by Helen Watts
‘Be careful,’ said Ben. ‘The door frame’s so rotten it looks like the whole thing might fall on top of you.’
Kelly didn’t reply. Nothing Ben could say was going to stop her from getting inside. She poked the tip of her tongue out of the side of her mouth and frowned with concentration. She took hold of the door handle with both hands this time, and tugged again, but now she lifted as she pulled. There was a squeak of wood dragging across wood as the door budged a few centimetres. Two more pulls and jerks and the door was open just wide enough to squeeze through. A strong, musty aroma escaped out into the daylight and Kelly took a step backwards.
Ben stared into the utter darkness of the shed. ‘I really don’t like it. You can’t see a thing in there.’ His voice trembled.
‘Chicken!’ retorted Kelly. ‘Your eyes’ll get used to the dark once you’re inside. Look, are you coming or not?’ Ben hesitated. ‘Well, I’m going in, with or without you.’
Ben sighed. ‘Oh, hang on a minute. Just let me get Tyson. We don’t want him to run off while we’re inside.’
He walked over to Tyson, who was sitting patiently a few steps away, and picked up the lead which was trailing from the little dog’s collar. ‘Come on Tyson, you can protect us.’
But Tyson had other ideas. He wasn’t going anywhere, even when Ben tugged so hard on his lead that his collar nearly slipped over his ears.
‘Look, for heaven’s sake, Kelly,’ Ben cried. ‘Tyson doesn’t want to come in either! I really don’t think we should…’
But Kelly had already slipped into the darkness.
‘Tyson and I will have to stay here and stand guard,’ Ben shouted after her. ‘It’s probably better if we don’t both go in anyway, in case we get trapped. No one would ever find us in there.’
Once inside the shed, the foul smell intensified. That, combined with the inky darkness, forced Kelly to stop in her tracks as soon as she was on the other side of the door. She didn’t want to breathe through her nose, but then she didn’t particularly want to taste the air either, so she covered her mouth and nose with her hand and took shallow breaths through her fingers while she waited for her eyes to adjust.
She heard Ben’s shouts and was not surprised that he wasn’t following her in. He had no intention of coming in here from the start, she thought, and made a mental note to tease him endlessly when she got back outside.
There were, in fact, narrow chinks of light penetrating through cracks in the roof, and gradually Kelly started to make out eerie shapes all around her. ‘Yup,’ she whispered. ‘It’s creepy.’
Perhaps Ben was right to be cautious. What did Mum and Dad always say about not doing anything silly?
And what was that smell? It reminded Kelly of something. Was it stale beer or something? She wondered if some teenagers, or perhaps a homeless person, had been using the shed as a drinking den, but quickly dismissed the idea. No one had been in here for a very long time.
Kelly stood there for what seemed like an age, trying to build up the nerve to move forwards. She held her breath to silence the pounding in her ears. Only when she was certain that nothing was moving inside the shed did she inch a few steps deeper inside.
Her right foot hit something and she gasped, but it was just an old box, tipped on its side. She looked about her again and made out the outline of an old oil lamp on a table to the right. Ahead of her, on the floor, a few planks of wood lay in a pile, like giant pick-up sticks.
Kelly walked on towards the centre of the shed and blew out steadily, trying to calm herself down. Then she felt a rush of icy air on her face. She span round. Had Ben managed to force the door open some more? No. There were still only a few centimetres of light showing through the door frame. She caught a reassuring glimpse of leaves blowing in the wind outside.
‘The wind must be picking up,’ Kelly told herself, and turned back to face the far end of the shed once more. She wished she had a torch with her. And why was it so cold? It was summer, for God’s sake.
Then the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. A noise. Inside the shed. A creaking sound. It reminded Kelly of the sound of rigging on an old sailing ship, rocking back and forth on the ocean. Or was it footsteps on creaky floorboards? Had Ben decided to join her? No. She knew the answer to that, and besides, Kelly was beginning to realise that the sound wasn’t coming from behind her, but from above her head.
