Pen and I shrieked and laughed and guffawed until the tears ran. I felt all the strings of tension that laced me up slowly start to loosen.
‘But how has that got anything to do with Lula?’ asked Pen at last.
‘Jason is saying Jessica got the brew from Tatty,’ said Tam, sobering up.
‘Well, that’s just not true!’ I said. ‘No way is that true!’
‘We’ll stick up for you,’ said Tam stoutly. ‘Won’t we, Pen? And Jess will fess up.’
‘Better get Alex micro-managing,’ replied Pen. ‘But this really isn’t a big deal.’
‘Okay, well, that’s not all,’ muttered Tam. ‘The boys are saying there’s never, ever, been a collision on the Pond; Tallulah Bird starts rowing and within a fortnight there’s a fractured skull.’
Pen and I were silent.
‘It doesn’t help that last night was full moon,’ added Tam.
‘The moon wasn’t up yet, and if it had been we wouldn’t have seen it,’ argued Pen. ‘That’s the whole point! That’s why we had the accident in the first place! We couldn’t see a thing!’
‘Well, I’ll say that to any rumour-mongers that cross my path,’ said Tam. ‘Now don’t worry, Tatty Lula, it’s all going to be okay, yeah?’
‘Yeah . . .’ I said, but I really didn’t believe it.
‘I’ll call the girls right now so we can start nipping stories in the bud. First person I’m ringing is Alex – I can’t believe I’m going to be telling her something she doesn’t know already!’
I grinned at Tam’s glee. ‘So glad I could have been of some use,’ I said drily, and after several mwah-mwahs and optimistic promises that everything was going to be all right, I hung up.
‘You are so screwed,’ said Pen, leaving me alone in the kitchen. ‘I’d help to distract you from your terrible fate, but I’ve got calories to burn . . .’
I wasn’t totally freaked out by the rumours that would soon start to fly around Hambledon, mainly because the distraction I settled on was my not-so-secret interest in motor mechanics. I was up to my armpits in engine oil. Dad had taken the family snotmobile so the drive at the back was free, and Dan came over to push Oscar out of the cellar.
Pen got back from her run just in time, and even she was impressed by how my car was looking.
‘Wow, Lula!’ she exclaimed, poking her head into the driver’s seat window. ‘It’s gorgeous in here!’
‘Where did you get the interior leather?’ asked Dan, propping the bonnet of the car up.
‘Rukshana found a supplier for me, from a lady that makes her bags.’
‘Who’s Rukshana?’
‘She owns the dress shop on the high street that does loud stripes for old people. Are you saying you’ve never been in there?’
‘Ha!’ scoffed Dan in an as if tone of voice. ‘Are you saying I’d look great in a zigzaggy pants suit?’ He ducked into the cellar and began wheeling out the trolley with the engine block on.
‘Don’t joke,’ I replied. ‘Esme Trooter made Jeremiah Coldstock, the oldest man in Hambledon, get a white Lycra Elvis-stylie shirt from in there, and Aunt Sassy saw him in it at bingo last week. Are we going to need a winch or something for the engine? How’re we going to get it in?’
Dan explained what we had to do, and even Pen helped. At 10.30 a.m. Dan held out two ancient-looking bolt nuts. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he said, ‘but I can’t see where these go back.’
‘You’re joking, right?’ I said, my eyebrows well into my hairline. ‘I’ll just be driving along and next thing you know my engine will drop out!’
Dan laughed. ‘Your engine’s going nowhere,’ he said, in a way that made me wonder what kind of engine he was talking about. ‘In the old days they often put two nuts on to a bolt for extra strength, but there’s really no need. Hang on to them in case, though.’
I took the nuts from him. They were heavy and clinked comfortably in the palm of my hand. I unhooked the plain silver chain from round my neck and looped them on.
‘Hey,’ said Dan. ‘That’s a good look for you. Though people may find out you like to fix cars. You might get called grease monkey or something.’
‘Believe me,’ I said. ‘There are worse things.’
‘Like witch girl,’ said Pen.
Dan held out the key to my car. ‘Got your driver’s licence?’ he teased.
I heaved a deep breath and took the key. ‘Dad should be here for this historic moment,’ I said. ‘He helped me with most of this.’ I patted Oscar on the fender.
‘Go on!’ laughed Dan. ‘Just rev her up!’
