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Authors: T.A. Donnelly
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people who looked very like Arthur. Iona realised it couldn’t be him when she saw an article more than fifty years old that had a picture of a man (also‘Arthur’) who looked older than her Arthur did now.
“Must be Arthur Senior,”Iona whispered aloud.
The pictures all had Arthur look-alikes; some young, some old. Iona could not tell which were of the man she knew and which were of his relatives.
When Iona opened the cutlery drawer she found it full of documents and identity cards in a variety of names spanning over a hundred years. There was a yellowing card spotted with mould that read,‘This is to certify that Arthur Turpin-Richards, Undertaker, has been registered under the National Registration Act 1915.’ There was‘Carte D’Identité’with a small photo of a man who looked exactly as Arthur did today, and at least a dozen passports.
Iona looked in the other cupboards and found a collection of old coins and bank notes, a hand-written pile of papers with the title page,“ Bleak House by Charles Dickens”and two old-fashioned flint-lock pistols.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clock-watching
Tiggy Ward looked at the clock for the sixth time in five minutes. It was six-thirty. Iona had not been back for lunch, and now she was late for dinner. Her mobile was switched off.
Tiggy wondered where Iona had been all day. It was a safe bet that she had not been visiting museums and art galleries. Her friends had been in school for most of the day. Maybe she had gone to see one of them after school.
Tiggy stood biting her nails and watching the clock. Another hour passed. Once her last fingernail was as short as it could get she decided she would telephone one of Iona's friends.
Iona’s best friend had gone missing on a school trip to Ireland a year before. Since then Iona did not seem to have made any close friendships; at least none that Tiggy knew about.
The only friend of her daughter’s she had met recently was a girl called‘Dusk,’who had come to dinner about a month ago.
Tiggy climbed the stairs to Iona’s bedroom and searched through the mess for her address book.
When she finally found it (under a pile of dirty laundry and crumpled Tarot cards) she sat on the dyed black sheets of her daughter’s bed and called Dusk’s number.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Revelations
After ten minutes of exploring Arthur’s flat Iona finally located the source of the smell. It was a door at the end of the hallway.
Her imagination ran riot, placing untold horrors behind the grubby door. Excrement and decaying corpses filled her mind as her trembling hand turning the handle.
It was just a toilet.
The water had dried up in the bowl. Iona realised that with nothing in the‘U-bend’the smell could rise from the sewers. Iona experimentally pulled the flush chain. It was rusted and it snapped, but not before allowing the toilet bowl to fill with water and the smell to ease a little. However, the stench was so all-pervasive that it would take some time to clear completely.
With a relieved sigh Iona started back towards the main room to open some windows, and stopped dead in her tracks.
“Arthur!” Iona was startled to find Arthur sitting on the chair in the same room.
“I’m…”Iona was not sure how to justify her presence, uninvited, in Arthur’s strange flat. Then she remembered she was here because he had failed to turn up for his job, leaving her, a fourteen-year-old girl, to take his place.
“Where were you?”
“I was here all along.”
“No you weren’t, but that’s not what I meant. Where were you today? Your walk?”
Arthur sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck. The movement of his collar allowed Iona another glimpse of the strange red mark around his throat that she had noticed the first time they’d met. “Oh yes, William will be cross. But it doesn’t matter, it’s time for me to move on.”
Iona wanted to
“Must be Arthur Senior,”Iona whispered aloud.
The pictures all had Arthur look-alikes; some young, some old. Iona could not tell which were of the man she knew and which were of his relatives.
When Iona opened the cutlery drawer she found it full of documents and identity cards in a variety of names spanning over a hundred years. There was a yellowing card spotted with mould that read,‘This is to certify that Arthur Turpin-Richards, Undertaker, has been registered under the National Registration Act 1915.’ There was‘Carte D’Identité’with a small photo of a man who looked exactly as Arthur did today, and at least a dozen passports.
Iona looked in the other cupboards and found a collection of old coins and bank notes, a hand-written pile of papers with the title page,“ Bleak House by Charles Dickens”and two old-fashioned flint-lock pistols.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clock-watching
Tiggy Ward looked at the clock for the sixth time in five minutes. It was six-thirty. Iona had not been back for lunch, and now she was late for dinner. Her mobile was switched off.
Tiggy wondered where Iona had been all day. It was a safe bet that she had not been visiting museums and art galleries. Her friends had been in school for most of the day. Maybe she had gone to see one of them after school.
Tiggy stood biting her nails and watching the clock. Another hour passed. Once her last fingernail was as short as it could get she decided she would telephone one of Iona's friends.
Iona’s best friend had gone missing on a school trip to Ireland a year before. Since then Iona did not seem to have made any close friendships; at least none that Tiggy knew about.
The only friend of her daughter’s she had met recently was a girl called‘Dusk,’who had come to dinner about a month ago.
Tiggy climbed the stairs to Iona’s bedroom and searched through the mess for her address book.
When she finally found it (under a pile of dirty laundry and crumpled Tarot cards) she sat on the dyed black sheets of her daughter’s bed and called Dusk’s number.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Revelations
After ten minutes of exploring Arthur’s flat Iona finally located the source of the smell. It was a door at the end of the hallway.
Her imagination ran riot, placing untold horrors behind the grubby door. Excrement and decaying corpses filled her mind as her trembling hand turning the handle.
It was just a toilet.
The water had dried up in the bowl. Iona realised that with nothing in the‘U-bend’the smell could rise from the sewers. Iona experimentally pulled the flush chain. It was rusted and it snapped, but not before allowing the toilet bowl to fill with water and the smell to ease a little. However, the stench was so all-pervasive that it would take some time to clear completely.
With a relieved sigh Iona started back towards the main room to open some windows, and stopped dead in her tracks.
“Arthur!” Iona was startled to find Arthur sitting on the chair in the same room.
“I’m…”Iona was not sure how to justify her presence, uninvited, in Arthur’s strange flat. Then she remembered she was here because he had failed to turn up for his job, leaving her, a fourteen-year-old girl, to take his place.
“Where were you?”
“I was here all along.”
“No you weren’t, but that’s not what I meant. Where were you today? Your walk?”
Arthur sighed deeply and rubbed the back of his neck. The movement of his collar allowed Iona another glimpse of the strange red mark around his throat that she had noticed the first time they’d met. “Oh yes, William will be cross. But it doesn’t matter, it’s time for me to move on.”
Iona wanted to
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