‘What’s in there today?’ asked Gill, the wheeze in her voice worse than ever, as she watched him from the doorway of the kitchen. She was leaning heavily on her walking frame.
‘Ten spoons and a sparrow,’ said Barney.
Gill snorted. ‘What does my husband think he is? A cat? He’ll want you to scratch his ears next. Come through, Barney. The kettle’s on.’ She turned and headed into the kitchen, moving slowly and with difficulty, the rubber-tipped feet of her creaky walking frame clattering against the tiled floor.
Barney followed.
Dave was sitting hunched over the kitchen table, slowly peeling an apple with great concentration. He became aware of the other two in the kitchen and his eyes flicked upwards. His drooping mouth suddenly formed itself into a big smile. ‘Thomas!’ he cried happily, then shook his head. ‘I mean George! No, Morris! Daniel? Rufus! Martin? . . . Ian! Haha! Hello, Ian!’
‘It’s Barney,’ said Barney.
‘Barney!’ said Dave. ‘Of course, young man. Barney! How are you?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ said Barney. ‘How are you today, Dave?’
‘Splendid!’ said Dave, putting down the apple peeler. ‘Splendid as ever! Peckish, though. I was going to have some treacle pudding but all the spoons have vanished. Imagine that! Who’d want to steal a lot of spoons? It’s quite a mystery.’
Barney showed him the spoons. ‘Mystery solved.’
‘Good lord!’ exclaimed Dave. ‘Where did you find those?’
‘He saw them sticking out of one of your shoes in the rack by the front door,’ said Gill, wearily. She poured hot water from the kettle into the teapot. ‘There was a sparrow in the other one. Maybe we should start calling you Tiddles.’
‘Really?’ said Dave. ‘A sparrow? How extraordinary!’
‘Not really,’ muttered Gill. ‘If you’d let Barney put the washing-up away like he’s supposed to we wouldn’t have these problems. It’s like living with a five-year-old child sometimes.’ She reached into the pocket of her cardigan and drew out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. She placed a cigarette between her lips with gnarled fingers and fumbled with the bright red plastic lighter until a small yellow flame appeared. She lit the cigarette and quickly exhaled a cloud of grey smoke. It hung in the air of the kitchen, drifting slowly like ghostly wisps of mist.
Barney wrinkled his nose. Dave and Gill weren’t supposed to smoke when he was in the house. It was part of the agreement with the school. But they always did and he could never bring himself to object. They seemed to have such few pleasures in their lives that he felt bad about trying to stop this one, even if it did mean he would be going home with his jumper and hair reeking of smoke again.
He guessed Dave and Gill were in their seventies. Gill used a walking frame and had a cough that sounded like the dilapidated foot pump that Barney’s dad used to inflate the airbed on camping trips. Her long, fine, grey hair was usually tied back in a neat ponytail. Arthritis had begun to clench her limbs into painful and much less useful versions of their former selves. But beneath her thick, owlish glasses she had small, sharp, intelligent eyes that saw everything and Barney sensed that a rather brilliant mind lurked beneath her grumpy-old-lady act. Dave, on the other hand . . .
. . . Dave was lovely, thought Barney. He was a big, kindly, teddy bear of a man, always the first to laugh at his own deteriorating memory. Garden birds in shoes was nothing. The previous week, Barney had found Dave’s wallet in the oven, marinating slowly in a red wine and onion sauce. The week before that, Dave had spent a whole hour planting a fish finger in a flowerpot as if it were a sapling before Barney and Gill realised what he was up to. It was as if the house was plagued by a particularly mischievous poltergeist. He wished Gill could see the funny side of Dave’s mistakes as much as Dave himself did, but he could only guess how hard it must be for her to see Dave’s mind slowly unravelling before her eyes.
Gill placed three cups of tea on a tray and carried it, rattling and sloshing, towards the table, her legs juddering without the aid of the walking frame.
Barney leaped to his feet. ‘Let me get that.’
‘Sit down,’ snapped Gill, her cigarette clenched between her teeth. ‘I’m not a complete invalid.’ She lowered the tray on to the table with precise, careful movements and half slid, half collapsed into a chair opposite Dave. She squinted into her saucer. ‘More tea in there than the cup,’ she wheezed and gave a great laugh.
