Arnie Jenks and the House of Strangers (3 page)

Emily ran fast. She was out through the kitchen and raced to the top of the stairs before Arnie managed to catch up with her.

‘What's happening! Where am I?' she whispered hoarsely, her face anxious, eyes manic.

‘You know where you are. Shabbington Hall.'

‘But the others. Where did they go?'

‘I…' said Arnie, searching himself for an answer, ‘I don't know. Maybe…they're still down there – but not
now
…you see I think…'

Emily wasn't listening. She had reached out to a table littered with dead flowers and was crushing the dry petals between her fingers. ‘I've never seen this here before and look! This passage – it's tiled red but…' she said, striking her shoe hard ‘…it's black slate now, and where's my linen cupboard? It should be right there.' She pointed to a shelf that was empty save for an old pot of paint and a pickle jar crammed with stiff brushes.

‘I think time's moved on and your cupboard with it,' Arnie said, scratching his head.

‘What do you mean “time”?'

Arnie took a deep breath. ‘Well, you might find this difficult to believe but I'm actually from 2014.'

‘
Two thousand and fourteen
?
'
Emily's eyes widened.

‘Yes.'

‘So you're
not
a guest visiting the young master of the house?'

‘No, and I don't think there
is
a young master anymore.'

Emily shook her head and blew her nose rapidly on a handkerchief she'd yanked out from under her sleeve.

‘If it wasn't for what I can see in front of my own eyes…' She inhaled sharply.

‘What is it?' said Arnie.

‘Are you a
devil
?' she looked at him accusingly.

‘Are
you
a ghost?' Arnie countered.

Emily tensed.

‘Look; I was just as much a stranger down there, as you are up here.'

She stifled a cry and clenched her fists. ‘No – what you say is not true at all. Everything is fine. I'm going back into the servants' hall to finish my supper and that's all there is to it,' she said defiantly, strutting off back down the steps.

Arnie folded his arms and waited. A minute or so later Emily re-emerged, her face paler than before.

‘It's either a simple trick or…it's a
very very
clever trick,' she struggled to say. ‘Is it down to you?'

Arnie half shook his head. ‘Not that I know of…'

‘I don't understand.'

‘Neither do I – how I've travelled back over a hundred years? And now you've done the same.

‘What?'

‘But forward. To my time in the twenty-first century. I think that's where we are.'

Emily frowned. ‘I can't believe it. It's impossible!'

‘I don't think it is.'

‘But my friends…' she looked achingly at Arnie for a hint of reassurance.

‘They probably think you have just nipped out for something. You'll be back before they notice!' he said, attempting to be cheerful.

Emily suddenly cupped her ear. ‘Shhhhhh!'

‘What?' said Arnie.

‘I heard something!'

Arnie leaned towards a window.

‘Can't see anything moving out there.'

‘No, it came from inside! Don't you hear it?'

Arnie shook his head. ‘It's probably the house snoring a bit – they do that during the night don't they?'

She waved him to be quiet. ‘Listen…'

‘Particularly when you're trying to get to sleep,' Arnie rambled on, ‘it must be really annoying – are you up in the attic? How many to a room? Bit of a squeeze is it?'

Emily slunk to the wall, turning her body inwards.

‘What are you doing?' he asked, unaware a tapping sound was softly creeping up behind him.

‘Master Jenks!' exclaimed Mr Silverthorne, brandishing his cane, ‘We've been searching everywhere for you. Lord Martlesham was convinced that you must have got away but I found this,' he said, lifting Arnie's schoolbag. ‘I was quite concerned.'

‘Oh, were you? Sorry, I should've come to find you,' Arnie bluffed. ‘I've been…looking around while waiting for my lift…so completely lost track of time!'

‘But you've seen outside. The snow?'

‘Yes!' he said quickly, leaning in front of Emily trying to block Mr Silverthorne's view. ‘I…was going to ask you about that.'

Mr Silverthorne edged forward and his eyes swept towards Emily who bunched up even tighter.

Arnie shrank back as he sensed Emily do the same.

‘Ah! You've found him then Silverthorne,' said a penetrating voice. Two more old men moved into view.

The first, short and round with a thick neck, puffed and wheezed, his chest straining the shirt under a black coat and tails. He held a silver tray bearing an array of pill bottles. A second man in a lounge suit and bright military tie pushed past him into the light and approached Arnie. He was tall and grand-looking with a neatly trimmed moustache and thin goatee beard that sandwiched a droopy lip revealing gaps in his bottom teeth.

‘So, this is the boy,' he continued.

