come and console him, because he appeared a couple of moments later looking concerned and bearing a mug of tea and a Blue Riband biscuit. ‘You can hang around with me if you want, pet. I could do with a hand with my costumes. I’ve got a lot of sequins need replacing. They’re always falling off. Some days it looks as if I sweat glitter. That’s showbusiness for you.’
Tonto
There was no sign of Snow White and her Ninja mother at High Haven. The place was lifeless, or certainly appeared lifeless. No sign of the Evoque, of course. Given her avoidance of the police, Jackson wondered if Crystal had reported it stolen. It was probably lying burnt-out in a field somewhere. The Holroyds would have more than one car to their name, he presumed. There were two big garages on the property – converted from stables, by the look of them – and both were closed and impenetrable.
There was a dilapidated building that had resisted conversion, some kind of outhouse, or a wash house perhaps as there was still an old copper boiler in the corner, unused for decades. The place was full of cobwebs and on a wall inside someone had chalked The Batcave and drawn a cartoon of a vampire bat dressed in a Dracula cloak holding a protest sign that read, Leave the fucking bats in peace. It was signed ‘HH’ so Jackson presumed it was Harry who had drawn it. It was quite good, the boy had talent.
He was a funny kid, Jackson reflected, older than Nathan and yet in some ways he seemed more of a child. (A bit young for his age, Crystal had said. Also old for his age.) Nathan regarded himself as cool, Harry definitely didn’t come into that category.
It took a while for Jackson to register that the drawing might be referring to actual bats. Gazing up at the rafters he realized that he was looking at a roosting cluster of tiny grey bodies hanging like dusty washing on a line. They didn’t seem as if they were planning to suck his blood so he left them in peace.
Was Harry with Crystal? he wondered. The sight of the bats jogged his memory – the Dracula place on the front. He had wondered at the time why she had abandoned Candy there, entering with her, exiting without her, but then later she had told him that Harry worked there.
Transylvania World, that was what it was called. ARE YOU PREPARED TO BE SCARED? As straplines went, it was rubbish. It was where he had followed Crystal to yesterday.
Was Harry safe? (Was anyone?) Was there someone keeping an eye on him? Leaving him in peace?
There was a girl manning the attraction – if that wasn’t a contradiction in terms. She was a rather superior sort of girl who looked as though she might object to that assignation of gender to a verb. She had her nose in a copy of Ulysses. (The Girl with Her Nose in a Book – another Scandinavian crime novel Jackson never wanted to read.) Jackson had opened a copy of Ulysses once and looked inside, which is a different thing to reading. Harry always had his head in a book, Crystal had told him yesterday when he’d asked, ‘What’s Harry like, then?’ in an attempt to assess the boy’s survival instincts. No chance of Nathan being swallowed by books like Harry and his friends. He wouldn’t even go near one without shuddering. His translated, simplified copy of the Odyssey that he was supposed to be reading had barely been opened. Odysseus and Ulysses were the same person, weren’t they? Just a man trying to get home.
Did the girl reading Ulysses know where Harry Holroyd was?
‘Harry?’ she said, removing her nose (also rather superior) from the book and giving him a suspicious once-over.
‘Yes, Harry,’ Jackson said, standing his ground.
‘Who’s asking?’
So much for manners, Jackson thought. ‘A friend of his stepmother’s. Crystal.’
The girl made a funny little moue that seemed to indicate she wasn’t impressed by this information, but, reluctantly, she gave up Harry’s whereabouts. ‘He’s got a matinée at the Palace.’
Harry had a stage act? Jackson puzzled to himself. But of course, it was the Palace Theatre that he had been coming out of yesterday with his sister and his mother before the all-hell-let-loose scenario kicked in.
‘Thanks.’
‘Sure I can’t sell you a ticket to Transylvania?’ the girl said. ‘Are you prepared to be scared?’ she deadpanned.