HOLLY - The Loneliest Girl in the World • Jayne Sharratt CHAPTER EIGHT

Nothing was happening. Holly had not been seen for two days.
“I wouldn’t speak to her if she was here,” Nic insisted.
“She was really upset,” Max said. “I’m sure she never meant to scare you.”
“I wasn’t scared. It’s Sam. He woke up yelling in the middle of the night, last night. I had to nearly sit on him to stop him telling Mum what he was really having a nightmare about.”
“What did he say?’
“Oh monster under the bed, dragons in the wardrobe, the usual thing.”
“Mmm. I’m kinda worried about Holly though. I mean where is she? Maybe we should go round to her house, see if she’s OK.”
“No way. She doesn’t even want anyone to go round there anyhow. She told me to stay away. Anyhow, it should be her worrying whether Sam and I are all right.”
“But you didn’t get into trouble did you? No one found out about you being in the woods half the night did they?”
“No, that’s not the point. They could have, and my life just isn’t worth living if Mum thinks It’s my fault Sam is being so weird.”
Max didn’t really listen. “I really need to speak to her. I want to see what she remembers about the men that night. I tried mentioning it to Gran but she just started...I mean she didn’t seem to listen. Do you think I should see the police about it?”
“Maybe. But couldn’t there be a normal explanation for it? I mean being with Holly makes you think everything that happens is a big mystery. But couldn’t they just be electricians or delivery men or something?”
“At three o’clock in the morning?”
Nic shrugged. “Maybe not then. But if they were meaning to steal something...I mean what were they planning to steal? If your family hasn’t been able to find the lost treasure, how would thieves know where to look?”
“Maybe it’s something else,” Max wondered. “I know everything's kind of dirty and untidy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth anything. The paintings could have been done by a famous artist. I don’t know. Maybe some work men noticed something valuable when they were there and decided to come back for it.”
“But why not just take it straight off?” Nic asked. “It’s not like there’s anything to stop them. Your gran couldn’t, could she?”
Max frowned, trying to work it out and remember exactly what the two men had said. He couldn’t.
They had walked down the lane to the village. It was another hot day. On the village green stood the bus into town, and a queue of villagers waiting to get onto it. Nic had
an idea.
“Why don’t we get on the bus? We could go into town, look in the shops, go to the police station and mention about these men you and Holly saw. Maybe then they could send someone to have a look around.”
Max liked the idea. “We could look in the library too. See if we can find anything about Holly’s James Tempest that might help us find the treasure.”
Nic nodded as they waited to get on the bus. She found the idea of going in a Miss Selfridge for the first time in weeks more appealing than looking at old books, but she didn’t say so.
“Shouldn’t you let your mom know where you’re going?”
Nic shook her head, knowing she should. “I told her I’d be out all afternoon, so she won’t worry.”
“Cool,” Max said. He adjusted his sun shades and baseball cap and slid into a window seat. When the bus started up he took off the shades and watched the English country side roll past for the first time.

It was about half past five when Max and Nic returned. They were cross and tired.
“Shall we look for her now?” Max asked as they got off the bus.
Nic shook her head. “Let’s get a drink at my house first,” she said. The day had become muggy and there was a heaviness about the constant heat which had not been there before. They were both longing for an ice cold drink.
In her kitchen Nic poured lemonade from the fridge into a glass for Max.
“Nic? Is that you?” Mrs. Reynolds came into the kitchen.
“Mmmhmm?” Nic’s mouth was attached to her glass as she gulped the cool drink without stopping.
“Must you drink making those awful slurping noises? Hello Max, dear. Would you like something to eat?”
“Mum! I do not slurp.” Nic said before Max could answer.
“Yes, well, if you go and get Sam we can all have something to eat,” Mrs Reynolds said. “Its time he was coming in, he’s been out all afternoon, and I think there’s a storm brewing.”
“Where is he?” Nic asked, not wanting to go out again so soon.
“I don’t know, wherever it is you usually go I imagine. Your friend called around for him and he went.”
“Friend? What friend?”
“You know. That funny red-headed child you’ve spent so much time with lately. Holly.”
“What? And you let him go?”
“Why shouldn’t I? I thought she was a friend of yours. Nic? Nic, come back!”

