Soon enough they were on the road again. The drive was almost enjoyable, all of them laughing and joking as Stanley, Kate, Spider and Roobarb took an hour-long trip to go visit Denise's savior.
Stanley would have to focus, try to find the missing pieces of the puzzle he had already completed in his mind. He needed evidence to support his theories but first there was something very important he had to do.
"Kate, can you pull in here please? There is something I need to discuss with you both. It needs to be now."
Kate nodded and pulled off the quiet A-road and parked at one of the strange out-of-town retail places that housed numerous discount clothing and shoe stores along with the ever-present fast-food chain "restaurants" that dominated every part of the country these days, be it the middle of nowhere or the heart of the city.
"What's this about, Dad?" Kate looked wary—she could sense the atmosphere, and knew something important was coming.
"We getting a drink?" asked Spider.
"Let's just step out of the car and sit at that picnic bench over there. I need to talk to you both."
Stanley got out, then pulled the lever so the seat flipped forward. Roobarb hopped out, followed by Spider. Kate grabbed her bag and they all sat down at the wooden picnic table positioned on a large area of grass to the side of the parking area.
"Now, Spider, I think you need to tell us what's really been happening, don't you?" said Stanley.
Spider went white as a sheet, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.
"What's this all about?" asked Kate.
"It was Spider. He was the one messing with things at their house, weren't you, Spider?"
Spider hung his head and fidgeted with his hands, unable to look them in the eye. "Don't know what you're talking about," he said through tight lips.
"It's okay, I understand. But you have to tell the truth. I won't be mad, promise. And I won't tell your mum. I promise that too."
Spider looked up, tears in his eyes. "Why wouldn't you tell? Adults always tell."
"Because I trust you, and I believe you had a very good reason for what you did, that's why. Plus, we're friends as well as family. Right?"
"I guess."
"Dad?"
"Let him talk, Kate. Just don't get mad."
Stanley took a deep breath and began to get the truth out of Spider.
The Truth
"It's to do with school, right?" asked Stanley, staying calm, nonthreatening. He wanted the boy's trust, and would keep his promise.
"Maybe. I don't want to talk about it."
"Why you little... Okay, now look here, Spider. I promise this is just between us, but there comes a time in every man's life when he has to stand up and be counted. The bigger man admits when he is wrong, and he certainly doesn't lie to his uncle and cousin, not when they are doing their best to help him become a great detective. Now, spill it!"
"You're right, it's school. I hate it."
"I knew it!"
"What's all this about?" asked Kate. "Why would school have anything to do with what's been happening at the house? I thought it was the landlord being dodgy?"
"I did too, then it all made sense. I knew something wasn't right. That landlord was too meek and too stressed to do anything with a boiler, and I don't even think Spider here did it for anything but for me to find. Right, Spider?"
Spider just grunted, face still hidden.
"Head up and talk to us. Let's have a proper conversation. I'm not mad, honestly." Stanley tried a smile, but by the looks of Spider it wasn't having the desired effect.
"Come on, you can talk to us. Like Dad said, we aren't mad. Heck, I don't even know what's going on, but I'm sure you had your reasons."
Spider brushed his hair back and lifted his head. After wiping his eyes, it all came gushing out, unstoppable. He looked incredibly relieved as he spoke, like each word made him lighter. "Okay, fine. School is a nightmare. I hate it. Half my class is afraid and some of them get so sick they are hardly there any more. The teachers don't do anything and these kids go around doing what they want. Which is mostly making our lives a misery."
"So you've been getting bullied? That's why you wanted to move, so you could go to a new school?"
"Yeah. It's been happening for ages. I never told Mum, because, well, you know what she's like. She'd storm into school and make it worse. I'd be a laughingstock."
"She is rather hot-headed," agreed Stanley. "So, what, you decided to stress your mum and make the house unlivable? That's pretty serious, Spider."
