The Lucy Wilson Mysteries: The Brigadier & the Bledoe Cadets by Tim Gambrell

Author:Tim Gambrell [Gambrell, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-20T00:00:00+00:00

— CHAPTER NINETEEN—

THE PHOTOGRAPH

They came upon the Lethbridge-Stewart family home inauspiciously, by nearly breaking a window, much to Lucy’s alarm. ‘Hobo’ Grandad was still kicking a ball around with Smiffy as they’d walked up the street. There were no cars around, so there was no danger. He tried to volley it forward to James, who was on his bicycle. Instead, he hoofed it up and over the hedge into Redrose Cottage. It caught the wall, near a front window, which rattled.

There was a moment of horrified silence within the group, then the front door opened, and a middle-aged woman appeared in a floral pinny. Lucy caught her breath. She’d seen photos, of course, but this was altogether different. Mary Lethbridge-Stewart, her great-grandmother. She’d never known her in real life.

The moment was quickly broken.

‘Clear off out of it, you lot! You break my windows I’ll have your hides, I will!’

‘Sorry, Mum,’ James said. ‘Just got a bit carried away, that’s all.’

‘James, you monkey! You’ve been gallivanting off up the moors again, getting into trouble. And you, young man.’

Lucy cringed as she saw Mary take a swipe at little Alistair. He’d nipped in to grab the football, which he threw to Smiffy. The blacksmith’s son was off, like a flash. Mary’s gaze turned to Jemima.

‘If you know what’s good for you, Jemima Fleming, you’ll get yourself home immediately and all. The worry you’ve put your poor parents through today.’

With a shrug, Jemima ran off after Smiffy. Lucy watched her go. She’d probably never see her again, but she hoped she had a brilliant life ahead of her.

‘Raymond Phillips?’

Mary seemed to be picking them off one by one. What would happen when it got to her turn, Lucy wondered?

‘Have you come for tea?’

Raymond had clearly been expecting an ear bashing and was completely unprepared for the question. He fumbled his way through an acceptance.

‘We should go, too,’ Grandad hissed in Lucy’s ear as Mary’s gaze turned their way. She looked them up and down with deep concern, but Lucy wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass.

‘Hello, Mrs Lethbridge-Stewart,’ she said, brightly. She stepped towards the gate and offered her hand. ‘I’m Lucy Wilson, and this is Hobo.’ She kept her hand held out, but it wasn’t accepted, or even acknowledged. Lucy’s great-grandmother just kept staring with distaste.

‘They’re here on holiday, Mum,’ little Alistair said.

‘You three.’ Mary pointed at James, Alistair and Raymond. ‘Inside. Now.’

The front door was slammed shut before they could enter. The front window rattled again in its frame. James muttered about going around the back, but the words seemed to echo into the distance.

Lucy could feel nothing but the rejection. Why had Mary looked at her and Hobo in that way? Lucy’s skin colour? Their clothes? A mistrust of strangers? She felt a tear pool on her bottom eyelid. She’d known rejection plenty of times, and it always hurt. But that? That was the worst.

Raymond called out, ‘Oi, you lot!’

Lucy turned, with Grandad, James and little Alistair, and click! Raymond held Nobby’s camera.

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