by Holly Bell
Elodie looked at Hogarth as though pleading for his understanding ‘Where could they go? They felt lucky to have whatever jobs they had. The Dowrkampyers had power and influence. What if they could get the parents fired and discredited? How could these families make a new life anywhere else from what little they’d got?’
Hogarth nodded. ‘I do see, Elodie. So ...?’
‘That’s where the escape lines came in. They got the children away and then the family. Sometimes both at the same time. They found homes, jobs and schools for them in other places. They were very organised. There were two lines: one east across the border —’
‘The Tamar? The Cornish-English border?’
‘Yes and the other, across the water. To France.’
‘Was it the same person or people running both lines, do you think?’
‘I don’t know. I never saw any faces clearly or ... they wanted to keep me as safe as possible and the less I knew ....’
‘Of course. So how were you involved?’
Elodie drank some tea, then answered,
‘With the east line, I just had to get the children off the Moor to different places on the roads.’
‘On foot? By bus?’
‘George taught me how to drive, and I’d borrow his van. I don’t really know how involved he was, but he gave me the means to be part of the lines, and at least looked the other way. The coast ones were more difficult. I had to get the children to the beach.’
‘At Parhayle?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why the beach and not the harbour?’ Hogarth enquired.
‘Too many eyes, too many lights. The beach wasn’t lit or watched at night. The boats came at least once a month, usually on the Kali moon — the dark moon — sailing by the stars, the tides and currents, at least at first, so there would be no sound from the motor.’
‘Did you meet any members of the escape lines?’
‘They were just A and B: A for the route to the border, B for France. Sometimes the parents would be waiting with the people coming to collect the children, but not always. I just had to get the children to the beach, as I say, but sometimes the children were scared, and I had to go right to the boats with them. The sailors — fishermen, I suppose — had their hoods up so I couldn’t see their face, but I heard the names of the two skippers being called out by their crews. It was the same with the border. I didn’t see the faces of those people either. I had to wait with the children, so they weren’t alone at night. The children were very brave.’
‘Sounds extremely dangerous. You were very brave too,’ marvelled Hogarth.
‘No, Chief Inspector. That wasn’t the part I had to be brave for.’
‘Oh?’
‘I knew whatever spell was put on the children happened in the lab in the crypt. I thought about the notes I’d seen in the office. At certain times the shredder was going all day, and the shredded paper was burned. I knew sometimes the children got better even if they got worse again after. And I knew, during the times they got worse, they were continuing to visit the lab regularly, and, at first, when they were recovering. No conventional medicine helped their conditions, so the only hope of getting them better had to be down there.’
‘Sounds reasonable. How did you get in?’
Elodie smiled. ‘I’m not the sort people notice. Also, the admin staff were used to me running errands. On the next lab visit scheduled for one of the children — Kevin — I followed him and the teacher down there. Stone steps make no noise, especially under stockinged feet. I listened to the words the teacher said at the doors. That’s how they unlocked them. Not with keys but with words. Kevin lagged behind a little, long enough to let me in the first time. No alarms when off.’
‘Do you remember the words?’
‘Yes. I’ll give you the list.’
‘Thank you. Please go on, Elodie.’
‘So, the night an escape was to take place, I went down there and took the child with me. I looked in the big book. Each student knew what the spell was supposed to do. There were pictures so we could find what we were looking for. Oh, it all had to be done so quickly, Chief Inspector! I would find the spell and the antidote. It was all in a strange language, but there were jars and boxes on the shelves, and they were labelled. Very specific and every one of them things I’d never heard of. The concoctions were brewed in a great big bowl, and sometimes all this horrible smelling steam would come up out of it. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I did my best and hoped for the best. I don’t know how successful or otherwise I was. Then I took the child up and out into the night and got them to the road or the beach.’
‘You were never seen?’
‘I had narrow escapes, believe me. I have no doubt that, had I been discovered, I would have ended up as one of those unfortunate “accidents”. But the stairs are dark in places, very dark. And I had learned in my early years how to be swift and silent.’
Hogarth could only imagine the conditions that had necessitated the development of such skills. He refrained from asking. Elodie continued.
‘I think often the parents would move out in the middle of the night and the children would go to France. They’d be taken along the French coast, then brought back well beyond the Tamar border and reunited with their families, if they weren’t already with them.’
Elodie sighed, drank some tea and helped herself to curry puffs. They munched in silence for a while, Hogarth giving her time to recover from reliving the events she was describing for him. Finally, he said,
‘So ... the missing children ....’
‘Yes.’
“They all survived then?’
‘No ... not all. When you believe you can fly or breathe underwater or hold up a huge boulder ....’
‘But why was there no outcry? No call for an official investigation?’
Elodie looked at him levelly, a sort of vacant sadness in her eyes.
‘Something like 100,000 children die in accidents every year, Chief Inspector. And in these cases, they were by themselves. No witnesses. Or perhaps there were. But people see and believe what they want to.’
Hogarth was at a loss for words. The account she was giving was testimony enough to the truth of her statement. Seeing him so downcast, Elodie smiled.
