The Unexpected Find

by Toby Ibbotson

  The person he really wanted to talk to about it was Judy. She was clever, and she was kind too, although she pretended not to be. But he had tried waiting for her after school several times and she always seemed to be hurrying off the other way.

  Realizing that he was very tired, William lay down on the coverlet and fell asleep.

  On the other side of town, glowing Jack-o-lanterns grinned foolishly from the windows along the street as Judy walked home from the supermarket with a bag of shopping. She had already met two gangs of children dressed up as ghouls and witches and vampires, going from door to door screeching, “Trick or treat!” and greedily grasping handfuls of sweets when the doors were opened. She thought the whole business pretty pathetic and she wasn’t in the mood for it. One of her classmates was having a Halloween party, but she wasn’t going. Actually, she hadn’t even been invited, but that was because nobody invited her anywhere any more. They weren’t being unkind, they had just given up trying to make friends with her. And she wasn’t being unkind, either, she just couldn’t risk making friends right now. Friends meant visits to each other’s houses, and sleepovers, and parents contacting each other to make arrangements. It wasn’t surprising that she got such good marks at school; there was nothing else to do except go home, do her homework, read for a bit and go to bed – and hope that maybe tomorrow she would find out that the waiting was over. Judy bit her lip. The stories she made up about her father, the forged notes and all that, they wouldn’t hold up for ever. Mr Greaves had given her a couple of very searching looks after that stupid business with William. Sooner or later it would come out that she was underage and living alone, and she knew what would come after that. She quickened her pace.

  A side street led off to the right about fifty metres ahead of her, and from it emerged three figures. They stopped under a street light on the corner: a fat one, a thin one and a much taller one.

  It only took Judy five seconds to see who they were. Tyler and Josh, and presumably Josh’s big brother.

  “Oh no, not again,” she said out loud. The idea of kicking them in places where it hurt a lot was very attractive, but this time there would be no toughing it out. Judy had to stay out of trouble. She stopped, turned round, and started to walk back the way she had come, keeping a steady pace so as not to draw attention to herself. It didn’t work. She heard a hallooing behind her and a shout of, “Hey, that’s her, that Judy, c’mon, after her!”

  Judy dropped her carrier bag and started to run. She wasn’t too worried. Tyler wouldn’t last more than a hundred yards, and Josh was no Olympic champion either. Big Brother wouldn’t bother coming after her on his own. Besides, she could run very fast. It should be easy enough to throw them off. She hared across the road and down a side street, and then left into a smaller street with one row of small terraced houses and a high brick wall. It was a dead end. Judy sighed and turned around. It looked as though she was going to have her chance to do some serious kicking after all. She heard them coming and clenched her fists.

  “Down there, she went down there!” Tyler’s squeaky shout was unmistakeable. Judy waited, looking back up the row of houses that were faintly lit by a single street lamp. Then she saw that the door of the house nearest to her was ajar. As the two boys came puffing and panting round the corner Judy took two quick steps, pushed open the door and slipped through into a dark hallway.

  Ahead of her was a flight of stairs, and a passage that obviously led to the kitchen at the back of the house. A back door would be perfect. She walked fast along the passage, planning what to say if someone was in there. The moonlit kitchen was empty. A half-glassed door led out into a small back garden. It was locked. Back along the hallway. She could hear her pursuers talking just outside the front door. They seemed to be having an argument.

  “She went in here, I’m sure of it.”

  “Is this her house then?”

  “No, she lives on a boat or something, she’s just sneaked in to somebody else’s place.”

  Josh’s big brother Glen was getting fed up.

  “I’m off. I can’t spend all night chasing girls… Well, not this kind of chasing,” he sniggered.

  “But, Glen…”

  “What? You scared of her then? Too tough for you, is she? And he sauntered off.

  Tyler shuffled his feet. “Josh, we can’t go in and look for her. I mean, what if there are people in there? We’ll get arrested.”

