Silas and the Winterbottoms Page 6

  ‘There is no time to rest,’ Silas told him, lifting his head from the pillow and reaching for the telephone. ‘I have a great deal to do and precious little time in which to do it. Your services will no longer be required. Good day, Doctor.’

  THE UNINVITED GUEST

  In the cool shade of an elm tree Silas’s face began to glow a golden red as the damp rag scrubbed vigorously across his forehead. Jeremiah Knox, a tall pimply boy with short brown hair, dipped the rag into the polish and continued to buff his master’s head.

  ‘You’ve missed my nose, Knox,’ said Silas irritably. ‘It’s right there in the middle of my face and you missed it.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ said Knox. ‘I’ll do it now, sir.’

  ‘Good,’ snapped Silas, moving his chair towards the large bronze statue which towered over rows of vibrant yellow roses. Thorn crawled slowly behind him. The crocodile growled softly as Bingle raced past wearing an anxious frown.

  ‘Sir, I’m sorry to bother you,’ said Bingle, bobbing up and down beside his master. ‘But there’s a lady, sir. She’s just come across the bridge – she says she knows you.’

  Silas stared at Bingle, his left eyebrow arching like a boomerang above a piercing dark eye. The butler took a step back and tried not to look terrified. He gulped. The master did not like uninvited guests. Ever.

  ‘It seems, sir,’ said Bingle softly, his throat suddenly very dry, ‘that the lady managed to talk her way onto the island. I have called the guardhouse and demanded an explanation and now I shall call security –’

  Bingle was unable to finish his sentence because he was racked by a hot, crushing pain. Silas had deliberately rolled the front wheel of his chair over Bingle’s right foot. He stopped, the wheel sinking further into the butler’s polished black shoe. The bones in his foot made tight crunching sounds under the intense weight, sending horrific currents of pain shooting up Bingle’s legs.

  ‘Sir … my foot,’ he spat through clenched teeth.

  ‘Whoever is on duty at the guardhouse is fired,’ said Silas. ‘Immediately.’

  Just when Bingle thought he could bear the pain no longer, Silas pushed the crocodile-head joystick forward and the chair began to move. Bingle fell to the ground, clutching his damaged foot, as Silas rolled out of the garden room followed closely by Thorn.

  Emerging from the eastern gate, Silas manoeuvred his chair quickly along a path weaving between Japanese red maple trees and thick clusters of blooming tiger lilies.

  Stopping at the edge of the path he looked down the long expanse of drive leading up from the bridge. His eyesight, like his body, was weak and he was just able to make out an indistinguishable blob crisscrossing wildly about the road.

  With a single tap of Silas’s ring Thorn hunched up on all fours, growling deeply. ‘Get ready, old friend,’ said Silas softly. ‘It seems we have an intruder.’

  Thorn’s large claws scraped over the black tar as he moved carefully onto the sealed road. His nostrils flared as a rush of fury electrified his reptilian senses. The beast let out a furious growl and took off towards his target.

  Silas followed, his blurred vision correcting itself gradually as the deranged intruder got nearer. He was rather surprised to see a ridiculous-looking woman with curly red hair, bulging cheeks and the most unsightly set of teeth he had ever seen, riding a clapped-out old bicycle up his driveway! He recognised her instantly.

  Rosemary Winterbottom. His sister.

  Completely undeterred by the approaching crocodile, Rosemary began waving at Silas and shouting out, ‘Yoo hoo! Hello there, stranger!’

  ‘Haven’t I suffered enough?’ muttered Silas darkly to himself.

  Realising it would not look good if he allowed Thorn to tear apart his own sister he reluctantly tapped thrice on the joystick, and Thorn dropped low to the ground and began his retreat. The beast let out a disappointed snarl and swung his spiky tail around, sending several loose stones flying across the road.

  Rosemary managed a reasonably dignified dismount from her bicycle before running over and planting a wet kiss on her brother’s forehead. She cupped his face, smiling warmly. ‘Hello, Silas.’

  His frail appearance caught her off guard and she winced at the sight of his translucent skin, thin as tissue paper, his sunken cheeks webbed with tiny red veins.

  ‘Hello, Rosemary,’ he said curtly. ‘It has been a long time.’

