The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue

by Heneghan, Lou

  ‘So, from what you’ve seen the Arbuckle lads, Winters and Gloria are still top of the list of candidates?’ asked Seth.

  Ralf nodded.

  ‘But what about Gordon Kemp and Walter Sedley?’ Valen asked. ‘Seen either of them yet?’

  ‘No, nor Keen for that matter, but I can’t believe anyone’s colours can be brighter than Winters’ and Gloria’s.’

  ‘It feels right,’ said Seth. ‘But from the state Winters is in…’

  No one knew quite what to say to that, so Ralf pressed on. ‘I’ve been thinking about the date too. May 27th. Ambrose said we were right about that too. From what I remember, that’s right at the start of the British evacuation from France. In our time, Gloria had a newspaper article about the Arbuckles being at Dunkirk.’

  ‘Wow! That’s got to be it!’ said Seth.

  ‘I’d be sayin’ that too if I knew what it was,’ said Alfie.

  ‘Sorry Alf,’ said Ralf. ‘So the Nazis are marching across Europe, right? At first everyone’s thinking we might be able to hold them back, but they keep pushing forward. They’ve got loads of men and they’re moving fast. They circle round in a pincer movement and a lot of British and French soldiers get cut off on the coast. It all looks really bad for a while but then there’s a huge rescue operation at Dunkirk and we manage to get most of our guys back here.’

  ‘It’s a turning point in the war,’ said Seth. ‘If we hadn’t got our soldiers out then we wouldn’t have been able to fight on later.’ He turned to Ralf, frowning. ‘I’m assuming the German High Command follow the Blitzkrieg into France?’

  ‘Absolutely. Good publicity for them back home, I suppose,’ Ralf said. ‘There’s pictures of Hitler walking on the beaches.’

  ‘And that would be end of May?’

  Ralf shrugged. ‘I suppose. Early June, maybe. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Seth shrugging. ‘So, we’ve got a good idea who the Natus are and why they’re important. What do we do now?’

  It was a good question, but not one that Ralf could answer.

  Every night that week, Ralf dreamed of the Black Door. He couldn’t see it but he knew it was there, crouching in the darkness. There was something behind it, trying to get out. He shuddered at the sound of claws on wood. Scratching...scratching...

  ‘Ralf! Come quickly!’ The words filtered into the dream and then suddenly, without knowing where the dream ended and reality began, Ralf’s eyes opened.

  There was more scratching and then the clunk of the kitchen door being flung open.

  ‘Oh Lord! Ralf! Are you awake? You’d better come down!’

  He threw on his dressing gown and raced down the stairs. He just had time to see Hilda, face flushed and hair uncharacteristically messy, wrestling with a large dark shape before it broke free of her grasp.

  He braced himself for the inevitable impact. Cabal launched himself at Ralf and slobbered joyfully all over his face. Ralf scratched behind the dog’s ears and found the remains of the choke chain, which looked as though it had been torn from a wall. He gently pulled the awful thing free, threw it aside then patted Cabal’s huge head. He ran his hands over the dog’s dirt-matted fur to feel ribs sticking out each side of his giant frame.

  ‘He’s starving!’ Ralf exclaimed.

  ‘A blind man on a galloping horse could tell as much,’ said Hilda, already placing a bowl of scraps on the floor by the range. ‘But that’s the least of our problems. Look who’s coming down the lane!’

  As Cabal snorted up a gallon of leftovers, Ralf hurried to the door. Brindle, her overalls spattered with dirt, her face puce, barrelled over the cobbles, threatening to fall on her backside at any moment. Ralf narrowed his eyes in search of her aura and when he saw it, he wished he hadn’t. It pulsed round her like a clot of thick, dark blood. If he touched her, he thought, he’d see the stain of it on his hands.

  Oddly, Ralf didn’t feel frightened. He was too angry to be nervous about what she might say. Brindle arrived, puffing, at the open door and opened her mouth to shout at him but before Ralf could speak, Hilda had thrust him firmly to one side.

  ‘Zilla,’ she said, briskly. ‘I was just going to call on you. It seems your dog has escaped again. But we’ve given him some breakfast, as you can see.’

