Enchanted Glass Page 9

  I can’t wait to see if they fit! he kept thinking.

  While Aidan was thinking this for at least the fortieth time, his grandmother’s voice came into his mind, saying what Gran always said when Aidan said he couldn’t wait. Aidan, don’t wish your life away! Usually Aidan took this to mean that he wasn’t to waste present time by longing for something in the future. But this time he remembered how big Groil was and how Groil was not strictly a vegetarian. Gran’s words took on quite a different meaning then. Aidan thought Oh! and felt rather small.

  All the same, he watched Andrew toss the big clothes up on to the woodshed roof at sunset. Then Aidan found he had not the slightest desire to know if they fitted or not. He went to bed. He was quite tired after all that walking and he went to sleep at once.

  Around midnight, he was woken by a rattling bang from his window. Wind, Aidan thought sleepily. The bang happened again. He heard the window shake. He’ll break it! Aidan thought and got out of bed fast, up the floor and down again to the window. Rather like last night, he could see a bulging white moon hurtling through a thin smoke of clouds. As he got to the window, moon and clouds vanished behind a great dark fist. BANG. The window leaped about.

  Aidan climbed cautiously on to the three foot wide sill and opened the window. He knelt there and looked out at Groil’s fist, just stopping itself from hitting the glass again. Below that, Groil’s huge face was turned up to him, foreshortened, so that Groil looked more like Shaun than ever. The face broke into a vast smile as Aidan leaned out, showing two rows of extremely big square teeth. Below that, Groil was wearing the clothes. Aidan had actually made them too big. Groil had had to turn the sleeves up and roll up the legs of the jeans. Aidan could see the pale cuffs of them above Groil’s bare feet — which still looked enormous, even from this height.

  “Oh, good! You found the clothes!” Aidan said.

  Groil nodded vehemently, his eyes all creased up with his smile. “You made them?”

  “Yes,” Aidan said.

  “Thought so,” said Groil. “They smell of you. A smell of good magics.”

  “And you like them?” Aidan asked anxiously.

  Groil nodded again and smiled blissfully. “Cosy,” he said. “Warm. Smart too. I shall sleep well, come the winter days. And room to grow. No one can laugh at me for being bare now. You are very kind. I shall praise you to the High Lord. Might even ask someone to mention you to the King.”

  “That’s all right,” Aidan said, wondering who this High Lord and this King were. “You’re very welcome.”

  “I had a bit of trouble with the not-buttons though,” Groil said. “Did I get them right?” He backed away, so that Aidan could see the zip on the jeans and the one at the neck of the sweatshirt, and gestured to them. “You pull them up shut? Right?”

  Both zips were properly closed. Groil was no fool, Aidan thought, even though he had probably never seen a zip in his life before. “Yes,” he said. “Zips. You got both zips right. You look good.”

  “Zips,” Groil repeated. “I look good. I feel good. I got clothes!” He whirled away, waving his arms Shaun-fashion, and began to dance around the dim, moonlit lawn. “I got clothes!” he sang in a grating tenor voice. “I look good! I got zips, I got clothes, I look good!” He leaped. He cavorted. He flung his legs up in extravagant high kicks. He jumped. Once or twice Aidan was sure Groil came down on a thistle, but didn’t appear to notice. His feet must have been like leather. “I got zips! I got clothes!” Groil roared out, and leaped like a ballet dancer, twizzling round in mid-air.

  After a moment or so, Aidan caught Groil’s rhythm and leaned out of the window and clapped in time to the dance. His hands were quite sore by the time Groil finally danced himself round the corner of the house and out of sight. Even then, Aidan could hear him singing in the distance. He went back to bed, rather astonished at how easy it was to make someone that happy. Gran had always said you made yourself happy too, but Aidan had never really believed her until now.

  “Groil liked the clothes,” he reported to Andrew in the morning.

  Andrew grinned over the bacon he was frying. He seemed to be making breakfast earlier than usual. “I heard him singing,” Andrew said. “Not one of the world’s great tenors.”

  “He danced too,” Aidan said.

