Читать книгу The Keeper. Part 1. An Invitation - Craig Speakes - Страница 2

Arthur wasn’t the first to wake that morning. His stepfather, who worked shifts for the emergency services, had already left to go to work. In the summer, when they were all at the cottage, that always meant a very early start in order to stay ahead of the traffic.

Not wanting to get up, but finding that he’d forgotten to charge his phone, he lay watching his baby sister taking little side steps along the edge of her cot. She hadn’t started to walk yet but seeing that she was barely having to hold on to the edges at all, he understood that it wouldn’t be long now.

All of a sudden, the words ‘liquorice sticks’ filtered through his mind, and with them, the weirdest feeling that he and the cat might really have been talking to each other the previous night. Deciding that he was going to have to go and find out once and for all, he got up quietly and crept out into the garden. The cat was stretched out on his favourite patch of sunny grass near the rose climbers.

‘Alright, Cat,’ said Arthur, perching himself on the swing.

The cat didn’t react.

‘Hey?’ he called out. ‘Earth to Cat!’

‘Whaat!?’ meowed the cat unhappily, making him jump. ‘Can’t you see I was sleeping? I was having the greatest dream ever. I was able to fly! <<And>>, if you really must know, I’d be a lot more <<all right>> if breakfast wasn’t always those same dreadful, dry biscuits. And now that you bring it up, I need you to have a little word with your mum for me. You know, ask her to come up with something a bit more exciting for a change. What d’ya say?’

‘So, it’s really true, then. We can talk!’ Arthur said, mouth agape.

‘Oh Lord, didn’t we go through all of this last night?’

‘Well, yeah we did, but…’

‘But you woke up thinking that maybe you’d dreamt it?’

‘Well, actually yeah, but…’

‘But, as you can see, you didn’t, and yes, we can.’

‘Well, yeah, but…’

But before he could finish, a screeching sound made them both look towards the porch door. His sister’s head had just appeared in the doorway, and she was looking very pleased with herself.

‘Anna!’ puffed his mother, seconds later, looking decidedly flustered. ‘You can’t run away before breakfast—how far do you think you’ll get on an empty stomach? Arthur, come and eat, and don’t leave the door open to the porch. How many times have I told you?’

‘But, Mama! It wasn’t me!’

‘Of course it wasn’t. It never is,’ she said, making a point of stepping outside and looking around.

‘Ugh!’ he groaned. But it was pointless to argue. And in any case, what did it matter? He was always in trouble for just about everything that went wrong, especially where it concerned his baby sister. His mother went back inside, closing the door with a bang.

‘Well, Cat, that settles it, then. We definitely need to go fishing again today.’

It took him much longer to finish all his tasks that day. The list had included helping his aunt vacuum the entire cottage, which, whilst not big, was still a pain, especially when you were in a rush not to be there. On top of that, he’d also been told to mop the floors in the kitchen, which he’d ended up having to do twice because no sooner had he finished the first time, than the dog had traipsed through, leaving muddy paw marks everywhere.

‘What took you? I’ve been waiting ages,’ meowed the cat, spotting him coming up the path.

‘Aunty M decided I needed to help her vacuum everything. Come on, let’s get out of here before she and mum come up with something else for me to do.’

‘Good idea. But don’t think for a moment that your life is harder than mine. I just woke up with ants in my fur!’

In all the excitement of discovering that he could talk with the cat, Arthur had quite forgotten about the events of the previous afternoon, and it was only once they climbed up onto the railway path that everything flooding back. Drawing nearer to the spot where the train had stood, two hefty crane engines were now lifting large pieces of tangled metal out of a very large hole.

‘Cat, look there. That’s where a weird-looking black train was parked last night…You’re not thinking what I’m thinking, are you?’

‘Well, not unless you were also thinking that we’ve just missed the turning for the lake path.’

‘Halt! That’s as far as you!’ growled a man, suddenly appearing from down the side of the embankment, dressed like a security guard. ‘This section of the line is closed.’

‘Closed? But why? What happened?’ Arthur asked, seeing that a whole load of trees on either side of the hole had been blown over, and that most of them were blackened and charred.

‘Nothing happened,’ the man replied tersely.

‘Nothing!?’

‘That’s right. And that means that there’s nothing here that you need to be concerned about. Now, be on your way before I phone your parents and tell them that you’re trespassing and poking your nose into things that don’t concern you!’

Pretending for a second not to have heard him, Arthur craned his neck to see what else he could see.

‘Go on! Be off with you,’ said the guard, noticing the cat by Arthur’s feet and becoming more agitated. ‘And take that fleabag with you!’