Barney laughed politely and sipped his tea, aware of a strange tension suddenly in the atmosphere
‘I can predict your future, Rufus!’
‘It’s Barney,’ said Barney quietly. ‘And can you?’
‘I can predict your future, Barney,’ repeated Dave, without missing a beat.
Gill exhaled a blast of smoke upwards. She raised her eyebrows.
Dave held up a hand. Dangling from it was the peel from his apple, removed in a single long coil. He let it bob up and down for a second like some low-rent Slinky. ‘I can tell you who you’re going to marry.’
Barney felt himself blush. ‘That’s ridiculous!’ he blurted out, somewhat louder than he intended.
‘We shall see,’ said Dave with a smile. ‘Take the peel.’ He handed it to Barney. Barney gripped the end between his thumb and forefinger. The green spiral of peel rotated slowly over the tabletop. Gill watched, amused as Dave began to recite in a booming voice:
‘Spirits all-knowing,
May thee reveal,
His True Love’s Initial,
By the shape of this peel!’
Barney stared at the peel, dumbstruck, as if it might suddenly start to talk or magically transform itself into a pterodactyl.
‘You have to drop the peel on to the table, son,’ said Dave.
‘Oh. Right.’ Barney let go of the peel. It flopped on the tabletop. Dave and Gill both leaned in eagerly to peer at it.
Barney’s heart turned a somersault. Don’t be G, he thought. Don’t be G . . .
‘G,’ said Gill. ‘Definitely a G.’
‘I agree, dear,’ said Dave. ‘G it is. Do you know any girls whose name starts with a G, Thomas?’
‘My name’s Barney,’ said Barney, his blood ringing in his ears. ‘And . . . erm . . . maybe. One. Possibly one. Possibly more. I know lots of young ladies. Well, some.’ He sensed he needed to shut up as soon as possible.
‘Well, there you go,’ said Dave. ‘She’s your future wife. Is it the first or second name that starts with a G?’
‘Both actually,’ said Barney sheepishly.
Gill nodded sagely. ‘You see, Barney. The peel never lies. When are you going to propose to her?’ She and Dave looked at him with grave expressions – and suddenly burst into helpless laughter. ‘It’s only a silly game, my love!’ hooted Gill. ‘Don’t look so worried!’
‘The look on your face, Rufus!’ said Dave, shaking his head. ‘Absolutely priceless!’
‘It’s Barney!’ said Barney, wishing he had skived off LifeSkillz today. ‘And I knew you were just joking. Honestly. It was obvious.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Gill, still giggling. ‘He had you hook, line and sinker.’
‘What does it say about young people today if they’re prepared to take relationship advice from a piece of kitchen waste?’ said Dave, and that set him and Gill off laughing again.
‘I knew you were just joking,’ insisted Barney. ‘I don’t believe in the paranormal. Really. Me and Gab—’ He checked himself. ‘I believe there’s a rational explanation for everything. There are no spirits. No ghosts.’
‘No mysteries in life, eh?’ said Dave. His laughter was subsiding now.
‘I didn’t say that,’ said Barney. ‘Of course there are still mysteries to investigate, things we don’t know.’
‘You ever hear about the backwards robot?’ said Dave. ‘That’s a good mystery. A local one.’
‘No,’ said Barney, interested. ‘What is it?’
Gill suddenly emitted a blast of sm
oke from her nostrils like a dragon. ‘Dave’s babbling,’ she said dismissively. ‘Don’t listen to him.’ She stood up as quickly as she could, pressing down hard on the table to lever herself up. ‘Come and give me a hand baking this flan. Can’t sit here gossiping all day.’
‘I’m not babbling,’ said Dave. ‘I remember it well—’
‘Will you be quiet? Silly old man,’ said Gill loudly, her back to him, heading for the kitchen counter. ‘Barney doesn’t need to hear your nonsense.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Barney. ‘I like stories.’
‘Don’t encourage him,’ she retorted. She suddenly reminded Barney of a very mean maths teacher he had known in primary school. ‘You know his mind’s not what it once was. The last thing he needs is you humouring his idiocy. I’d like you to leave now, please.’
‘What?’ said Barney. ‘I haven’t done anything?’
‘Do you want me to get on the phone to your school and tell them you’ve been upsetting my husband?’ said Gill. ‘I’ll do it if you don’t leave right now.’
