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‘Mum must have a number for Dad,’ said Jaide, but she didn’t sound very convinced.
‘He always loses his phone,’ said Jack glumly. ‘And he’s usually somewhere weird anyway, where nothing works. But he might have, you know, secret Warden ways of knowing stuff. Maybe Grandma X sent him a . . . a thought message . . . or something.’
‘I cannot reach your father,’ said a faint voice behind the twins, apparently emanating from the wall. Jack and Jaide leaped off the lounge as if it was suddenly red-hot.
Behind them, on the wall, was a faint image of their grandmother. She didn’t look young like she usually did when her spirit form appeared, and it didn’t look three-dimensional. This was more like a blurry photo being projected onto the wallpaper. Her white hair was even messier than it was every morning. Her eyelids fluttered.
‘I am somewhat injured,’ said Grandma X. ‘But I will be all right, so you don’t need to worry.’
‘But they’re taking you to Scarborough!’ exclaimed Jaide. ‘What will that do to the wards?’
‘They are not taking me to Scarborough,’ said the blurry image with familiar stubbornness. ‘Shortly, they will decide that it is better to take me somewhere closer, even if the facilities are not so advanced. Portland Hospital will fit the bill perfectly.’
Her eyelids closed completely, but not before the twins saw her eyes roll back upwards, into her head.
‘Are you really okay?’ asked Jack anxiously.
‘I have a concussion . . . and my body was affected by the cold of the river,’ said Grandma X, her eyes opening again. ‘I don’t have much time. Custer will monitor the wards. I don’t expect trouble, but if anything does come up, and Custer is not available, you can . . . Ow! . . . Be careful . . .’
Grandma X’s voice was cut off, and the image disappeared.
‘Hello, you two,’ said Rodeo Dave from the doorway behind them. The twins spun around again, uncertain how long he’d been there. He bobbed his head and said, ‘All ready to go? Scarborough Hospital, your mother said.’
‘Uh, yeah, thanks,’ said Jack. ‘Only, maybe we should check first—’
Dave’s phone rang.
‘Hang on, Jack. Dave here . . . Oh, right . . . No problem. We’re on our way.’
He put the phone away and said to the twins, ‘Not Scarborough General. Portland Hospital. We’ll be there in a jiffy. Come on!’
The helicopter lifted off as they got to Dave’s white van, which he used to pick up and deliver books. They all piled in the front and, after reminding him about his seatbelt, they drove out onto River Road.
‘We’ll have to go the long way,’ said Dave. ‘The bridge will be closed for a while.’
The twins peered past the willows to the bridge, which was surrounded by emergency vehicles. At the southern end, the crane truck that usually worked at the marina was up on its supports, with a chain going down to the battered, mud-strewn wreck of a yellow Hillman Minx that had been pulled out of the river.
Seeing the car made it all seem more horribly real. Jack had to look away, and Jaide found herself the victim of a sudden attack of the shivers.
‘Your grandmother will be fine,’ said Dave, noting both of these events. He leaned across and opened the glove box. ‘Grab a couple of the sweets there. You’ve both had a nasty shock.’
The sweets were like nothing the twins had ever seen before – old-fashioned boiled things wrapped in paper that was hard to remove. Concentrating on getting the paper off took up most of the trip to the hospital.
Susan was waiting for them in the lobby.
‘Grandma is okay,’ she said. ‘We were worried for a moment, but she rallied as soon as we got her here. That’s amazing for someone who’s been through a major accident.’
‘Can we see her?’ asked Jaide, as Jack said, ‘Is she awake?’
‘The doctors are with her now,’ said Susan. ‘They’re going to keep her in Critical Care until tomorrow morning, probably. They may still have to move her to Scarborough. As for what happened . . . it’s not that clear. She told Officer Haigh a truck or a van came up fast behind her, tried to overtake her before the bridge, and then cut back in unexpectedly, forcing her off the road and into the river.’
‘And the truck didn’t stop?’ asked Jack. ‘Wow, that’s mean.’