Then she remembered her camera. Accepting that she would have to inhale the bad smell, she removed her hand from her face and fumbled around in her jacket pocket until she found what she was looking for. Pointing the camera up into the darkness, her hands trembling, she quickly pressed the button.
Flash!
A movement.
Something above her head. Dangling from the ceiling.
Kelly screamed and dived towards the door, her back arched, fully expecting something to grab her before she got there. She threw all her weight against the creaking old wood and burst out into the light, just avoiding banging into Ben. Tyson jumped up at her legs, clearly sensing something was amiss.
‘There…was…something in there,’ panted Kelly, her eyes wide with fear. ‘Hanging from the ceiling. I took a photo. I caught a glimpse but couldn’t make it out.’ She didn’t dare look back.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ben reassured her, standing back to inspect her for any sign of injury. ‘It was probably just a bat. We see lots of them at night around here. That shed’s a perfect roost for them. With all those holes in the roof, they can fly in and out, as easy as ABC.’
‘But there was a noise,’ said Kelly, trying to regain her composure. ‘It didn’t sound like bats to me.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘You weren’t trying to play a trick on me, were you? You know, to teach me a lesson for going in there?’
‘Of course not!’ said Ben. ‘You don’t really think I would do that, do you?’
Kelly shrugged, pushing her dishevelled hair back from her face.
Ben looked offended. ‘I wouldn’t. Ever. I wouldn’t do that to you. But you’re right, I didn’t want you to go in there. I don’t like this place. Nor does Tyson.
‘Well, you were right about one thing,’ Kelly conceded. ‘I didn’t see any clues in there that would link this place to the quarry. And I’m not going back in for another look.’
* * *
When she had calmed down again and Tyson had stopped leaping about in excitement, Kelly took the dog’s lead and followed Ben in silence along the path through the woods and back in the direction of the caravan site.
‘Do you know what?’ said Kelly, a few moments later. ‘I think we need a map of this area. We need to find out exactly what all these buildings were used for, and we’re clearly not going to be able to find out by just looking at them. Do you think your mum and dad would have old farm plans or local maps or something?’
‘They might.’ Ben sounded rather distracted.
‘Well, it’s worth asking, don’t you think? If they don’t have anything, perhaps we could ask Tony at the farm. We really want something that dates back to the nineteenth century. And any pictures of the place when the quarry was still open would be brilliant. Will you ask?’
‘I will. But my father is very busy. I can’t promise anything.’
‘I know. Just see what you can do,’ said Kelly. ‘And I’ll spend some more time on the internet. I can’t stay online for long at home because it’s my mum’s laptop and she gets fed up when I’m on it for hours. But I can use the internet when I get back to school tomorrow. I’ll see what I can find out about Wilmcote quarry and the railway.’
They reached the last stile where the footpath came out onto the lane near Kelly’s site.
‘I’d best get back now.’ Ben handed Tyson over the stile to Kelly.
‘Okay.’ She felt a lot more settled now that home was in sight. ‘How about we catch up after school tomorrow? You could come and meet me at the bus stop. I get off at the village green.’
‘Sorry, I can’t do th
at. I won’t have time to come down there and get back in time for my supper.’
‘What time do you eat?’
‘Five o’clock sharp.’
‘My bus gets in at four. That’s plenty of time,’ said Kelly.
‘Well, not really. Not if we have any news to share about the quarry. We wouldn’t have time to talk properly, or go and explore. How about I meet you at the canal bridge, at six o’clock, after I’ve had my supper? We’ll still have a couple of hours before it gets really dark.’
‘All right,’ Kelly agreed, starting to walk off up the lane. ‘I’ll see you then. Sorry, I mean, we’ll see you then.’ She waved one of Tyson’s front paws at Ben.
Ben smiled and waved back. ‘Bye.’ Then he called after her, ‘Oh, and don’t forget to bring that old boot with you. I still want to have a look at it.’