Barney held up his hands. ‘Whoa! I’m going! Sorry! I didn’t mean to . . .’ He stood up. Dave was staring at him. There was something in his eyes resembling fear. Barney suddenly felt very out of his depth. He headed for the kitchen door. ‘Sorry again,’ he muttered.
‘Just go, Barney,’ said Gill, flatly. ‘It’s not your fault. We’ll see you on Thursday.’
Barney let himself out and walked up the driveway. After the smoky interior of Gill and Dave’s house, the afternoon air was as cold and refreshing as a glass of milk.
CHAPTER FIVE
FIVE HUNDRED CERAMIC BINTURONGS
‘Wow! Big wow! Wowsers!’
‘That’s exactly what I thought.’
‘What, those exact words? In that exact order?’
Gabby rolled her eyes. ‘All right. Not exactly those words. But what I saw was pretty darn wow-worthy.’
‘I bet it was! And you’re positive it wasn’t a trick of some kind?’
Gabby laughed. ‘Barney, mate – Chas vanished into thin air. No smoke. No trapdoors. He put his schoolbag down on the ground – just an ordinary sports bag – opened it, and then jumped into it as if it were a hole seven metres deep! He vanished! There was a flash of light and then even the bag was gone. That’s exactly what I saw. I promise.’
‘There wasn’t a hole in the ground?’
‘Absolutely not. I checked ten times. Normal paving stones.’
‘And you haven’t been hypnotised? Or drugged? Or had your brain jiggled with in any way?’
Gabby shrugged. ‘If I had I wouldn’t know so it’s pointless asking, isn’t it?’
‘Hmm. Good point,’ said Barney. He chewed his thumbnail.
They were sitting at the kitchen table in Gabby’s house. Two mugs of tea stood in front of them slowly going cold, as neither of them had stopped talking long enough to take a single sip.
It was a very different kitchen to the one Barney had encountered on his first visit to Gabby’s house a few months earlier. Back then, the kitchen, and actually every other room in the house, had been covered by a layer of leaves. Gabby’s mum had, for complicated reasons of her own, developed an obsession with leaves of all kinds and had taken to attaching them to every square centimetre of space in the house. Thankfully, this phase had run its course and the kitchen now looked perfectly normal. Mrs Grayling herself was pottering about the kitchen, humming softly to herself and paying no attention to Barney and Gabby at all.
Frowning, Gabby cupped her chin in her hand. ‘So what are we talking about here? Some kind of Einstein-Rosen Bridge? Is that even physically possible?’
‘Well, you might be talking about Einstein-Rosen Bridges,’ said Barney, ‘but, personally, I haven’t got a clue what one is.’
‘They’re theoretical wormholes in space,’ said Gabby as if reminding him of something he had always known.
‘Oh, yeah. Course,’ said Barney. ‘Look, Gab.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Observe. This is what a confused person looks like. Someone who has never heard about Einstein’s bungholes.’
‘Wormholes.’
‘Whatever.’ A thought suddenly struck Barney. ‘Wait a minute – are you clever?’
‘What?’
‘Are you clever, Gab? You know – really intelligent. Brainy. It would explain a lot.’
Gabby shrugged. ‘Clever? Well, no, not really. I just read lots of books and remember what they say.’
Barney groaned. ‘That’s what clever is, you idiot! You are! You’re really clever. How did I not know this?’
‘Stop saying that,’ said Gabby, blushing. ‘I’m not especially clever. Honest.’
‘Oh, yeah? Do you think many teenage girls know about Einstein-Rosen Dual Carriageways?’
‘Bridges. Not dual carriageways. Although it’s an intriguing concept.’
‘See? That was a clever thing to say. It proves you’re clever!’
Gabby chuckled. ‘OK, so maybe I am a little bit. But so what?’
‘It’s just that I’ve never really known anybody clever before,’ said Barney thoughtfully. ‘It’s really cool. You know about all sorts of stuff. I’d like to be like that one day.’
‘Well, thanks, mate,’ said Gabby, blushing.
‘So what are we going to do about Chas?’
Gabby grinned. ‘Same thing Geek Inc. always does when confronted with the impossible. We investigate! Let’s keep a close eye on him. See what else he’s capable of.’
