been able to solve one single mystery, he hadn’t even found one to solve in nearly a whole year!
Nothing exciting ever happened in the Skallies.
It was dead boring.
He turned over onto his back and stared miserably up at the ceiling for a long time until he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
He woke later at the sound of the wireless being turned off downstairs and he heard the click of his mammy’s ruined knees as she climbed the steep stairs.
She paused on the landing, called out as she always did, “Night, Arch, sleep tight, love.”
“Night, Mammy.”
“Be sure to say your prayers and keep the window dosed, mind, or youll have your death of cold. There’s mention of bad storms tonight on the wireless.”
“I’ve closed the window and I won’t forget my prayers.”
“There’s a beautiful full moon tonight Arch. Take a look and make a wish before you go to sleep.”
“I will.”
He sat up suddenly at her words.
There’s a beautiful full moon tonight …
The first full moon since old Benjamin Tregantle had died.
Bloody hell!
With a jolt he recalled old Benjamin’s strange words to him, the very last time they had been together. Benjamin had been away for a few weeks and just got back and they’d been down on the beach collecting driftwood.
“When I’m dead and gone, Arch,” he’d said, “I want you to do something for me, boy.”
“Don’t talk about dying, Benjamin,” Archie had replied.
“Death’s nothing to be afraid of, Archie…You been dead before, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Course you have. You’re alive now and before you were born you must have been dead, stands to reason. And that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“But I can’t remember before I was born.”
“You’d remember, though, if it were bad, wouldn’t you, you silly young bugger!”
That was the thing Archie had loved about Benjamin, he made you think about things in a different way. He wasn’t like the other grown-ups. Most of them had their minds made up about what they believed but not Benjamin.
“When the first full moon comes after I’m gone, take yourself down to the wobbly chapel, Arch, you might be lucky, find yourself a proper mystery to solve there, a real piece of detective work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Most of us don’t understand what’s really important but you’ve a good head on you, Archie Grimble. You’re a scholar and a gentleman, the type of boy who could find out things like a proper detective if you put your mind to it and stopped being so afraid of every bloody thing.”
“But no one’s allowed to go in the wobbly chapel, it isn’t safe, and anyhow, it’s locked.”
“There are no secrets locked away in this world that the curious can’t find a key to open up.”
He listened to the sound of the shutters being closed in his mammy’s room, the soft rustle and the breathless puffing as she pulled on her voluminous winceyette nightdress.
He heard the scrape of her rough heels on starched sheets as she climbed into bed, the slither of the threadbare eiderdown as she pulled it up over her enormous bosom. The sound of her false teeth clinking, sinking like a holed boat down to the bottom of the glass that stood on the bedside table. Once she’d had beautiful teeth but the porker had knocked them out over the years.
Mammy settling down in the big, high bed where they’d once slept together on winter nights. That was in the good old days when the hairy porker had been away sewing mail-bags up London way.
He imagined Mammy dosing her eyes. Her red raw hands clasped tightly together. Lisping prayers.
Prayers for Archie’s gammy leg and his wonky eye.
Prayers that his father, Walter the Pig, wouldn’t come back from the Pilchard Inn dead drunk again tonight and start his antics.
Then the hushed secret prayers for her long-dead sister whose name was never mentioned out loud.
Her name was just a lisp of a name, like wind blowing through the long grass of the
Nothing exciting ever happened in the Skallies.
It was dead boring.
He turned over onto his back and stared miserably up at the ceiling for a long time until he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
He woke later at the sound of the wireless being turned off downstairs and he heard the click of his mammy’s ruined knees as she climbed the steep stairs.
She paused on the landing, called out as she always did, “Night, Arch, sleep tight, love.”
“Night, Mammy.”
“Be sure to say your prayers and keep the window dosed, mind, or youll have your death of cold. There’s mention of bad storms tonight on the wireless.”
“I’ve closed the window and I won’t forget my prayers.”
“There’s a beautiful full moon tonight Arch. Take a look and make a wish before you go to sleep.”
“I will.”
He sat up suddenly at her words.
There’s a beautiful full moon tonight …
The first full moon since old Benjamin Tregantle had died.
Bloody hell!
With a jolt he recalled old Benjamin’s strange words to him, the very last time they had been together. Benjamin had been away for a few weeks and just got back and they’d been down on the beach collecting driftwood.
“When I’m dead and gone, Arch,” he’d said, “I want you to do something for me, boy.”
“Don’t talk about dying, Benjamin,” Archie had replied.
“Death’s nothing to be afraid of, Archie…You been dead before, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Course you have. You’re alive now and before you were born you must have been dead, stands to reason. And that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“But I can’t remember before I was born.”
“You’d remember, though, if it were bad, wouldn’t you, you silly young bugger!”
That was the thing Archie had loved about Benjamin, he made you think about things in a different way. He wasn’t like the other grown-ups. Most of them had their minds made up about what they believed but not Benjamin.
“When the first full moon comes after I’m gone, take yourself down to the wobbly chapel, Arch, you might be lucky, find yourself a proper mystery to solve there, a real piece of detective work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Most of us don’t understand what’s really important but you’ve a good head on you, Archie Grimble. You’re a scholar and a gentleman, the type of boy who could find out things like a proper detective if you put your mind to it and stopped being so afraid of every bloody thing.”
“But no one’s allowed to go in the wobbly chapel, it isn’t safe, and anyhow, it’s locked.”
“There are no secrets locked away in this world that the curious can’t find a key to open up.”
He listened to the sound of the shutters being closed in his mammy’s room, the soft rustle and the breathless puffing as she pulled on her voluminous winceyette nightdress.
He heard the scrape of her rough heels on starched sheets as she climbed into bed, the slither of the threadbare eiderdown as she pulled it up over her enormous bosom. The sound of her false teeth clinking, sinking like a holed boat down to the bottom of the glass that stood on the bedside table. Once she’d had beautiful teeth but the porker had knocked them out over the years.
Mammy settling down in the big, high bed where they’d once slept together on winter nights. That was in the good old days when the hairy porker had been away sewing mail-bags up London way.
He imagined Mammy dosing her eyes. Her red raw hands clasped tightly together. Lisping prayers.
Prayers for Archie’s gammy leg and his wonky eye.
Prayers that his father, Walter the Pig, wouldn’t come back from the Pilchard Inn dead drunk again tonight and start his antics.
Then the hushed secret prayers for her long-dead sister whose name was never mentioned out loud.
Her name was just a lisp of a name, like wind blowing through the long grass of the
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