Seventeen Coffins by Philip Caveney

Author:Philip Caveney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fledgling Press
Published: 2014-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

Twelve

‘Look at those!’ said Mum.

Tom opened his eyes. He blinked and stared. The last thing he remembered was trying to push the empty trolley after he and Jamie had made their midnight delivery. Now, suddenly, here he was, back in the museum where everything had started. Mum was pointing to the glass cabinet where the tiny coffins were on display. They were exactly as he remembered them, arranged in a row and lit by tiny spotlights.

‘Weird,’ he said. He didn’t know what else to say. He looked quickly around and everything seemed to be just as it had been when he was last here. Except that this time, it was Mum who was reading the explanatory card beside the coffins.

‘Says here there used be seventeen of them,’ said Mum ‘Some kids found them in 1836 on . . . Arthur’s Seat. Hey, we could take a walk up there later if you fancy,’ she told him. ‘It’s a nice day. I’m told it’s not so hard if you take your time.’

Tom just stared at her, trying to make some kind of sense of this. He put a hand out to touch the cool glass of the cabinet, wanting to be sure that this was all real and not some dream he was having. But the cabinet felt solid enough. Mum looked at him.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked him. ‘You look . . . strange.’

‘I feel strange,’ he assured her.

Mum frowned and carried on reading. ‘Says here the kids didn’t know they were worth anything and started throwing them at each other!’ She laughed, as though picturing the scene. ‘That’s why there’s only eight coffins left. But this schoolteacher, he realised they were important, so he went back up there and found what was left of them, so . . .’

‘Mum,’ interrupted Tom. He was having a bad feeling about all of this. ‘I think maybe we should leave.’

Mum frowned. ‘I thought you were enjoying it,’ she said.

‘I was. I mean, I am, but . . . you know, it’s getting late and . . . I’m hungry.’

‘Oh?’ Mum glanced at her watch. ‘Well, there’s a café here, you know. A nice one. I’ve eaten there before. Couldn’t you hang on for a little while, just in case Hamish decides to join us?’

Tom gulped. ‘Hamish?’ he muttered.

‘He was feeling tired this morning so I let him sleep on, but I texted him on the way here, told him where we’d be. If he fancies coming.’ She smiled. ‘That’s ok, isn’t it?’

Tom looked at her. No, he thought, that’s not a good idea. When he gets here, he’ll be drunk and he’ll have tickets for the Hibs. And it’ll all turn nasty. But he couldn’t tell her that. He’d have to get her away on some pretext. ‘Is there . . . is there a loo near here?’

‘Yes, dear, just hang on a minute.’ She was still intent on reading the card. ‘Nobody’s sure who put the coffins up there,’ she continued.

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