‘Fleabag, indeed. I bet he has more fleas that I do,’ grumbled the cat, as they headed back towards the main crossing to the lake.

‘You know, Cat, I have this really strange feeling that whatever happened here was somehow connected with that white light last night. Only, I still don’t get why it made my hands go all weird?’

‘And my tail!’

‘Really? What happened to your tail?’

‘It went all black hole-like. It totally freaked me out. I thought I was about to get sucked into myself or something.’

‘Army, train, white light, a huge hole in the railway line. What do you reckon it could mean?’

‘That it’s probably time to get the heck out of dodge, while we still can.’

Arthur stopped and looked at him.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Beats me. I think I heard it on a cowboy film once.’

‘Really!?’

Reaching the road, Arthur found that the barricades from the previous evening had all been removed. The men, too, were gone. The only signs that anything had happened were dozens of scorched patches of ground, all triangular in shape and about the same size.

‘What do you think could cause burn marks like that?’ he asked, crouching down to examine one of them.

‘Giant pizza slices,’ mused the cat, and jumped out of the way as a twig came hurtling towards him.

‘Well, whatever they were, they’ve all been cleared away, by the looks of it.’

Disappointed not to have found anything more and guessing that he probably wasn’t going to now, Arthur left the cat stalking something in the hedgerow and headed to the jetty. On the other side of the lake, yesterday’s crowd had returned; groups of kids were jumping and shouting near the water’s edge, while their parents lay on towels nearby, looking like pink seals.

‘Damn birds!’ meowed the cat, catching up to him.

‘No luck?’ Arthur asked, casting out his fishing line.

‘Luck? Depends on what you mean by luck. I wasn’t trying to eat them, if that’s what you were thinking. Not much into feathers—they’re always getting stuck in my teeth. No, if you must know, I was just trying to teach them a lesson.’

‘Really? What kind of lesson?’

‘I don’t know, just a lesson… What?’ he meowed, seeing Arthur’s puzzled look. ‘Why should there have to be a reason for wanting to teach pesky birds a lesson?’

‘Yeah, but Cat…’

But before he could finish what he was going to say, the tip of his rod dipped sharply.

‘Oh my God. It’s a monster!’ he cried, striking hard and feeling a heavy weight suddenly twisting and pulling on the other end.

‘Speaking of fish, it might come as a surprise to you to know that I’m not into fish much, either.’

‘What kind of cat are you?’

‘The roast chicken kind.’

Arthur laughed.

‘You know that they’re birds too though, right?’

‘Not the way I get served them, they’re not.’

It must have taken a full ten minutes before Arthur was been able to land it. The fish had weaved left and right, breaking the surface, and thrashing about wildly before diving again, attempting to tangle his line in the reeds. Finally managing to haul it onto the jetty, Arthur watched triumphantly as it flopped around on the weathered wooden boards. By far the biggest ever, in his mind he could already picture the expressions on everyone’s faces when he brought it home.

‘So, do I take it that you’re planning on keeping it, then?’ asked the cat.

‘Too right I am! This one’s for the frying pan. Aunty M will have a fit. She’s always laughing because I never catch anything big. Now let’s see what she’s got to say!’

‘Right you are, then.’

‘Just look at it! Why would you ever think I wouldn’t want to keep it.’

‘Oh, no reason, really,’ purred the cat. ‘Only it seems pretty desperate to try to make a deal with you, that’s all.’

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

‘A what?! Oh, come on—you’re having me on?’

Arthur stared at the fish and then at the cat and back at the fish again.

‘Honestly?’

‘Yep, it’s true.’

‘What sort of deal?’ he asked, bewildered. ‘And why can’t I hear it?’

‘No idea, but it keeps going on about some kind of box thing. It’s quite hard to understand him, actually—he has a really strong fishy accent. Apparently, this box fell into the lake last night during the white light, and hundreds of men came looking for it afterwards. If we agree to let him go, he’ll take us to it.’

‘The white light? You mean the fish saw it, too?’

‘What did I just say?

‘Well, yeh, but…’

‘So, you have to decide and decide quickly because he says that he can’t breathe.’

‘Oh right,’ said Arthur, suddenly feeling terrible. ‘OK, fine—I guess.’ And gently placing the fish back in the water, they watched it floating lifelessly in front of them.

‘God, you don’t think that it’s…?’

‘No idea.’

‘Well—go on, ask him then!’

‘What, ask him if he’s dead?’

‘Yes!’

‘Don’t you think that’s a strange question to ask someone?’

‘No!’

‘Fine!’

‘Also, why can’t I hear you talking to him? Is this why you don’t like fish? Because you can speak with them?’

