Chapter 8: DOWN IN THE CELLAR
Their hearts thumping, Lou, Jack and David walked through the archway into the cellar. It wasn’t dark at all, but bathed in light from dozens of overhanging electric bulbs. Their eyes blinked as they adjusted to the brightness.
The cellar was surprisingly roomy, extending across most of the floor space of the house itself. It was filled with row after row of trestle tables, each bearing dozens of green, fern-like plants in black plastic pots. They looked identical. Each leaf had several serrated fingers radiating outwards similar to a maple leaf. They were distinctive, attractive plants but not ones the children had ever actually come across before.
Lou wrinkled her nose. ‘Those plants have a strange odour. Not unpleasant, just pungent and unusual.’
‘Yes they do,’ agreed David. ‘There must be hundreds of them. I wonder where he sells them all – they’re nice enough but you’d think garden centres would prefer more variety.’
Lou stared hard at the plants and looked carefully around her. ‘Can you see any evidence of Idwal’s other business activities? Let’s have a good scout around then get out, I don’t want to spend too long down here.’
‘I thought we were supposed to be looking for evidence of ghosts?’ said Jack.
‘We are but I’d just like to know what else he keeps down here, apart from a huge quantity of strange plants,’ said Lou, in a voice the others recognised as meaning ‘do as I say without debate’.
‘Look,’ said David, ‘piled in the corner, various different metal objects. I say, that looks like a real red postbox. You know the small ones you get along country lanes on a pole?’
Jack joined him and began to rummage through the other items. ‘What’s this – a big metal plaque with lots of names on it. At the top it says: “In loving memory of those who paid the supreme sacrifice in two world wars.” What on earth this plaque is doing in this cellar?’
‘What do you think,’ said Lou, her eyes grave. ‘The scumbag!’
‘Why, Lou, what makes you say that?’ asked David, innocently, not grasping the significance of what they had discovered.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ replied Lou, looking at the others. ‘He’s stolen them, along with any number of other items which are lying around. Look at the lettering on that postbox: VR – that stands for Victoria Regina. It’s a postbox put up in the reign of Queen Victoria and is bound to be valuable. This has been stolen to be resold, probably via the internet. It could fetch a lot of money.
‘As for the war memorial plaque, it’s very heavy and probably made of lead or something and will most probably be sold as scrap metal and melted down. There is a growing market for scrap metal of all kinds. It was in our local newspaper only the other day that thieves had stolen lead from a church roof.’
‘What sort of person steals from a church just to make a few pounds?’ asked David, shocked.
‘The same sort who desecrates a memorial honouring Britain’s dead from two world wars,’ replied Lou. ‘The same sort who makes off with an historic postbox. And possibly,’ she added, gazing at the rows of trestle tables, ‘the same sort of low-life who cultivates a very suspicious-looking plant.’
‘Come on, Lou, surely there’s no harm in growing plants and taking them to markets and shops and earning money that way,’ said David. ‘After all, he has to make a living somehow. I think they’re cute.’
David walked across and put his hand out to pick up one of them.
‘Don’t go near them!’ said Lou. ‘Let’s not touch another thing. I don’t want our fingerprints on anything else. It may well be against the law to grow those plants. I don’t know what they’re called but I know there is a type with funny, long thin leaves like which are harvested to make into a drug for smoking. It makes people go all light-headed and woozy, we learnt about it at school. If that is what Idwal is up to, he will be supplying drug dealers for a lot of money.’
David backed away from the plants which suddenly struck him as sinister.
‘Hey, what’s that over there?’ he said. ‘It looks like a CD player of some kind.’
David was right. It was a good quality one with two huge speakers attached and a powerful amplifier. On impulse, before Lou could stop him, David pressed the Play button. Suddenly, a loud wailing started up, echoing off the bare walls in the most unpleasant fashion. The children grabbed each other in fright.
‘It’s the ghosts! It’s the ghosts again!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘Lou, let’s get out of here, quickly!’
Lou, who had seen what David did, quickly recovered her composure. She lunged across to the DVD player and hit Stop. Instantly, the ghostly chorus died away. She hit the Play button and it started again.
She stopped it quickly. ‘Right, that’s all we need to know. Well done for spotting that, David, but let’s not fiddle with anything else. We do not want Idwal to know we’ve been down here and discovered a few of his secrets and he could turn up at any time. Let’s go.’
The others followed Lou back up the steps into the kitchen. Lou pushed the trapdoor back into place and locked it. She slipped the key into the inside pocket of her jacket. She wanted to hold on to it for a while and hoped Mrs Owen would not think to ask her for it back just yet.
Mrs Owen was not there. The children looked around for her and could not see her anywhere.
‘Mrs Owen!’ called Lou. ‘Are you ok, don’t worry everything is all right.’
The staircase creaked and the old lady could be heard slowly descending, helped by Emily, who guided her back into an armchair. She was shaking badly and Emily was white with fear, too.
‘The ghosts! I heard them again! That dreadful groaning and wailing. I have never heard them before in daylight. Will they now torment me night and day?’
‘I hope not,’ said Lou, firmly. ‘We will do our best to sort things out and make sure they never trouble you again, I promise you.’
‘Oh I hope so my dear, I do hope so. How did you get on in the cellar?’
David opened his mouth, about to reassure the old lady that the ghostly sounds were from the DVD player but he caught Lou’s eye. She shook her head. Lou, for whatever reason, didn’t want Mrs Owen to know the source of that terrifying racket. Why she couldn’t be told straightaway mystified him, but Lou was often right about these things.
‘We got on fine, Mrs Owen, and made good progress,’ said Lou. ‘What I’d like to do, with your permission, is come back tonight at 11pm and spend a couple of hours here. I’ll bring Jack too if he’s willing. It should be a comfort to you to know you’ve got support and will give us a chance to get a better picture of what’s going on.’
Jack was horrified at the prospect of returning to the place which caused them such terror the previous night, but an imploring look from Lou melted away his opposition. It said, ‘I need you’ and he could not resist that.
As for David, he went red and glowered. This time, he wasn’t even being invited along. He desperately wanted to join Jack and Lou – and desperately didn’t want to at the same time.
‘There is a reason for me only asking Jack,’ said Lou, softly, turning to David. ‘I’ll explain more later.’
‘You’d be most welcome to come back tonight,’ said Mrs Owen. ‘There are two guest rooms upstairs if the pair of you wished to stay over. Here, I’ll lend you the back door key and you can let yourselves in. I’ll be in bed by the time you come, most likely.’
‘That’s kind of you, we’ll see you later then,’ said Lou.
‘It’s you who are kind,’ said Mrs Owen, showing them to the front door. ‘I am so grateful to you all for trying to help me.’
Something Strange in the Cellar Page 8