Connor Clover and the Lost Children (Book 1)

by Helen Oghenegweke

CHAPTER TWO

  The Shrouded Letter

  Deana moved into the spare bedroom on Friday evening, bringing a single suitcase with her. She and Connor cleaned and tidied the room. Since his guardians hadn’t been able to access the stairs for months, it pretty much belonged to Connor.

  The following day, on Saturday, arrangements were made for a larger sofa to be delivered especially for Dorcus and Fagan. To their horror (and Connor’s amusement), several firemen arrived with special lifting equipment and cutting tools to free them. This hard work involved extra nurses called in to wash Dorcus and Fagin.

  Four hours later, after being scrubbed clean and dressed, Dorcus and Fagan sat stiffly on the new heavy-duty sofa with its unique lifting mechanism to help them off the seats. Embarrassed, they sulked for the remainder of the day, while Connor relished the peace and quiet. Meanwhile, the old sofa had been wrapped securely with a plastic sheet to be destroyed.

  For the first time in his life, the boy experienced happiness and enjoyed Deana’s company, as they got along well. In some ways, it seemed as if they’d been friends for ages. Twenty-two-years old and bossy, Deana had his best interests at heart. She tended to wear her long hair in a ponytail and freckles speckled her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She was more like a tomboy, opting for jeans and T-shirts.

  But something bothered him. On the few occasions when he’d been trying to sleep, he’d overheard Deana talking to someone in her room. One night, curiosity got the better of him and he crept from his bed and pressed his ear to her door and definitely heard another voice. So he tapped on her door and entered, to find her alone.

  ‘You must have heard me on the phone. I had it on loudspeaker. Sorry.’

  So Connor headed back to bed, plagued with dreams of a stinky man (who had mushrooms growing from his ears) and a dog that wouldn’t stop licking his face.

  The next day was Monday and Connor woke at ten o’clock. Opening his curtains wide, a grey and dreary day greeted him. Although he wanted to go to school (as it was such a rarity), Deana insisted he took another day off. ‘One more day won’t make a difference,’ she’d insisted. ‘You really must rest after everything you’ve been through.’

  So Connor rested for the first time in years, waking later than usual and doing whatever he wanted. The doctor’s diagnosis of Connor had been correct: he’d been overworked and exhausted looking after his abusive and ungrateful guardians.

  ‘A good rest is what you need,’ the doctor had prescribed.

  This worked well in theory but after a relaxing weekend, Connor became bored and frustrated with nothing to do. To alleviate the boredom, he decided to go for a short walk.

  ‘Connor!’ Deana called from the kitchen. ‘Before you go, I’d like a quick word?’

  ‘Sounds serious.’ Connor entered the newly tidied kitchen, with clean cupboards and sparkling worktops. ‘You’ve done a good job in here, thanks.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. I wanted to give you this. I found it in the pocket of your jeans.’ Deana took a newspaper cutting from her apron pocket.

  ‘Have you been snooping in my pockets?’ Connor snatched the paper from her. ‘I thought you’re meant to care for me. I don’t remember ‘nosy’ being on the list.’

  Deana surrendered. ‘Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you and I wasn’t prying. I came across it by accident. It’s a sensible habit to check the pockets when I wash jeans. Besides, I don’t regret finding it. Otherwise it would be an unidentifiable piece of paper by now.’

  Connor wanted to kick himself for jumping to the wrong conclusion. He had much to thank her for. She’d been trying to help. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll listen if you want to talk. I won’t meddle in your affairs. I’m here to help you, nothing more. But if you do want a chat, you can trust me.’

  Connor watched Deana make herself a cup of tea. ‘I think I’ll join you.’

  She smiled as she made Connor a soft drink in a tumbler. She scrapped two chairs from under the table and Connor sat opposite her.

  ‘I don’t remember my parents,’ he confessed. ‘This newspaper clipping tells me they died in an accident.’

  Deana grasped his hand. ‘It must be difficult for you.’

  ‘Not really. In a way I’m glad they hadn’t desert me, but I’d hoped they’d show at the door one day and say sorry for abandoning me, before taking me to live a fantastic life somewhere else. But I’ve no parents to rescue me. This is my life.’ Connor sipped his drink slowly.

  ‘Don’t give up hope of a better life. You don’t know what the future holds.’

  Connor shrugged. ‘I suppose. But I’m not clever and I’ve not been able to go to school much. I don’t have much hope to amount to anything.’

  ‘I know this won’t make sense to you at the moment but you’re important – I mean – I know you’ll do something worthwhile with your life.’

  ‘You think?’ He immediately brightened. ‘I wish I knew more about my parents though.’

  ‘I can help you. I know someone who works as an editor for a newspaper. They might be able to dig up information.’

  ‘Really? That’d be fantastic!’

  ‘Can I keep this clipping a bit longer?’

