long-ticking investment finally paid off with an unexpected gush of green. That was the beginning of the magic, providing the family with the money to escape from London and their mire of personal problems.
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘It’s about freedom.’
Tatum took the cheques and proofread them. There was an extra among them.
‘Veronica Gorse?’ Tatum asked.
‘Kirsty made her a partner.’
‘On what investment?’
‘Not money. She was supposed to be the keen eye for treasure. She put the “odd” in Oddments.’
‘I can’t believe you’re paying her off. After everything. Gorse has no legal claim. She’s lucky you don’t start proceedings against her.’
‘It’s worth it never to have to deal with the mad creature again.’
His PA shrugged. At one point, Steven had seriously suspected the muggers who attacked Tatum and Marco were Vron’s flying monkeys. They hadn’t taken anything, just thumped and run.
With the cheque written, Steven felt another stone was removed from his cairn. He would tell Kirsty later, tactfully. It was over and done. She had new interests now.
Tatum looked around the room again and shivered inside her shoulder pads.
‘I hope this is what you really want, Steven,’ she said. ‘I really do.’
‘Oh, it is, Tate. It really really is.’
* * *
I n the Hollow, Tim never missed with the catapult. He could bring down an apple with a pebble. Merits for its use within the boundaries no longer awarded. When he took position on the ditch-bank and fired over the border, aiming at a patch of marsh-grass or a gate-post a field away, the shot usually went wild. But, if he turned round and picked out a particular tile on the roof of the taller tower, just above his own bedroom window, a tile he knew was there but couldn’t see from this far away, he could clip it dead centre and check later to see the rough chip raised by the impact of the stone.
He called his catapult the U-Dub, for UW. Ultimate Weapon.
He did not fire at birds or squirrels or even insects. That, he knew, was not in the rules of engagement. The U-Dub was not a first-strike weapon. It was for defence. If a bird came at him with claws and beak out for his eyes, it would be a go to put a stone into it. But the birds of the Hollow weren’t hostiles.
Still, he felt safer with a strong defence capability.
* * *
T hey sat, all four Naremores, at the long table, empty plates pushed away. Kirsty plunged the cafetiere and poured out cups of coffee, half and half with warm milk for Tim, midnight black for the rest of them. Jordan took a chocolate biscuit with hers. Six months ago, that would have been a miracle on a par with Weezie’s chest of drawers. It was magic hour, the sun nearly down but the sky still light. Shadows took a long time to gather in the Summer Room.
For minutes, no one said anything. The family were together, just enjoying that.
Finally, Tim asked, ‘Is the Hollow haunted?’
It was the first time any of them had used the word out loud.
Jordan looked eagerly at Kirsty and Steven. She had something to say, but didn’t want to go first.
Kirsty knew it was time to talk.
‘Yes, my darling,’ she said. ‘I think it is.’
‘Then why aren’t I frightened?’
That was the question.
‘I don’t think the Hollow is haunted that way,’ said Steven. ‘The mystery collection is enough to convince anyone this is no ordinary house, but it’s not like haunted houses in books and films. Those are bad places, where terrible things happened. You know, built on a cursed Indian burial ground, an unavenged murder victim walled up in the cellar. If there are ghosts here, they aren’t haunting us. It’s as if they’re sharing. Is there an opposite of
haunted
?’
‘Un-haunted?’ suggested Jordan. ‘Blessed?’
‘What about
charmed
?’ ventured Kirsty.
Steven was taken with that.
‘Yes, Tim… Mum’s right. This is a
charmed
house, a happy house. Good things have happened
‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘It’s about freedom.’
Tatum took the cheques and proofread them. There was an extra among them.
‘Veronica Gorse?’ Tatum asked.
‘Kirsty made her a partner.’
‘On what investment?’
‘Not money. She was supposed to be the keen eye for treasure. She put the “odd” in Oddments.’
‘I can’t believe you’re paying her off. After everything. Gorse has no legal claim. She’s lucky you don’t start proceedings against her.’
‘It’s worth it never to have to deal with the mad creature again.’
His PA shrugged. At one point, Steven had seriously suspected the muggers who attacked Tatum and Marco were Vron’s flying monkeys. They hadn’t taken anything, just thumped and run.
With the cheque written, Steven felt another stone was removed from his cairn. He would tell Kirsty later, tactfully. It was over and done. She had new interests now.
Tatum looked around the room again and shivered inside her shoulder pads.
‘I hope this is what you really want, Steven,’ she said. ‘I really do.’
‘Oh, it is, Tate. It really really is.’
* * *
I n the Hollow, Tim never missed with the catapult. He could bring down an apple with a pebble. Merits for its use within the boundaries no longer awarded. When he took position on the ditch-bank and fired over the border, aiming at a patch of marsh-grass or a gate-post a field away, the shot usually went wild. But, if he turned round and picked out a particular tile on the roof of the taller tower, just above his own bedroom window, a tile he knew was there but couldn’t see from this far away, he could clip it dead centre and check later to see the rough chip raised by the impact of the stone.
He called his catapult the U-Dub, for UW. Ultimate Weapon.
He did not fire at birds or squirrels or even insects. That, he knew, was not in the rules of engagement. The U-Dub was not a first-strike weapon. It was for defence. If a bird came at him with claws and beak out for his eyes, it would be a go to put a stone into it. But the birds of the Hollow weren’t hostiles.
Still, he felt safer with a strong defence capability.
* * *
T hey sat, all four Naremores, at the long table, empty plates pushed away. Kirsty plunged the cafetiere and poured out cups of coffee, half and half with warm milk for Tim, midnight black for the rest of them. Jordan took a chocolate biscuit with hers. Six months ago, that would have been a miracle on a par with Weezie’s chest of drawers. It was magic hour, the sun nearly down but the sky still light. Shadows took a long time to gather in the Summer Room.
For minutes, no one said anything. The family were together, just enjoying that.
Finally, Tim asked, ‘Is the Hollow haunted?’
It was the first time any of them had used the word out loud.
Jordan looked eagerly at Kirsty and Steven. She had something to say, but didn’t want to go first.
Kirsty knew it was time to talk.
‘Yes, my darling,’ she said. ‘I think it is.’
‘Then why aren’t I frightened?’
That was the question.
‘I don’t think the Hollow is haunted that way,’ said Steven. ‘The mystery collection is enough to convince anyone this is no ordinary house, but it’s not like haunted houses in books and films. Those are bad places, where terrible things happened. You know, built on a cursed Indian burial ground, an unavenged murder victim walled up in the cellar. If there are ghosts here, they aren’t haunting us. It’s as if they’re sharing. Is there an opposite of
haunted
?’
‘Un-haunted?’ suggested Jordan. ‘Blessed?’
‘What about
charmed
?’ ventured Kirsty.
Steven was taken with that.
‘Yes, Tim… Mum’s right. This is a
charmed
house, a happy house. Good things have happened
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