Nic had shot out the door, and was already running away down the lane.
“Thank you very much, Mrs Reynolds, for the lemonade,” Max said politely, putting his glass down carefully, and then following Nic out the door at an equally fast pace.
“Well your dinner will be ready soon. Don’t be long,” Mrs Reynolds called after them, feeling certain that they couldn’t hear her.
Nic and Max ran back down into the village, and towards the sea. Sat on the harbour wall they saw Sam and Holly, cross legged.
“Hi Nic, Max,” said Sam. “Holly’s just been telling me this story about a princess and a step-mother and she gets locked up and beaten and...”
“I don’t care about Holly’s stories, Sam,” Nic said sharply. “I never want to hear another story as long as I live.”
A first few gentle spots of rain were plumping onto the wall, the road, and bare arms and legs.
“It’s just a story, Nic,” Sam said.
Max stood by and didn’t say anything.
“She’s a liar,” Nic accused. “She makes everything up to scare us and get what she wants.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“Max and I went to the library today. We were looking at history books about the village and the Tempest family in the days of Pirates and Smugglers.”
Holly didn’t say anything.
“We found out that James Tempest died of old age and was buried in the big Cemetery in town, aged eighty. That’s why he wasn’t buried with the rest of his family - because they’d disowned him. He wasn’t lost at sea, or betrayed or anything like you said.”
“I...I don’t understand. I’ve seen him,” Holly insisted.
“Stop sticking to your story. You must have had enough fun out of it by now, making us all run around looking for treasure must make you laugh pretty hard when we’re all gone, mustn’t it?”
Holly shook her head. “I don’t laugh at you. Max, you believe me, don’t you?”
Max looked serious and ignored Holly’s outstretched hand. “It’s all in the books Holly. James Tempest was a thief. He took things from the homes of people on their way to the guillotine, and sold them in this country for huge profits. His family were ashamed of him,”
Holly was pale. There was a note of hysteria and real anger in her voice that they had not heard before. She turned to Nic. “You’ve done this. You’ve made him hate me, and he’s my friend, he was my friend first, I found him...”
There was an embarrassed silence.
Holly drew a breath and began again. “I’m not lying. I promise I never lied to you. There is a treasure.”
“How is it you can never prove it, though?”
For a moment the light returned to Holly’s eyes. She smiled. “I can, I..”
She was interrupted by a sound from around the corner of the lane which ran around the harbour at the bottom of the village. A man and a small boy of around two years old were walking slowly towards them. All the mans attention was on his son, who toddled along uncertainly, inspecting everything that came in his path, and gurgling with laughter at a lady bird with it’s babies.
“Isn’t that your Dad, Holl?” Sam asked.
The light in her eyes went, and they became blank and tear brimmed. For a moment she was frozen to the spot, staring at the scene before her. The rain was beginning to fall harder now. In the distance they heard a roll of thunder, far away. The man was picking his little boy up, telling him that they would hurry home and see what Mummy was doing without them.
“Oh,” Holly gasped and moved. She ran, streaking through the rain, to the steps which led to the meadow and her secret entrance to Tempest Park. She disappeared.
Nic shook her head. “She’s not getting away with this.” She ran after Holly as fast as the younger girl had run.
Max and Sam looked at each other.
“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Sam asked.
“Which one?”
Sam shook his head. “I guess we’d better follow them,” he said.
Max nodded. They ran, and then slowed down and walked through the meadow, Sam complaining of stitches.
They caught up with Nic at the park railings. Nic was struggling to lift up the loose railing which would let them through into the woods.
“Are you sure she can have come this way?” Max asked. “She wouldn’t have time to pull that up and put it back again without you catching up with her, would she?”
“She’s fast. I know she came this way, where else would she go? She has some kind of weird obsession with this place,” Nic said, determined, finally pulling the railing up and casting it into the grass.
“Maybe we should leave her alone a bit,” Sam suggested, as his sister pushed her way through the gap, into the wood.
“Oh no,” said Nic. “There’s something strange about that girl, and I am going to find out what. Are you coming or not?”
They made their way grimly through the woods to the Hall.
Holly waited for them in the front gallery of the house.
“I know where the treasure is now. I’ve worked out what the riddle we found in the secret room means.” Her voice sounded strangely light and controlled. She had a torch in her hand.
“How...?” Max’s voice trailed away.
Holly walked away. She obviously expected them to follow her.
“Holly? Come back,” Nic said. “Stop being over dramatic. You can’t keep doing this, and expecting us all to follow you like sheep.”
Max and Sam had already followed in Holly’s wake. Nic sighed, and followed too. Outside they heard more thunder, getting closer.
Holly was leading them down the main staircase of the Hall. She took them through countless rooms, across a courtyard Max had never realised existed before and into a part of the Hall which looked as if it had been there much longer than the rest, which had been built up around it, hiding and swallowing it. Inside it was dim, and the stone was dark coloured with age. Holly opened a wooden door and showed them a long, oblong shaped room with a vaulted high ceiling, and arched stained glass windows at the far end.
“This used to be the chapel,” Holly said. “Hundreds and hundreds of years ago, before James Tempests’ time. They had to have hiding places and escape routes then because they weren’t really allowed to have the Priests they had here.”
In the centre of the room was a stone altar, fixed to the floor. There were carved panels showing scenes from the Bible all the way around it. Holly went straight to the right hand panel.
“Holly, this is really interesting and all, but how, how did you solve the treasure hunt riddle? How do we know this is right?”
Holly refused to answer. She tapped the carving at the point where a halo touched the roof of the stable. The panel slid back. Holly switched on her torch. Inside the altar, there were steps, leading steeply downwards.
“See?” Holly was triumphant. “Now do you believe me?”

© Jayne Sharratt 2001

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