‘But that was then. It’s long over. Have some more cheese puffs. I know from Harry that they’re your favourite.’ She looked at him with a twinkle. ‘Go on, you can finish them off!’
Chapter 20
Crimson Lake
‘What were the key words for the doors?’ asked Amanda curiously, pouring out more tea for each of them.
Hogarth, knowing full well she would ask, had the list ready and produced it with the air of a rabbit from a hat.
‘There you go.’
Surprisingly, the handwriting was different from the first list, and it wasn’t Hogarth’s either.
‘Agertyn. Of course: open,’ Amanda translated. ‘Anlucsera: unlock. Onlideskovra: reveal. Ime wou bodrhi: I command you. Not Cornish. Those are spell words. It’s Wicc’Yeth.
‘Magical language?’ Trelawney checked.
‘Hm,’ Amanda replied, thoughtfully. ‘She got in with just the words.’
‘So no voice print,’ observed Hogarth.
‘That’s an advanced spell the Cardiubarns created. Granny told me. Actually, I wouldn’t have expected the other witch-clans to know it. It does, at least, suggest the Dowrkampyers weren’t that much in league with my lot.’
‘Even so, I’d still like to know what the Cardiubarns’s part was in the conflict that night,’ said Trelawney.
‘The point is that Elodie got into the crypt, saw and used the grimoire,’
‘Or at least a grimoire,’ Trelawney interpolated, picking up his mug.
‘And got out. More than once.’
‘Yes, do carry on, Mike. We both need to hear more if we’re going to be able to help in some way.’
***
‘Oh dear, ho
w grim this all is,’ observed Elodie, lightly.
‘I’m sorry you have had the experience and thank you for reliving it in the telling,’ Hogarth responded sincerely.
‘Hm. We haven’t thought or spoken of it in a long time, Chief Inspector. We are constitutionally merry folk, I’ll have you know!’ Elodie helped herself to curry puffs.
‘I can believe that. You seem like an eminently happy family. I’m sorry to have to leave and return to Cornwall. Other duties call, alas.’
‘I tell you what, next time, would you like a visit to our studio?’
***
‘Back in Cornwall, I sought out the relevant medical examiner. He was retired, and it was a long time ago, but we accessed the records of the boy who drowned. I wanted to know if there was any evidence of asthma.’
‘And?’ queried Trelawney.
‘Yes, there was inflammation of the lungs.’
‘And water?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could he swim?’
‘According to the report, yes. And no evidence of stroke, heart attack, muscle spasms, nothing that would have made him sink.’
Trelawney looked at Mike questioningly. ‘So, he would not have drawn a breath unless he believed he could breathe underwater?’
‘I did put that to the doctor. He agreed that there could have been a psychological component of the case that he was not aware of. However, there was insufficient evidence to prove that it was anything other than accidental.’
‘What about any other fatalities or injuries to the children who believed they had superpowers?’ asked Amanda.
‘You heard what Lucy said.’
‘True. Tell us about your next visit, please, Uncle Mike.’
‘Yes, I returned to Spain as soon as possible, and I had the privilege of being admitted to the studio of Lucia Palomo. Although, I always thought of her as Lucy Penlowr.’
***
‘Feel free to browse,’ Peter invited Hogarth. Mike looked at the canvases on the wall, the easels and those stacked around the studio.
‘I don’t know that much about art,’ Hogarth confessed. ‘But it seems to me that they all have elements of ... joy, and yet there are five distinct styles.’
‘Oh yes, we all paint. And different clients want different things.’
‘Commissions?’
‘Yes, usually they want paintings from photos, but at other times just something to suit the setting or décor. Well done spotting the styles though.’
‘How about guessing which are whose?’ suggested Marielle, with a playful smile. She was leaning against a bench, the sunlight dancing on her hair as she moved her head.
‘I’ll have a go,’ replied Hogarth, unable to resist.
‘We’ll start you off with a comparatively easy one,’ offered Peter. ‘How about this one on the wall over here, and these.’
‘Hmmm. I would say the bright colours, the forthright brush-strokes applied with absolute confidence in these jolly beach themes could only be … Zoe?’
‘Yay! Das me, das me!’ came the approving reply. Zoe led him with her stomping gait to another part of the studio. ‘Look.’
The draughtsmanship evident in the red-highlighted boats bobbing in a harbour were clearly Peter’s. Elodie’s canvasses were of seascapes at sunset and sunrise, sketches in blues and greens, always with a particular blush of colour.
‘What do you call this hue?’
‘Crimson Lake.’
‘Ah. Thank you. I have a lot to learn. Do you mind if I look through these?’
‘Anything you like,’ confirmed Peter.
‘Hm, this is rather lovely,’ said Hogarth looking at a canvas right at the back of a stack. It was of a small body of water, red in the setting sun, with tall grass at the edge.
‘A lake rather than the sea,’ he remarked.
‘That’s right,’ Elodie confirmed.
‘I wondered if it was Dozmary Pool.’
Marielle chuckled.
