The Eighth Court (The Courts of the Feyr - By Mike Shevdon Page 0,42

the house, the pipes began to groan and creak. A clanking noise was coming from the boiler in the kitchen. The whole system started banging and clanking as the pressure built.

Katherine stared about her wildly. “Alex! Stop this at once.”

“What Mum? I thought I was imagining it? I thought I was making it all up?”

The radiator was making creaking noises. It started rattling against the brackets holding it to the wall. The pressure was building. Any moment and the pressure would blow and then…

Bing bong.

The noise of the doorbell was a signal. Everything stopped. The vibrations ceased, the clanking fell into silence. The whole system eased as the water started to flow again in its usual direction.

“Who’s that?” said Alex.

Katherine looked crossly at Alex. “I don’t know,” she said. “It might be the postman, he sometimes rings if there’s a letter too big for the letterbox.”

They waited in silence.

Bing bong.

“I’d better go see,” said Katherine.

“No!” said Alex. “Leave it. Let it go.” They waited.

Bing bong. Bing bong. It was followed by sharp tapping.

“I’ll go and see,” said Katherine. “Don’t worry,” she said to Alex. “I’ll get rid of them.” She went to answer the door.

Alex stepped up to the window, trying to see who was at the door without moving the net curtains. She hung back behind the drapes, peeking around to view the doorstep. She could hear her mother.

“Yes,” said Katherine. “Can I help you?’

The guy on the doorstep was middle-aged with sandy hair and greying temples. He wore a long loose coat.

“Is Niall in?” he said.

Katherine looked taken aback. “Niall doesn’t live here any more,” she said.

“Only, I have something for him,” said the man. Alex didn’t recognise him as anyone her Dad had ever mentioned.

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck,” said her Mum.

“Will he be back later?” asked the man.

“I told you. He doesn’t live here. We’re divorced, I’ve recently re-married. Who are you?”

“Just a friend,” he said, looking up and down the street. Alex could tell, whoever the man was, he was no friend. “Did you have a caller recently, a lady? About five-six, brown hair, goes by the name of Claire?”

“I’m sure I don’t know who you mean,” said Katherine.

“She’s been missing for a while. I thought she might come here,” he said.

“Why would she come here? I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Fair enough,” said the man. “Well, look, if you see Niall…”

“I won’t,” said Katherine.

“If… you see him. Would you give him a message for me? Tell him I have something he needs.”

“I told you, he doesn’t live here,” she said.

“Thanks very much,” said the man. He walked away down the drive and across the road. Alex watched him as far as she could. He didn’t turn, and he didn’t look back. Katherine closed the front door and returned to where Alex was watching through the window.

“What a strange man,” said Katherine, from the doorway of the sitting room.

“He was lying,” said Alex.

“I didn’t recognise him,” said Katherine, “but I’m not sure that’s any reason to assume that…”

“He’s lying. I can hear it. We all can.”

“We?” asked Katherine. Alex shouldered her bag and went into the kitchen. Katherine followed her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to tell Dad,” she said.

“Well I expect he’ll pop in when he’s ready,” said Katherine. “We can tell him then.”

“He needs to know,” she said. “There’s stuff going down,”

“But what about… you were staying for supper,” Katherine said as Alex went to the back door.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get something later. I can always raid the pantry. The cooks don’t mind.” Alex opened the door and scanned the garden.

“Alex?” Katherine was stood in the door between the kitchen and the hall watching her daughter as she stood outlined in the doorway. “Be careful.”

Alex stepped quickly back inside and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve dealt with worse than his sort.” She slipped back through the door. Katherine didn’t hear the back gate, but she stood with the back door open for a long while.

“That,” she said, “is what worries me.”

SEVEN

The room was at the top of the house. It probably used to be servants’ quarters when the house had been in its heyday, only now the stewards lived in the main house and the attic rooms were empty, except for this one.

The bed had been moved to the centre where it dominated the room; the curtains were swept back so that the low late afternoon sun striped the floor. Beside the bed, a stand held a