Wildwood (YA Paranormal Mystery) (12 page)

The old man nodded towards a stack of boxes by the external door. "I could do with help moving this lot. The delivery driver used to lend a hand, but they can't wait to unload and get away these days. Don't know what the world's coming to, everyone racing around chasing their tails."

Following directions, Todd hefted boxes into different piles: confectionary, canned drinks, canned food, packets of pasta. Grandpa watched, counting off the items delivered and making notes on his clipboard.

After they finished, they went through to the kitchen for a snack. Todd waited for Grandpa to get comfortable before he asked, "Can you tell me about the Cochran boys?"

Grandpa nearly choked on his biscuit. "Don't go digging into that as well. Those boys died five years ago. Nobody around here wants the past raked up." He shook a finger. "If I hear you've been asking questions about them, you'll be in trouble, my lad."

Todd popped open the can of soda he'd taken from the shop and took a swig. He'd have to make sure Grandpa didn't hear then.

"Who told you about them? I can't believe anyone from the village brought it up. It was a terrible tragedy best left in the past."

He didn't want to mention the vagrant in case Grandpa thought he was dangerous and banned Todd from going back to Lords Wood, so he changed the subject. "Marigold invited me to dinner. Am I allowed to go?"

Grandpa's face burst into a grin, and he patted Todd's shoulder. "Knew you'd get along with that girl. Course you can go. But don't ask Marigold about the Cochrans. You'll only upset her."

That must mean Marigold had known the Cochrans. Had one of them been her boyfriend? The thought annoyed him until he realized she would only have been ten when they died. The same age he'd been when his dad disappeared. The same year Grandpa gave up the farm and bought his shop. Strange how so many things had happened five years ago. It was probably just coincidence, but he couldn't ignore the race of goose bumps along his arms.

"What date did the Cochran boys die?"

"I told you to leave that alone, Todd, and I meant it. No questions about those boys. If I hear you've dredged up that old mystery, they'll be consequences."

So there was a mystery surrounding their deaths. He definitely needed to discuss them with Marigold.

"Who told you about them?" Grandpa demanded again.

Todd leaped up from his chair and headed towards the stairs. "I need to shower and change before I head up to Marigold's."

"Make sure you remember what I said," Grandpa shouted as Todd ran up the stairs two at a time.

Todd's senses hummed with the excitement of the hunt. Could something have happened five years ago that linked the Cochrans' death with his father's disappearance? Was it also connected to Andrew's death?

***

Marigold opened the front door of Lookout Cottage and stepped aside to let Todd in. The inside of the witch's den looked exactly how he'd expected.

In the sitting room, dried flowers and herbs hung from a beam over the inglenook fireplace, while horse brasses decorated the sooty granite pillars on either side. Seashells and china ornaments were arranged along the black wooden beams, balanced in tiny nooks in the stone wall, lined up along the windowsills and shelves. In a shadowy corner of the room, a ceiling-high bookcase was stacked with old books that could be full of spells.

Todd stopped in the kitchen doorway, waiting for Marigold. Mrs. Turpin stood at a huge black range set into a tiled alcove, stirring a large pot that looked suspiciously like a cauldron.

She glanced up and saw him hesitating. A wary smile passed over her face. "Come in, lad. Don't stand on ceremony." She pointed at the table, neatly laid with a red-and-white checked tablecloth like something out of a fairy tale. "Sit yourself down."

"Thank you, Mrs. Turpin." Todd walked into the kitchen and had to admit the smell from the cauldron was delicious.

"All right, Todd?" Marigold came up behind him and placed her hand on his back.

"Yeah, cool."

Marigold laughed. "He talks like a city boy, Mum."

"I'm not a city boy. I only feel truly alive when I'm in the countryside. I'm going to get a job as a wildlife warden or a gardener when I leave school."

"Like your father, then," Mrs. Turpin, said. She watched him curiously as he took the seat she indicated. While Marigold cut up a crusty loaf, and her mother dished out stew into large bowls, Todd glanced around.

The countryside seemed to creep inside. Pinecones were hanging beside the door, dried rosebuds filled a bowl on the table, and bright pots of flowers sat on the windowsills. Compared to his mother's modern white kitchen, this was another world, a world that would have suited his dad far better than their modern house in the city. It made him wonder what had happened to make his dad leave Porthallow.

As they ate, Todd summoned the courage to ask Mrs. Turpin how Mrs. Bishop was, but she didn't tell him much. He had the sense she was guarded around him, wary.

After dinner, he helped clear the table and dried the dishes while Marigold washed. He was relieved when Mrs. Turpin let them go. He thanked her for dinner, then Marigold grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the back door.

"Let's watch the stars come out. Can you see the stars where you live?"

"Not really. There's too much light pollution." Todd checked over his shoulder for Mrs. Turpin's reaction as Marigold pulled him out the door. She watched them go, a conflicted look on her face. This situation was too weird. Grandpa wanted him to make friends with Marigold and her mother didn't seem to like him much, yet she had invited him to dinner. Now she was letting him go out in the dark alone with her daughter.

He followed Marigold through the garden onto the cliff path. "We'll go to the lookout," she said. "That's the place our cottage is named after."

She held Todd's hand while they walked past the place Andrew had gone over the cliff and on for a few hundred feet.