"No, it wasn't like that, not really. Mum was already talking about moving because the rent went up and the place was a mess. The landlord, well, he sent people around to fix things, but he always took ages and always sent people who worked on the cheap. They hardly knew what they were doing half the time so the problems just got worse."
"So you gave a helping hand?"
"Sort of, yeah. Only in the end though! After it went on for months and the place got worse, plumbing never working properly, heating all over the place, all that stuff, that all happened. Mum was wavering, talking about moving, so I just, you know, gave a final push. I kept putting leaves in the gutter, stuffing up the kitchen waste, that sort of thing. I didn't want to, but I had to be sure."
"What about the boiler? You could have killed yourself and your mum."
"Uncle Stan, I know all about carbon monoxide. I did that the day we left, to stay with you. I knew you'd find it. Once you heard it was on the blink I knew you'd look. No way would I let Mum and me live somewhere that was actually dangerous."
"That's still a pretty desperate act, Spider. Your mum has been out of her mind."
"I know, I know. Sorry. But I didn't know what else to do. I figured a few weeks of me messing with things would be enough for her to make up her mind to move, and it was. The place had been going downhill for so long anyway, and that landlord really was useless. All those shortcuts with repairs, he made our lives a misery, so, I figured it was worth it just to be done with it all."
"And was it?"
Spider looked Stanley straight in the eye, and said, "Yeah, it was. We get to live somewhere nice, and I get a new school. Actually, an old one."
"Okay, I understand. But running away from problems is no way to deal with them. Do you really want to leave your school and all your friends?"
"Uncle Stan, you don't get it, do you? I already left all my friends when Mum moved us in the first place. She said it would be better in the house we have just left, that she could work, and look how that turned out. All my friends are at the school I'll be going back to, where we used to live before she decided to move us giving me no say in the matter. That's not fair. I should be allowed to decide too, shouldn't I?"
"Maybe you are right. I never realized that was what happened. My fault for not paying enough attention to you, and for that I am sorry."
"It's not your fault, Uncle Stan, not Mum's either, not really. She just doesn't think sometimes and acts on impulse. She's a little flighty, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Oh, really? Haha. I guess she is."
"Did you tell her you hated the idea of moving, when you left your old school?" asked Kate.
"Sort of, but she was so happy and excited to get this job and for us to have a bigger house that I didn't want to spoil it for her. She doesn't think, and I guess I assumed it would be okay. It wasn't. Now I get to go back to my old school."
"What did these bullies do? Who are they?" asked Kate.
"Two boys called Jim and Jack. Right maniacs. They take everyone's money, beat you up if you refuse, and basically make life hell. They've always been like it apparently, and nobody does anything. I don't have to see them again now though."
"And what about the other boys at your now ex-school?" asked Stanley. "They still have to face them, don't they?"
"I guess. But what can I do about it? They're almost twice my size and hard as nails. I wouldn't stand a chance against them."
"I don't have all the answers, but letting bullies win is not the way to do things. Neither is running away. Yes, I know you want to go back to your old school, but you should do so knowing they didn't get the better of you."
"If I could have done something apart from keep getting beaten up then I would, but that's what happened."
"Okay, well, it's over with now." Stanley put an arm on his nephew's shoulder. Spider looked at him in shock, like he was expecting punishment.
"One mystery solved," said Kate, smiling and doing her best not to show disappointment for Spider's sake. It was more than that, from what Stanley could see. It was sadness. That he'd been bullied, that he'd felt the need to go to such lengths to ensure he moved, and that Auntie Pam had taken him from his original school in the first place. Stanley could read his daughter like a book, and her him likewise. All of this, and more, was said with a single glance.
"You aren't mad? You won't tell Mum?"
"No, Spider, we aren't mad, and we won't tell your mum. Will we, Kate?"
"No, of course not. Dad promised. But you have to talk to her if she does things you think are wrong or won't work out."
"But you can't. That's not how it works, is it? The adults decide and the kids have to go along with it. We never get a say."
