The Wreckers

by Gary Knowelden

  ‘Lay down darling, we have all been so worried about you.’ His mother wipes his brow. ‘How did I get here?’ he asks. ‘Harry found you unconscious on the beach,’ answers his Dad. ‘He was searching for you when he heard Bruce barking. His barking led Harry to where you were laying. You have quite a bump on your head. Harry carried you back here.’ ‘I think you have concussion,’ says his mother. ‘You have been delirious and have been been saying and shouting all sorts of strange things.’ ‘What did I say?’ asks Edward ‘I could not make head or tail of it. You were calling out people’s names – Seamus, Lucy, Sam and someone called Old Jack. Who are those people?’ Before he could answer, his aunt steps forward. ‘I think he should get some rest,’ she says.

  Edward’s eyes suddenly open and he tries to sit up. ‘It is all starting to come back to me,’ he shouts. ‘The landslide – quickly, we must save them; the village is sliding into the sea.’ ‘Save who?’ his father asks. ‘Lucy, Sam and Old Jack of course.’ ‘Oh dear, here he goes again, my poor, poor boy,’ wails his mother, mopping his brow even more frantically. Then Edward relaxes, lying back on the settee, as he remembers that they have gone, passed on. ‘I don’t think it matters anymore, I think they are safe now with their friends and families,’ he says.

  Just at that moment, the front door bell rings. Annie leaves the room to answer it and comes back, accompanied by Mr Ponsonby. ‘Well this is a cosy little gathering,’ he says sarcastically. ‘What are you doing here, Ponsonby?’ says Harry angrily. ‘Yes, this is not a good time,’ says Agatha. ‘It might not be a good time for you but it is the perfect time for me,’ Ponsonby replies with a sneer. ‘What is this all about’ asks George, Edward’s father. ‘Who is this man?’ Aunt Agatha starts to explain who he is but Ponsonby rudely interrupts her. ‘What she is trying to tell you is that she borrowed a sum of money from me – a rather large sum,’ he adds. Here Ponsonby produces a document from his pocket. ‘And to cut a long story short, the deadline for the full repayment is today and I am here to collect that payment. If she does not have the money in full, she will default.’ ‘What is that?’ asks George, pointing at the document. ‘It is a copy of the agreement signed by this dear little old lady.’ Felicity, Edward’s mother, takes the agreement from Ponsonby. ‘What does this mean?’ she asks. ‘Well my good lady, this agreement states that unless I receive the repayment of the loan in full today, Pea Haven Hall becomes my property.’ There is a stunned silence, then everyone starts to talk at once.

  ‘Quiet!’ shouts George, ‘let me see that agreement,’ he says, taking it from his wife. Ponsonby turns to Agatha. ‘Have you got my money?’ he asks. ‘Well not right at this moment,’ Agatha replies, ‘but I will talk to my bank manager after the holiday. I am sure something can be worked out.’ ‘I am afraid, dear lady, that will be too late.’ Edward’s mother steps towards Ponsonby. ‘Now look here Mr Ponsonby, my son has had a very bad experience and is delirious so I think you should leave right away.’ ‘I am afraid it will be you and the rest of these people who will be leaving if I do not get my money straight away.’ ‘George, do something,’ she says to her husband. George, who is still reading the agreement, looks up at Ponsonby. ‘You crook!’ he says angrily. ‘This document is daylight robbery.’ ‘Oh dear!’ says Agatha, ‘he seemed so nice when I signed the agreement and he gave me the cheque.’ ‘I bet he did,’ says George, ‘the interest rate he is charging you is outrageous.’ George slams the agreement down onto the table.

  While all this is going on, unseen by anyone in the room, Edward gets up from the sofa and silently leaves the room. Aunt Agatha is by now very upset and tries to explain that she needed the money to do essential repairs to the house. ‘Now don’t upset yourself my dear,’ says Ponsonby patronizingly, ‘I am a reasonable man, I would not throw you out on to the streets tonight – tomorrow will do quite nicely,’ he laughs. ‘You swine!’ shouts Harry, advancing menacingly towards Ponsonby. Annie tries to restrain Harry and suddenly everyone is shouting again.

  Unseen by anybody, Edward returns to the room and steps into the circle of shouting adults. He shouts as loud as he can. ‘Will this help?’ With that he thrusts a painting in front of them.