‘Me? No! I don’t like them because they taste like mud. And actually, I’ve never talked to a fish in my life. Well, at least not until this one started just now.’

‘Cat, there’s something really strange going on, isn’t there?’

‘Really strange!’ agreed the cat. ‘And it says it just needs a moment to get its breath back.’

Before long, the fish wiggled its fins and began to swim in little circles. Finally turning in their direction, it poked its head out of the water.

‘He says he’s ready. And that the box isn’t far. Apparently, we’ll find it under an uneven stone in the middle of some long water grass, which isn’t very deep.’

‘What do you reckon? Do you think it’s really telling the truth?’

‘No idea, but good luck finding it because I’m not going down after it.’

Arthur grinned. The cat absolutely hated getting his fur wet, and he remembered how he’d showered him several times with the garden hose when he was younger.

‘OK, but you know you’re going to have to come with us all the same.’

‘Me? But I just told you: I don’t do swimming!’

‘Who said anything about you having to swim? Wait here, I’ve got an idea… And tell the fish to wait, too!’

Leaping down from the jetty, he ran back along the path to where he recalled having recently seen a large piece of discarded Styrofoam. It was still there, and apart from a few chips in it, it looked ideal for the job. Returning with it, the cat stared at him in horror.

‘No, no, that’s no good at all. I’ll get seasick for sure.’

‘It’s a lake, Cat, not the sea.’

‘Then I’ll get lake-sick. Either way, listen to what I’m trying to tell you.’

‘Sure… Now don’t worry, you’ll be just fine.’

‘I’m serious!’

Arthur placed the Styrofoam into the water and got in. Pushing down on it to make sure that it would float OK, he distracted the cat, grabbed him, and placed him on top.

‘Argh! Now look what you’ve done—all my paws are wet!’

‘Yeh, well, don’t worry about that. Just think what a hero you’re being. Anyway, I’m the one who’s going to be doing all the work. All you have to do is sit there.’

‘Said the captain to the rest of the Titanic!’

With a fin visible above the surface and keeping to the edge of the reed beds, the fish led them out deeper than Arthur had ever been before. The water, which had been warm near the shore, soon began to feel cold, and discovering that the jetty had disappeared from view, he began to panic.

‘Cat, how much further?’ he asked nervously.

‘Actually, we’re here already.’

‘Really?’

‘Apparently. And all you need to do is dive down and look under a stone inside the reeds below us.’

‘OK, but that sounds a bit vague. It’s going to show me exactly where, right?’

‘I’m thinking not.’

‘What! Why?’

‘He said that it wasn’t part of the deal.’

‘Of course it was part of the deal! Tell him!’

‘I would but it’s too late. He’s already gone.’

‘Blast!’

Tempted for a moment to just forget it and swim back to the shore as fast as he could, Arthur gazed across the lake at the people swimming.

‘Come on, you can do this,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘It’s not that deep.’

‘That’s right, champ—you’ve got this,’ purred the cat. ‘Now, please hurry up before any of those pickle fish decide that I look like a tasty snack.’

‘Pickle fish? I think you mean pike, and I doubt they’d be interested in you.’

‘Maybe, maybe not, but I bet there are plenty of other monsters lurking in here.’

‘Cat, relax, will you?’

Glancing into the murky water, and unable to see any further than his waist, Arthur took a deep breath and dove down. Although it was only a few metres, the water pressure made it hard for him to reach the bottom, always pushing him back towards the surface. In the end, he had to make half a dozen attempts before he finally found it.

‘Ouch!’ meowed the cat, as Arthur burst out of the water, gasping and tossing something on to the Styrofoam platform.

‘I found it.’

‘Yeah, you don’t say. I swear you just aimed it right at my nose!’

‘No I didn’t. C’mon, what do you reckon, then?’

‘I reckon it looks like a piece of junk.’

‘Noooo, Cat, don’t say that. The fish seemed to think it was important though, didn’t it?’

‘Or did he? Maybe he just said the first thing that came into his little fishy head, to escape a good frying.’

‘OK, but you know he could’ve just lied and swam off.’

‘Doesn’t mean anything. I have a funny feeling that fish might be tricky, like birds.’

Back at the jetty, Arthur hauled himself up and set about examining what he’d found. Jet black and about the size of his fist, at first glance, the box had seemed to be exactly that—just a box. It even occurred to him that perhaps the cat might have been right, after all. But, as he rubbed it clean with the bottom of his T-shirt, a faint edge appeared around the sides of it. Giving the impression of being a lid, there were words written above it.

‘Hey, this is weird,’ he said, showing them to the cat. ‘It says, “To open what is both known yet unknown, speak this word times three.” What do you think that means?’

