A Raucous Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) Read online

  ‘The book – they didn’t find it.’ Rhyllann looked at him in astonishment.

  ‘Sod the book – why didn’t they find us?’

  ‘Dunno. Maybe he convinced himself we weren’t up here?’

  That kinda made sense. ‘Come on.’ He nudged Wren.

  ‘No. He’s still there. And that copper Rodgers – you heard him.’ Wren continued to speak in a whisper.

  ‘He isn’t there – it’s your imagination.’

  ‘Hi sweetheart. It's me.’ Crombie said.

  Rhyllann’s heart stopped.

  ‘Yeh – just phoning to say it looks like an all nighter. Listen, I need a favour. I’ve gotta get up to Yorkshire, then maybe Scotland. You know what tomorrow is. Will you go for me? Take some flowers maybe?’

  Crombie paused again. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry love. I know you think it’s a waste of time, but it means a lot to me.’ He paused. ‘And him. Just write “Tigger” on the card.’

  Rhyllann decided he must be talking about a graveside visit. Or more likely a memorial plaque.

  ‘Thanks love. I’ll call later to say goodnight to the girls.’

  Silence descended again. Rhyllann was just about to make a move when Crombie started talking to him.

  ‘Rhyllann Rhyllann Rhyllann. Where are you son? Why couldn’t you trust me?’

  Less than four feet above Crombie's head, Rhyllann snorted. Wren squeezed his arm in sympathy.

  At last Crombie heaved a sigh, then tramped downstairs. They heard him re-issuing orders to Rodgers, then he was gone.

  ‘Phew.’ Wren stretched his legs out, then arched his back looking blissful.

  Rhyllann still fumed. ‘Did you hear him? Did you hear what he said about my mum – your mum? The bastard!’

  It hadn’t been so much what Crombie had said, but the contempt in his voice.

  ‘He doesn’t understand Annie. Don’t worry, he’s just an ignorant copper.’

  Rhyllann dropped his head on his hands, propped his elbows on his knees and brooded.

  ‘Yeh. You’re right. I’ll show him.’

  ‘How long d’you reckon we should stay up here?’

  ‘Wait till the carpenter’s been. Best.'

  The water tank gurgled, warm and comforting. Slumping against its soft lagging Rhyllann tried to blink away the grit in his eyes and somehow fell asleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  'It isn’t there.’

  Rhyllann jumped, slamming down the photo-copier lid.

  ‘Brawd! You scared me. Why didn’t you wake me up?’

  He wandered over to where Wren sat at an office desk, flurries of dust motes swirling in his wake.

  ‘Where is it?’ Rhyllann asked, rifling through the paperwork swamping the desk surface.

  ‘I told you – it’s gone. One of those coppers must’ve found it.’

  Pins and needles prickled in his foot, his head felt muggy, he wanted to shred his skin to pieces and he stank. Rhyllann just wasn’t in the mood.

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘I don’t have it. I’m damn sure you haven’t taken it. One of Crombie’s lot must’ve found it. In the photocopier.’ Wren sounded unconcerned.

  Rhyllann sat down on the floor, rubbing at his tingling foot, resisting the urge to dig at his skin.

  His head swam as he tried to work this one out. Had Crombie known they were there all along? Had Rodgers pretended not to see them? Were they playing an elaborate hoax? Still crouching on the stairs, giggling, ready to jump out with a “SURPRISE!”

  Rhyllann shook his head. That was Wren think.

  ‘But who? Why? …that doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve managed to make out the hidden message. I know where we need to go.’

  Rhyllann raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Wales.’

  Wren might as well have said the moon. Rhyllann stood up to peer over Wren's skinny shoulder. He’d outlined several words on the photocopies. On a separate sheet of paper was written: Noon. Equinox. Standing stone. Taffy’s Folly. Rhyllann read them again, then a third time. It still made no sense.

  ‘What’s with all the scribble?’

  Wren indicated a block of letters, pointing with ink stained fingers: ‘We were right! A simple alphabet code. See?’ He grinned. Rhyllann didn’t, but kept his mouth shut, fearing a full blown explanation would follow.

  ‘And these words spelled out. Makes sense really. I mean – unless the sun dropped out the sky, or someone moved the monolith.’ Pause. ‘Or changed the equinox.’ Wren giggled at the thought.