‘More than mean,’ said Susan. ‘It’s criminal. The police will be looking for it. But don’t worry about that. I’m going to need your help. Things are going to be a bit complicated at home for a while. I can’t get someone to cover me immediately – you know how we’re always shorthanded – so you’ll be by yourselves a bit more than usual. I will be home tonight, though. Maybe we can find someone to check in on you until my shift is over.’
‘What about Tara?’ asked Jaide. ‘We could hang out with her.’
‘Yes, good idea. I’ll give her father a call . . . but we can’t rely on them every night.’
Rodeo Dave, who had until that moment been occupied with grooming his thick moustache, cleared his throat.
‘Renita Daniels – that is, Rennie – has been helping me out at the shop,’ he said. ‘I’ve let her have the small apartment up top, and I’m sure she’d be happy to . . . uh . . . babysit, if you pardon the term, Jaide, Jack . . .’
Susan nodded with relief. ‘Thank you, Dave. And thanks for bringing the twins here. Can I ask you to take them back to school as well? I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not.’ He winked at them. ‘It’s a pleasure.’
‘Oh, and I should have said before how sorry I was to hear about Young Master Rourke. He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he?’
‘He was,’ said Dave, his face falling. ‘He bought a lot of books from me over the years. In fact, I’m heading up there the day after tomorrow, to catalogue his collection for the executors.’
‘Young Master who?’ asked Jack.
‘What happened to him?’ added Jaide.
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ said Susan. ‘Now, remember, Grandma X is very fit and strong . . . for someone her age. So don’t worry . . . honest—’
She was interrupted by three quick bursts of sound from her walkie-talkie. Not words, just the crackle.
‘Got to go! Love you!’
There was a whirlwind embrace, then she was off.
‘Okay,’ said Dave. His smile returned as though it had never vanished. ‘Your chariot awaits.’
CHAPTER TWO
An Unexpected Encounter
FOUR HOURS LATER, WATER WAS dripping from the edge of the umbrella Jack Shield held and trickling right down the back of his sister’s neck. Jaide shuddered and tugged her collar tight up to her throat, pulling her head in as best she could. She could see nothing outside the umbrella but sods of disturbed earth, the mud-spattered feet of the adults walking around them, and the base of a heavy, grey stone wall three yards a
way. The rain continued to stream down on them, far heavier than it had been back in the town.
‘Remind me what we’re doing here?’ she grumbled.
‘You suggested it,’ said Jack. ‘You asked Mum if we could hang out with Tara.’
‘But this wasn’t what I was expecting!’
They were standing next to a life-size castle – a real one, to all appearances, with turrets and a portcullis, and even a deep moat filled with murky brown water. Nearby were a number of smaller buildings scattered on the edge of a large and even murkier lake. A squat pyramid peeked around the shoulder of a low hill.
‘Dad says this is one of the most important landmarks in Portland,’ Tara said, coming up behind them. She had her own umbrella, a purple-spotted thing that looked brand-new, vastly different to the moth-eaten black antique the twins had found in the back of Tara’s car. It leaked, and two people couldn’t quite fit under it, but Jaide told herself it was better than nothing. ‘He knew you’d love to see it since you’re interested in old buildings and stuff.’
‘Er, right.’
It was Jaide’s turn to want to kick her brother, this time for the ridiculous lie he had come up with to explain their former interest in Tara’s father, a property developer. It had meant long lectures on the renovation potential of old warehouses and barracks and being dragged about in all manner of weather, whether they asked to go or not.
‘You know, Jaide, it is pretty cool,’ said Jack, peering out and up at the castle wall, tipping the umbrella in the process and sending another wave of water straight into Jaide’s right ear. ‘There was nothing like this in the city.’
Jaide braved the rain to take another look. The side of the castle seemed to go up forever, broken only every now and again by a narrow, slit-like window, for archers to fire from. Jaide didn’t think there had ever been a need for archers in Portland, but there probably hadn’t been any need for a moat, either.
‘Young Master Rourke lived here?’ she asked.
‘Not here exactly. He was in that little building we passed, by the gates.’
‘And he really just died?’ Jack asked, thinking of the sadness in Rodeo Dave’s eyes and the weirdness of their present position. They had only just heard about Young Master Rourke, and now here they were, exploring where he had used to live.