‘Not a clue, just open it already.’

‘I’ve tried, but it won’t budge. Look.’ And holding it so the cat could see, Arthur tried to pull the top off.

‘My turn, then. Give it here, weedy.’

‘To you?’

‘Well, I don’t see anyone else asking.’

‘All right, keep your whiskers on.’

Placing the box down, Arthur watched as the cat dexterously held it down with one paw and attempted to cut around the faint line of the lid with the other.

‘Yow!’ he hissed, breaking a claw.

‘See! What did I tell you?’

‘But I was close, I reckon.’

‘Sure, you were, Cat. Come on, this is useless. We need some real tools.’

Stuffing the box into his pocket, and gathering his things together, they headed back to the cottage. The big cranes, which had been removing the twisted wreckage from the railway tracks, had gone. Now, with only a few men and machines left to finish up, it was clear it would soon look as though nothing had happened.

‘See that?’ he said, without really meaning for it to sound like a question.

Halting by the garden gate, Arthur peered through a crack. Spying that the coast was clear, he slipped through, darting between apple trees, until he reached the tool shed about halfway down the slope. The key, as always, was under the rusting watering can.

‘Come on, come on!’ he mumbled, trying to coax the old lock whilst at the same time keeping a wary look out. After a rather unfortunate incident a few years ago when he’d almost, accidentally, demolished it, he’d been banned from ever entering again. The door swung open with a click.

‘Cat—quickly!’ he whispered, closing and barring it behind them.

Built about the same time as the cottage, the shed had gradually become lopsided over the years and now resembled an old barn. Doubling as a storage area, there were pieces of furniture, planks of wood, tiles, and all manner of bits and bobs that someone had once thought might one day be useful, piled up against two of the walls. In the centre was a large, heavy, wooden work bench. Arthur placed the box on top of it.

‘Ready?’ he asked, rummaging about in a rusty toolbox and producing a hammer and chisel from it.

‘Only if you’re sure you know what you’re doing,’ said the cat, jumping up next to him.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you wanted to open it?’

‘I did! I do! I definitely did, for sure!’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I don’t know. What if it’s just not meant to be opened? Maybe there’s a reason that it fell into the lake and all those men came looking for it.’

Arthur frowned at him. Placing the sharp end of the chisel into the faint line, he picked up the hammer. ‘OK, here goes nothing,’ he said and struck it gently but firmly. When nothing happened, he struck it again a little bit harder.

‘I don’t get it. I’ve hit it twice and there’s not even a mark on it.’

‘See. That’s what I was saying. Maybe it’s not meant to be opened.’

‘No… not a chance! It just needs a bit more effort, that’s all.’

And raising the hammer high into the air, he brought it down with such an almighty whack that he lost his grip completely, allowing it to fly out of his hand, narrowly missing his head and ricocheting off the roof. The chisel, launching in an entirely different direction, embedded itself into the far wall with a loud cracking sound.

‘You okay?’ Arthur whispered, having thrown himself on to the floor.

‘I think my whiskers have gone grey,’ meowed the cat, poking his head around the corner of the wood pile in the corner.

‘Really?’

‘Could be. Shocks like that can definitely age a cat!’

Taking a deep breath, Arthur raised his head up to see what had happened to the box. But it was just sitting there in the middle of the work surface, exactly where he’d put it.

‘But how? That’s not possible. I hit it really hard—you saw me, right?!’

At that moment, the latch on the door rattled, followed by a loud banging.

‘Arthur! You open this door immediately, do you hear me?!’

‘O-o, Cat!’ he said. ‘Now we’re in for it.’

‘No, not me, my friend, I’m just an innocent cat. And don’t forget to hide the box!’

Quick as a flash, Arthur stuffed it into the little pack which he always took fishing with him and put the hammer back. Attempting to retrieve the chisel from the wall, he found that it was in too deep and was forced to leave it.

‘Arthur! Open this door right now!’

With a last look around, he straightened his T-shirt and unbarred the door.

His mother was even more cross with him than he’d expected. Not only because going into the tool shed was expressly forbidden; but also, because, as luck would have it, she also spotted the chisel. The fact that he couldn’t give her a reasonable explanation as to how it’d gotten there only made matters worse.

‘So, you’re telling me that you have no idea how that chisel came to be stuck so far into the side of the tool shed wall that it can’t even be pulled out?’

‘Yes, Mama… I must have fallen over, and it flew out of my hand, I guess.’

‘You <<guess>>?’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘And what were you doing with it in the first place?’

‘Trying to fix my backpack.’

‘Your backpack? With a chisel?’