  Rhyllann thumped him. ‘Stop talking in riddles. Please.’

  ‘On either equinox, the standing stone known as Taffy’s Folly will cast a shadow. A particular shadow cast by the sun at equinox at noon.’

  ‘Right. When’s the equinox again?’

  ‘Rhyllann! The earth tilts as it rotates, so the angle of sunlight alters by degrees every twenty four hours. Well, every twenty three hours and fifty odd minutes.’ Wren added quickly, ending on a gasp. ‘Spring equinox was four months ago – your birthday actually. All we have to do is locate Taffy’s Folly, see where the shadow falls, count backwards – or forwards – and adjust the angle.’

  ‘Can’t we just wait for the next equinox?’ Rhyllann asked.

  ‘No. It’s two months away. Someone’s got Joan’s book. They could be working on this code right now!’

  Surveying the messy workings out, tables crossed through, letters ticked off, exclamation marks and what appeared to be maths formula, Rhyllann silently wished them luck.

  ‘Where’s Taffy’s Folly?’

  ‘I just told you. In Wales.’

  ‘Wales isn’t that small. Whereabouts?’

  Wren started doodling, refusing to met his eyes.

  ‘You don’t know do you?’

  ‘We can go to the library. Google. Google earth.’ Still Wren wouldn’t look up. A lead weight settled in Rhyllann's stomach. ‘Taffy’s Folly. Are you sure it’s in Wales?’

  ‘Pretty sure.’

  Christ! Rhyllann headed for the toilets. He wanted a steaming mug of strong coffee, a hot shower and clean clothes. He had to make do with a basin of warmish water and a squirt of washing up liquid. No wonder Rodgers had missed them. They were camouflaged head to toe in dust.

  Dabbling a corner of an old tea-towel into the water, wrinkling his nose, Rhyllann began sponging; allowing his thoughts to wander. The kitchen overlooked the main street, he watched the early morning traffic, people wandering into shops, people emerging from ‘Mail Boxes R Us’. He smiled at the genius of old man Stern, remembering the look on the guy’s face as he and Wren waltzed out the shop, with probably the most valuable book in the country. That's when the sledgehammer hit him, wiping the smile off his face.

  Still clutching the tea towel Rhyllann banged into the main office in time to catch Wren chucking a handful of painkillers down his throat. He paused then swallowed hard.

  ‘What?’ The fierceness in Wren's voice confirmed Rhyllann’s suspicions.

  ‘You lying cheating…’ Words failed him and he spluttered helplessly before spitting out: ‘You. Lied. To me!’ The betrayal finally named, Rhyllann flew across the office, grabbing at the chair arms, swivelling Wren around, pinning him down.

  Wren glared up at him. ‘I didn’t lie.’

  Bright red spots danced in front of Rhyllann’s eyes; grabbing Wren by the shoulders he dragged him upright and shook him so hard his head snapped back.

  ‘You liar. You filth! You lied then. You’re lying now!’ Specks of spittle flew from him. Wren cringed, raising his arms in a pathetic attempt to shield his face. Disgust rippled through Rhyllann and he dropped his hands; throwing the towel to the floor.

  ‘I’m finished. I’m outta here.’

  ‘Annie please.’

  Rhyllann didn’t falter, pushing against the main doors, then tugging them open.

  ‘Annie; don’t do this.’

  And he h
ad to turn his head.

  ‘Please Annie, please don’t leave me.’ Balanced on his crutch, leaning against the desk Wren looked like the loneliest person in the world.

  ‘You’re all I’ve got.’

  Snarling, Rhyllann stalked back. ‘I’ll listen to what you have to say. You don’t lie though. Not to me. You tell me everything. Then I swear down I’m getting hold of Crombie. No more games brawd. No more games.’

  Trembling; with downcast eyes Wren lowered himself back into the captain’s chair. ‘How did you know?’

  Rhyllann snorted. ‘I might be a lot slower than you, but I get there in the end. Mike Stern didn’t post that diary to himself. You. It was you. You stole it!’

  He blinked away the red spots this time, feeling his blood flame, then run cold at the danger Wren had put them all in.

