quite sure he isn’t left out of things.’ She beamed a laser smile at Boris and added to Christian quietly, ‘He seems like a nervous wreck to me. You must do your best. Let me know if you can’t cope. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
Arnold thought, ‘That’s all we need! Special attention!’
Boris was staggering beneath an enormous suitcase. Christian took it off him with a Christian smile and laid it on the best of the four beds with a flourish of his arm to indicate that this was Boris’s place. Then, pointing to each of them in turn, he said their names, and they all shook hands. As Mrs Knox was still hovering in the doorway, Arnold was David Smith again.
Boris was a pale gangling lad of about sixteen, all wrists and Adam’s apple. He had huge dark eyes in a gaunt white face and lank black hair that fell like a horse’s forelock over his brainy brow. His smile was flickering, nervous, his large hands damp with sweat. He murmured polite (presumably) Russian which was incomprehensible.
Mrs Knox departed and an embarrassed silence fell on the company. Nutty and Jodie melted back to their own room. Christian and John Pike made a show of unpacking their things and Christian got out his clarinet and played a few random twiddles. Boris undid the enormous suitcase and opened the wardrobe door. He hung all his clothes on hangers and started to line up about ten pairs of shoes on the wardrobe floor where Arnold was going to sleep. Arnold sat miserably watching him. Life was getting complicated.
‘What am I going to do?’ he appealed.
‘Oh, don’t worry. We’ll sort it out later. I’m just hoping David Smith is keeping out of the limelight, wherever he is.’
It was a bit of a lark to the others, Arnold could see. Life and death to him – although death seemed to have receded a bit. They had to go down for a talk in the hall, about the two weeks ahead of them, and then they were shown a film so boring (blokes in silk stockings singing) that Arnold dozed off and fell off his chair. John Pike caught him just before he crashed to the floor where no doubt Mrs Knox’s lasers would have caught up with him. At supper the extra place was laid already, and Arnold got down to an enormous meal of soup, roast beef and all the trimmings, fruit salad and coffee. When they were all finished Mr Harlech, the general manager of the orchestra and boss organizer, spoke to them briefly.
‘Tomorrow after breakfast you will all assemble in the ballroom with your instruments for our first rehearsal. Try to get a good sleep tonight – some of us will be round the dormitories after lights out to make sure you’re not messing about. This isn’t just a holiday and a joke, remember – you’re here to do a job. Enjoy yourselves by all means, but show you are worthy of having been chosen by having a responsible attitude. I know you won’t let me down.’
‘Huh,’ breathed Nutty. ‘I hope you’re right, mate.’
‘Just before you go!’ Mr Harlech raised his voice as Mrs Knox spoke anxiously in his ear. He held up his hand for silence
. ‘Can David Smith just come and see Mrs Knox before he goes upstairs. Thank you!’
Arnold froze in his seat. Christian nudged him urgently to his feet.
‘Not you, twit! The real one. It’s the wardrobe for you, quick sharp.’
They raced up the baronial stairs towards the third floor.
‘She’ll come looking,’ Jodie panted.
‘Of course. But we’ll have time to hide him.’
‘Let us know what happens!’ Jodie and Nutty departed for the female dormitories and the boys regained their room. A rather bewildered Boris followed them and watched as they scooped his neat rows of shoes into a heap at one end of the wardrobe and stuffed Arnold inside. John Pike shut the door on him.
The experience – of hiding while Authority searched nearby – was not entirely foreign to Arnold. All the same he felt unaccountably more nervous this time than he ever had before. The wardrobe was as dark as a tomb and smelled strongly of age, damp and mothballs. He could hear quite plainly everything going on in the room. In no time at all he heard Mrs Knox’s voice.
‘Can you explain to me why we have two David Smiths in our company? Where’s that boy who was in here before supper? The one with hair like bristles who scowled all the time.’
‘I don’t know, Mrs Knox. He’s not a friend of ours. He just came in, looking for a bed, I think.’
‘But you said he was David Smith. And there’s already a David Smith at the other end of the corridor.’
‘I thought he said he was David Smith.’
‘Who was he then?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was he at supper?’
‘Yes. He sat near us.’
‘Did he come upstairs with you after supper?’
‘I don’t know where he went after supper.’
‘I can’t make it out. If you see him again, will you send him to me? I need to get this straight. We seem to have an extra person.’
There was a long pause. Arnold could see them all standing looking innocent and responsible. For a General’s son, Christian was a great liar.