PART 4
Chapter 18 – Christmas 1859
The winter of 1859 was harsh for the people of Wilmcote. Snow came well before Christmas, fell deep, and lasted for fourteen days, wrapping the village in a thick white blanket which the children adored but the adults loathed. Work in the quarry, which was dangerous at the best of times, became utterly treacherous.
For the first few days of the snow, Richard Greenslade forced his men to keep digging, terrified that production would otherwise fall too far behind schedule. But eventually, with the loaded trams struggling on frozen tracks, and the ponies repeatedly getting stuck in snow drifts, he was forced to reduce his workforce to a skeleton crew, who could work only the shallowest and least dangerous rock face. With a heavy heart, he sent the rest of his labourers home until further notice.
Without work to go to, the men gathered in the ale house, complaining about their lack of pay, while those lucky enough to still be earning a wage huddled around the lime kilns, complaining about frostbitten fingers and toes, and rocks so slippery that they spent more time on their backsides in the wet snow than on their feet.
Work on the railway was badly affected too. Only the last section of track between Wilmcote and Stratford-upon-Avon remained incomplete, and the men had been spurred on by the thought that the end was in sight. But now the frozen ground slowed their progress to a snail’s pace. Working hours were slashed and dozens of Steamheads found themselves joining their Pithead friends, drowning their sorrows in the Mason’s Arms, praying for a thaw.
* * *
The atmosphere in the Dentons’ cottage kitchen on one of those snowy mid-December mornings, as the family sat around their kitchen table, was as icy as the wind whistling through the cracks around the door.
‘You won’t get much in your Christmas stocking this year, my boy,’ William said to Billy. ‘In fact, think yourself lucky if you get a stocking at all. I get paid by the day so if this snow keeps up much longer, we’re done for.’
‘Grandpa will see us right,’ said Alice, ruffling her son’s fluffy blond hair. Her only wish was to shield her son from their struggles, but the second the words came out of her mouth, Alice realised how foolish they were. She had unwittingly lit a touch paper and her husband’s temper flared.
‘No, he bleedin’ well won’t,’ William shouted, slamming his mug down so hard that hot tea sloshed across the table. ‘We’re not giving that old goat an excuse to interfere in our affairs again. No wages, no matter. I’ll make sure we have a bird on this table on Christmas Day, even if I have to go out and kill it myself. And there’ll be presents in the boy’s stocking, too.’
‘I don’t want anything, Father,’ Billy said quietly. ‘It’s fine.’
‘No, it’s not fine,’ spat William, rising from his chair. ‘It’s not fine when your wife doesn’t have any faith left in you.’
‘William!’ exclaimed Alice, who had mopped up the spilled tea and was now putting the kettle back on the stove. ‘You know that’s not what I meant.’ Not again, please, she thought. Don’t let’s go through all this again.
William met her gaze over the top of Billy’s head and she could see, almost feel, the pain in his eyes. ‘I can’t do this any more, Alice,’ he murmured. ‘No matter what I do, I just…’ Alice took a step towards him but he rose to his feet and turned away. She and Billy watched him leave the room, his head bowed. Then they heard a rustle as he put on his coat and cap, a gentle thud, thud as he pulled on his boots, and the click of the front door as he left.
‘Where’s he going?’ Billy asked his mother. ‘I thought there was no work today.’
‘I expect he’ll go and see the foreman, see if there is anything he can do. If not, I expect he’ll be waiting outside the Mason’s Arms when it opens.’
Alice flopped down dejectedly into the seat next to Billy and watched him eat the rest of his porridge.
‘Is it true what they are saying at school?’ Billy asked, as he scraped the bowl clean with his spoon. ‘That the quarry won’t receive another penny unless the last batch of stone is delivered on time?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘But that’s not fair!’ exclaimed Billy. ‘Father and the others can’t possibly work any faster, and they couldn’t have stopped the snow from falling, could they?’
Alice smiled at her son. No matter what, he always tried to see the best in his father. ‘Don’t you worry,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m sure it will all be fine in the end.’