  ‘Those … those thugs! They thought Stern had the book. You knew they’d come looking for it. You knew!’ Rhyllann shouted, sweat breaking out on his palms. ‘Why didn’t you tell them? You could have stopped all this!’

  Wren’s hands crept over his. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. You’re right. I didn’t … I never meant for gran to get hurt. I thought they might come round. I … I thought once they realised I didn’t have the diary …’

  Rhyllann ripped his hands away; ‘You thought you could fob them off with me didn’t you? Didn’t you?!’ He raised his voice to a whine:

  ‘Oh please Mr. Nasty guy, please don’t hurt me. I don’t know where the diary is, but my notebook’s round my cousin’s house. You were going to …’

  ‘No! Don’t think that! I’d never …’

  ‘Shut up! I’m talking! Crombie warned me not to trust you! You were gonna hang me out, just drop me in it. Like you dropped Mike Stern, like you dropped ...’

  Wren exploded, his normal serenity replaced by fury. ‘Stop it. Just shut up for five minutes! Do you think I wanted this? Do you?’

  Stunned into silence Rhyllann waited.

  ‘You have no idea. No idea.’

  ‘So tell me.’ The words hissed from him and he clamped his lips over his teeth tightly.

  After a long moment Wren spoke.

  ‘Like I told you. Mike had about fifty books to transcribe. Eight of them in Welsh. I started translating them.’ His face glowed suddenly. ‘Can you imagine how I felt … The third book I picked up …’ He bit his lip, shaking his head at the wonderment. ‘I didn’t realise; not at first … but as I read on it became clear, so clear. And I didn’t know what to do Annie. I didn’t know who to trust.’ He was trembling again, and Rhyllann felt the familiar pity.

  ‘Why didn’t you …?’

  ‘Tell you?’ Wren smiled. ‘I wish I had. I wish to hell and back I’d spoken to you first. Believe me.’

  For some reason, almost against his will, Rhyllann smiled back.

  ‘Anyhow, maybe I panicked. Maybe I thought …’ Wren broke off shaking his head again. ‘I replaced two of the Welsh books with Latin texts. I hid one in Stern’s house as a decoy. The other – Joan’s book – I posted to myself.’ He frowned. ‘But they were smarter – or didn’t trust Stern – they kept records … when they received two extra Latin books … they realised something had been taken.’

  ‘But why go to all this trouble? How did they know it was so valuable? I mean – even old man Stern didn’t recognise the language.

  Tears stood in Wren’s eyes.

  Rhyllann groaned. ‘You told Stern.’ He groaned again. ‘And Stern went back for more money.’

  Wren started babbling. ‘Mike never believed in the treasure. He taunted them with it. He actually told them that the diary explained where she’d hidden the treasure. But he never really believed. When I realised that they knew …’ Wren's head dropped again.

  ‘You’re right. I planted my notebook on you as a double decoy. But Annie, I swear to god. I was going to tell them …I never thought the old man would be – his own son for god's sake! I knew they'd be round, I thought I could reason with them, we’d drive round your house – you’d be cross – but hand over my notebook with the phoney map and everyone would go off happy.’

  Rhyllann buried his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes hard. Pushing himself off the desk, he stumbled towards the door again. With startling speed Wren was at his side, spinning him around. Rhyllann shoved hard; Wren buckled, clutching at him; for a second they were both off balance and they crashed to the floor, this time Wren pinned him down with surprising strength.

  ‘Where are you going? Don’t you get it? You heard what Crombie said … It worked Annie! The plan worked. Stern’s Brotherhood are in Scotland. The cops don’t know where to start looking. We’ve got a clear run.’ Blue eyes glowered down, inches from his own. ‘Do you really want to crawl back to Crombie … put up with Robinson’s sniping for another two years? Do you?’ He shifted allowing them both to sit up.

  ‘Is that what you want? Everyone laughing at us? Whispering behind our backs? There’s the door. I can’t stop you.’ Wren pointed back to his notes, jabbing his finger for emphasis. ‘We’ve done the hard part. Gran’s in hospital. Mike … well … Mike’s dead. Your mum’s about to get caught red handed. My mum … she’s lost parole … you almost got a criminal record. I never meant for all this to happen. But it has. Are you really gonna let it all be for nothing?’ Cupping his hand, he pinched an imaginary wafer.

  ‘That close Annie. We’re that close.’