  Brindle’s eyes flicked from Hilda to Ralf and back again. ‘The lock on Rex’s kennel has been forced from the wood and the gate to my pigpen opened. And I have it on good authority that Ralf here did it!’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Ralf exclaimed

  Hilda put a hand on his arm. ‘Whoever told you that is mistaken, Zilla. As you see, Ralf has only just woken up and he was as surprised as I was to hear the dog scratching at the door.’

  ‘Not this morning, you goose!’ Brindle cried. ‘Last night! He took the path across my field and left the gate open. He was seen, Hilda, loitering by my pigsty!’

  Ralf blanched.

  ‘I’ve been up since five,’ Brindle continued, ‘getting pigs out of my spring greens!’

  Hilda’s eyes met Ralf’s. The look of indignation she saw there clearly satisfied her as to her brother’s innocence because her next words took them all by surprise.

  ‘Ralf has never left a farm gate open in his life, Zilla! And he would no more have let your pigs out than fly! Whoever told you he did is mischief making. As for the dog, perhaps if you fed the poor thing a decent meal once in a while, he’d be less inclined to break out in search of one!’

  ‘Well, really!’ Brindle gasped.

  But Hilda wasn’t finished. ‘And I’m not giving you the dog back until I’m satisfied you can take care of him! Now, Good Day, Zilla,’ she said with curt politeness.

  Brindle’s face changed to a colour Ralf had never before seen on a human being but he didn’t see it for long. Hilda shut the door on her.

  ‘It wasn’t me, honest,’ said Ralf, when she’d gone.

  ‘Of course it wasn’t!’ Hilda exclaimed. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with the woman. Spring greens, indeed! That field’s still under a foot of water!’

  After thanking Hilda profusely for standing up to Brindle, Ralf promised her that he’d be responsible for Cabal and not let him get in the way of his own duties. He found it quite hard to concentrate on his chores that morning, though, because Cabal was following him around like – well, like a dog. He yapped round Ralf’s heels as he emptied his lobster pots and skittered around the deck of The Sara Luz when he hosed it down. Chuckling at his antics, Ralf finished up and was just considering stopping into the butchers for some bones when he saw Alfie coming down the quayside.

  Ralf and his dog jumped down to meet him.

  ‘It’s all over the village,’ said Alfie. ‘Your sister’s well hard, innit?’

  Ralf beamed. ‘Yeah, she was pretty cool, actually,’ he said. ‘You should have seen Brindle’s face!’

  ‘Not that chuffed?’ said Alfie, impishly.

  ‘Not really, no!’ chuckled Ralf. ‘How’s it going with the Muntons?’

  ‘That’s why I came down, cuz,’ said Alfie, seriously. ‘I’ve had ‘em under surveillance, pretty much twenty-four, seven since you asked.’

  Ralf frowned. ‘But how, Alfie? What about sleep?’

  ‘Nah, mate,’ Alfie grinned. ‘Not just me. I’ve had the Crew on it. They’re a good lot, as it goes. You know – little, but feisty! I got them on a rota. Even got village kids and London kids working together. The grown-ups hate it!’

  Ralf laughed. ‘Good thinking. So what’ve you got?’

  ‘Burrowes has been down to talk to the Muntons twice. They looked pretty nervous both times but somehow they managed to convince him they’re on the straight and narrow.’

  ‘And are they?’

  ‘Are they, heck!’ said Alfie. ‘They’ve only been out on the boat twice since last week and both times they came back with empty nets. What are they living on, eh? Sea water?’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Ralf.

  ‘That’s not a
ll, though. Gordon Kemp’s all over them like a rash. He’s been down to talk to them most days. He’s keen for them to move on but they aren’t budging.’

  ‘But what are they hanging round for?’ Ralf asked. ‘And how do we find out?’

  ‘That’s just it,’ said Alfie. ‘I think we’re going to. I been psyching them out proper, man, and I think they’re about to crack! Look!’

  Ralf’s eyes followed Alfie’s pointing finger to his old mooring spot right on the end. The Lot's Lady was tied there. There was no one on deck but on the quayside stood three small, silent figures, staring at the windows of the boat, still as statues.