‘Yes, well, I thought…’

‘Just you wait until Sasha hears about this. And what do you think your grandfather is going to say when he learns what you’ve done to his chisel, not to mention his tool shed. Again!’

‘I don’t know,’ said Arthur hanging his head, catching sight of the cat, who he was sure was grinning at him.

‘I don’t know, either! Now, get out of my sight while I decide what to do with you.’

And without needing to be told twice, Arthur grabbed his things and hurried back to the house.

‘So maybe you were right, Cat. Maybe it really can’t be opened,’ whispered Arthur, having crept up to the attic to avoid being seen.

‘A box that can’t be opened. It doesn’t sound very likely, or very useful, does it?’

‘What? You’ve gone and changed your tune.’

‘I never said it couldn’t be opened. I said that maybe we shouldn’t be trying to open it. Also, the more I think about the inscription on it, the more I think it sounds like a riddle.’

‘A riddle?’

‘Yep. And as you know, there’s nothing us cats love more than a good riddle. Especially when it’s raining and a small group of us have gotten together to pass the time.’

Arthur glanced at him in amazement.

‘What? Don’t tell me that you didn’t know that.’

‘Um, well I…’

‘See—just goes to show how much you don’t know about cats.’

‘Actually, I always thought that cats didn’t like each other much,’ said Arthur, recalling all the times he’d watched his cat seeing off the neighbours’ cat.

‘Ah well now, there’s an interesting theme for a discussion. I’m guessing that it also never occurred to you that we’ve had to come up with ways to amuse ourselves over the years? No offence intended of course, but you humans aren’t exactly the most interesting creatures to be around most of the time. I bet, for instance, you never knew that cats just adore theatre; re-enactments of legendary battles between cats and dragons, or the exploits of the great Catiators of Roman times. And yes, thats right, it was us cats who invented the whole gladiators idea and all that stuff. You just copied us as usual.’

Arthur stared at him, more than a bit confused.

‘Catiators? …So what about that big ginger next door, then?’

‘Fluffy? What about him?’

‘Fluffy? He’s not called Fluffy. He’s called Brutus.’

‘You call him Brutus, yes, but his name is actually Fluffy. Fine fellow, actually.’

‘Fluffy!’ repeated Arthur, trying not to laugh.

‘Sure, what else would it be?’

‘What, and he’s really your friend?’

‘Of course he is, and a very fine riddler, too.’

‘Woah! Hang on a second. If the cat next door is called Fluffy by other cats, what do they call you?’

‘That my dear fellow, I will never tell!’

‘Oh, come on! It can’t be that bad.’

‘No, it’s not at all bad, but it’s my business, and my name is private to me.’

‘Oh, come on, Cat. You can’t be serious. You’re really not going to tell me?’

‘Nope—not for all the roast chicken in China!’

‘Fine, suit yourself, then,’ Arthur said, not even trying to disguise how offended he felt at that moment. ‘I’m sure it’s very silly, anyway. I bet they call you Biffy, or Mini Mouse or something.’

‘Ha! Nice try, but no.’

‘Whatever, not that interested anyway.’

‘Yeah, sure you’re not.’

‘So, anyway, if you’re so good at riddles, what do you think this one means? “To open what is both known yet unknown, speak this word times three.”’

‘Well,’ replied the cat, stretching himself out full-length on the floor. ‘I didn’t exactly say that I was really good at them. I mean, I’m not bad, and now that you mention it, I’m pretty good, but not the best… No, probably not the best.’

‘Soooo?’

‘So, hold your horses. These things take time. I need to think about it.’

‘Oh, Cat!’

‘Arthur? Who <<are >>you talking to?’

His mother’s head had just appeared at the top of the stairs. She was still looking angry, her long dark hair tied back, only serving to emphasise her stern look even more.

‘Hmm?’ he asked, not having a clue how he was supposed to answer that.

‘I asked who you were talking to? The cat again, I suppose?’

‘I guess.’

‘Right, well, that settles it then. I’m going to call your friend Lizzy’s mother and invite them over at last. You’ve really been spending too much time running wild by yourself this summer. I always thought she was very sensible for her age.

‘Wild?’ he mumbled after she’d gone. All he ever did was go fishing at the lake. There was nothing wild about that. As for Lizzy though, well, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She was smart. She might even be able to help them figure out this box thing.

‘So, what about Lizzy, then?’ he whispered.

‘I know what you’re thinking, but we don’t need any help.’

‘But I thought you liked her? You always sit with her when she comes.’

‘That’s because she’s warm and scratches my ears very nicely. Which, incidentally, is something you could learn to do better. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and see a cat about a riddle.’

And getting up, Cat sauntered off in the direction of the stairs.