A serious look appeared on Barney’s face. ‘Do you think he might be – you know – dangerous?’
Gabby frowned and wrinkled her nose. ‘He seems like a nice-enough lad. And he’s only doing a few tricks, isn’t he? Euch! This tea’s gone cold. Do you want another cup?’
‘Sure,’ said Barney, handing her his mug.
Gabby emptied away their cold tea and filled the kettle. ‘How are you getting on with your old couple, by the way – what are they called again . . .?’
‘Dave and Gill. Not bad. Gill can be a right moody-chops sometimes. She gets so impatient with Dave losing his memory. Not his fault, poor guy. The other day he starts babbling on about a backwards robot and Gill says—’
Gabby’s mum suddenly gave a little squeak. ‘Oooh! The backwards robot! That takes me back!’
Barney stared at her. ‘You mean it’s real? There’s an actual backwards robot? I thought it was just some random stuff coming out of Dave’s brain.’
‘It’s real enough,’ said Mrs Grayling. ‘It’s in the park somewhere. Here in Blue Hills. I was there when the mayor unveiled it. It’s a statue, you see. Strange business.’
‘What’s this?’ said Gabby, putting down the kettle. ‘If it’s something strange then Barney and I definitely want to know more.’
‘It is a very weird story, now I think about it,’ said Mrs Grayling. ‘But I’m not the best person to tell it. There’s a lady in this street who knows far more about it. She was involved, you see.’
Gabby and Barney exchanged a look of perfect confusion.
Gabby pressed the doorbell. A crude electronic version of ‘Three Blind Mice’ sounded within the house. It went on for a very long time.
‘Haven’t we got enough odd stuff on our plate investigating Chas Hinton’s magic tricks?’ Barney asked.
‘We’re in the middle of an oddness-drought,’ grinned Gabby. ‘I’m not missing the opportunity to look into something else weird. And I’m sure Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t turn his nose up at a mystery like this.’
Barney flushed with colour. ‘You must have thought I was an idiot talking about him the other day.’
Gabby laughed. ‘No worries, Barney. Easy mistake to make.’
‘No, I should have realised he died after that battle with Professor Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls. I feel such a fool.’
Gabby made the snorting sound again.
‘Hay fever again?’
‘Yeah. Can’t seem to sha
ke it,’ she said, suppressing a grin.
The door opened and a tall, brittle-looking woman in her late fifties stood in front of them. Her face was etched with deep lines and her hair was cut in a weird asymmetrical style. A pair of large fish-shaped earrings danced and jerked against her neck, almost as if they were live fish struggling on hooks.
‘Fiona Cress?’ asked Gabby.
‘Oh excellent! You’re here!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘Come this way! The binturongs are waiting.’
Hundreds of pairs of tiny eyes stared down at Gabby and Barney from rows of wooden shelves lining the room. The eyes belonged to hundreds of small glazed pottery creatures. Barney couldn’t tell if they were meant to be cats, or dogs or bears – or what. What he did know was that their weird, whiskery little faces were starting to seriously freak him out. It felt like they might suddenly come alive, pounce down from their shelves and devour them.
‘Welcome to my studio,’ said Fiona Cress. ‘Would you like tea? Or do you want to get started moving the binturongs right away?’
Barney looked at Gabby. ‘Once again, if you want to know what a totally confused person looks like, just take a look at me,’ he muttered.
Gabby gave Fiona Cress her politest smile. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. We’re not here about the binturongs.’
‘What?’ Fiona Cress’s eyebrows narrowed. ‘You’ve not come to take them away?’
‘No,’ said Gabby. ‘We haven’t.’
‘What are binturongs?’ said Barney, feeling faintly embarrassed, as if he might have just accidentally sworn in a foreign language.
‘Binturongs,’ explained Gabby hurriedly, ‘are a nocturnal mammal native to East Asia. They live in trees and smell of popcorn.’
‘You’re making this up,’ said Barney. ‘There’s no such thing.’
‘No such thing?’ hooted Fiona Cress. Her voice sounded so alarmed that Barney actually jumped. ‘What on Earth are they teaching you kids in schools these days?’
Barney shrugged. ‘I dunno. Maths and stuff. Not about weird animals. It doesn’t tend to help with college applications.’
The Impossible Boy Page 4