  Everyone steps back and there are a few seconds of silence. ‘What is that?’ asks Aunt Agatha. ‘It looks like a Van Gogh,’ says his father. They all stare at the painting of the sunflowers that Edward is holding. ‘I think it is genuine,’ says Edward quietly. ‘Genuine!’ repeats his father, shocked. ‘Yes,’ says Edward. ‘There is a receipt taped to the back.’ Edward’s father examines the yellowed piece of paper taped to the back of the painting. ‘It is made out to a Mrs Grace Hetherington and – good grief, it is signed by Vincent Van Gogh. I don’t believe it!’ says George, stunned. ‘It is signed by Van Gogh himself.’ ‘Who is Grace Hetherington?’ asks Annie. ‘She was my grandmother,’ says Agatha, ‘long since passed I am afraid. She and my grandfather spent some time in France when they were first married. She loved art; she must have purchased this painting while they were there.’ ‘But wouldn’t it have cost a fortune?’ asks Edward’s mother. ‘Not judging by the amount on this receipt,’ replies George. ‘Mrs Hetherington must have purchased the painting when Van Gogh was an unknown artist and before the value of his paintings shot through the roof.’ ‘She must have just bought it because she liked it,’ says Felicity, gazing at the painting. ‘The best reason of all to buy a painting,’ says George. ‘Where did you get this painting, Edward?’ his father asks, ‘I found it in one of the tunnels below the house.’ ‘What tunnels?’ asks his mother. ‘There is a legend that there are secret tunnels under this house, but I have never found them,’ answers Agatha. ‘Well it seems that Edward has and they are not secret anymore,’ says Harry.

  ‘Is it really an original Van Gogh?’ asks Edward’s mother. ‘I think Ponsonby can answer that,’ says Harry. ‘What do you mean by that?’ demands Ponsonby. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know anything about it,’ says Harry. ‘That picture was one of the reasons you were so keen to get your hands on this place.’ ‘You’re mad! I didn’t know this house had a secret tunnel, let alone a valuable painting in it. It’s probably a fake anyway.’ Harry moves menacingly towards Ponsonby. ‘Don’t give me that load of old nonsense, the game’s up Ponsonby. You knew the tunnel existed because you found the old plans of the house amongst the deeds and the old papers you took from Agatha as security on the loan. Also, you found an old itinerary of what was stored down there – one of the earlier owners of the house must have written it. One of the items listed was an oil painting of sunflowers signed by the artist, a certain Van Gogh.’ ‘What are you talking about? You’re making it all up.’ ‘How do you know all this?’ Aunt Agatha asks Harry. ‘There’s no point lying, Ponsonby, I overheard you talking to your sidekick Smudger in the Black Horse pub in Dainton. You were bragging to him how you would soon be rich. How once the house was yours you would sell it to the fast food chain. I also heard you say that you were sure that there was a painting hidden in the secret tunnel beneath the house, so valuable that it would stun the art world as well as making you millions.’

  George suddenly laughs. ‘What is so funny?’ asks his wife. ‘Don’t you understand, Aunt Agatha is rich?’ Ponsonby also laughs and a sneer spreads across his face. ‘I think you will find that the painting belongs to me now, it is me who is rich.’ ‘What do you mean?’ asks George. ‘This house and everything in it now belongs to me,’ says Ponsonby, spreading his arms out, indicating everything around him. ‘Not yet,’ says George. ‘What do you mean?’ snaps Ponsonby, ‘read the agreement.’ ‘I just have,’ answers George, ‘my aunt has until 12 noon to pay the money.’ All eyes in the room look towards the clock that is quietly ticking on the mantelpiece. Ponsonby’s grin slowly disappears from his face; the clock shows it is 15 minutes to 12.

  Ponsonby struggles to get control of himself, then his evil grin slowly reappears. ‘Yes, but I know she does not have the money to repay me,’ Ponsonby
says, pointing at Agatha. ‘Maybe not, but I have,’ says George, ‘and I will write you a cheque now for the full amount.’ ‘Don’t be ludicrous, the old bat owes me a fortune – and what if I do not accept a cheque?’ ‘There is nothing in the agreement that says we cannot pay you by cheque, do you want to read it?’ says George, holding the document under Ponsonby’s nose. ‘No I don’t,’ says Ponsonby, his voice rising in panic. ‘I don’t believe you have the funds to cover the loan,’ stutters Ponsonby. ‘It is rather a lot,’ Aunt Agatha sadly admits. ‘I kept missing the repayment dates. Mr Ponsonby was very kind; he kept telling me not to worry.’ ‘I bet he did,’ says George. ‘Every time you missed the repayment dates, the interest on the loan grew larger and larger,’ says George angrily. ‘She signed the papers, it’s all legal,’ retorts Ponsonby. ‘It may be legal but it’s very immoral,’ says Felicity. ‘But with the interest, it is a very large sum I owe him and it is due today’ says Agatha sadly. ‘Exactly,’ says Ponsonby. George interrupts, ‘As I say, I will write you a cheque for the full amount, including all of your miserable interest.’ ‘How do I know you have enough money to cover the cheque?’ ‘You don’t, and between you and me I have to confess that I do not have enough funds in my account to cover the cheque.’ There is total silence in the room. ‘But,’ continues George, ‘the banks close at 12 midday today and remain closed until after Christmas and by the time you can pay it in after Christmas I will have spoken to my bank manager and I am sure with a Van Gogh as collateral it will not be too difficult to persuade my bank to honour my cheque.’