  ‘A lifetime,’ declared Rosemary with a rich laugh. She spun around, her coat billowing like a parachute. ‘What an amazing home you have! All those impressive statues around the place – and every single one of you!’ She laughed loudly and clapped her hands. ‘It’s absolutely hilarious!’

  ‘I’m glad it amuses you,’ said Silas.

  ‘What an enormous lizard!’ Rosemary bent down to study Thorn with genuine fascination. ‘You always did love those scaly creatures as a boy.’

  ‘It is a crocodile,’ said Silas with just a hint of irritation in his voice. ‘A deadly crocodile.’

  Rosemary laughed heartily. ‘How are you, Silas?’

  ‘I am dying, Rosemary.’

  She nodded. ‘I heard. I am sorry.’

  ‘It is what it is,’ he said casually, looking over the vast meadows. ‘But my time is not up just yet and I intend to use it well.’

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ said Rosemary, her enormous rubbery cheeks bulging and glowing like two red toffee apples. ‘Don’t waste a second, I say.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Silas. He turned his chair and headed back along the path towards the meadow. ‘It was good of you to come and see me, Rosemary. You know the way out.’

  ‘The way out?’ Rosemary roared with laughter. ‘Silas, I’m not going anywhere. You’re my brother and despite the fact that you’ve ignored my letters for the last thirty years, I love you and I’ve come to look after you.’

  ‘What a touching offer,’ said Silas, turning his chair around. ‘Touching and utterly absurd. I have a dedicated medical team seeing to my every need. Really, you would only be in the way. I must insist that you leave.’

  ‘Horse poop!’ snapped Rosemary. ‘I’m staying and that’s that.’

  ‘If it’s money you want,’ said Silas coolly, ‘then you are wasting your time.’

  ‘Money?’ Rosemary screwed up her nose. ‘Can’t stand the stuff! Turns perfectly fine people into greedy, self-centred nincompoops.’ She smiled at her brother, flashing two rows of magnificent horse teeth. ‘I’ve had a long journey, Silas, and my bones are tired – so stop arguing and invite me in. I’m a stubborn old girl and you know I won’t quit.’

  His black eyes crackled and his lips parted … but only the soft sigh of defeat came out. ‘As you wish,’ he said, turning back onto the path. ‘I will send one of the servants down for your bags.’

  ‘No need,’ remarked Rosemary, untying her frail leather bag from the bicycle and throwing it over her shoulder. ‘I travel light.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Silas almost admiringly. ‘You always did, as I recall.’

  ‘It’s such a beautiful day,’ said Adele brightly, ‘that we thought you might like to see more of the grounds. We could show you the stables, if you like.’

  Milo was peering out from behind his partially open bedroom door. His cousins had not laid eyes on the boy since that first meeting in the library. In fact, he had barely said a single word to either of them and Isabella had already decided he was not to be trusted.

  ‘He is up to no good, Cousin,’ she declared with certainty. ‘I just know it.’

  So it was hardly surprising that when Adele suggested they invite Milo for a walk around the grounds, Isabella hated the idea. She claimed it would be a waste of time as Milo was too short to see over the hedges. But Adele insisted that it was the right thing to do. In truth, she felt sorry for Milo and wanted to make him feel welcome – even if he was her main rival for Uncle Silas’s fortune.

  ‘So, would you like to come with us?’ she asked.

  Milo shook his
head. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Well, maybe you’d like to see the orchard,’ Adele suggested next. ‘There’s a huge swimming pool nearby with fountains and everything.’ She smiled warmly at her new cousin. ‘I know how strange it feels on your first day here. Everything’s so new … and big. Isabella and I just want to make you feel welcome.’ She nudged Isabella in the shoulder. ‘Don’t we?’

  ‘Ouch!’ shrieked Isabella, grabbing her arm like she had just been shot. ‘That hurt! Please remember, Adele, I wasn’t blessed with the thick arms of a lumberjack like you – I’m very delicate.’ She beamed girlishly at Milo. ‘But of course we want you to feel right at home.’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ Milo said, clearing his throat nervously, ‘but it would be better if you just pretended I wasn’t here.’

  ‘Pretend you’re not here?’ said Adele curiously.