  All Judy could do now was stay put and hope that Tyler and Josh would give up and go away. She looked back into the depths of the house and saw a door leading off the hall. Judy turned the handle and peeked in. The room was dimly lit. Light came from a thick candle that burned in a tall candlestick in the corner of the room and she could make out an old leather-covered sofa, and a fireplace with an old-fashioned marble mantelpiece. In the grate a gas fire hissed quietly, casting a faint glow on the carpet and on the lower part of a large armchair that was drawn up close to it. The big candle flickered, and shadows danced on the walls and ceiling. Judy’s gaze followed the shadows round the room, and she saw a long oblong box of some kind, lying on a low table below the window. As her eyes adjusted to the poor light, she realized with surprise what she was looking at.

  Outside the house Josh and Tyler were getting tired of waiting.

  Tyler said, “She’s not coming out, Josh. I bet she’s got out the back way. Let’s pack it in, I’m cold.”

  “We’ll just have a look through the window, see if we can see her.” They sneaked up to the house, and peered over the window sill.

  “J-J-Josh!” came Tyler’s screechy whisper. “That’s a coffin! And there’s a body in it!” There was indeed a corpse in there. The hands, old and gnarled, were folded across its chest. They looked down at a pale face with sunken cheeks, surrounded by long grey hair that was combed smoothly out over the shoulders. The eyes were closed. Suddenly, without warning, the left eye opened and stared directly at Josh. It was pale blue, with a black pupil. Josh went rigid with shock, and opened his mouth to yell, but no sound came.

  Judy wasn’t easily scared. She couldn’t have lived alone all this time if she was the nervous sort. But when a voice spoke from within the open coffin, her heart missed a beat or two.

  “Well, obviously there will be no more rest for me this evening. But at least those little brats have skedaddled.”

  It was a smooth, soft voice, deep as an organ’s base note. You might expect a panther or a bear to speak like that, if it ever spoke. Whoever it was, the voice had a very calming effect on Judy, and she watched in silence as a strange figure sat up, and started to climb out of the coffin.

  “Let’s have a better look at each other.”

  The figure walked over to the mantelpiece and switched on two bracket lamps that hung on either side of it. The room brightened and became just a cosy sitting-room and Judy saw a tall figure wearing a loose dark red dressing gown over an ankle-length nightdress and tartan slippers, with shoulder-length grey hair and long-fingered, big-knuckled hands. But what really got Judy’s attention was the top of the head, which was completely bald and shiny and glinted in the candlelight, the grey hair falling like a curtain around it. At first Judy thought that she was looking at a rather tall and broad-shouldered lady – a former shot-putter or something. But how often do you meet old ladies with a smooth hairless head like a monk’s tonsure? The face that now turned towards her with a broad smile that creased it into a thousand wrinkles had only one eye. Where the other should have been was a crumpled scar.

  They looked at each other. The single piercing blue eye gazed at Judy with a bushy eyebrow raised. It made her feel a bit uncomfortable, but she wasn’t afraid. Perhaps it was the tartan slippers, or the nail varnish, or the cool smooth voice that said, “Please sit down.” Whatever it was, she wasn’t scared. So she walked round the sofa and flopped down on to it.

  The person turned to the armchair by the fire.

  “Alcibiades, remove yourself,” he said to a la
rge grey cat that had apparently slept through the whole business. It sat up and licked a paw, then, in no hurry at all, jumped on to the floor and sauntered out of the room with its tail in the air, pretending that it had been going that way anyway.

  “Dignity, dignity, what on earth is it good for?” sighed the person as he settled himself in the armchair. “Now then,” he went on, “I am known as Andrew Balderson, although at times I do prefer Anthea. It means blossom, you know.” He patted the top of his head. “The children of this area, for obvious reasons, call me Old Baldy. And who are you?”