  “I felt the ground shaking,” Andrew replied, turning the bacon and fried bread out on to two plates. “Eat up. Today we’re going to follow the boundary round the other way, to the left of the dip in the road. And it looks like rain, so I want to get going as soon as possible.”

  It started drizzling slightly as the two of them set off, and it was decidedly colder. Groil would be glad of the clothes, Aidan thought as he trudged past Wally Stock’s cows on the way to the road. Come to think of it, Aidan was glad of his own new zip-up waterproof. I got zips! he thought to himself, and couldn’t help grinning.

  The boundary on this side was nothing like as regular as Andrew had thought. It took a great bulge away from the wood and Andrew’s fields, out into unknown meadows, where it ran beside the road for a space, until the road swerved away towards Andrew’s former University. Here they lost the line of the boundary for a while. In fact, Aidan wondered if they had lost themselves too. They waded through a marshy field full of tall rushes, where they could not even see the village, although they could hear the church clock striking somewhere in the distance behind the wood. Eleven o’clock, Aidan thought. Already.

  Here the rain came down properly, white and pelting. The rushes bent and hissed with it and the distant wood was almost cancelled out by grey rods of rain. They could hardly see where they were walking, let alone find the boundary. They were soaked in seconds, with hair streaming into their eyes and their glasses nearly useless.

  Andrew made two sloshing, sucking strides in what was probably the wrong direction, and stopped. “This is no good,” he said. “Let’s make for the wood and shelter there until this stops. It can’t rain this hard for very long.”

  Aidan took his glasses off and could then just about see the wood, dark green behind the rain. It was much further off than he had thought. They floundered and squelshed towards it, each of them trying, from time to time, to wipe wet glasses on Andrew’s handkerchief. Aidan had forgotten, in his shopping orgy, that he might need handkerchiefs. He was cursing himself about it by the time they finally stumbled through a bramble thicket and in under the trees.

  “It’s just as wet here,” he said disgustedly.

  “Yes, but in a different way,” Andrew said.

  This was true. The leaves on the trees held the rain up, so that they could at least see where to walk. But every so often a tree would become too full of water and it would all come down, twenty minutes’ worth of heavy rain, and tip itself on their heads. Up above, they could hear the rain hissing steadily on to the tops of the trees, while all around them one tree after another unloaded cold water with a wet crash.

  “I think we’re going to drown,” Aidan said miserably.

  Andrew looked at him. City boy. Not used to this. Aidan’s face was wet and white, and he was shivering. Come to that, Andrew was not too happy himself. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go back to the house and wait until the rain stops.”

  They tried to do that. But, by this time, neither of them was quite sure where the house was. After some muddling about — during which time a vast tree tipped several tankloads of rain, mixed with twigs, caterpillars and leaves, straight down on their heads — Andrew set off firmly in a straight line. The wood was not that large. He knew they had to come out of it soon. Aidan followed, wriggling his shoulders and morbidly wondering if the squirming down his back was just water or in fact a large, legless critter that had somehow got in under his hood.

  They found themselves in front of a wall.

  It was not a large wall. It was about knee high and built of old crumbly bricks covered with moss. But the slightly sinister fact about it was that someone had filled in the gaps and low plac
es in it with very new-looking barbed wire. It seemed to run right across the wood for as far as they could see either way.

  “I don’t remember this!” Andrew said. “And why the barbed wire? It’s all my property. I never agreed to let anyone wire part of the wood off.”

  With a bit of a grunt, he heaved one wet boot up and put it down on the other side of the wall. It went crunch on the dead leaves there.

  As if this were a signal, there was more crunching from further along the wall. A large man in a grey knitted hat and a wet navy-blue jacket came marching up beside the wall in big rubber boots. He was carrying a gun. And there was a dog with him on a lead. An unpleasant-looking dog it was, rather like a bull terrier, with a smooth, bloated face and mean, pinkish eyes. Andrew, looking from the man’s face to the dog’s, thought that the faces were remarkably alike, right up to the mean, pinkish eyes. All the same, the man reminded him strongly of someone else. Take away the bloating, he thought—

  “Get that foot out of there,” the man growled at Andrew, “or I set the dog on you. Beyond this wall you’re trespassing.”