  George wrote out the cheque while Ponsonby demonstrated angrily that he would not accept it. ‘And now Ponsonby I think it is time that you left,’ George says, tucking the cheque into Ponsonby’s breast pocket. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Ponsonby replies petulantly.

  Just at that moment, Ponsonby hears a voice in his ear ‘You tell them, big boy.’ Ponsonby spins round to see who has spoken to him and is shocked that there is nobody there. ‘Who said that?’ he asks. ‘Who said what?’ they all ask. Then he hears the voice again. ‘Do you know, if I wasn’t already spoken for I think you and me could make sweet music together.’

  Beads of perspiration appear on Ponsonby’s brow. ‘There it is again, that horrible voice,’ he shouts, his head twisting one way then the other, looking for the mystery speaker, fear showing on his face. ‘I didn’t hear a voice,’ Agatha says. Ponsonby backs out of the room towards the front door. Just then he hears the voice again, ‘Give us a kiss big boy.’ He spins around. Just a few inches from his face is the semi-transparent head of Su Lu, her huge pink lips puckered ready for action. Ponsonby screams and rushes past the apparition and out of the front door and down the steps. He leaps into the flood water and starts to frantically swim away from the house. ‘Where are you going boss?’ shouts Smudger, who has been waiting for him in the dinghy. ‘It’s horrible, horrible,’ he hears Ponsonby say over and over again. ‘What’s horrible?’ shouts Smudger. ‘I don’t know what it is but it’s horrible,’ Ponsonby squeals in fear. Smudger looks nervously up the steps. Just then the apparition of Su Lu comes out of the door and starts to drift down the steps towards him. ‘Why does everyone keep running away from me?’ asks Su Lu. That was enough for Smudger who starts screaming as he frantically struggles to start the boat’s outboard motor. The motor kicks into life and he points the boat in the direction of the distant figure of Posonby swimming away from him.

  The family appear at the front door, looking towards the departing boat and swimmer, both men still shouting and screaming unintelligibly. ‘They seem to be in a hurry to leave,’ says Agatha. ‘What odd behaviour,’ says Felicity. ‘Most odd,’ says George. ‘Most peculiar,’ agrees Harry. ‘Let’s all go back inside,’ says Annie, ‘and I will make a nice cup of tea.’

  Back in the lounge, George asks, ‘What on earth was all that about?’ which is exactly what everyone was wondering. All except Edward, of course, who just had a smile on his face. He was remembering the statue on the station. ‘Isambard Kingdom Brunel was right, I do like sunflowers.’ On hearing this, his mother swoons and is helped onto the sofa by her husband. ‘My God, my poor boy, he’s become delirious again,’ she says, dramatically holding the back of her hand to her forehead.

  CHAPTER 37

  Edward and Bruce are walking along the beach; the winter sun is fast disappearing below the horizon. ‘Well that took a bit of explaining,’ says Edward. ‘Yes,’ agrees Bruce. ‘It all sounded a bit far-fetched; the Wreckers, ghosts, landslides and all. Fortunately they just think you were suffering from concussion which turned you temporarily mad.’ Edward laughs. ‘It’s probably just as well as I don’t think I would ever be able to convince them of the truth.’

  ‘Still, at least that horrid rain has stopped,’ says Edward, looking up at the clear sky above. Bruce is quiet for a while. ‘Do you think we will ever see them again?’ asks Bruce. ‘I was just getting to like that daft cat.’ ‘No, I don’t think so’ says Edward. ‘They are with their loved ones now.’ Just then, Edward stops dead. ‘What’s up?’ asks Bruce. ‘Can you hear anything?’ asks Edward. ‘No, only the wind.’ They walk on again. Edward stops once more. ‘There it is again,’ says Edward, ‘it’s music, I can hear music.’ Bruce listens. ‘You’re right, I can hear it too. Where is it coming from?’ ‘It seems to be coming from out there,’ says Edward, pointing out to sea. They both stand, quietly listening and looking across the waves. At that moment, Harry walks up to the boy and the dog. ‘Come on you two, it’s getting late and the sun has nearly set.’ Just then, he notices the looks on their faces. ‘What’s up with you two; you look like you have seen a ghost.’ Edward and Bruce look at each other and then laugh. ‘Not seen Harry, heard. Come on Bruce, race you back to the house.’ ‘Yeah, it must be dinner time by now,’ says Bruce.’

  CHAPTER 38

  Out past the sandbanks and in the deep water, lights are glowing under the waves. These lights are shining from the windows of the buildings – the cottages, the village hall, the old church and The Half Moon Inn. There is music and laughter coming from the inn. It is full of people drinking, laughing and singing. In one corner at a table sits a Vietnamese pot bellied pig. She is lavishing her affections upon the pub dog, a scruffy little terrier, not unlike a certain other animal of that breed she once knew. ‘Come on sailor, stop playing hard to get. Haven’t I mentioned, you are the only one for me?’