To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Subject: OLD NINA!
She’s got a cellar!!!!!!!!!!!
Agent M. x
My heart was pounding as I typed back. I had tissue wrapped around my fingers and it kept slipping.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: OLD NINA!
What? How do you know?!
I rewrapped the tissue around my fingers.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Re: OLD NINA!
I knocked on her door. She didn’t answer, of course, but under her front room window, behind that big bush, you can see glass. It looks like skylights to a cellar!!!! Should we tell the police?
I sat back and thought about it. You couldn’t accuse someone because they had the perfect hiding place right there in their house. You needed evidence. I stood up and looked down at the Rectory. An angry-looking shrub with needle-like thorns spread across the whole front of her bay window; beneath it something was twinkling in the bright sunlight. I squinted. I could just make out a tiny triangle of glass—a sliver of window barely visible behind the thick branches. I’d never noticed it before, but Melody was right. Old Nina had a cellar.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: OLD NINA!
You’re right. Good work! Can you get around the back? See what you can see from the graveyard?
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Re: OLD NINA!
I’ve tried. It’s too overgrown and I couldn’t see a thing. I think you need to watch her house, Matthew. See if you spot anything unusual!
Jake came out of his house and began to walk slowly around the cul-de-sac. He stuffed his hands into his jeans and scuffed his feet along the ground at a stone, kicking it until it dropped into a drain. Every now and then he looked over at the policeman standing outside number eleven and then up at me, but he didn’t shout anything. He looked bored.
My hands were throbbing. They had been washed and washed, but still the germs were finding their way under my nails and deep, deep into my bloodstream. The urge to wash yet again was overwhelming.
To: Melody Bird
From: Matthew Corbin
Subject: Help
Melody. I need your help.
I stopped typing, but I had no choice. She might be a bit odd, but there was no one else I could ask. I took two deep breaths. After this email I would be exposed. Vulnerable. The tissue slipped on my index finger, so I tightened it the best I could before I continued:
I need you to get some latex gloves for me. A boxful. I can pay you when I see you next, OK? I think you should be able to get them at the pharmacy on High Street.
You can’t bring them here though. I’ll have to meet you somewhere nearby.
Matthew
I hit Send and waited. Jake was standing outside the Rectory now, staring up at the bedroom window. I looked at where he was staring and saw a curtain move. She was watching him too.
The little clock in the corner of the screen said 12:12. I kept my eyes fixed on it until it changed to the dangerous number, and when it changed I shut my eyes and counted repeatedly to seven. Let’s just make that evil number a nice round twenty and everything will be fine and dandy.
The trumpet noise announced that she’d answered my email, but I kept my eyes closed until I was sure that the minute had passed. When I opened them, 12:14 showed in the bottom corner of the screen. I felt my shoulders drop as I relaxed.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Melody Bird
Re: Help
Sure.
Melody x
I exhaled, not realizing I’d been holding my breath, and then I went to the bathroom to wash.
Melody Bird wasn’t someone I’d taken much notice of before. At school, she was one of those girls who always seemed to be in a rush to get somewhere, her head down low as she concentrated on the floor in front of her, somehow managing not to bump into anyone as she dashed between classes. It was only recently that I noticed her peculiar movements. My notebooks were full of her:
Thursday, April 24th. Office/nursery. Cloudy.
4:03 p.m.—Melody heads to the overgrown alley next to Old Nina’s house. Nothing back there but the graveyard.
Wednesday, May 28th. Office/nursery. Bright, light wind.
4:37 p.m.—Melody goes on another graveyard visit.
Thursday, May 29th. Office/nursery. Heavy rain.
4:15 p.m.—Melody goes to the graveyard. And she only went yesterday? What does she do there???
Sunday, June 14th. Office/nursery. Overcast.
2:35 p.m.—Jake cornered Melody on her way home from school. He grabbed her bag and held it high so she couldn’t reach it. He said something to her and she kept shaking her head, trying to grab her bag. Eventually he threw it into the gutter, where she grabbed it and ran home.
Melody and I were in some of the same classes at school, the worst one being drama. I hated every single millisecond of it. Miss King, our drama teacher, insisted that each one of us had an actor inside us and that it was her job to pull it out kicking and screaming for the rest of the class to enjoy. That pretty much sums up why I hated it so much.
One week we had to prance around the room pretending to be butterflies, and when she told us to stop, we had to turn and face the person nearest to us and imagine there was a sheet of glass between us as we mirrored each other’s movements.
“Okay 7A, let’s see some gorgeous butterflies!” she said, shaking her hands outward, her bracelets jangling madly. “Are we ready to flap those little wings? Okay! On a count of three … two … one … FLY!”
Miss King stood in the middle of the room and clapped her hands as we shuffled awkwardly around her. After a while, some of the girls began to get into it, and they stretched on their tiptoes and fluttered their hands at their sides. The boys were less enthusiastic and pulled faces behind Miss King’s back every time they flapped past. I made discreet little arm movements, trying not to draw attention to myself, which a lot of the class seemed to be doing as well. After a couple of minutes Miss King yelled again:
“That’s wonderful, 7A! Now, get ready for that mime work. On a count of three … two … one … MIRRORS!”
We all stopped and turned to the person nearest us in silence. I faced Melody Bird, who looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Tom was snorting in the corner as he faced Simon Duke, who was shaking and red from laughing.
“Concentrate, Tom Allen! Simon Duke! Now, watch your partner and slowly, slowly copy their movements. See who takes the lead. Don’t touch each other. Remember there is a pane of glass between you!”