‘Him,’ corrected Pen, as I slid into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. In went the clutch, my right foot hovering over the accelerator. I turned the key.
Clunk-a-chunk-a-clunk-a-chunk.
‘Give it just a little juice,’ suggested Dan, coming over to my side of the car and bending down.
I did as he said, less hesitant this time, and after a few goes the engine roared to life.
Pen laughed and clapped, while I squealed like a child.
‘Let it run for a minute,’ called Dan over the noise of the motor, grinning at me.
I eased off the accelerator and Oscar continued mumbling along, whereupon I leapt out of the car with a shriek of triumph.
‘Yeeehaaaa!’
Dan threw his arms wide and I jumped in for a triumphant hug. He whirled me round and round till I was dizzy, Oscar still throttling away happily behind us. I planted a big kiss on his gorgeous lips, about to say thank you, when a figure appeared at the back gate.
Oscar puttered and died, the whisper of petrol in his tank probably gone.
Chapter Twenty-eight
‘Hi, everyone,’ said Jack, his face stony. ‘No answer at the front so I came round here, but I see you’re a little wrapped up in something else right now, Tallulah.’ He levelled a cool look at Dan, who lowered me quickly to the ground.
I flushed and would have blathered like an idiot, but Pen danced over and grabbed Jack by the hand.
‘Jack, this is Next-Door Dan – he’s just helped Tatty lift Oscar’s engine in’ – Jack stepped forward, his hand outstretched – ‘and, Dan, this is Jack, Tatty’s um –’
‘Boyfriend,’ finished Jack, shaking Dan’s hand firmly.
‘Ha! Jack de Souza,’ said Dan, holding on to Jack’s hand and pumping away, a big grin on his face. ‘So good to meet you! Heard so much, you know! You’re a survivor! You’re –’ One look at me silenced that train of thought. He stopped abruptly, then said, with an embarrassed cough, ‘Okay, well, thanks for letting me in on the big moment with your car, T. Better get going. You need me to roll her into the cellar again?’
‘No thanks, Dan. Dad’s back tomorrow and I’m thinking he’ll want to see Oscar spring to life too.’
‘Well, shout if you need any more help, okay?’
Dan took off and Pen sighed deeply.
‘He can roll me anywhere,’ she said, and sighed again.
‘Pen!’ I said. ‘How can you think like that? You’re fourteen!’
‘Did seem like he was more into Lula,’ said Jack. He put his hands in the back pockets of his black jeans and scuffed his high-tops against a weed growing up through the drive.
‘Oh, please!’ said Pen. ‘Dan is into Darcy, Jack. Not Lula. And I bet if I hadn’t just come out and said that, you two would have been all um this er that um you er me . . .’
She rolled her eyes.
‘Hey!’ I said. ‘That’s not true!’
‘So true,’ said Pen. ‘You two are a bit pathetic. Is it so hard? To communicate?’
‘I do communicate!’ I insisted.
‘Badly,’ said Jack.
‘Very badly,’ said Pen, stomping off once again. ‘Wash my dog, Tatty! Or the duck is roast!’
Jack looked at me, trying not to laugh. ‘We never actually talked about the duck.’
I bit my lip, smiling back. ‘Yeah. So . . .?’
Jack stepped closer, till we were nearly touching, but didn’t reach out to hold me. ‘So . . .’ he said.
‘So,’ I said. Oh, what the hell, I thought, and put my arms round his waist. I looked up at him, relieved to see his smile widen. ‘So, it’s good to hear you call yourself my boyfriend . . .’
He lowered his lips to mine. ‘Delighted to be of service,’ he murmured.
‘LULA!’
I jumped, and narrowly avoided bashing Jack’s nose. Blue was standing at the top of the steps wearing enormous goggles, a snorkel and her swimsuit. She had the hosepipe in one hand and was dragging a large plastic tub in the other. ‘What Boodle liking today? Barf or shower?’ she asked, coming slowly down the stairs, the tub bumping down behind her.
Jack loped over to help her down. ‘Hi, Blue. Isn’t it a little chilly to be in your swimsuit?’
‘I’m hot,’ she said. ‘And so is Boodle.’
I took the hose and the plastic tub from her hands and put them down in the drive behind Oscar. ‘Where’s Aunt Phoebe?’ I asked.
‘Talking to Mr Splinkyninky.’