"That may be true," said Stanley, "to a point. But when you are old enough to make a convincing argument and almost an adult yourself, then you get to have a say. At least I think that's how it worked with your cousin Kate here."
"Ha! Fat chance. You always told me what to do and you still do now. Nothing changes, Spider. Don't listen to the old fool."
"Haha, maybe you're right. But it's only because parents know best, or think they do. Stand up for yourself. Tell your mum how you feel about things. She may be a little, shall we say, excitable, but she'll listen, I promise you she will. You are the man of the house, and it's time she realized you aren't a little boy any longer."
"Okay, Uncle Stan, and thanks."
"We're family. I think it's about time we all remembered that, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"You're right, Dad. Now, about meeting this woman this morning. What's the point?"
"I have a feeling we will learn a great deal. At least I hope so." Stanley said no more. He didn't want to reveal what he thought had happened to the two men in their coffins, not until he uncovered enough evidence to support his theory. After all, what if he was totally wrong? At least one mystery was solved, however. Poor Spider, he must have been having a hard time of it.
Stanley shooed Kate and Spider off, telling them to give Roobarb a little walk as he had some calls to make. Spider looked scared until Stanley assured him it wasn't to call his mum or the school, or anything like that.
When he was alone, Stanley, with much trepidation, got out his new phone and painstakingly made his call.
"Mike, fancy doing another little job for me? ...Oh, nothing much. ...Bullies, Mike. I need you to go have a word with two bullies. Put them straight. ...Yes, I know you've always hated bullies too." The call went on a few minutes longer then Stanley hung up.
Mike would have a word with the lads. Not hurt them, but make it clear in no uncertain terms that the bullying was to stop. Maybe it was the wrong way to go about things, but Stanley was of a different generation and although he knew it would be looked down upon by many he felt it just. After all, it wasn't like he was sending the heavies to physically hurt the bullies. Not yet.
What was the alternative? Tell the teachers? No, they needed to be given something much more direct. And Mike, all six foot and solid muscle of him, was very direct when it came to bullies.
Stanley knew he was somewhat antiquated in his ideas, some at least, and would be called out by what he referred to as the politically correct brigade, but sometimes, well, you didn't have time to get to the root of the problem and talk to bullies to find the underlying truth about why they acted the way they did. They just needed a short, sharp shock to stop them picking on others. Was that the best way? Maybe not. Would it be effective? Probably.
Stanley smiled as his family came back from their mini walk. Time to meet a rich lady. Maybe there would be biscuits.
Meet the Gran
There were no biscuits. There was no tea, there wasn't even an invitation to enter the house as Stanley refused to leave Roobarb in the car with the day already hotter than hell even though it was still early. The sun was fierce, he was down to his shirt, and Roobarb was struggling as much as him.
It was all rather befuddling when they first met. She was tight-lipped, rather curt as she came out of her admittedly impressive house, and when Stanley explained about Roobarb needing to be out of the car she made absolutely no move to invite them in. Rather, she had asked what they wanted and couldn't it have been done over the phone. Stanley, keeping a plastic smile on his face as best he could, said that he wanted to meet her in person after her granddaughter had told them about their joyous reunion as he had a few questions.
She had no idea what she could add, and what questions anyway? Stanley took a moment to orient himself, fake smile wavering, melting away in the heat. He seemed to have spent way too much time going to large houses with massive gardens lately, and it was hard not to be a little overwhelmed. At least this one was more natural, with a pond and messy borders, planting schemes that looked almost natural—the woman clearly had taste.
The house itself was ancient, ivy climbing up past second-story windows, the facade a mix of flint and brick. It probably contained more rooms than Stanley had ever set foot in in his life. It would have cost a fortune. He found it somewhat of a surprise that Denise's father had cut ties with his rich mother, but that was judgmental and he knew it. Besides, had she always been wealthy? If so, how come Charlie, her son, had ended up with the life he had, living day to day?