  ‘Sure, but don’t lose it. It’s the only picture I have of them.’ Connor stood to leave.

  ‘Before you go, I wanted to ask you what your aunt and uncle normally have for breakfast?’

  He laughed. ‘It’s a long list so you might want to write this down: twenty-four pancakes soaked in maple syrup and ice cream; a large bar of melted chocolate poured over thirty packets of crisps; two large saucepans of rich chocolate toffee cookies and five packets of marshmallows and fifteen spoons of sugar. I had to deliver their breakfasts on the ironing board in the cupboard, as no normal size tray is large enough and lay it across their laps.’

  ‘Oh, no wonder they refused the cereal I gave them yesterday.’

  Connor laughed. ‘But it’s your choice. You’re in charge now.’

  He peered through the door to watch Deana deliver two healthy bowls of cereal. As Connor suspected, his uncle threw the food on the floor in disgust.

  ‘Are you trying to poison us?’ he screamed.

  But Deana, like a schoolmistress, scolded them. ‘Don’t be so rude! No breakfast for you two this morning if you’re going to behave like that!’ She retrieved the bowls from the floor and scooped as much of the cereal into the bowls as she could. ‘If you’re not going to eat this, you’ll not be having anything else until dinner time.’ Lifting her head high in the air, she marched off. Dorcus ranted and raved until his throat became sore.

  ‘She can’t do that!’ Fagan snarled. ‘What’s she doing in our house? Where is that useless blockhead?’

  Furious, Dorcus couldn’t complain because he’d lost his voice.

  Connor muffled his laughter. ‘You’d better be careful!’ he warned.

  ‘I’m not having them talk to me like that!’

  ‘No, but if you starve them they’ll lose weight, jump off the sofa and come after you.’

  Deana slapped Connor’s arm. ‘Stop trying to scare me.’

  ‘Hey – don’t injure me!’ Connor dodged her next blow.

  ‘Go on and get out!’ she laughed.

  Laughing, Connor closed the front door and took a deep breath. For the past two days he’d been cooped inside the house. He pulled his gloves from his pocket when a squeaky voice called to him.

  ‘Hello dear!’ Mrs Rosebud, his elderly neighbour, waved to him from her garden. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it. I’m glad you’re feeling better. You gave me a fright the other morning.’

  ‘Thanks for calling help for me,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t mention it, but I can’t stop. I’ve pies in the oven!’ She hurried into her house.

  Straightening his coat collar, Connor noticed his gloves were covered in camel coloured hairs. He remembered a filthy, smelly man who said he’d known his
parents, before he’d attacked him. But had be been attacked? Hadn’t the man wanted to give him a letter? Slowly, his memory returned. The man had known his name and address. He’d dropped a letter on the pavement. But where was it now?

  He scanned the front garden, particularly a large rosebush where most rubbish accumulated. He gingerly searched the prickly plant but still managed to scratch himself on a menacing thorn.

  ‘Ow!’ He gave his small injury a rub before tugging the pile of litter. He saw it lying slightly apart from the other rubbish, resting against the fence, where it shone and shimmered as if it were alive. It was addressed to him. Thinking it was a birthday card he took it back inside the house, wondering who’d sent it? Once inside, he heard Deana talking to someone in the kitchen, so he gently closed the front door and crept closer. The discussion sounded serious.

  ‘So where’s the letter now?’ Deana demanded.

  ‘It must still be in the garden,’ replied a man. ‘But I couldn’t find it.’

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘Your parents want him at the AAA. The council agreed it’s for the best. I have his best interests at heart too, for without him, I won’t be able to leave this planet.’

  ‘But the security at the AAA is awful at the moment. He can’t go there. Not with Definastine on the loose using portals willy-nilly and showing up when you least expect him to. Surely he’s safer with me, in this dreary house.’

  The man sighed. ‘Times are changing. We have the best guards to help protect him. Anyway, it’s time to give this to Connor. Have you told him of his destiny?’

  ‘No,’ Deana whispered. ‘He’s had an awful life and it’s going to get worse.’

  ‘You can’t keep the truth from him. Definastine is closer than ever. Connor needs to be prepared.’

  ‘Prepared for what?’ Connor burst into the kitchen to find Deana alone. He squinted at a shadowy apparition next to her but it vanished in a blink of an eye.

  ‘Connor!’ exclaimed Deana, startled. ‘I didn’t hear you come back.’

  He eyed her suspiciously. ‘That’s obvious. Who were you talking to?’

  Shaking her head, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. In a suspicious manner, she fast replied, ‘Oh, no one.’

  ‘Don’t fob me off. Who were you talking to?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘I don’t know how he managed to vanish, but I heard a man talking in hear with you. What’s going on? It concerns me, doesn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ She snatched a tea towel and pretended to dry a plate.