‘Splinkyninky?’ repeated Jack.
‘Mr Kadinski,’ I translated. ‘What are they talking about?’ I asked Blue, twisting the nozzle so the tub began to fill.
‘How package man drowned,’ she said, and squirted dog shampoo into the water with great satisfaction.
‘Whoa, Blue,’ I said. ‘We’ve got to put that on Boodle’s fur, okay?’
‘Boodle and Biggins need bubble bath,’ she replied, and began swirling the water like crazy.
Jack stepped back, away from the splashing. ‘Who is Biggins? What are they saying about the package man?’
‘Biggins Lula’s duck,’ explained Blue, standing up to survey the bubbly bath. ‘He poos lots, but Boodle still loves him.’
Jack looked at me with a question on his face.
I shrugged. ‘Where are Boodle and Biggins, Blue?’
Blue looked back at the steps. She took a deep breath. ‘BOODLE! BIGGINS!’
There was a skittering noise from the courtyard above, and then Biggins appeared on the top step. He splatted over on his tiny webbed feet and stared sadly down at the impossible jump to the next step. Slowly, he lifted his little wing stubs and flexed them.
‘Quack,’ he said, defeated.
‘Biggins!’ I cried happily. ‘You can quack! What a clever boy!’
Boodle appeared behind Biggins.
‘Wrooarfhim.’
‘You’re teaching him well,’ I replied, going over to the steps, but Boodle had already scooped the tiny duckling up in her enormous mouth and was bringing him gently down the stairs. She got to the bubble bath, Jack staring in amazement, and lowered Biggins into the water. Biggins splashed about for a minute or two, sneezed at the bubbles and then quacked twice, quite crossly. Boodle dropped her head to the tub, and Biggins flapped and splashed his way to the edge. He sneezed twice again, and clambered out on to Boodle’s nose. I scooped him up. ‘You two are such a great team!’ I enthused. ‘You don’t like the bubbles, Biggleyboo?’
‘No,’ said Blue mournfully. She brightened. ‘Boodle in!’
I stepped back while she tugged on the huge dog’s collar. Boodle got into the tub quite happily and a wave of water went over the side. I turned on the hose and began gently drenching Boodle from the head down.
Biggins was skating around in the soapy water on the drive, and Boodle made a huffing sound like she was laughing.
Jack came round to where Biggins was playing, looked at the duckling closely and shook his head.
‘Lula, you definitely took this duck from Frey’s, didn’t you.’
‘Biggins!’ I laughed hastily. ‘Where’ve you been pooing on Boodle? I don’t see anything.’
‘Penly lies,’ announced Blue, handing me a towel for Biggins. ‘Penly wanted you to wash Boodlepoodle.’
Pen poked her head out of a window above us. ‘Well, yeah,’ she said.
‘You owe me,’ I said, totally unsurprised. ‘Blue, will you hold the hose like this?’
Blue held the hose while I squirted shampoo into Boodle’s coat and began to lather her all over.
‘You took a duck from Frey’s Dam when there could have been bird flu . . .’ persisted Jack, his eyebrows raised.
‘He needed us!’ I defended myself. ‘He could have died !’
‘Yes, he could have died ! Of bird flu!’ answered Jack. ‘And infected the rest of the nation’s birdlife! Not to mention poultry!’
‘But we knew that was pretty impossible, especially after hearing those men up at the dam!’ I argued.
‘Shh!’ hissed Jack. ‘That’s between you and me only.’ He nodded at Blue who was carefully hosing the bubbles from Boodle’s fur. Boodle was sitting very happily in the water, her head tilted back, enjoying the trickles through her coat.
‘Blue won’t say anything, will you, Blue?’
‘’Bout package man?’ asked Blue.
‘Probably,’ came Pen’s dry voice from above us again.
Jack’s eyes went panicky and he started mouthing something to me.
‘Come here, Pen,’ I commanded.
‘No.’
I sighed. ‘Come here, please.’
‘Quiet.’ Pen dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘I’m eavesdropping on Aunt Phoebe and Mr Kadinski. They’re talking about the Frey’s crime scene.’
Jack and I exchanged glances. He took the hose from Blue and began pushing the last of the suds from Boodle’s coat with long, strong strokes. I got her out of the tub and she stood patiently on the drive while Jack did a final rinse with Blue’s help.