  ‘That’s right. You see, I didn’t come to Sommerset to make friends so there’s really no point in us getting to know each other.’

  ‘Oh.’ Adele blushed, her freckled cheeks burning at Milo’s rebuff. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Milo, immediately wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. ‘I don’t mean to be rude. I just think it’s better this way.’

  ‘What an ungrateful little orphan you are!’ said Isabella crossly. ‘We go out of our way to be nice and this is the thanks we get.’

  Milo did not know what to say. He’d never been called an ungrateful orphan before.

  ‘It’s just …’ he stammered, ‘I’d rather stay here, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘It’s okay, Milo,’ said Adele. ‘Really, it’s no big deal.’

  ‘I know what’s going on here!’ announced Isabella, wagging her finger at Milo. ‘Beware, Cousin, this boy is utterly devious! He wants us out of the way so he can have Uncle Silas all to himself.’

  ‘I do not!’ said Milo.

  ‘Oh yes, you do!’ accused Isabella. ‘Just because you’re poor and your parents are dead you think Uncle Silas will take pity on you and leave his entire fortune to you.’

  ‘Isabella!’ said Adele. She was stunned by her cousin’s cruel accusation.

  ‘That’s not true!’ said Milo firmly, his cheeks glowing with anger. ‘I don’t want Uncle Silas’s money. I don’t want anything from him!’ He shook his head, his eyes narrowed to dark slits. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Isabella.’

  ‘Then tell me, Milo,’ she said, stepping towards the half-open door and looking intently at the young boy, ‘if you didn’t come to meet your long-lost cousins and you say you’re not after Uncle Silas’s fortune, why exactly are you here?’

  ‘Revenge,’ Milo answered softly. ‘I came here for revenge.’

  Deep under Sommerset House the master moved easily through the complex grid of tunnels, the tyres of his chair cutting across the wet floor, spinning ribbons of water into the air. He came to a stop in a small circular chamber surrounded by the gaping mouths of a dozen dark tunnels, each one offering passage to places unknown. Just beyond the chamber was a single grey door; a bright light illuminated its edges and Silas waited silently as Bingle squeezed past him and produced a large set of keys from his pocket.

  Bingle hated trawling the underground tunnels (the cold, rank air gave him the creeps) but unfortunately he was the only member of the household staff Silas would permit down below. The head butler turned the lock, opening the door.

  ‘As you can see, sir,’ said Bingle, stepping inside, ‘all the deliveries were secured in here just as you instructed.’

  ‘You have done very well, Bingle,’ said Silas. ‘Everything is ready for tonight’s arrival?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Do not worry about a thing.’

  The brightly lit room was packed to bursting point with a dazzling array of curious supplies and equipment. Dozens of thick glass plates were stacked along the back wall surrounded by a vast selection of electrical tools and machinery. Large crates spilling over with packing straw sat in the middle of the room along with miles of thick cable wire and computer terminals still in their boxes.

  At the master’s insistence, Bingle had not looked inside any of the crates when they were delivered. However, as he pushed one of the larger crates aside to make room for Silas, he couldn’t help but notice a pair of Sphinx statues cushioned in the packing straw. They were breathtaking, covered in hundreds of red and orange gemstones. Unable to resist, Bingle reached in and picked one up.

  The precious object felt heavy in his hands.

  ‘Put that down, you fool!’ hissed Silas.

  The fury in his master’s voice struck Bingle with the sting of a lash. His hands shook so violently that the Sphinx slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the ground, breaking into several pieces. Trembling now and gasping for breath (for he was certain that Silas would have his head for this) Bingle crouched down to retrieve the fragments. It was then that he saw the metal cylinder lying amid the wreckage. It was twenty-five centimetres long and half as wide, and had clearly come from inside the statue.

  As he reached out to pick it up, his eyes fell upon the label printed across the top in thick red lettering: Plutonium – 239. Instantly Bingle stumbled back, jabbing his finger at the crate.

  ‘Sir, there’s plu – plutonium in there!’

  ‘And a large quantity of uranium,’ said Silas calmly, ignoring his butler’s distress. ‘Absurdly difficult to acquire and very costly, but I am told you cannot operate a nuclear generator without them.’