‘We do have lakes in Spain, you know. Perhaps one day, Harry and Vera will take you to Montseny. A favourite, and at its most beautiful at this time of day,’ she commented, gesturing towards the painting.
‘Ah, I see. And ... I’m guessing these are yours.’ The canvasses were of frolicsome waves, flirting couples, skirts hovering in the sea breeze. They also had the feeling of transparency, illusion, teasing the eye to believe it could gaze beyond the water, the fabric, the clouds. Hogarth considered that they could only be the work of Marielle. ‘Charming. Especially the girl with the red shoes.’
She curtseyed gracefully. ‘Well, that does leave only one other artist.’
‘These? Oh yes. Even these abstracts ... they exude peace and serenity.’ Geoffrey bowed.
‘They are all delightful,’ Hogarth said. ‘And ethereal.’ Even Zoe’s dramatic sweeps and twirls. There’s also a ... a warmth, comfort and ... what shall I say? The adventure of otherworldliness.’
Marielle shook her head saucily. ‘And you claimed you knew nothing about art.’
‘You really like them?’ asked Elodie.
‘I do. Very much. Do you do just paintings?’
‘Good question,’ Marielle praised him. ‘This is the part of the tour where we haul out the merchandise!’ There were prints, soft furnishings, tea towels, bookmarks, calendars, scarves, bags and mugs.
‘Would you like this?’ asked Geoffrey, seeing Hogarth’s interest in a particular bookmark. ‘Please take it.’
‘Take my tea towel,’ said Zoe, presenting it to Hogarth. It depicted a big, red, happy-faced starfish, with shells and seaweed. “An’ you don’t have to think of me when you use it. Jus’ be happy,’ she added with a seraphic smile.
‘Thank you, both of you. You’re very kind.’
‘Well, I like you,’ replied Zoe, by way of both a statement and an explanation.
‘I like you t—’
‘Ugh!’ exclaimed Zoe, all of a sudden, observing something on the floor.
‘Oh dear, yes, arachnid alert,’ said Peter. Detecting danger, the creature froze. Hogarth, though not an ardent fan, was equal to the task of delivering such lifeforms as he found in his house back into the wild. He bent to scoop it up, but was forestalled by a sandal emphatically resolving the situation.
‘Zoe, Michael was about to take it away,’ Peter pointed out.
‘Yeh well, thas dealt wivit.’
‘Erm,’ Peter rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets, ‘... living creature?’
‘Well, I doan like it. They know not to come in if they don’t want squishing.’
‘I’m not sure they do,’ Geoffrey responded gently.
‘Anyway. S’done.’
Peter cleared his throat and changed the subject to how Vee and Harry had helped to get the Palomo business started.
‘They kindly bought a piece for the restaurant. They exhibited other canvases, spreading the word amongst their friends. Bit by bit, it all sold, and the commissions began coming in. And now we live very comfortably, as you see. And it’s all thanks to them.’
‘And, in all fairness, to your talents,’ added Hogarth.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you my new friend?’ Zoe asked abruptly.
‘I hope so.’
‘Das good. Shall I tell you what I like?’
‘Yes, please,’ he said.
‘I like the beach and jumping, and ice-cream and painting and Harry and Vee. And Harry makes yummy food for me.’ A dimple appeared, and the blue eyes sparkled joyfully she tilted her head to one side in thought. ‘Because he love me so much. And Vee does puzzles with me. I think they might be my bess friens.’
‘Well,’ responded Hogarth, ‘so far we do seem to like all the same things. Except I do a different sort of painting and I like admiring the work of others who do your sort.’
‘Hm,’ came the sound of Zoe’s approval.
With that, they returned to the sitting room.
‘Thank you for the interl
ude, all of you,’ said Hogarth, taking a seat.
‘This whole business .... It is all a bit heavy, isn’t it?’ sympathised Elodie. ‘Can’t be easy to hear this sort of thing.’
‘It goes with the job. You did remarkably well to survive.’
‘I won’t pretend I took it all in my stride. I felt I had no choice but to hang on in there, so to speak, for the sake of the children. Things did get a little more complicated with the loss of puppy fat and the emergence of curves. One of the Dowrkampyer sons, Frongar, started noticing .... It meant having to be careful he wasn’t watching me. I did my best and succeeded in keeping out of his way or seeing him only in company. And so it continued until that night. The night of the fire.
***
‘And shall we have our interlude? Tea?’ asked Hogarth.
‘Hm, yes please,’ replied Trelawney.
‘Just as we get to the really exciting part!’ Amanda exclaimed. ‘Oh well, at least .... Uncle Mike, do you have any photos their artwork?’
‘I do, as a matter of fact.’ He went to his desk computer, tapped and clicked. ‘Here. Have a browse.’
Chapter 21
The Missing Piece
‘Well done, Amanda, making it through almost a whole 24 hours before the next instalment,’ Hogarth commended her, the following evening. He handed her a bowl of spotted dick and custard.
‘Thank you,’ she responded. ‘No easy task but … finally! We get to the fire.’