Pop Goes the Weasel Read Online Free PDF Page A

days.
    ‘Five minutes, boys. Five minutes and we
must
be out of the house.’
    Time was ticking by. The register would soon be called at Kingswood Secondary, the independent school that the boys attended, and it wouldn’t do to be late. The school was very hot on discipline, sending terse letters to parentsthey perceived to be tardy or lax. Eileen lived in fear of these missives, despite the fact that she had never received one. As a result, the morning routine was rigidly mapped out and usually they would have been out of the door by now, but today she was at sixes and sevens. Her chivvying of the boys was more out of habit than conviction this morning.
    Alan hadn’t come home last night. Eileen always worried about him being out after dark. She knew it was in a good cause and that he felt a duty to help those less fortunate than himself, but you never know who – or what – you might run into. There were bad people out there – you only had to read the newspapers to see that.
    Normally he would return around 4 a.m. Eileen would feign sleep as she knew Alan didn’t like the idea of her waiting up for him, but in reality she never slept a wink until he was home safe and sound. By 6 a.m., she couldn’t hold off any longer, getting up and ringing Alan’s mobile phone – but it went straight to voicemail. She’d thought about leaving a message, then decided against it. He’d be back soon enough and would accuse her of fussing. She made herself breakfast but couldn’t face eating it, so it sat on the breakfast bar untouched. Where
was
he?
    The boys were ready now and staring at her. They could tell she was anxious and weren’t sure whether to be amused or worried. At fourteen, they were the classic mixture of man and child, wanting to be independent, grown up, even cynical, yet cleaving to the familiarroutines and discipline that their parents provided. They were waiting to go, but still Eileen hesitated. A strong instinct was telling her to stay put, to wait for her husband to return.
    The doorbell rang and Eileen bolted into the hallway. The silly so-and-so had forgotten his key. Perhaps he had been robbed. It would be just like him to help some ne’er-do-well and get his wallet pinched into the bargain. Composing herself, Eileen opened the door calmly, her brightest smile painted on her face.
    But there was no one there. She cast around for Alan – for anyone – but the street was quiet. Was it kids playing silly beggars?
    ‘I’m surprised you haven’t got better things to do,’ she called out, silently cursing the unruly children who lived at the cheaper end of the street. She was about to slam the door shut, when she noticed the box. A courier’s cardboard box left on her doorstep. A white label adorned the top and on it was written ‘The Matthews family’ and then their address – misspelt in spidery, crabbed handwriting. It looked like a present of some sort – but it wasn’t anybody’s birthday. Eileen stuck her head out once more, expecting to see Simon the postman or a courier’s van parked up on the double yellow lines – but there was no one in sight.
    The boys were on to her immediately, asking her if they could open it, but Eileen held firm.
She
would open it and if it was appropriate she would share it with them. Theydidn’t really have time – it was 8.40 already for goodness’ sake – but better to open it now, put the boys out of their misery and then get on with their morning. Suddenly Eileen felt cross with herself for dawdling and she resolved to get on with things – if they hurried they might just make it to school on time.
    Pulling a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer, she sliced a line down the duct tape that bound the box together. As she did so, her nose wrinkled – a strong odour emanated from inside. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was but she didn’t like it. Was it something industrial? Something animal? Her instinct was to re-seal the package and