  As he asked the question, he leaned forward and Judy felt the single blue eye see right into her from under its bushy eyebrow. Until now she had been quite enjoying herself. It had turned into such an odd night; until now she had never met anyone who slept in a coffin. But the question came so straight at her. It wasn’t just a polite query about her name. It made her want to hide somewhere. She felt vulnerable. Something about this person made her feel as if she was losing her footing on a slippery surface.

  “I’m Judy Azad. I’m very sorry I came into your house and …” She glanced at the coffin “… disturbed you. But you saved me from Josh and Tyler, so thanks very much for that. I must go now, though. I have to go home, you see.”

  Judy started to get up but something in that single eye made her sit down again on the sofa. She sighed.

  “I was trespassing, I know. So I suppose you’re going to ring the police.”

  “The police!” Andrew Balderson laughed.

  The laugh calmed Judy down again. She still felt off balance, but less bothered about it. It wasn’t a mean laugh, or a sneering one, and it certainly wasn’t an evil cackle. It was a happy chuckle, the kind that makes you smile even if you hadn’t been going to.

  “But the door was ajar! I practically invited you in. I think it’s you who should ring the police, and tell them you’ve been kidnapped. The telephone’s in the hall, and the number’s on the wall. Ask to speak to Sergeant Barnes, and say you’ve been kidnapped by Old Baldy and he should get down here fast before the tea gets cold.”

  “The tea?”

  “Yes, the tea. If you would go and make us a cup of tea, that would be lovely. There’s a tin of shortbread in the larder. Organic, quite delicious. I would go myself but, as you’re here…”

  Judy got up and walked out into the hall, as there didn’t seem to be anything else to do. No way was she going to call the police. To the right was the front door. She could just walk through it, see if her shopping was still on the pavement somewhere, and go home. She stood for a moment, then turned left and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on and dig out the shortbread.

  When she returned, carefully balancing mugs, teapot, milk, sugar and shortbread on a rather small tray, Mr Balderson looked at her smiling.

  “Well, well, you decided to stay. Is Freddie Barnes on his way?”

  “You mean the policeman? No, I haven’t rung him … yet,” she added, just to be on the safe side.

  Mr Balderson walked over to the grate where Judy had put down the tea tray.

  “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Neither.”

  “Ah, I’m just the same.” He gave Judy her mug and then sat down himself in front of the fire. He took a sip of his tea.

  “Very nice, thank you. Now where had I got to?” He looked into the fire and started to speak in a quiet, melodious voice as though he was continuing a conversation with himself that had been interrupted when Judy came back into the room.

  “It is All Hallows’ Eve. I call in Alcibiades so that he won’t get into trouble – it’s a dangerous night for cats in more ways than one – and I leave the door ajar. Why did I do that? An interesting question. Then over my threshold, uninvited and in silence, steps a young person, hunted and alone. At her heels, a couple of boys, the stupid sort, baying for blood. They run off – no mystery there, at least. Nastiness and cowardice: two sides of the same coin. The young person, confronted by an old one-eyed man in a coffin, does not say, “eek,” or, “ewww,” or have hysterics. And then, given the choice to go or stay, she stays. What shall we make of that? It is clear enough, I think. When she stands in the hall and looks at the front door, she has no particular reason to go through it. In her mind no kindly voices call; nothing and nobody beckons to her on the other side of that door. No worried parents, no carefree friends in fancy dress wondering where she’s got to. Not even a pet dog whining for its supper. Why should she leave?”

  Judy felt as though she might cry. This feeling took her by surprise – she hadn’t allowed herself to cry for a long time. But the odd old man had got straight under her skin, and it wasn’t a nice feeling. “You don’t know anything about me,” she said.

  The blue eye looked at her.

  “We all know a great deal about one other, if we take the time to think about it. But of course you don’t have to tell me anything. We can talk about the weather, or sing something, or tell each other stories. Or, best of all, we can just say nothing and drink our tea.”

  There was a long silence. They drank their tea. The strange figure in the armchair, his big slippered feet stretched out towards the fire, didn’t seem to be waiting for anything in particular. He might have even forgotten that she was there.

