The Ghouls of Howlfair by Nick Tomlinson

Author:Nick Tomlinson [Tomlinson, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781406390179
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2019-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

The Timbrel Tearooms

THE TIMBREL TEAROOMS, FAMILY-RUN SINCE 1788, were famed not so much for their tea as for their tea leaves, which were excellent for fortune-telling. Colourful Victorian adverts hung framed on the walls:

Generations of soothsayers had met with clients in the little lamp-lit booths that filled the five floors, to share a pot of Timbrel Tea and then read the leaves at the bottom of the cup. Some teas were good for predicting romance or happy turns of fortune; some could help foresee trouble. Others – stronger teas for stronger stomachs – opened the gateways to darker knowledge. The place was no longer licensed for fortune-telling, though Molly had heard rumours that after midnight, the current owners (spectrally pale siblings with a habit of suddenly appearing at your table) would secretly admit local seers and their customers. Molly had not managed to verify or disprove these rumours.

It was in a booth on the otherwise empty top floor that Molly, Lowry and Carl sat this afternoon as the sun struggled to filter through the ghostly window drapes.

Carl unfastened his satchel and withdrew his tatty sketchpad. He opened it. It was full of doodles – comic-book art and different styles of handwriting, including what looked like forged signatures. He found a particular page and pushed the book towards Molly and Lowry.

“I’ll start at the beginning,” he said. “Our dorm prefect at the orphanage caught me drawing demons one night after lights out. I can draw in the dark – it’s one of my skills. Anyway, my book got confiscated and I was sent to Mr Furlock. I was petrified. But he didn’t shout at me. He didn’t even seem angry. He returned my book and told me that I had to work for him.”

The present Mr Timbrel appeared suddenly at the table with cakes, scones and tea. The children jumped. Mr Timbrel gave Molly an odd look (he and his sister always gave Molly odd looks), set the tray down and migrated away.

Lowry snatched the biggest scone.

“What did he want you to do?” Molly asked.

“He didn’t say. But he said he’d pay me. So when he told me to meet him at Loonchance Manor at midnight, I said OK.”

“Are you deranged?” said Lowry through a mouthful of scone. “You went to Loonchance Manor to meet a man who looks like he ties damsels to railway lines?”

Molly had taken out her own notepad and pen. “What’s Loonchance Manor like inside?”

“It’s really creepy at night,” said Carl. “We got in through a secret back door behind a black rosebush. I got tangled on the thorns. Then we went down this spiral staircase to the crypts underneath the house.”

Lowry sprayed scone crumbs. “You went with him into the crypts? Carl, you are an absolute…”

“Lowry, shush,” said Molly. “Carl, what happened next?”

Carl slurped his tea shakily. Although he should have been hotter than a baked potato in his parka, he was turning paler and paler as he recalled that night. “We went through the crypts. I don’t think they were the same crypts that the Ghoul Tour visits.

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