  The fight drained from Rhyllann. He couldn’t argue anymore. Pushing himself upright, he stumbled away again, this time to the kitchen doors. Again he paused, swinging his head round.

  ‘Come on. We need to get cleaned up and outta here before Crombie comes sniffing round again.’

  And Wren’s face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wren had been wrong. Taffy’s Folly stood on Bodmin Moor, in Cornwall. Not quite the moon, but almost Land’s End. Thank God for Google, Rhyllann thought. A little part of his mind noted the latitude and longitude as he murmured to himself.

  “Taffy’s Folly. This impressive monolith is supposedly haunted by the spirit of a lady in exile. According to legend, she watches from this vantage point, longing for her husband to realise that the whispers against her honour are without truth, and ride to her rescue. Some speculate the lady in question is Gwenivere, awaiting King Arthur.”

  Wren dug him in the ribs. ‘Joan. Waiting for Llwellynn! Finished?’ Without waiting for a reply, he googled travel information.

  ‘Grief – Look at the train fares – We’ve only got eighty quid left. We’ll have to go by coach.’

  ‘Keep your voice down!’ Rhyllann glanced around the library, his gaze skirting the group of pensioners noisily playing cards. The flat screen telly caught his attention. 24 hour news played silently. Rhyllann watched idly, then froze as an image of gran’s swollen face filled the screen.

  ‘Jesus – Wren!’

  ‘If only we had a credit card – 10 per cent off for on line bookings.’

  Rhyllann thumped him. ‘Look!’

  Wren’s head jerked up – in time to catch his own face being replaced by Rhyllann looking angelic for once in the annual school photo. He read outloud from the subtitles.

  ‘Police have taken the unusual step of issuing photographs of two school children they are anxious to trace. Oh my god. Annie.’

  Earlier, buoyed up by his success, Wren had taken charge again. Using nail scissors he hacked at Rhyllann’s hair, ignoring the protests. Water and dust combined to make their hair spike up in a nod to fashion. Wren’s had turned a reddish blond, Rhyllann’s a dull brown. Wren insisted on cutting through the plaster cast on his foot, and dumping the crutch saying that air cushioned trainers would be just as supportive. Some second hand clothes from Oxfam added to their altered appearance. Taking a tube train to the end of the line, they found themselves in the genteel suburb of Ruislip. Now Wren crumpled. This wasn’t fair. Rhyllann yanked him from the computer station.r />
  ‘C’mon. Quick.’

  They were on the run again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Call Crombie. Let’s turn ourselves in.’ Wren had started limping again.

  A vision of Crombie’s crocodile smile prompted Rhyllann to snort.

  'No way. You sit here. I’ll get us something to eat. You’ll come up with a plan. I know you can do it.’ he spoke positively. Adding ‘You’ve done the hard part!’

  They were at a crematorium on the outskirts of town. Rhyllann left Wren in the park like cemetery to jog back to a garage they’d passed earlier. His neck felt naked and exposed; in somebody else’s discarded clothes he felt less Rhyllannish. He’d shed a skin. It felt strange, a little frightening, but exhilarating too.

  The garage perched at the top of a steep hill. Rhyllann stocked up with sandwiches, snacks and drinks. On impulse, he pulled a map of the British Isles from a bargain bin, thinking it might come in handy. At least it was down hill from here. He paused to admire the view. The town lay behind him; in front, fields and woodlands. He let go a whoop as he recognised the landscape. Shouldering his bag, he sprinted back down the hill to Wren.

  ‘Sorry Annie – I’ve been wracking my brains – but I just can’t come up with anything. Apart from walking.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘We might get there for the autumn equinox!’

  Rhyllann handed over a sandwich, peeling another from its pouch for himself, dancing from foot to foot.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got it. I am a genius.’

  Flopping on the grass next to Wren, he explained his plan between mouthfuls.

  Wren stared at him. ‘You think we can just walk into Denman aerodrome, and steal a plane? Are you mad? Did you keep your brains in your hair?’

  Rhyllann grinned: Just the reaction he’d expected. Not everyone could share his vision.

  ‘Yep. It’s a banging idea! I am a genius!’ And set to work convincing Wren that gaining his blue wings on a cadets’ gliding course qualified him to pilot a plane into Cornwall.