  Andrew felt idiotic, caught astride a wall like this, but he said, “No, I’m not. I own this wood. I’m Andrew Hope. Who the devil are you?”

  “Security,” growled the man. The dog growled too and strained on its lead towards Andrew’s leg.

  Andrew, as haughtily as he could, took his leg back rather quickly to the other side of the wall. “Security for whom?” he said.

  “For Mr Brown of course,” the man snarled. “This side of the wall and the wood’s all his. He don’t allow anyone on his property.”

  “Nonsense!” Andrew said.

  “You don’t believe me, go and ask Mr Brown,” the man said. “He has it all down in black and white. So get the hell out. Now.” Here the dog put its front feet on the bricks and snarled fruitily at Andrew. Drool draped its big yellow fangs.

  Andrew backed away. “This is a complete fabrication!” he said angrily. “You’ve no right to turn me off my own land! I shall certainly speak to your employer. Tell me your name.”

  “Security,” the man said. “That’s all the name you’ll get. Speak to whoever you like, but you get the hell out of this wood first, before I take the dog off the lead.” He reached to where the lead was fastened to the dog’s collar. “Scarper,” he said. “Both of you. Now.”

  There seemed nothing for it but to go. White with anger, Andrew swung round and marched away. He was so angry that he had no memory of having been lost in this wood a moment ago. He simply turned towards Melstone House and marched there in long, angry strides, with Aidan trotting beside him to keep up. Sure enough, rain-whitened green meadow appeared between the trees moments later. Andrew strode in among Wally Stock’s sheep, fulminating.

  “That wood is mine!” he said. “It belonged to my grandfather. It’s marked on the deeds. I shall phone my lawyer. This Brown has absolutely no right to fence half of it off, let alone employ a man to threaten us!”

  Aidan glanced up at Andrew’s glaring white face and was impressed. This was the first time he had seen Andrew look dangerous. He wondered what Andrew was going to do.

  When they reached the house, Andrew dashed to his study and hauled out the dusty yellow package that contained the deeds of Melstone House.

  “What are you both doing, dripping water all over the house?” Mrs Stock wanted to know.

  Andrew ignored her and spread the deeds out on the table, regardless of rain plopping on to them from his hair. “There you are!” he said to Aidan, impatiently brushing water off the map. “Just as I thought. That line marks the edge of the property and it goes right round the whole wood. The Manor land only comes up to the edge of it. Set a dog on me, would he!”

  He snatched up the phone and furiously punched in his lawyer’s number.

  “And are you going to be in for lunch now?” Mrs Stock asked.

  “Not now,” Andrew said, with the phone to his ear. “I’m too angry to eat. Hello? Can I speak to Lena Barrington-Stock, please? Urgently.”

  “Did you hear me? Lunch?” Mrs Stock demanded.

  A voice in Andrew’s ear was telling him that Mrs Barrington-Stock was out of the office just now, but would get in touch if Andrew would leave his name and telephone number. He scowled at Mrs Stock. “Aidan will be having lunch,” he said. “I’m busy.”

  “Pardon?” asked the phone.

  “Andrew Hope, Melstone House, Melstone,” Andrew said. “You’ve got my number in your records. I’ve forgotten it. Go away, Mrs Stock.” He rang off, snatched up the telephone directory and feverishly turned to the Browns.

  “I’m not used to being treated like this,” Mrs Stock said. She flounced off.

  Knowing there would be pages and pages of Browns, Aidan left Andrew to it and went quietly away to get into dry clothes. He came back to find Andrew still at it. And swearing.

  “I’ve been through all the Browns twice now,” he told Aidan, “and there’s no Brown of Melstone Manor in here! The wretched crook must be ex-directory. He would be!”

  “You could have lunch after all,” Aidan suggested.

  “No, no,” Andrew said. “I’m getting angrier every minute.” He flung the directory down and went storming away upstairs.