  ‘Deana, that plate is already dry. Don’t lie to me. You mentioned Definastine and me. Who is he?’

  ‘Forget it,’ she snapped.

  ‘No!’ Connor shouted back. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘You won’t believe me.’ Still holding the tea towel, she folded her arms across her chest and faced him. Her face paled when she saw the letter. ‘You have the letter.’

  Connor’s eyes widened as something clicked into place. ‘Is this the letter you were talking about? Tell me!’

  Deana fiddled with the tea towel.

  ‘Deana, I trust you, so don’t lie to me now, please!’

  ‘There’s much to tell you. I’d hoped to shelter you from it, but I was wrong. I know that now. Read the letter first, it’ll answer some of your questions.’

  Connor disappeared upstairs, burning with rage and slammed the door to his bedroom. Deana closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn’t avoid the truth now. She’d have to tell him everything. She wiped a stray tear and remained at the table. Shaking, she poured another cup of tea. From the back pocket of her jeans she glanced at a photograph of two adults and two children, taken ten years ago when she – the older child – had been twelve, and the younger one two. She stroked her finger across the picture and placed it in her pocket.

  ‘He knows you’re here, so there’s no point hiding anymore.’

  The figure of a man immediately appeared. ‘Well, it went well, given the circumstances.’

  Deana rolled her eyes and poured him a cup of tea, while she waited for Connor to return.

  Connor remained on his bed, unsettled. Something strange was going on and it involved him. He stroked the silky envelope and quickly ripped it open. Suddenly it quivered and fluttered.

  ‘What the –?’

  Against logic, Connor witnessed the impossible. Without any assistance, the two torn pieces merged, mending itself along the torn edge where it had been ripped. Connor fell off the bed and backed away slowly, fearing the envelope would attack him. Once repaired, the envelope rested on the bed motionless. The boy’s fear became replaced with curiosity as he examined it – no visible tear could be seen. He tore it a few more times and watched in fascination as it repeatedly mended itself. He almost forgot about the letter inside it. Now he’d witnessed this miraculous display, he wanted to show Deana. He put the envelope to one side and held the letter; the velvety texture tickled his fingers. Composed of letters dotted at random, the letter was unreadable, as if a toddler had written it. He threw it aside believing it to be a joke. He snatched the envelope and hurried to show Deana.

  ‘Look! Watch this!’ He ripped the envelope in half and placed the two halves a short distance from each other on the kitchen table, where again the paper quivered and mended. ‘Isn’t it fantastic?’

  Unsurprised, Deana sipped her tea. ‘I take it you haven’t read the letter yet.’

  ‘No, it’s impossible to read. But isn’t this fantastic?’ Connor beamed.

  Amused, Deana watched him with interest. ‘I remember receiving my first one. I’d screamed and hid in the cupboard for hours.’

  ‘You’ve had a letter like this before?’

  ‘Yes. It’s known as a shrouded letter. Only the person it is intended for can read it.’

  ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘Hold the letter for several seconds – then you’ll be able to read it.’

  Puzzled, Connor darted back to his bedroom. He lay back on his bed, holding the letter, wishing for something to happen. He didn’t wait long for the typed letters on the soft fabric to move of their own accord to form readable words, but the moment he released it, the letters returned into nonsense words. He held it again. Within his quivering hands, the message became clear.

  “To our beloved son, Connor,

  Years ago we received a prophecy that if Definastine still lived before your twelfth birthday you’d be chosen as the Starstone’s host. To protect you we faked our deaths and have been attempting to destroy Definastine ever since. It broke our hearts to leave you but your life was in grave danger and still is. We’d hope to defeat Definastine so you wouldn’t have to, but the prophecy has come true and now many lives will depend on you. Please trust Tookar, for he’s going to help you.

  Not a day goes by when we don’t think of you. Try and get to the AAA as soon as possible for your own safety. We love you so much and pray to see you soon.

  Loving you forever

  Your Mum & Dad (Christy & Ryan)”

  Connor perched on the edge of his bed, rereading the letter and after that, he reread it again. Angry at the knowledge of his parents abandoning him and subjecting him to a life with abusive guardians, he screwed the letter and tossed it across the room. Like the envelope it ironed itself flat. He also knew why the male voice in the kitchen had sounded so familiar. It belonged to the stranger he’d encountered early Friday morning – Tookar?

  He’d no choice but to talk to Deana about it, He peered through the dusty net curtains when someone knocked on his door. Without turning, he continued to stare at a sparrow on the fence, staring straight back at him.

  ‘Come in.’ The bird appeared to be dancing, its twig-like legs were tapping away. ‘I read the letter, Deana. Apparently my parents are alive. They did abandon me.’

  ‘You weren’t abandoned, Connor. Your parents wanted safe,’ came a deep voice.

  Connor spun round fast. In t
he doorway, stood a man (a foot taller than him) with straggly brown hair.