The lookout was a tumbledown wooden building hunched on a small promontory like the brown skeleton of a creature that had died and was slowly sinking back into the ground. They sat on the wiry grass in front of the building and stared at the purple and pink streaks marking the horizon as the sky faded to velvety blue.

Marigold flopped on her back, her hair splayed around her head, a splash of gold on the grass. "Look." She pointed up at the sky. "The stars are coming out."

After a few minutes sitting staring at the darkening horizon, Todd lay on the grass beside her. He flattened his hand on his chest aware of his heart racing beneath his palm. He willed it to slow down. Lying next to a girl on a summer night, watching the stars. No sweat...
yeah right
.

Chapter Ten

The tiny points of starlight glowed brighter as the pale band along the horizon faded into darkness. A sickle moon hung in the sky above them like a shiny hook.

When the constellations became clear, Todd pointed some out. "That's the Great Bear and—follow the direction of my finger—that's Polaris, the North Star. That's part of the Little Bear. If you went to the North Pole and looked straight up, you'd be right underneath Polaris."

Marigold raised her arm. "The
W
shape there is Cassiopeia, the beautiful queen."

"You know the constellations?" he said with a hint of surprise. He'd never met a girl who was interested in stuff like that.

"Course I do." She laughed at his incredulous expression. "You're not the only one who knows, smart-ass."

"No one else at school is interested. Dad used to say people have forgotten the old wisdom."

"You and I are alike, Todd."

"Yeah." They looked at each other for so long, heat crawled up his neck into his face. He turned away and cushioned his head on his arms, his gaze sweeping the sky, feeling cast adrift in that wide dark bowl speckled with stars.

"Did your mum teach you about the stars?"

"No. I have some lessons with Professor Cardell. He taught me."

The slight hesitation in Marigold's voice had Todd frowning. "Who's Professor Cardell?"

Marigold glanced around as if to check no one was listening. "He lives in Trewartha House, the big place on the hill overlooking the village. He owns our cottage and most of Porthallow."

"Your mum doesn't own Lookout Cottage?"

She shook her head. "Not many people in Porthallow own their own places. I think your grandpa owns his shop, though. He's friends with Professor Cardell."

"Grandpa hasn't mentioned him. What does he look like?"

"Posh. You can't mistake him for anyone else. He always wears a hat and one of those old-fashioned scarf things around his neck instead of a tie." Marigold mimicked tying something at her throat.

"I saw him talking to Mrs. Bishop on the coast path. She stopped at the place Andrew fell and this tall old guy with a walking stick came along. She didn't seem happy to see him."

Marigold glanced around again and lowered her voice. "Did you hear what they talked about?"

"No. I was too far away."

"He's her dad."

"That means he was Andrew's grandfather."

Marigold wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I suppose. But Andrew wouldn't go and see him. Professor Cardell was annoyed about it. He said I was more of a grandchild to him than Andrew was."

Todd's brain worked furiously. The professor was another piece of the puzzle, although he had no idea where he fitted in.

Marigold rolled onto her stomach and plucked at the grass. In the near darkness she appeared to glow as if her hair reflected the moonlight. She gripped his forearm, pulling his hand from beneath his head. She examined his palm, her fingers tracing the lines on his skin, tickling. His breath caught. Her touch fired something inside him, teased the primitive animal part of his nature that fought to take over when he was frightened or angry.

"If we had more light I could read your palm."

She curled up his fingers and examined his father's stag's-head ring. He waited for her to comment, but all she did was cast him a thoughtful glance, then run her fingers around his wrist. He closed his eyes at the sensation.

"Who gave you the bracelet?"

Dragging himself back from his pleasant haze, Todd glanced at his wrist. He'd nearly forgotten the leather bracelet. "My sister."

Marigold slid the leather around counting the knots. "Seven knots of protection." She frowned. "She must have thought you'd be in danger. Did she say what sort of danger?"

"No."

"Is your sister a witch? Does she have the sight?"

Todd pulled his hand back and sat up, the pleasant mood shattered. He was always careful not to tell people about Emma's strange dreams. "Em's not a witch."

"Mum's a witch, and she makes bracelets like this for people." Marigold bit her lip. "I'm a witch too, sort of. Sometimes I have visions, but I don't know what they mean till they come true. Then it's too late." She glanced at Todd's bracelet again. "It's strange. I haven't had any visions about you."

Todd had hoped Shaun was joking when he said Mrs. Turpin was a witch. But what was more disturbing was that Marigold's visions sounded similar to Emma's dreams. Surely that wasn't witchcraft?

"What sort of stuff do you see in these visions?"

Marigold sucked in a breath. "Horrible things usually, like Andrew's death and the fire that killed the Cochrans."

Todd's heart jumped. "You saw who killed Andrew?"

She shook her head. "The visions don't work like that."

"How do they work?"

"I only get visions about people I have a connection with."

"And you had a connection with Andrew." The moment the words were out of his mouth Todd regretted them. She wouldn't want to be reminded what connection she had with Andrew. Marigold stood, walked to the edge overlooking the sea, and wrapped her arms around her body.

"Shaun told me how he got his black eye," Todd said softly.

"You mustn't tell your grandpa," she added, turning to look down at him. "Promise you won't."

"Did he hurt you?" Todd felt as though he was wading out of his depth and the unfamiliar emotions might drown him.