The Mystery of Wickworth Manor (15 page)

She pulled open a stainless-steel drawer. It squeaked horribly. He watched her pull out plastic food bags and loose pens and some sticky labels, but no thermometer. She glanced at him. ‘Flour!’

‘OK, OK.’ He knew where to look. The pantry was stuffed full of sacks: rice, pasta and, tucked right at the back, a sack of white flour. ‘Got it,’ he called back towards the kitchen.

‘Bingo!’ Paige said. ‘I’ve got a thermometer.’ She held up a metal prong with a square of white plastic at the end. ‘My gran’s got one of these for prodding into joints of meat to check they’re ready.’ She switched it on. ‘The temperature is nineteen degrees.’

Curtis scooped some flour into an empty mayonnaise tub and pressed on a lid. ‘Now what?’

‘Now we wake Verity.’

Chapter 30

This was going to be dangerous. Mum would hit the roof and keep right on going into space if she ever found out. Paige wondered if she should warn Curtis. Not that he believed in it anyway. A summoning wasn’t the same as a seance. It was much more serious. She would be calling a soul against its will. It could be angry, violent. It might even bring others with it.

But it had to be done. If Verity was ever going to tell the truth about Christopher and Patience, then tonight was the night it had to happen.

‘Where are we going?’ Curtis asked as she held open the kitchen door. ‘Back to my room? Or the old stable?’

‘No,’ Paige said. ‘The best place to do this is where Verity is now. We have to find her grave.’

Curtis grabbed her arm. ‘You’re not serious!’

‘Of course I am.’ Paige shrugged her shoulders and pulled her arm free. ‘Her bones will channel her energy. We need to find her grave. Let’s start at the chapel.’

Curtis clasped the tub of flour to his chest. His lips were pulled together tightly. He shook his head. ‘No way. I’m not digging up some old bones. That’s not right. If Mrs Burton-Jones finds out we’re digging up her ancestors, then she’ll call the police. There’s probably some law against it. We’ll go to jail. Then my mum really will stop talking to me. Forget it, it’s not happening.’

Paige turned to look at him. His eyes looked wild in the darkness. He was scared.
He’s right to be
, a small voice inside her whispered. They were playing with fire. Not to mention how angry Mrs Burton-Jones would be. And Curtis’s mum and dad. And everyone at school if they all got sent home early. This was really a terrible way to make a new start at a new school.

But that was no reason to chicken out.

‘Curtis,’ Paige said. ‘We don’t have to dig up bones, I promise. Just be near them. It’s about the energy, you know, religious places have power we can tap into. Her energy will be nearby, especially as we know she was religious. Remember what she wrote in her letter? That it was a prayer and that she was commanding the truth to God?’

‘Not com
mand
ing, she was com
mend
ing it to the Lord, –’ Curtis stopped. His mouth dropped open and his eyebrows shot up.

‘Curtis, are you all right?’ Paige asked.

‘Yes! Yes, of course! Paige, you’re a genius.’ Curtis grinned, ‘You’re brilliant. The letter
was
a clue. She did tell us where to find the rest of the story. She
commended it to the Lord
. She gave it to God to look after. And where would you put something that you wanted God to look after?’

Paige grinned back. ‘The chapel!’

‘Exactly. Turns out your plan isn’t so daft after all. Let’s go. But we shouldn’t go out by the front door, we might wake Mrs Burton-Jones. We should go out by the back.’

The door that led out into the courtyard was locked, but a huge key hung on a piece of string next to it. Curtis moved to open it.

‘I knew it.’ A voice spoke behind Paige. She spun round.

Liam.

What was he doing here?

‘I knew it would be you two.’ Liam stepped closer. Paige could see that his face was crumpled up in anger.

‘Us two what?’ Paige asked.

‘You two running around, breaking things, stealing things. Whatever it was you did in Mrs Burton-Jones’s rooms. I knew it would be you letting me take the blame.’

Curtis left the back door and came to stand beside Paige. Liam swaggered closer.

‘You and your pet snitch,’ Liam said.

Curtis pulled himself up tall. He and Liam were both shrouded in long shadows. They looked like boxers facing up to each other in an alley somewhere. Paige felt her heartbeat quicken. There couldn’t be a fight now. If they woke any of the teachers, this would all be over.

She stepped between them.

‘Liam, I don’t know what you think we’ve been doing, but we haven’t got you into any trouble.’

‘Oh yeah? Everyone’s talking about me. I’ve heard them. Saying I was messing around the other night and that I was the one who broke into that lady’s room. Everyone always thinks it’s me whenever anything goes wrong. And that snitch has made it worse.’

Curtis stepped closer. He edged Paige out of the way. ‘I didn’t tell anyone about that conversation we had. No one, not even Paige. I’m not a snitch.’

‘Well someone is. And of all the people who knew, you’re the one I don’t trust. I’m going to be sent home tomorrow, I know it. I thought I’d be able to start at secondary school with new teachers and new classmates and no reputation. But you ruined that. You think just because you’re posh it’s OK for someone else to take the blame for what you do?’

‘I don’t think that,’ Curtis whispered.

Liam jabbed the air with his finger. ‘Well, let’s see how you like a taste of your own medicine. I won’t take the blame. I won’t. I’m going to get Miss Brown right now and she can see who’s really wandering around where they shouldn’t.’

Paige stepped closer. ‘No, Liam, please.’

‘Oh, it’s please now, is it? Well, tough. I’m not going to be sent home tomorrow just so you can run around having fun. I’m going to tell. See how you like being snitched on.’

