The Quickening of Tom Turnpike (The Talltrees Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

during the free time before Tea.  But Freddie was determined to show
me that there must be a false bookcase leading to the secret room where I had
seen Barrington and the mysterious Doctor Boateng. 
    “If
someone catches us,” he said as we hurried through the corridor, “well, we’ll
be in the Library, won’t we?  What could be more innocent than browsing for
books?  The perfect crime!”
    The
Library was a grand, dusty hall with ancient wooden tables and benches which
must have been sat upon by thousands of boys who had left the school, grown old
and died long ago.  Creaking bookcases clad every wall, stretching right up to
a frescoed ceiling of angelic babies with orchestral instruments and wings surely
too petite to carry their chubby limbs.
    The
Library stretched from the door to Caratacus’ Latin classroom at this end down
to the Maths Classrooms through a door at the opposite end on the left.
    Freddie
pointed.  “It’s that bookcase down there.  There's a false book and if you pull
it, the bookcase swings open and there’s another room behind...”
    “And
you expect me to believe that?”  I shook my head.
    “It’s true !” he insisted.
    “And
how do you know?”
    “Because...
well it must be.  You said that’s where you saw the Colonel with Doctor
Boateng, so it must be back there somewhere.  Anyway, have you got anything
better to do?”
    I
shrugged.  “I suppose not.”  There was just no point in ever arguing with
Freddie Strange.  “Come on then.”
    I
looked around.  The only person here was our English teacher, Mr. English, who
was, in fact, Irish.  He was crouching down to stick little gold stars on
certain books in the shelves by the door to the Latin classroom.  He was one of
my favourite teachers.  He probably would have been my favourite, above even
Mr. Caratacus, if he did not have such a volatile temper.  He wore a tweed suit
and had a head exactly the shape of an egg.  It was bald on top, but he combed every
strand of hair from one side of his head to the other in a hopeless attempt to
give the impression of having a full head of hair.  Sometimes, in a strong
breeze when he wasn’t wearing his mortar board, his hair would blow out to the
side and make him look like an angry palm tree in a hurricane.
    “Hulloo,
fellas,” he called out in his lilting accent, peering over his thick, round
spectacles. 
    “Hello,
Sir,” we replied.
    “Master
Strange, fancy seeing you in a Library!  What would you be after then?  A bit
of Robert Louis Stevenson perhaps?”
    “Actually,
Sir,” said Freddie, “we were just, um...  browsing, weren’t we, Tom?”
    “Well
suit yourself, Strange.  I will cultivate you yet.”  He stuck a finger in his
right ear and wiggled it frenetically, with his eyes screwed up.  It was a
weird-looking habit which he said was to ease the discomfort of a piece of
shrapnel that had been lodged there since the War.
    Freddie
and I headed over to the bookcases by the door that lead to the Maths rooms to
begin our search.   We began by running our hands along the shelves that we
could reach.
    “There
must be a latch around here somewhere,” said Freddie.  “If there’s a door,
there must be a handle or some hinges somewhere.  You look here around D and E,
and I’ll go over to H, I and J.”
    I
continued to scour the shelves for a switch or a lever, but with no success.  I
took a couple of paces back so that I could look higher up.
    “There’s
really nothing here,” I said.  “Come on, let’s get outside.”
    “It
is here somewhere, “Freddie insisted.  “I’m telling you!”
    He
tugged on a handful of books, stepping back expectantly, hoping that the
bookcase would yawn open and reveal the secret chamber.
    “Turnpike! 
Strange!” a voice shouted sharply.  “What on Earth do you think you’re
doing indoors?”
    Barrington. 
And he was with Doctor Saracen.  Whilst Saracen loomed quiet and still,
Barrington was agitated