  ‘Alfie,’ Ralf looked at Alfie sternly. ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘I had the idea after the run, right?’ Alfie grinned. ‘It was you who did it really, dressed up like that, you know, the freaky white haired kid that doesn’t fit in?’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Alfie. ‘Anyway, it reminded me of this old film I saw once. There was all these kids with blond hair and blue eyes born in this little village. And they was cleverer than all the adults and when they wanted to get someone to do something they just stood there, silent, in a group and watched them. All the grown-ups got weirded out and had breakdowns and stuff.’

  ‘Alf,’ said Ralf. ‘I’ve seen that film. Things do not turn out great for the kids at the end of that, ok?’

  ‘No, no, Wolf! It’s sweet!’ Alfie grinned. ‘Trust! So I get The Crew together and we go on watch in twos and threes, right? It’s totally working! They’re fighting all the time, man. Thought Oyler was gonna take a swim at one point, yesterday. Gadd had him pushed right over the rail.’ Alfie’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Anyway, after they’d calmed down, Gadd told Oyler to watch the boat and said he was going to check on things. I didn’t know what he meant at first. So I left The Crew watching the boat and followed him. He went up the little path at the back of Brindle’s and into the wood then I lost him.’

  Ralf smiled as he realised where Alfie was going with this.

  ‘But we’ve got Cabal now!’ he exclaimed. ‘I bet he’d be able to sniff it out!’

  Alfie grinned back at him. ‘Exactly.’

  Ralf had no lead for Cabal but found he didn’t need one. The dog trotted happily at his heels as they left the harbour. He loped a little way ahead on the path that ran behind the High Street shops but came to back to join them as they emerged on to the lane. Checking the way was clear they Shifted, with the dog yipping joyfully after them.

  They’d been moving for about twenty minutes and were deep into Tarzy Wood when Alfie, breathless from Shifting came to a stop in a small clearing.

  ‘This is where I lost him,’ he said. ‘I was only about a hundred yards behind him but when I got here there was no sign.’

  Ralf looked around. A feeling of familiarity buffeted him but he put it to one side. He could have passed through this clearing any number of times.

  ‘Cabal!’ he called. The dog padded over and Ralf scratched behind his ears. ‘Right, boy! Do your stuff! Find the Munton’s hideout!’

  Cabal, an uncanny look of understanding in his brown eyes, nudged Ralf’s leg and then put his nose to the ground. He sniffed every inch of the clearing. At times he was slow and painstaking, at times he covered ground rapidly at a trot. At one point he paused by a large hellebore and pawed the earth but then he shook himself and padded to the other side of the open space. Ralf and Alfie followed him excitedly for the first five minutes but as time passed their hope faded. Cabal stopped more often and began to nose at Ralf’s hand, as if seeking reassurance.

  ‘Well,’ said Alfie, eventually, ‘we tried.’

  ‘I should have given him something belonging to the Muntons, so he could follow the scent,’ said Ralf.

  ‘I’m not sure that would have helped,’ said Alfie. He crouched near the hellebore, examining the soft earth. ‘Look here.’

  There were boot prints in the mud. Ralf knelt to examine them. ‘Three different sets of prints it looks like,’ he frowned. ‘There’s been a lot of movement through here recently. The scents must be crossing each other. Cabal doesn’t know which one to follow. Don’t worry, boy!’ he said, patting the dog’s large head. ‘You did your best.’

  It was at that moment he felt Cabal’s muscles tense under his hand. The dog turned away and trotted quietly away.

  ‘Someone’s coming!’ Alfie, whispered. ‘Maybe Gadd’s coming back!’

  ‘Come on!’ Ralf grabbed Alfie’s arm and the two boys Shifted in the direction Cabal had taken. They found him, low on his belly, in deep thicket a short way from the clearing and dropped down to join him when they heard voices.

  ‘ …happened just like he said it would. They’ve gone into Belgium, Holland and France and any as stands in their way’s been cut down like corn,’ said a familiar voice. ‘But things’ll change now, you’ll see.’

  ‘Dad says Winston Churchill being made Prime Minister is the best thing that could’ve happened,’ said another. ‘Did you hear him yesterday? ‘I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat…’ Dad stood to attention at the end of the broadcast. I swear there were tears in his eyes.’

  Ralf edged forward and peered through the leaves. Ben Cheeseman and Walter Sedley stood by the hellebore scanning the trees around them.

  ‘Are we clear?’ Ben Cheeseman asked.