  Aidan loitered on in the study, well aware that Andrew had offended Mrs Stock very severely indeed and wondering how he could avoid going near her. Cauliflower cheese, he thought. In bucketfuls. He was still loitering in the study when Andrew stormed back in there to look at the map. Andrew was wearing much neater clothes than usual — if you didn’t count the leather patches on the elbows of his tweed jacket — and was actually putting on a tie.

  “I’m driving round to see this Mr Brown,” he said, fetching the map out of his rucksack. “Ah. Here we are. I knew getting to the Manor was tricky. You’d better keep out of Mrs Stock’s way. You could eat the sandwiches in my rucksack for lunch.” He yanked the knot of his tie angrily tight and rushed away through the hall.

  “And where are you off to now?” Aidan heard Mrs Stock say.

  Andrew’s voice replied, “It’s none of your business whose neck I want to wring!” This was followed by the front door heavily slamming. Shortly after, Aidan heard the car start up and a great scattering of gravel as Andrew roared away down the drive.

  The rain seemed to be slackening. Aidan decided he would go out as soon as it stopped. In the mean time, he ate the sandwiches and then went into the living room, thinking he might play chopsticks on the piano. But Mrs Stock was there, vengefully moving the piano into the dark corner again. Aidan retreated hastily. Since the rain was now only a drizzle, he put his wet waterproof on again and went out. Anything seemed better than staying in the house with Mrs Stock.

  Aidan had become used to the not-quite-as-safe feeling beyond the grounds of Melstone House. He decided he would explore the other end of the village. So, at the end of the lane he turned right and went downhill, past the church among its trees and then past the green and the pub. There were quite a few other children about there. The local school — wherever that was — must have broken up for the holidays. Since he didn’t know any of them, Aidan went on, uphill now, past the shop and the hairdresser, towards the new houses at the end of the village. Just before he reached them, he came upon the football field. There was a big notice fixed to the hedge there announcing MELSTONE SUMMER FÊTE HERE NEXT SATURDAY and giving the date as the Saturday after next. Slightly mad, Aidan thought. He went nosily in through the gate to investigate.

  There were no goalposts up, but this had not stopped eleven boys — no, two of them were girls — starting a game of football on the wet grass, with the goals marked by heaps of their clothes. The side with six players was winning. They scored two goals while Aidan watched.

  Aidan went elaborately casual and sauntered over. Another goal was scored against the side with five players just as he got there. “I can be in goal for you if you like,” he offered, as if he didn’t care
.

  They accepted his offer at once. Aidan zipped his glasses into his waterproof, put it to mark the goalpost with the other garments and joined in gladly. An hour or so later, the scores were even and Aidan had eleven new friends.

  In this way, both Aidan and Andrew missed the incident that was The Last Straw for Mrs Stock that caused her to collect Shaun and leave early. She had left a note in which her feelings seemed to have got the better of her spelling:

  You still dint give Shaun any work. There was some woman prowelling round the house gouping in windows, I went out and gave her a peace of my mind. Mr Stock run out of collyflours so I did you potato cheese. We sent her packing.

  Chapter Eight

  You got to Melstone Manor by taking the narrow road behind the church, although you had to be careful not to take the other narrow road with the signpost that said MELFORD. Most days, Andrew might have made this mistake. But that day his fury drove him into the right, unlabelled road and then jouncing and bumping down what proved to be an unpaved lane. This lane suddenly became a potholed track through parkland and fine trees. A herd of deer bolted out of his angry way. He swept round a corner and came to the Manor.

  The Manor was highly Elizabethan. It had tall chimneys, lots of black beams on the outside and large numbers of big, dim, diamond-paned windows. It had gables enough to supply several manor houses.

  “Just like a ghost movie!” Andrew said between his teeth. “A bad B movie! Absurd!”

  He parked in front of the mighty black oak front door, marched through the drizzle and up the brick steps, and hauled on the large brass bell ring. A dim jangling sounded somewhere inside.

  Andrew waited, hoping very much that he had arrived in time to interrupt Mr Brown’s lunch. He was just about to haul on the bell pull even harder, when the door opened with the most impressive creak. A short, fat man in morning dress looked up at him. “Yes, sir?”