‘Tatty,’ said Jack seriously in my ear. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about going up to Frey’s that night with me. Or about the body drop at Cluny’s.’
I looked at him, wounded. ‘What do you take me for? You think I’d blab? That I’d snitch on you?’
Jack shook his head irritably and twisted the hose nozzle to the off position. ‘No! I just want to make sure you understand how serious this is!’
I glared at him. ‘I know how serious this is! In fact, I’m so aware of how serious this is that I’d never dare’ – my voice dropped to a hiss – ‘to move murdered bodies around !’
Jack was about to retaliate, but Aunt Phoebe’s voice came drifting down to us from the courtyard. ‘Do you think it could be to do with getting Parcel Brewster off the land? So Cluny could sell it? Maybe the poisoned water was for him? And maybe the girl was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and had to be taken care of?’
Mr Kadinski said something about Aunt Phoebe being terribly clever as well as Aunt Phoebe being terribly beautiful and Aunt Phoebe giggled.
I raised my eyebrows. Aunt Phoebe never giggled.
‘Auntie Phoebe likes Mr Splinkyninky more than me,’ said Blue, pressing her wet feet on to dry bits of the drive and watching the wet prints fade in the sunshine.
‘Mr Splinkyninky is a great guy,’ I replied, leaning over and giving her a hug. ‘But not nearly as much fun as you, Bluebird. Can you get us a towel from Pen?’
Blue nodded and ran back up the steps inside.
‘Am I a great guy too?’ asked Jack. He smiled a slow, lazy grin that made my insides melt.
‘Great at kissing,’ I said. ‘But you’ll have to get quicker at it. We’re always being interrupted.’
Jack dropped the hose and had my face cupped in his hands before I even saw him move. His lips whispered across my cheek and found my lips. ‘Fast enough for you?’ he murmured.
‘OH, GET A ROOM, LULA!’ yelled Pen from above.
‘Ew . . .’ added Blue to the chorus. A towel got dropped from the window and landed on Boodle’s head.
‘Mwrwlyy,’ she whined, trying to paw it off.
Biggins hopped from one webbed foot to the other, going quack, quack, quack in his little voice. It looked like he was worried Boodle couldn’t watch out for him.
‘Tallulah?
’ came Aunt Phoebe’s voice from the courtyard. She came over and looked down the drive, shading her eyes in the sunlight that was dancing through the apple tree at the gate. ‘Are you behaving yourself out here?’
‘Yes, Aunt Phoebe,’ I said, hastily stepping away from Jack, my cheeks guiltily flushed. ‘Jack just came round to walk me to Alex’s.’ I went over to Boodle and began drying her with the towel.
‘Good,’ said Aunt Phoebe. She looked at Jack. ‘Why haven’t you written anything for the papers about the autopsy proving inconclusive?’
Jack glanced from Aunt Phoebe, to me, then at Mr K who had joined Aunt Phoebe on the top step. ‘Uh . . .’ he said. ‘I didn’t know it was inconclusive.’
‘Tatty didn’t tell you?’ said Aunt Phoebe.
‘I forgot,’ I mumbled. ‘It’s not like it was big news, anyway.’
‘Not without vital information from the crime scene itself, but news is news,’ said Mr K. He pulled at the brim of his fedora so it shaded his eyes. ‘I hope the crime scene gives police what they need. Right, Jack?’
‘I’ll call the coroner’s before I go,’ said Jack. ‘Maybe Jazz could follow it up.’
‘Go where?’ I asked, giving Boodle a final head rub and stooping to brush some water off Biggins’s back.
‘Mum’s coming to get me this afternoon. Gran’s going in to the hospital for a check-up and she needs moral support.’
Pen appeared between Aunt Phoebe and Mr Kadinski. ‘Is Mona still cross with Tatty?’ she asked.
Jack frowned. ‘About the accident?’
She paused, then grinned. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘The accident.’
‘No,’ replied Jack. ‘I don’t think so.’
Pen’s grin stretched wider. ‘Thanks for helping with Boodle,’ she said. ‘See you guys later.’
Everyone started going back inside. I scooped Biggins up and brought up the rear, leaving Oscar gleaming in the dappled sunlight.
We’d been standing outside Alex’s front door, ringing the bell for ages. No one was opening up. Not even when I knocked. They were probably upstairs and couldn’t hear my puny knuckles rapping away down here.
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