  Then Judy started to speak. For some reason telling him things didn’t seem like breaking faith with her father. Perhaps she had simply been alone for too long, or was just too tired, but once she started it was hard to stop. She spoke about her dad, about being alone on the narrowboat, forging her father’s signature, lying to everybody all the time. She even spoke about Mr Greaves and how he was a nice man. Mr Balderson made small quiet noises sometimes or chuckled at something he thought was particularly funny, like Tyler falling into the canal. And he was very interested in William.

  “Ah, the tree,” he said. “The tree and the boy.” He nodded his head to something that he seemed to understand that Judy did not.

  By the time she was finished, Judy wasn’t sitting on the sofa any more; she was half-lying, with her head on the armrest and her legs curled up under her. She was very tired.

  “So that’s it,” she mumbled. “He’s been gone for months. Any day now they’ll be on to me, and cart me off to a care home. You might as well ring your policeman friend and get it over and done with. That’s what grown-ups do.”

  “However, I haven’t grown up,” said Mr Balderson lightly. “Never got round to it. And if you thought I had, you wouldn’t have told me in the first place.”

  Judy stared at him. The single eye stared back. He was right, of course. She had known straight away he wasn’t a normal grown-up – they didn’t sleep in coffins for a start – and this wasn’t a normal place. In here you didn’t have to choose between lying and being pushed around by people to whom you were a “case”. People who said they knew what was best for you without knowing anything about you.

  Then Mr Balderson leaned back, and his eye swivelled up towards the ceiling.

  “So things are on the move. Such a storm, it was only to be expected…” he murmured. Then he linked his long fingers, cracked his knuckles, stood up and, stepping over the tea mug that he had put down on the floor, walked to the living room door. He threw it open and said,

  “Farewell, adieu, bon chance…”

  Judy stood up. She found that she didn’t want to go. Now that she had finally talked to someone, she would have been quite happy to stay peacefully on the sofa, drinking tea and not having to deal with her life all on her own.

  “Goodbye,” he went on. “Off you go, time for bed, school tomorrow, and all that stuff. Josh and Tyler are but the fleeting memory of a dream.”

  “I don’t care about them,” said Judy. She stood up and walked into the hall. With her back to Mr Balderson she said stiffly, “Thank you for the tea.”

  “Miss Azad, one moment.” Judy turned round, and with her back to the front door she met his gaze, her face blank and closed.

 
Mr Balderson went on. “I must ask you to understand that I have no help to offer you at this moment. Not the kind of help that waves a magic wand over your worries. That is not how this tale unfolds. Now you must walk back out into your life. This was a moment of sanctuary, not a solution.”

  He looked down at her, and Judy’s face softened. Then he added,

  “However, we are certainly at the beginning of something. You may be sure of that.” Mr Balderson turned away and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, calling quietly, “Alcibiades, you rogue, you snob, you high-stepping, self-regarding, preening, narcissistic jackanapes, come here. We have some more thinking to do.”

  Judy walked home through the deserted lamplit streets. She found her shopping where she had dropped it, or most of it anyway. Some of it had spilled out on to the pavement and got trodden on, but at least it hadn’t been got at by rats or stray cats.

  “Why did I do all that talking?” she said, half-aloud, as she turned into Canal Street. For a while, sitting on that sofa, she had felt something let go inside her, as though a tightly stretched cable had suddenly slackened. I’d think he’d slipped something into the tea if I hadn’t made it myself, she thought. But telling the whole story had helped her get clear about one thing – she wasn’t giving up just yet. She had been on the point of going to someone and saying that she was all alone, her father had gone off and left her, that she needed help. The meeting with Mr Balderson had been a stroke of luck, really. If he hadn’t basically chucked her out of the house – if he had been a normal sort of adult, or one of those supernormals you met all the time at school who nodded and smiled and understood everything and then wrote reports and assessments about you that ruined your life – then she would be on her way to some institution right now. As it was, she had got it off her chest without paying the price.