Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

clumsy.
With his meal finished, he carefully carried his plate to the
kitchen, unsurprised to find his mum scrubbing an already spotless
table.
    “ I’m off to bed,” Archie announced quietly, watching his mum
drop the scrubbing brush and turn to him with a frown.
    “ Are you alright, Archie? You are not coming down with
anything, are you? You’re looking a might peaky.”
    The
words that longed to burst out hovered temptingly on his lips.
Instead, he slowly shook his head.
    “ I’m just tired, that’s all.” Archie didn’t protest as his mum
swept him against her chest for a quick hug. The brief kiss she
dropped on his forehead would usually have made him squirm
uncomfortably, but tonight it brought forth the unfamiliar sting of
tears.
    “ If you are sure? It is still early, but you do look a bit
pale.” His mum buffed his cheeks affectionately, nodding toward the
sitting room door and the hallway beyond. “Go and get a good
night’s sleep, you will feel better in the morning, I’m sure of
it.”
    Archie
merely smiled weakly and did as he was told, calling out,
“Goodnight,” as he swept through the back room. He ignored the
close scrutiny of Emilie and his dad, and closed the hallway door
behind him with a dull thud. His mother’s words rang in his ears
and made him frown.
    After
this afternoon, he didn’t think anything would ever be all right
again. He was certain that poor Mr Harriman would never be the
same.
    Guilt
immediately swept through Archie at the thought of the old man
lying cold and alone in the secluded spinney. Once in his room, he
closed the door and savoured the silence for several moments. It
was a relief to get away from his dad’s watchful gaze. He hoped his
dad wouldn’t send Emilie up to find out what was troubling him just
yet – this wasn’t something he could tell his sister. He couldn’t
recount the gruesome details to his sister, or his mum. The only
person he felt he could tell was his dad. First, though, he had to
wait until everyone had gone to bed.
    Archie
frowned and opened his eyes, only then realising that the room was
unlit; the open shutters cast the room in an eerie, half-light that
made him swallow nervously. He shuddered and studied the shadowed
outline of the large bed he shared with his brothers, sitting
against the wall to his left. Beside it sat a small, rickety table
that held a solitary tallow candle. To his right a small washstand
held a wash bowl and jug of water, and a threadbare
towel.
    It was
as familiar to Archie as the back of his hand, but the more he
stood with his back to the door, the more the darkness seemed to
creep up on him until it became difficult to breathe. Suddenly the
far corner of the small square room had a far darker edge to it,
and seemed to loom toward him menacingly.
    Scurrying across the room, he froze and stared at the old
tree a few feet away. The image of himself sitting high in the
branches watching the murderer swam alarmingly before him. One hand
was resting on the shutter closest to him when he paused, thinking
about what he had seen in the garden. Inching to one side, he stood
partially hidden by the wooden shutter and studied the trees
opposite carefully. It was pitch-black outside. Near impossible to
see anything except the vague outline of the larger branches, but
Archie knew.
    The
murderer was out there – watching.
    With a
shudder he quickly slammed the shutters closed and flipped the tiny
latch across to lock them. Lighting the candle, he hurried over to
the bed. Tiredness was beginning to make him clumsy, but he knew
that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he had told his dad
everything he had seen.
    A strong
gust of wind rattled the windows, tickling Archie’s cheeks in a
cold draught that made him shudder. If a storm came in, it would
almost certainly rain and wash away the murderer’s footprints.
Guilt surged through Archie stronger than ever before at the
thought of Mr Harriman’s body lying there, cold