The Woven Path by Robin Jarvis

Author:Robin Jarvis [Jarvis, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Horror, Children's Books, Fantasy & Magic, Fiction, Fantasy, Teen & Young Adult, Spine-Chilling Horror
ISBN: 9780007158089
Publisher: Collins
Published: 1994-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14 Those Three Of Mortal Destiny

In the early hours of the morning, heavy clouds crept over the clear sky and, when the daylight finally glimmered over the horizon, a dismal and steady rain was drizzling over the East End.

The news of Mrs Meacham's murder shocked and horrified everyone and the local constabulary lost no time in interviewing all those present at the Make-do-and-Mend class.

Arriving back from the Underground slightly later than usual, Mrs Stokes was aggravated to find a po-faced police inspector with spiky eyebrows and a constable who looked more like an all-in wrestler, complete with cauliflower ear and broken nose, standing in her front room, waiting to take a statement from her.

When she first heard the distressing news, not a twitch nor a blink betrayed the old woman's thoughts—she merely peered at the two men through her spectacles and, with a face like a gargoyle, ruminated over what they had just told her.

‘Did you understand what I said, Mrs Stokes?’ the inspector asked unwisely. ‘Your neighbour, Doris Meacham...’

‘I heard!’ she rapped sharply. ‘Don't you talk to me as though I was ripe for putting in a home!’

‘Er... I'm sorry,’ the poor man replied, gazing round at Peter Stokes for support.

That morning the warden looked unusually stubbly as he hadn't had a chance to shave. It had been a bewildering night, having first returned to his post to discover that Neil was missing, then learning that the boy was at the police station, describing how he had stumbled across a dead body.

Unwilling to sit down whilst so upsetting an incident required the presence of the police in the house, Peter stood tense and rigid in his braces in front of the fireplace and looked across the room to where Neil was now sitting.

Dark circles ringed the boy's eyes. He was incredibly tired and his head kept nodding on to his chest.

‘Why don't you go to bed, lad?’ Peter suggested kindly. ‘You've finished with him now, ‘aven't you?’ he asked the inspector.

‘Yes,’ the policeman replied, leafing through his notebook and licking the end of his pencil. ‘The boy was most helpful, very concise—unlike the baker's lad. Ghoulish flippin’ vampire he is, and kept rambling on about everything under the sun, used up most of my pad taking down his statement. Do him a world of good, the army will—ah, beg your pardon, sir. No, no, Neil's done his bit for now, I can always pop back if there's anything else I need to know, but it's more or less routine now.’

‘I’ll get Jean to bring you up an Ovaltine,’ Peter said, as the boy hauled himself from the chair and plodded out of the room.

Mrs Stokes gave a sniff and pursed her lips. ‘So,’ she chirped, her eyes gleaming and hungry for luscious details, ‘how did it happen? How did Doris get it? A fine state of affairs isn't it when a body ain't safe in the streets at night? Where were your boys when all this happened? Not doin’ their job, obviously.

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