Chapter 19 – September 2012
On Wednesday morning, when Kelly walked back into her tutor group room, there was no sign of Charlotte. Leanne was sitting on her own, looking a little lost with the empty space beside her. As Kelly slipped by to take her usual seat at the back of the classroom, Leanne dropped her eyes.
Charlotte still hadn’t come by the time Mr Walker arrived and he made no mention of her as he ran through the register, missing out her name from the list.
Registration at The Shakespeare Academy was also a chance for students to ask their tutor questions, or share anything that was worrying them. Kelly was itching to ask about Charlotte, but didn’t want to talk about the fight in front of her tutor group. The sooner everyone forgot about that, the better.
But she wasn’t kept wondering for long. When it was time for the first lesson, Mr Walker dismissed the form but asked Kelly and Leanne to stay back. He waited until the three of them were alone, then began, ‘I expect you are both wondering where Charlotte is.’
Both girls nodded.
‘Well, I’m afraid she won’t be coming back to this school.’
Kelly blinked and swallowed hard. Leanne didn’t react.
‘Charlotte’s parents have decided to move her to another school. And before you say anything—’ He looked at Kelly.‘— This wasn’t just about what happened on Monday. We informed Charlotte’s parents about all the previous incidents of bullying which she’s been involved in, too. I know you were at the receiving end of a lot of those, Kelly, and I’m genuinely sorry about that. But we needed someone to speak up before we could act.’ Mr Walker looked over at Leanne. ‘Thankfully, someone was brave enough to do just that.’
It took a few seconds for her teacher’s meaning to sink in. When it finally did, Kelly turned to Leanne, who met her gaze with a nervous smile. Mr Walker continued, ‘Charlotte’s parents have found her a place at a school which can offer her some additional support. Plus, we all agreed that a fresh start somewhere else might be just what she needs.’
Kelly’s stomach leapt, delight bubbling up inside her. Not only had The Shakespeare Academy suddenly become a happier place, but for the first time ever, one of her classmates had actually stood up for her. More than that. Leanne had gone out on a limb for her.
‘So are you both all right?’ Mr Walker asked. ‘Do you have any questions? Anything you want to say?’
Kelly and Leanne exchanged glances then both shook their heads. ‘No, sir.’
‘Good!’ said Mr Walker, rubbing his hands together. ‘Then we’d all better get off to lessons.’
The girls started to head for the
door.
‘Oh, and Kelly. If you want to come and see me at break time, I will give you your bag back.’ Kelly couldn’t believe she had forgotten about that. ‘And I want to talk to you about the objects you dropped. I found them rather fascinating.’
Kelly could hardly concentrate after that. During her first two lessons, she kept thinking how brilliant school was going to be without Charlotte around. She wondered what had made Leanne finally rat on her friend. Had she ever really liked Charlotte? Maybe she’d just been too afraid of her to tell her what she really thought.
And on top of all that, she couldn’t wait to hear what Mr Walker had found so fascinating about the contents of her canvas bag.
When finally the bell rang for break, she rushed down the corridor to the tutor group room and knocked on the door. Mr Walker was already there, her three treasured artefacts spread out on the desk in front of him.
‘So do you want to tell me what you were doing with a rock and two rusty bits of old metal in your bag, Miss Hearn?’ he asked, with a wry smile.
Kelly reminded him about her choice of topic for the history project and how she and her friend had found the items in the abandoned quarry in Wilmcote. Then she told him all about the various sites they had identified so far—the stone pits, the lime kilns and the tramlines.
‘But there are still some old buildings we can’t identify, and we really need to get a better sense of the whole site and how the quarry linked to the railway. My friend’s trying to get hold of a map or a plan, from the time when the quarry was working. I know we need to pin down some more accurate dates.’
Mr Walker scratched his chin and nodded. He seemed impressed by what Kelly had told him so far. ‘Well, if there is evidence of tramlines leading from the quarry to the canal and to the railway, then you’re probably talking about the mid-nineteenth century onwards, in the middle of Queen Victoria’s reign. Certainly most of the railway network in England was more or less in place by the 1850s.’