  Ralf ducked back down, blinking. Walter Sedley was a beacon of colour in the trees. The sunshine yellow that surrounded him lit up the forest like a flare.

  ‘Clear,’ Ralf heard him say. ‘Let’s get in, transmit the drop message and get back home. I’ve got potato pie for supper.’

  Ben Cheeseman chuckled. ‘You’re always thinking about your belly!’

  Ralf tentatively raised his head again and was just in time to see man and boy duck behind the hellebore. There was a muffled thud and then a faint sound of creaking, which seemed to come from underground.

  Ralf caught Alfie’s eye. ‘The Zero Station!’ he mouthed.

  Alfie nodded then jerked his head back towards the road. As one, the two boys Shifted. Cabal bounded after them.

  ‘I’d completely forgotten it was there!’

  ‘And Walter’s part of the Auxiliary Unit’ exclaimed Alfie, when they reached the edge of the wood. ‘I had no idea! He’s only seventeen.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ said Ralf. ‘He and Ben Cheeseman are ideal candidates, actually. Young farmer and milkman. Freedom to move about. No one would suspect. And you should see his colour! Ben’s got nothing but Walter is shining like a glow stick!’

  ‘But the Muntons can’t be part of it,’ Alfie exclaimed. ‘No way!’

  ‘No,’ said Ralf. ‘But I think I’ve figured out why they’re so stressed out. The Crew watching them won’t help, but I think their main problem is that the Zero Station’s being used now.’

  ‘So?’

  Ralf smiled. ‘I think their hideout and their stash of stolen goods is nearby. Maybe even within yards. With people coming in and out of the Zero Station at all hours, they haven’t been able to get to it.’

  Alfie grinned back. ‘Makes your heart bleed, dunnit!’

  Despite, their failure to locate the hideout, Ralf and Alfie were cheerful and strangely excited as they stepped back on to the lane. Leo turning up a second later added to the sense of expectation.

  ‘You’ve got to come and see this!’ he said, breathless from his Shift from the village. ‘Mr Fitch is on the rampage!’

  Leo had not exaggerated. Urk Fitch was hurrying down the lane with an axe swinging freely at his belt. Clearly filled with purpose, the old man flung open Brindle’s front gate and, coat flapping, strode to her front door. He hefted the axe from his belt and used the handle to thump on the wood.

  The three boys hung back in the trees and crouched, listening.

  ‘Brindle!’ Urk shouted, bashing away at the door with his axe. ‘I know you’re in there!’

  Another
bash on the door. ‘Come out and talk to me, Zilla!’ Even from their position the boys could hear movement in the house. Brindle was at home but she still wasn’t answering. Urk hammered again – hard and for a long time. The axe paused in mid-air as the door finally opened.

  Brindle had her hands on her hips. She looked at Urk, at the axe over his shoulder and then her gaze strayed to the splintered wood round the lock of Cabal’s kennel. Her face flooded red. ‘You!’ she cried. ‘You’ve been helping him haven’t you! I thought that last lock was too much for a boy but you’ve been doing Osborne’s bidding all along! You!’

  ‘Aye, I let him out!’ Urk admitted. ‘An’ I’ll do it again too! That dog baint yourn! I knows where you got ‘im, see? He belongs with his master.’

  ‘The dog is mine and you are a trespasser and a vandal!’ Brindle countered. ‘I’ll be making a complaint to the police directly!’

  ‘Complain all you like, witch!’ Urk spat. ‘That dog came from the other side! I watched him come through! You never saw me, but I was there! He came to find his boy and you kept him away!’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ Brindle snarled. ‘Ghost stories! I’ve far more important things to do than stand listening to you!’

  ‘And I know what they are!’ Urk cried. He gave a throaty laugh as the colour drained from Brindle’s face. ‘I know what you’re up to, see? And I come to tell you to put a stop to it!

  ‘You’re raving, Fitch!’ choked Brindle.

  ‘I been watching you, wandering about the woods at night, with your map and book. It’s you! You're the one who has been frightening King’s Hadow half to death, you old harpy!’

  ‘Me?’ Brindle was scandalised at Urk’s accusation. But Ralf was actually beginning to like the man, even though he wasn’t making a lot of sense. Frankly he wanted to hug him, despite the smell.

  ‘Go home, Fitch!’ Brindle spat with as much contempt as she could muster.