Read Online Tunnels by Roderick Gordon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Roderick Gordon
Tags: Age - 9+
Ads: Link
"This is all so very kind of you."
"No, it's you who is very kind. I should be thanking you."
"Really?" he stuttered, still frantically trying to figure out exactly who the old woman was.
"Yes, for your very nice letter. Can't see as well as I used to, but Mr. Embers read it to me."
Suddenly, it all fell into place, and Dr. Burrows sighed with relief, the fog of confusion blown away by the cool breeze of realization.
"The glowing sphere! It is certainly an intriguing object, Mrs. Tantrumi ."
"Oh, good, dear."
"Mr. Embers probably told you I need to get it checked."
She held her head to one side, waiting expectantly for him to continue while she stirred the tea.
"…well, I was rather hoping you could show me where you found it," he finished.
"Oh, no, dear, wasn't me — it was the gas men. Shortbread or gingersnap?" she said, holding out a battered cookie tin.
" Er … shortbread, please. You were saying the gas men found it?"
"They did. Just inside the basement."
"Down there?" Dr. Burrows asked, looking at an open door at the bottom of a short flight of steps. "Mind if I take a look?" he said, pocketing the shortbread as he began to negotiate the mossy brick steps.
Once inside the doorway he could see that the basement was divided into two rooms. The first was empty, save for some dishes of extremely dark and dessicated cat food and loose rubble strewn across the floor. He crunched through to the second room, which lay beneath the front of the house. It was much the same as the first, except that the light was poorer in here and there was an old wardrobe with a broken mirror, tucked in a shadowy recess. He opened one of its doors and was immediately still.
He sniffed several times, recognizing the same musty odor he had smelled on the man in the street and more recently in the duct at Penny Hanson's house. As his eyes became used to the darkness, he could see that inside the wardrobe were several overcoats — black, as far as he could tell — and an assortment of flat caps and other headwear stacked in a compartment to one side.
Beneath the hat compartment, he found a small drawer, which he slid open. Inside were five or six pairs of glasses. Taking one of these and pulling an overcoat from its hanger, he made his way back out into the garden.
"Mrs. Tantrumi ," he called from the bottom of the steps. She waddled to the kitchen door. "Did you know there's quite a few things in a wardrobe down here?"
"Are there?"
"Yes, some coats and sunglasses. Do they belong to you?"
"No, hardly ever go down there myself. The ground's too uneven. Would you bring them closer so I can see?"
He went to the kitchen door, and she reached out and ran her fingers over the material of the overcoat as if she were stroking the head of an unfamiliar cat. Heavy and waxy to the touch, the coat felt strange to her. The cut was old-fashioned, with a shoulder cape of heavier material.
"I can't say I've ever seen this before. My husband, God rest his soul, may have left it down there," she said dismissively and returned to the kitchen.
Dr. Burrows examined the dark glasses. They consisted of two pieces of thick and absolutely flat, almost opaque, glass, similar to welder's goggles, with curious spring mechanisms on the arms on either side — evidently to keep them snug against the wearer's head. He was puzzled. Why would the strange people keep their belongings in a forgotten wardrobe in an empty basement?
"Does anyone else come here, Mrs. Tantrumi ?" Dr. Burrows said to her as she started to pour the tea with a very shaky hand.
There was a lull in the rattling as she looked confused. "I really don't know what you mean," she said, as if Dr. Burrows was suggesting she had been doing something improper.
"It's just that I've seen some rather odd characters around this part of town — always wearing big coats and sunglasses like these…," Dr. Burrows trailed off, because the old woman was looking so anxious.
"Oh, I hope they aren't
"No, it's you who is very kind. I should be thanking you."
"Really?" he stuttered, still frantically trying to figure out exactly who the old woman was.
"Yes, for your very nice letter. Can't see as well as I used to, but Mr. Embers read it to me."
Suddenly, it all fell into place, and Dr. Burrows sighed with relief, the fog of confusion blown away by the cool breeze of realization.
"The glowing sphere! It is certainly an intriguing object, Mrs. Tantrumi ."
"Oh, good, dear."
"Mr. Embers probably told you I need to get it checked."
She held her head to one side, waiting expectantly for him to continue while she stirred the tea.
"…well, I was rather hoping you could show me where you found it," he finished.
"Oh, no, dear, wasn't me — it was the gas men. Shortbread or gingersnap?" she said, holding out a battered cookie tin.
" Er … shortbread, please. You were saying the gas men found it?"
"They did. Just inside the basement."
"Down there?" Dr. Burrows asked, looking at an open door at the bottom of a short flight of steps. "Mind if I take a look?" he said, pocketing the shortbread as he began to negotiate the mossy brick steps.
Once inside the doorway he could see that the basement was divided into two rooms. The first was empty, save for some dishes of extremely dark and dessicated cat food and loose rubble strewn across the floor. He crunched through to the second room, which lay beneath the front of the house. It was much the same as the first, except that the light was poorer in here and there was an old wardrobe with a broken mirror, tucked in a shadowy recess. He opened one of its doors and was immediately still.
He sniffed several times, recognizing the same musty odor he had smelled on the man in the street and more recently in the duct at Penny Hanson's house. As his eyes became used to the darkness, he could see that inside the wardrobe were several overcoats — black, as far as he could tell — and an assortment of flat caps and other headwear stacked in a compartment to one side.
Beneath the hat compartment, he found a small drawer, which he slid open. Inside were five or six pairs of glasses. Taking one of these and pulling an overcoat from its hanger, he made his way back out into the garden.
"Mrs. Tantrumi ," he called from the bottom of the steps. She waddled to the kitchen door. "Did you know there's quite a few things in a wardrobe down here?"
"Are there?"
"Yes, some coats and sunglasses. Do they belong to you?"
"No, hardly ever go down there myself. The ground's too uneven. Would you bring them closer so I can see?"
He went to the kitchen door, and she reached out and ran her fingers over the material of the overcoat as if she were stroking the head of an unfamiliar cat. Heavy and waxy to the touch, the coat felt strange to her. The cut was old-fashioned, with a shoulder cape of heavier material.
"I can't say I've ever seen this before. My husband, God rest his soul, may have left it down there," she said dismissively and returned to the kitchen.
Dr. Burrows examined the dark glasses. They consisted of two pieces of thick and absolutely flat, almost opaque, glass, similar to welder's goggles, with curious spring mechanisms on the arms on either side — evidently to keep them snug against the wearer's head. He was puzzled. Why would the strange people keep their belongings in a forgotten wardrobe in an empty basement?
"Does anyone else come here, Mrs. Tantrumi ?" Dr. Burrows said to her as she started to pour the tea with a very shaky hand.
There was a lull in the rattling as she looked confused. "I really don't know what you mean," she said, as if Dr. Burrows was suggesting she had been doing something improper.
"It's just that I've seen some rather odd characters around this part of town — always wearing big coats and sunglasses like these…," Dr. Burrows trailed off, because the old woman was looking so anxious.
"Oh, I hope they aren't
Similar Books