I looked at Melody and scratched at an itch on my eyebrow. Melody quickly scratched her eyebrow, and I laughed.
“I haven’t started yet!” I whispered.
“No talking, Matthew,” said Miss King as she passed by. “You must all mime in silence!”
Melody held up her hand, her palm facing outward, and I put mine a couple of inches away from hers. She moved her hand up and I copied, then she stretched it out to the side and I followed. I could feel the heat from her skin, but back then I didn’t mind as much. I was washing and managing to keep it a secret, since the anxiety I had about germs hadn’t gotten too bad yet. Her other hand came up and now we swayed from side to side. She stuck her tongue out, and I stuck my tongue back out at her.
“That’s good, Melody! Remember you can use your faces as well, 7A. Use your whole body!”
Melody crinkled up her nose and I did the same and then she pulled her bottom teeth up over her top lip and rolled her eyes back. I spluttered with laughter and then Miss King called out again.
“And now everyone back to those butterflies … Three … two … one … GO!”
Melody smiled and then flapped off into the group as I stretched out my hands and followed her.
I heard a door bang and I looked outside to see Melody coming out of number three. Dressed in black jeans, black T-shirt, and that long black cardigan, she walked in the direction of High Street. I felt a pang of excitement. She was on her way to buy my gloves, I just knew it. Jake was outside the Rectory and he ran across the road to catch up with her. Instantly her shoulders drooped and she curled up on herself. Jake was saying something to her, waving his arms around, and then they disappeared around the corner.
About an hour later a policewoman arrived to ask me some more questions. I say more, but she just asked the same ones all over again: Had I seen anything suspicious or heard anything out of the ordinary? Had I noticed anyone different on the block in the days leading up to his disappearance? I said no and went over, yet again, everything that I’d seen: Teddy playing with the petals, Mr. Jenkins going for a run, and that was it. I asked if they’d questioned Jake yet.
“Why would you ask that?” the policewoman said. I recognized her as one of the police who had turned up in a silver car not long after Teddy was reported missing. One of the “too important to wear a uniform” ones.
“Matthew is friends with Jake, aren’t you, darling? I guess he just wants to know if you’ve spoken to everyone on the street.”
Mum was with us in the kitchen, halfway through tidying the cupboards to keep herself busy. She’d stopped going to the salon so she could help with the searches, and Dad had taken time off work as well. He’d been out with a search party all morning.
“Jake’s no friend of mine,” I said under my breath.
The policewoman leaned forward on our kitchen table.
“We’ve spoken to everyone in the neighborhood, yes, but if there’s anything else we should know about, then you must tell us, Matthew.”
“Only that he’s a nasty piece of work, that’s all,” I said.
“Matthew! How can you say that? You used to be such good friends.” Mum turned to the policewoman, clearly thinking she should explain. “Jake had troubles with his health in elementary school. He was allergic to everything: nuts, fish, shampoo, wool, you name it. He was always covered in rashes and having wheezing fits. It was so frightening for Sue. At school he got picked on a bit. Kids can be so cruel, you know? Not my Matthew, of course … But then it made him a bit bitter as he got older, I guess. You know, those sorts of kids that always seem to find trouble? His older brother, Leo, doesn’t help. That’s all it is really.”
The policewoman stood up, clearly deciding that this was all irrelevant and that she had far more important things to do.
“How is Teddy’s mum, officer? Is she coping? Can I pop over and see if there’s anything I can do to help?”
The policewoman scraped her chair as she tucked it back against the table.
“She’s obviously extremely distressed. She’s moved to a nearby hotel with her daughter, and our liaison officer is keeping her apprised of any developments.” She turned back to me. “We’ll probably need to come back and talk to you again, Matthew. Okay?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t think of anything else I could add that I hadn’t already said.
Back in the office I was hoping to see an email from Melody about my gloves, but no such luck. Instead:
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Jake Bishop
Subject: WARNING!
All right? I just wanted to warn you to stay away from that nutty girl living opposite you. She has an UNNATURAL interest in the dead. Know what I’m saying? And what’s this about you two “investigating”? How you going to find anything out with a loon like her?!?!
Jake
I got some tissue from the bathroom and quickly wrapped each finger before I typed.
To: Jake Bishop
From: Matthew Corbin
Re: WARNING!
She’s just different, that’s all. Surely you know what that’s like?
Matthew
I hit Send and stood up to see what was going on outside. The policewoman was getting back into her car and Mum was heading over to number one, probably to fill Penny in about how Melissa Dawson had moved into a hotel. She rang the bell and Penny came out, closing the door behind her as they stood on her driveway with their arms folded, chatting, Mum turning around every now and then to take a look at number eleven.
Officer Campen, the policeman who had knocked on our door and asked me questions the day Teddy disappeared, was standing at Mr. Charles’s front door.
To: Matthew Corbin
From: Jake Bishop
Re: WARNING!
Well, I’m warning you now. Melody Bird is EVIL. Have you seen how many times she goes to the graveyard? Do you actually know what she does there? No, of course you don’t, cuz you don’t go out, do you?
I stopped reading. Something was going on outside.
“Officer! Officer!”
Melody’s mum, Claudia, was running across the street, her long skirt flowing as she dragged her dachshund behind her.
“Excuse me! I’ve found something! My little dog has found something in my yard! Haven’t you, Frankie? There’s a good boy.”
Claudia waited by the gate as Officer Campen walked toward her. She held something up in her hand. It was filthy and ripped almost in two, but I recognized it straight away.
Dangling from her hand was Teddy’s blue blanket.