‘You wouldn’t. You’re not a snitch.’

Liam paused. ‘You think?’

‘I know,’ Paige said. ‘You wouldn’t do something like that.’

‘Shows what you know. Watch me.’ Liam spun around on his heels and stormed out of the kitchen. He slammed a metal countertop on the way out, then he was gone.

Curtis looked at her, his eyes dark with worry. ‘Will he do it?’

She shook her head. ‘No, no way. He’s no snitch.’ She paused. ‘But maybe we should hurry. Just in case.’

She pushed open the back door. At once she was hit by a wall of rain; it lashed into the ground so hard that drops bounced back up. ‘Should have brought a brolly,’ she said and then stepped outside.

She was drenched in an instant. Curtis too. But there was something exciting about being out in midsummer, in the middle of a storm. Paige whooped and raced to the side of the house. It would be a long walk around the lake to get to the chapel and they didn’t have much time.

‘Wait,’ Curtis said.

‘What? We have to hurry.’

‘I know.’ He ran over to the equipment shed. ‘But the quickest way to get from A to B is a straight line. We should go across the lake. We’ll need lifejackets.’

The canoes? Was Curtis crazy? Maybe. But he was right. It would be quicker.

He was already undoing the bolt and pulling the door open by the time she reached him. The room was pitch dark. He fumbled for the light switch. It lit up rows of lifejackets, helmets, ropes, harnesses, map cases and compasses. Curtis grabbed a jacket and helmet and threw them towards her before grabbing some for himself.

‘Helmets? Really?’ Paige asked.

‘We’re breaking into a chapel in the middle of the night when we’ve been expressly told to mind our own business. We’re getting there by canoe in a storm. The least we can do is observe good Health and Safety,’ he said with a grin.

Paige pulled on the equipment. The dash to the lake was better – the rain dripped off the peak of her helmet and didn’t run in horrible streams down her neck. The lifejacket kept her body dry, though her arms were covered with goosebumps.

Curtis dropped the tub of flour into the canoe, then lowered himself in after it. The seats were wet and puddles of water were forming in the bottom. Paige got in too and grabbed a paddle. Cold water seeped in through the seat of her jeans. High winds made the choppy waves spray up on to her face. The canoe was nowhere near as steady as it had been earlier. Curtis pulled hard with his paddle, pushing them into the middle of the dark water. The sound of the rain hitting the surface was like hundreds of snakes hissing.

A light flashed across the churning lake. Paige turned to look. A car swept up the drive; its headlights panned across the front of the house. The lights left a green after-image in Paige’s eyes. Who was driving to Wickworth Manor at this time of night?

‘Paige!’ Curtis yelled. ‘Paddle!’

Paige pulled hard. Their paddles were on opposite sides of the canoe, dragging them forward into the darkness.

Had Liam really snitched? Had Mrs Burton-Jones called the police? She’d thought a lot of bad things about Liam, but she’d never have believed that he was a snitch.

‘Faster!’ Curtis cried.

They powered through the water. They were in the centre now, far from the banks on either side.

Suddenly, a shaft of lightning split the sky. A roll of thunder followed seconds later. Paige gasped. Heavy drops of rain hurled against her cheeks.

Then another bolt hit and cast an electric glow around the chapel. ‘The Tower!’ Paige shouted.

‘What?’ Curtis’s voice was almost drowned out by the noise of the storm.

‘It looks like The Tower! The tarot card. I saw this on our first day here. Change. Destruction. It’s coming true.’ This was a sign. They were on the right path, she knew it. Paige paddled even harder, carving great chunks out of the water to speed up the canoe. Her shoes splashed in deep puddles at the bottom of the boat.

The bank was close. There was no jetty on this side, just reeds and grass and the roll of the waves. ‘We’ll have to jump out. There’s no mooring,’ Curtis yelled over his shoulder.

Paige was glad of the lifejacket now. She felt the canoe scrape against a rock or something hidden below the surface, then it jolted to a stop near the bank.

Curtis threw the mayonnaise tub on to dry land. He took hold of the rope and stood up. ‘Hold on tight,’ he said.

Paige gripped the sides of the canoe while he leapt. It wobbled underneath her, ready to tip over. But Curtis landed on the bank and held the rope taut, steadying the canoe. Then, it was her turn.

Another bolt of white light crackled through the sky. The thunder boomed. The centre of the storm was near. There was a current of electricity in the air that made her mouth taste metallic and her hair prickle under her helmet. She stood up. It seemed like miles to the bank. She took a deep breath and jumped.

Curtis grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward; they both fell on to the wet bank. Mud splashed on her clothes and face. But she was safe. For now.

‘Let’s get out of the rain,’ Curtis said, heading towards the chapel.

The door was shrouded in dripping ivy; it smelled green and earthy. She pushed the ivy aside. Curtis took the door handle in both hands and turned. The old lock squealed in protest, but it turned and the door opened.

Before they stepped into the darkness of the chapel, Paige gave one last glance back at the house. She thought she could see figures standing in the driveway, but the rain was battering down so hard that it was impossible to make out who it was. She just had to hope that they had enough of a head start.

The chapel was small inside, though the roof stretched high above them. The two sides of the building were studded with windows. Despite this, it was dark and her eyes took a minute to get used to the gloom. There was hardly any furniture – the pews were long gone, and just the stone altar at the far end and a few chairs arranged against a side wall remained.

Now that she was out of the rain, she realised how cold she was. Paige tugged off the helmet and lifejacket. She rubbed her arms, then kept her hands clamped to her shoulders. Her jeans and trainers squelched as she walked.