‘Yes indeed,' said Mr Silverthorne, turning back to Arnie. ‘May I introduce to you Lord Alec Martlesham.'

‘Pleased to meet you Sir,' smiled Arnie nervously, as he risked a look towards Emily who they all seemed to ignore.

Lord Martlesham considered Arnie for a moment. ‘What's your name?'

‘Jenks.'

‘First?'

‘Arnie.'

‘Well, Arnie Jenks, fate has determined that you are to stay here until it is possible to leave. I trust you can see that?'

‘But can't you get me home?'

‘Certainly not tonight,' said Mr Silverthorne, drawing back a curtain.

‘Haven't you got a 4 x 4 with snow chains or something?'

‘I don't think we
do
as it happens,' said Lord Martlesham, stepping forward and scratching the edge of his beard with a bent finger.

Arnie looked at him a little desperately as Emily stifled a cough reminding him she was still there.

Lord Martlesham turned to address the man on his left.

‘Better make up a bed for the boy Towersee.'

‘The Ivory Room Sir?'

‘Is it the best we can offer?'

‘At least the windows all have glass in them still.'

‘Very well.'

‘Bed?' stuttered Arnie. ‘Do I really have to stay here?'

‘It is the only thing to do,' said Mr Silverthorne, ‘unless you fancy your chances out there,' he warned.

‘No one got a shovel?' Arnie said hoping, looking around.

‘Shovel!' grumbled Towersee, turning to leave. As he dragged himself towards the stairs, Arnie could hear the pills on his tray starting to rattle.

Lord Martlesham cocked his head and scrutinised Arnie, his eyes now very still.

‘We have never met before have we?'

‘I don't think so. I would have remembered.'

‘Mmmm. Just wondered, you remind me of someone. Any idea Silverthorne who I mean?'

‘No, your Lordship,' the solicitor said vaguely. ‘But I do know that it's getting late for us all.'

‘What? Oh, yes. I should be on my way up. Need my rest. Old bones…old bones…' And with a little sigh, he swivelled noiselessly on his heels and left. Arnie noticed his slippers were well worn.

As Lord Martlesham reached the turn that led into the hall, he called back. ‘I trust you will respect my house while you are our guest.'

‘Ah yes, sure.'

‘And try not to break anything.'

‘But…'

‘Because you'll have to pay for it if you do!'

Mr Silverthorne waggled his cane and leant in towards Arnie. ‘Don't say anything,' he confided. ‘His Lordship has a heart of gold really.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, really.' Mr Silverthorne offered a light smile.

Then Emily sneezed.

Arnie instinctively sneezed a split second later, trying to cover up for her.

Mr Silverthorne peered at him puzzled, ‘Are you quite all right? You look a little…wild.'

‘Ah – no…um…I really am…
just
…fine,' he said, looking from Mr Silverthorne to Emily and then back again.

‘I mean…you seemed a little
distracted
when we met just now, is there something on your mind?'

‘I was…um…' He paused, as Mr Silverthorne followed his look to Emily, who quietly quaked in plain view of them both. ‘…imagining a
burger.'

Mr Silverthorne's eyebrows arched like a bridge. ‘How peculiar…'

‘Yes – isn't it?' continued Arnie cheerily, ‘thought I might take a look in the kitchen to see what I could find.'

‘Nothing much I'd say,' sympathised the old man. ‘In the past there would have been some very reliable servants to make sure you never wanted for anything.'

‘Really?' Arnie rubbed his chin. ‘Well, that's quite a coincidence,' he said, flicking his eyes to Emily again. She was shaking her head commandingly.

Mr Silverthorne wrinkled his nose. ‘What is?'

‘Because…' he drawled, ‘…I've been mugging up on those who worked here…over the years…and…'

‘Ah – that's what you were talking to yourself about when I arrived just now.'

‘What was I saying?' said Arnie.

‘Something about people up in the attic…'

Emily could hardly bare to look at him.

‘Yes, that's what I meant,' said Arnie, trying to slip a careful wink to Emily who pressed her hands tight over her eyes.

‘Well, as you can see, the time when we had a houseful of staff who could whip up a ten course meal is long gone. Though we have a daily help who rustles up something delicious – very versatile.'

‘Ok, thanks,' said Arnie unimpressed. ‘I guess it'll be fine, I just about eat anything except…'

‘But sadly,' Mr Silverthorne continued, ‘I fear she is not going to make it back here until the weather improves.'

Arnie nodded as his tummy groaned and rumbled again.