  ‘I do beg your pardon, sir,’ said Bingle as his throat dried up, disappearing in a cough. ‘Did you say nuclear generator?’

  Silas nodded slowly.

  ‘But, sir, the whole place will blow sky high!’

  ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Bingle; it’s all perfectly safe in the right hands.’ Silas looked around the room, his dark eyes flushed with pride. ‘You see, my special guest will be undertaking a little building project down here. Something rather extraordinary, in fact.’

  Despite his curiosity, Bingle knew better than to ask anything further. In truth, he did not really want to know what the master was planning. When it came to Silas Winterbottom, he had learned long ago that some things were better left unsaid.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, will you be dining with the children tonight?’ asked Bingle, hoping a change of subject might prompt Silas to leave the basement and return to the safety of the world above. ‘I know that Miss Isabella was hoping that you would.’

  ‘Then I shall not disappoint her.’

  ‘Shall we go up then, sir?’ said Bingle. ‘It is getting rather late.’

  Silas waved his hand. ‘You go, Bingle; I wish to stay a while longer.’

  Before the master could change his mind, Bingle excused himself and walked rapidly back into the maze of tunnels, bound for the surface.

  Alone and nestled in a welcome silence, Silas released a satisfied sigh. Everything was coming together as planned. The knowledge that Adele, Isabella and Milo were finally in his grasp electrified his frail body.

  He closed his eyes, spinning dark dreams of Sommerset’s next heir.

  THE TRUTH

  ‘The boy is a dangerous lunatic,’ said Isabella.

  ‘He should be locked up!’

  Adele frowned. ‘I don’t think he likes us very much. But then, you did call him devious.’

  ‘Well, he is devious!’ snapped Isabella. ‘You don’t really believe he has no interest in Uncle Silas’s fortune, do you? Milo is here for the money – I am sure of it. Do not forget, Cousin, he is an orphan and they are cunning little beasts.’

  ‘Well … I suppose so.’

  The setting sun cast a soft light the colour of ripe peaches through the large windows of Sommerset’s library. Up on the second floor, behind a large stack of leather-bound encyclopaedias, Adele’s frizzy red hair sprung up like the top of a pineapple. She closed her eyes and breathed in the thick odour emanating from the musty pages – it smelled like vanill
a beans and mothballs.

  ‘This is the most wonderful library in the whole world, isn’t it?’ she said dreamily. ‘If it were mine I would throw open the doors so everyone could come and see it.’ She looked around the soaring cathedral of books. ‘And I would invite children who haven’t enough money to buy their own books and they could come and enjoy the library any time they wanted to.’

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ said Isabella, who was resting her head against Thorn’s back as the great beast slept before the library’s grand marble fireplace. ‘Poor children are my favourite!’

  She sat up suddenly.

  ‘Cousin, you simply must tell Uncle Silas of your plans,’ she instructed. ‘Tell him about all of those precious poor children you would bring to the island.’

  ‘Isabella, I don’t know if I can,’ said Adele anxiously. Just the thought of approaching her uncle made her feel ill. ‘Uncle Silas will think I am mad if I start telling him what I would do with Sommerset if it were mine. Either that or he will hate me for being arrogant and too sure of myself.’

  ‘Arrogant – you? Never! Don’t forget, dear: Uncle Silas admires ambition and confidence. You have a vision for Sommerset … and what a wonderful vision it is! Trust me, Cousin, you simply must do it! With Milo scheming to win our uncle’s fortune for himself we have to do whatever it takes to gain the upper hand … for you.’

  ‘Do you really think I should?’

  ‘On my life I do, Cousin! Uncle Silas will see you are a girl of vision and progress. In short, the perfect heir for Sommerset!’

  ‘All right,’ said Adele. ‘I’ll try.’ A smile spread across her face. With Isabella’s help, Sommerset was going to be hers!

  Just at that moment a thunderous whooping sound echoed through the vaulted library. It seemed to be coming from the hallway outside and both girls looked towards the double doors just as a beaming woman with rosy cheeks and the hair of a circus clown burst through, hooting and hollering.

  ‘Hello, pets!’ she bellowed, digging a half-eaten cookie from her pocket and shoving it into her gaping mouth. ‘Oh, what darling girls you are!’