Jack Gregson & the Forgotten Portal Read Online Free PDF Page B

them on?”
    “I think I’ve answered enough of your
questions Jack Gregson. As I said I’m the curator of this Attic,
not your bloody tutor! If you want some more answers, you need to
do something for me, and that is go down to that garden and see
what has happened to the emerald,” she said, losing her patience
once again. “You have to,” she added almost pleading.
    “Must we wear the rings when we are down
there?” Rosie asked, having put her ring back on. “Perhaps we could
check on the emerald better without all that black mist.”
    “You can go down without wearing the rings,
but do take them. The book as well…I think you’ll need that too
given your startling lack of knowledge. Go to where the statue of
the Warden is, the exact spot the black soldier now stands. He
should hopefully hold the blue Emerald. You must see if it still
remains there.”
    “Will you come with us?” David asked
hopefully.
    “ I cannot leave the Attic,” the curator
said, almost apologising. “Now go, quickly!”
    With that Jack, David and Rosie ran off to
the exit, descending the stairs out of the floating attic above the
Gregson Manor.
    ***
    Jack ran out the back door, his cousins
right behind him. His heart pounded as he crossed the patio and
ascended the small grass incline to the Rear Garden, nervous about
what they would find. They all breathed a sigh of relief, as they
saw the garden looked as it usually did, no mist or black statue in
sight. He considered putting on the ring, but quickly decided
against it with a shiver.
    “This way,” Jack said as they slowed to a
walk.
    The Rear Garden was the least used and least
maintained of the four gardens. Jack had been told they were once
beautiful with mowed lawns and paths surrounded by statues, maples
trees and thriving garden beds.
    Once the Gregson’s could no longer afford
gardening staff, there was always too much to do around the manor
and the rear garden was gradually overlooked. First the lawns
didn’t get mowed anymore, then autumn came and as the maple leaves
fell to the earth they were no longer raked away as they smothered
the flowerbeds.
    Gradually the fine dirt paths had turned to
mud, the plants died or were overgrown by weeds and the furniture
began to rust. The Rear garden became simply a pathway people used
on occasion to visit the graves at the back of the manor. Jack
thought that if you were going to “capture” the gardens one by one,
this would be the place to start.
    They continued down the mud track until
reaching a junction where three paths met and the Warden Statue
stood before them.
    “The Monk,” David said as they looked up at
it. Over the years the three of them had named all twenty-three
statues of Gregson manor, based purely on what the person looked
like. While they knew each represented important Gregson family
members from different generations, that hadn’t stopped them
inventing some of the more childish names such as The Fat Dwarf,
Big Butt Betty and Jacks personal favourite The Constipated
General.
    The Monk stood on a small pedestal, the
total height of the statue being around two metres. He had bare
feet, with low flowing robes closed by a rope tied around his
waist. His hands were pressed together at chest height as if
praying and his shaved head was bowed with eyes closed.
    “What do we do now? There’s no blue emerald
here that I can see.” Rosie asked, examining the statue from all
angles.
    “Don’t know, that nutty woman didn’t say.”
David replied referring to the curator. “She did tell us to the
bring the book though, maybe that will tell us something.”
    Rosie pulled it out, then dropped the bag to
the ground and sat on it. She went to the contents page and read
down the list until she came to the chapter on the Rear Garden. She
started to read:
    The Rear Gardens are situated at the rear of
the Gregson Manor…
    “Whoever wrote this really spells things out
don’t they? Does it mention that the grass is