‘Though Towersee might be able to put together some fish paste sandwiches! It's his speciality. Do you like mackerel?'

Arnie pulled a face and looked slightly sick.

‘Yes – well…look – I
do
know where there is a packet of rich tea biscuits, always a good standby in an emergency. I'll leave them in the Blue Room – you'll find it diagonally across from the hall stairs. Be a good place to rest up until you need your bed.'

Arnie nodded his thanks. Mr Silverthorne was about to go when Emily sneezed again. Mr Silverthorne turned back and slowly walked towards Arnie until he was a nose distance away.

‘Everything is all right, isn't it?' he said lightly, though his face displayed some concern.

‘Yes, I think so,' Arnie said innocently.

‘You sure?'

‘There is one thing…'

‘Yes?' wondered Mr Silverthorne.

‘I was just…thinking about the choice for my essay that's all; the one I was supposed to write while I was here…'

‘And what is that?'

‘The priest hole idea?'

‘Ah I see,' nodded Mr Silverthorne thoughtfully. ‘Well, you have all night to look for it I suppose. If one exists…'

Arnie looked at him with a vacant expression. ‘No help then,' he finally concluded.

Mr Silverthorne studied him carefully before returning a smile. ‘I'll be spending the night here also – so should you need me – first floor, second door on the left. The Ivory Room, where you'll be sleeping is directly above mine.'

‘Ok,' nodded Arnie.

‘Good hunting then.' Mr Silverthorne gathered himself and headed off into the soupy night air. ‘And be sure not to go to bed too late.'

As soon as the click-clack of Mr Silverthorne's cane had faded, Emily broke away from the wall.

‘Why did they ignore me? They said nothing!' she whispered, as if still frightened of being overheard.

‘I don't know,' Arnie said, trying to work it out. ‘They must have seen you there – you had no way of hiding.'

Emily turned to him. ‘Arnie, what was it he, Mr Silverthorne, said to you after the others had gone?'

‘That there was no chance of any decent tuck.'

‘No, not that,' said Emily, thinking hard.

‘Um…I'm not sure,' said Arnie unhelpfully.

‘I remember!' she said convinced. ‘He said you were “talking to yourself”, not
who
were you talking to. He couldn't
hear me! Or
see
me either!'

‘So what's all that about?' said Arnie, slightly confused. ‘You're not
really
a ghost are you?'

Emily smiled, ‘No more than you're a devil.' Then she stepped closer to Arnie and softened her voice.

‘What?'

‘If I'm invisible to them – why aren't I to you?'

‘Perhaps because I caused you to stay?' guessed Arnie. ‘When we ended up on the floor together.'

‘And why? Company?' suggested Emily.

‘Maybe,' said Arnie. ‘It's a bit lonely here. Be nice to have someone to talk to.'

Emily shrugged her shoulders. ‘I'd rather go home!'

‘I don't know how to fix that,' he said.

She sighed and looked back along the passageway. ‘I suppose there is only one thing we can do.'

‘What's that?' said Arnie.

‘Wait.'

‘Till we can get you back?' he tried optimistically.

‘Or something else happens!' shivered Emily, rubbing her arms.

‘Come on,' said Arnie upbeat. ‘Let's go and find those biscuits. I'm starving.'

*

Arnie and Emily sat opposite each other on two long sofas that divided the Blue Room along the middle, munching on the snack which as promised, Mr Silverthorne had delivered.

‘Want another?'

‘No, ta – one was quite enough,' said Emily, brushing some crumbs away out of the folds of her dress and looking out towards the hall.

‘They are a bit boring aren't they – shame he didn't have any Jaffa Cakes you'd love them. Orange and sponge – terrific!'

‘I know you're trying to take my mind off things,' Emily smiled weakly, ‘but I'm all right really. Everything just feels a little unreal at the moment – I'm sure I'll get used to it,' she said unconvincingly. Emily then noticed Arnie's iPod abandoned on a cushion beside him and leant over to pick it up.

‘What does it do?' she said, twisting it over and over.

‘Plays music.'

‘Like an organ grinder does?'

‘Ah…nope. Not really,' said Arnie truthfully. ‘I have over 1000 tracks…um…“songs” in there, all at the touch of a button and can download…um…“add” hundreds more whenever I can afford to buy them. Which most of the time I can't.'

‘I don't understand. All those sounds packed into a small tin box like this? How do you get them in?'

‘From iTunes. Or from mates.'

Emily gave him a look.

‘Don't they get muddled up with each other?' she said.