Should he ask? Yes, he had to. After all, if he was right then the case would be solved based on one thing: money.
"Mrs. Everwood, may I ask a—"
"It's Spencer."
"Sorry?" Stanley was confused.
"My name, it's Mrs. Spencer and has been for a long time."
"Oh, I see. So you remarried?"
"If by that rather impertinent question do you mean did I find a second chance at happiness many years after my first husband died, God rest his soul, then yes, I remarried."
"Ah, sorry to be rude. I didn't know."
"There seems to be a lot you don't know, doesn't there, Mr. Bloom?"
Stanley counted to ten although he knew he would probably have to count a lot higher than that if he was to stop being annoyed by her. What was her problem? Was it that she wanted nothing at all to do with her son? No, as otherwise why get in touch with her granddaughter? "That's why we are here, Mrs. Spencer. We are looking into the death of your son and grandson, and after we spoke to Denise yesterday and she told of your generosity and the offer for her to come live here with you and your husband, then I thought it may help to come talk to you."
"My husband is dead. My second husband, that is."
"I see. I'm sorry to hear that."
"Please, Mr. Bloom, can we get on with this? I'm a busy lady with things to do."
What was with her? Why was she making this so hard? Then it came to Stanley. Was it merely she didn't want to talk about the fact she had been estranged from her family for so many years? That she played no part in her grandchildren's lives and didn't want a reminder of it? That would make sense. Time to change tack.
"Mrs. Spencer, I know this must be difficult, and I know that," Stanley held up a hand as she went to interrupt him again, not pausing to let her, "you may not want to go over the past. But this is important. Deadly serious. The life of your granddaughter may be at risk, so please, can we talk?" Stanley didn't believe for a minute that this was the case, not if his theory was correct, but she didn't know that, and he got the feeling he would never get any proof if he didn't tell a little white lie. Besides, he could see he
r softening already. This was all a sham. She was ashamed and embarrassed.
"Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry, please excuse me. It's too much, all these old memories. Now they're gone. I never thought it would end like this, you know? I thought that one day we would... It's my own fault. I'm too stubborn, and Charlie, well, he never made it easy."
"It's okay, we just want to help," said Kate, eyes soft, getting close to Mrs. Spencer and speaking quietly. "It can be hard with family. They're not always easy to get along with."
"Hey, I hope you're not talking about your old dad," said Stanley in mock protest.
"Haha, well, it looks like you two have a fine relationship. And this is your grandson?"
"No, I'm his nephew. I'm Spider."
"Spider? What a funny name. Shall we start again? Cup of tea?"
"That would be wonderful," said Stanley, amazed at the turnaround.
"Why don't you take a seat over there and I'll bring it out. You can let the dog off so he can roam around a bit. It's quite safe."
"That's very kind of you. Thank you."
While Mrs. Spencer—Stanley hadn't been given a first name and felt now wasn't the time to ask—went to make tea, they moved over to a set of wrought-iron chairs and a table. Stanley let Roobarb off and said, "Be good, and no pooping on the plants." Roobarb looked at him as if he would never do such a thing, then trotted off to explore.
"She's a grumpy one, isn't she," said Spider, leaning back on the chair, digging the legs into the lawn.
"Careful! Don't ruin the chair," warned Stanley. "And she's just embarrassed, that's all. Sad, too. Her son and grandson are dead and she's being defensive, which I suppose is perfectly natural. She hasn't been a part of their lives and feels bad. So be nice and try to understand." Stanley caught Kate staring at him, open-mouthed. "What?"
"Oh, nothing. Just wondering who this man is. Because I know for a fact my father has been taken over and replaced with a right old softy."
"You cheeky sod." Maybe Stanley was getting softer. It was the business with Spider and Pam—he hadn't been there for them as much as he could have. The way he had acted made it hard for Pam to approach them as family in times of need, and look what he'd missed out on. He'd risked never spending time with his nephew, so he understood, only too well.
Old Age Private Oh My! Page 14