Arnie watched Emily try to prise it open. As her fingers dabbled with the device, it sprang into life pumping out a blast of sound. Emily dropped the iPod like a hot potato.

Arnie offered her an earpiece and together they shared a sample of Arnie's taste in music before, frowning disapprovingly, she handed it back to him.

‘You listen to that?' she queried, amazed.

‘Only when I'm meant to be working – it helps me concentrate.'

‘But it's very…
loud
. Doesn't it give you a headache?'

‘Nope,' Arnie shrugged, as he turned it off.

‘I'd prefer to sit in the park and hear the band play,' she said. ‘Don't you do that?'

He shook his head. ‘No. Not really.'

‘But why would you want such a thing?' she asked.

‘It solves one problem.'

‘What's that?'

‘My CD's can't get scratched anymore once they're on this,' he said grinning.

‘What are CDs?' said Emily sweetly.

‘Never mind about them,' said Arnie, ‘You just keep with the band for now.'

Emily sighed and looked around the room. ‘I should be doing something,' she said restlessly, before spotting the hearth with its few paltry logs and knobbly chunks of coal. She wandered over to inspect it and knelt down.

‘Did that man really mean what he said about the servants leaving?'

‘Mr Silverthorne? Yes I think so.'

‘Horrible to think that I wouldn't have a job now.'

‘Well, you could always work in a bank or drive a train if you wanted.'

Emily looked at him. ‘How could I possibly do that? It's man's work.'

‘Ah yeah – you haven't come across the Suffragettes then?' he said.

‘No I haven't. Are they from round here?'

‘Don't worry Emily. It's something that hasn't happened for you yet. But when it does – it will start to change the way you live.'

She shook her head as she started preparing the fire. ‘I don't want change. I like things as they are. “Everyone knows their place and everything in place”. That's what Mr Dawson has taught us. Sounds right enough.'

Arnie watched her work.

‘Have you seen the shovel and tongs?'

‘No, sorry,' Arnie mumbled, thinking about what she had said.

‘I can at least try and get us warm,' said Emily purposefully, finding a poker lying to one side. She scraped the back of the fireplace and a little soot drifted down.

‘I can see that I'm
definitely
in another time – this was last made by someone very inexperienced! Never would have lasted in my day!'

Emily built a tidy pile at the back of the grate with shreds of paper, that she found plugging a hole in the skirting board, before topping it off with scraps of kindling wood in the shape of a wigwam.

‘Where do you come from?' said Arnie.

‘Here of course,' she said, rubbing a piece of coal with her thumb.

‘No – before,' he said, ‘which town?'

‘Martlesham. My father is the butcher…or was…' and she sniffed, looking away for a moment. ‘They'll all be long dead now.'

‘But they'll be alive when you get back,' he said cheerily, trying his best to lift her mood.

Emily nodded, wiping away a tear. ‘Course they will. I know that,' and picking up a box of matches struck one, lending it to the paper mountain.

‘You and your aunt,' she said thoughtfully, ‘do you live with her?'

‘No, but she's not far from us – me and my dad.'

Emily turned round.

‘No mother?'

‘She died a few years ago – quite suddenly.'

‘I am sorry Arnie,' she said sympathetically. He noted that this was the first time she had called him by his name.

‘Don't worry,' he said wistfully. ‘It's ok – I've got used to her not being around.'

Emily looked back to the fireplace and blew a little on the baby flames.

‘I'm not sure I believe you – you must miss her a lot…'

‘I do, but she's gone now – and there's nothing I can do about it.'

Emily looked glum.

‘I've gotta look out for Dad,' Arnie continued, ‘he's the one who misses her most…'

‘No sisters or brothers?'

‘No. Little orphan Arnie – that's what it feels like sometimes. Dad's great – but…'

‘What?'

‘I think he must feel quite alone too. I often see him staring out of the window. Wonder what he might be thinking…'

‘Silent type eh?'

‘Mmmm,' Arnie sighed. ‘Do you mind if we don't talk about this anymore?'

‘I'm sorry Arnie – I didn't mean to pick spots…'

‘It's fine. I just want to forget about it while I'm here.'

Emily turned back to the grate and stoked the smoking coal.

‘You could have a little lie down while I get this going properly – we'll soon be ever so nice and cosy.'

Emily watched him lean back and relax. A single tear ran down his cheek.

Within a few minutes the fire was crackling heartily and as he sunk deeper into the sofa he could still hear her murmuring while she gently fanned the flames.

*

He had no idea how long he had been asleep before something caused him to wake. He sat bolt upright – his eyes shining bright.