Creeping Shadow (The Rise of Isaac, Book One) Page 2

Oliver grinned and jogged the last few steps over to May. "Sorry," he said.

  "Save it for Mum. That's the second detention this week, you know?"

  "How do you know I had detention? Maybe I decided to stay on to finish my homework," Oliver said, fighting a smile.

  May gave him a look that said she knew better and he laughed.

  "Was it Mrs Robertson again?" she asked, grimacing at the woman's name.

  He nodded and they started walking down the road, heading home. "She has it in for me. It was only some stupid essay on career choices I was supposed to do."

  "Yeah but if you just sucked it up and did your homework she wouldn't be able to give you detention."

  "She'd just find something else," Oliver said with a shrug.

  "I guess, but at least mum wouldn't get so angry," May said, walking around a puddle to avoid getting her shoes wet.

  Oliver ran a hand through his dark hair and knew his mum would want to cut it again soon. As a hairdresser, she rarely let either of them have a split-end for more than a day.

  They approached the local shops and Oliver nudged May towards them, reaching into his pocket. He retrieved the list his mum had given him that morning and picked up a basket as he entered the shop. May trailed behind him, tapping out texts on her phone as he dropped milk, bread and cheese into the basket.

  He paid and they exited the shop, discovering that it had started raining. May retrieved an umbrella from her bag and opened it. Because he was taller, Oliver took it and held it above their heads, the raindrops drumming on the canvas as the shower became a downpour.

  They quickened their pace to a jog and turned down the narrow lane that led home. The arching trees provided some cover as they hurried along and eventually turned onto their road, moving past the row of houses until they reached number seven.

  They skirted their mum's car on the driveway and Oliver retrieved the keys from his pocket. He jiggled the key in the lock in the usual way until it turned then held the door open for May, collapsing the umbrella before entering himself.

  The small porch was a mess of shoes and one wall was laden with coats hanging on hooks. They kicked off their shoes and went through the next door that gave access to the house.

  Oliver mentally prepared himself for the conflict he was about to face. "Mum?" he called.

  There was no answer so they moved into the small living room where family photos gazed at them from every wall.

  May dropped down into an armchair and switched the television on. "Maybe she's with a client," she suggested.

  Oliver nodded and exited the room, moving past the cream-carpeted staircase towards the kitchen. There was a conservatory at the back of the house where their mum cut people's hair. He glanced into it, confirming it was empty before returning to the kitchen.

  Oliver placed the food he had bought in the fridge. As he shut the door he spotted a chopping board and recipe book laid out with a series of ingredients atop the mottled, blue worktop. The book was open on a recipe for a casserole.

  He grabbed the house phone on the counter and dialled his mum's mobile number. It started to ring and he turned abruptly at the sound of a song playing in the kitchen, hanging up as he spotted her phone which was making the noise. It lay on the dining table which was tucked into a corner beneath a noticeboard; it was crammed full of important letters, bills, events and cards.

  He checked the calendar pinned up on one corner, noticing she had only had two appointments that morning. He picked up her phone and tried to unlock it but couldn't guess the passcode.

  Oliver exited the kitchen and went upstairs, checking the bathroom before entering his own room. He changed out of his damp uniform into jeans and a t-shirt then pulled on a hoody, zipping it up against the cold.

  His room was small and simple with white walls and navy sheets on the bed. He had a desk below a window for his laptop and a shelf beside his bed for books composed mainly of thrillers, mysteries and detective stories.

  He opened his laptop and found it still switched on from the previous night. The webpage he had been browsing was still up, describing the ideal candidate for the British security service. He hadn't fitted the profile, especially in terms of his grades though it was the only career he could ever imagine himself in. He had deleted his essay on career choices after realising that.

  "Olly?" May called from the hallway.

  He shut the laptop with a sigh and hurried out, spotting May across the hall looking into their mum's room.

  "What is it?" Oliver asked.

  She turned to him, looking pale and frightened.

  He blinked in surprise, feeling his gut constrict. "What's wrong?"

  "We need to call the police," May said, her eyes wide with fear.

  Oliver hurried across the hall and pushed past her into his mum's room.

  He gasped in shock.

  It had been ripped apart as if someone had taken a chainsaw to her possessions. The curtains and sheets lay in tatters, feathers were strewn everywhere from the torn pillows and the bed was chopped clean in half.

  "MUM?" May shouted, her voice shaking.

  There was no response.

  Oliver's heartbeat thundered in his ears. "She's not here," he breathed.

  May reached into her pocket and retrieved her mobile. Oliver gazed at her numbly as she phoned the police, feeling as if he was going into shock.

  * * *

  Oliver and May sat in the living room while they waited for the police to arrive. They were given the advice to ring their mum's friends incase she was with someone. They were still dialling people when the doorbell made them jump.

  Oliver sprinted to answer the door with May hot on his heels. He wrenched it open and found a young policeman standing there. He had blonde hair that was swept back over his head and gelled perfectly into place.

  "Good evening, I'm Officer Hawking. I hear your mother has gone missing, is that correct?"

  "Yeah, come inside," Oliver said, stepping aside to allow the man access.

  Hawking stood in the hallway, gazing around it as if he could sense something they couldn't. "How long do you suspect she's been missing?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure. We were home from school by four thirty so anytime before then," Oliver said.

  "She was here this morning," May added.

  Hawking nodded slowly.

  "Her room's been ripped apart," Oliver said frantically, gesturing to the stairs.

  "What if she's been hurt?" May said, her eyebrows knitting together.

  Hawking didn't respond but instead began climbing the stairs so they hurried after him. "Which room is your mother's?"

  Oliver led him along the corridor and gestured to the door on the right. He gulped, feeling his mouth go dry as he caught sight of the devastation beyond the doorway.

  Hawking moved ahead of them and glanced into the room, nodding as he took in the scene. "Okay. Perhaps you'll leave me a moment to do a sweep of the room?"

  Oliver gazed at him in surprise. "Don't you want to take a statement? O-or ask us about places she might be or enemies she might have?" he stuttered, overwhelmed with worry.

  Hawking raised a single eyebrow at him. "Does she have any enemies?"

  "Of course not," May snapped.

  "Well then," Hawking said. "We'll get to the questions once I have completed my investigation. Thank you." He dismissed them, disappearing into the room.

  Oliver moved to follow the man but May pressed a hand to his shoulder and shook her head. He gritted his teeth and let out a sharp breath of frustration through his nose, letting her lead him back downstairs.

  As they descended to the hallway, the doorbell sounded once more.

  Oliver ran towards it, desperately hoping he would find his mum standing outside waiting to explain everything. He flung open the door to find a policewoman there and his stomach dropped with disappointment.

  "Hello, I'm Officer Welling I've come about a report of a missing person. Can I come in?" She
had sharp, angular features and dark hair that was tied in a knot at the back of her head.

  "What?" Oliver frowned in confusion. "There's already an officer here."

  "There is?" Welling asked, furrowing her brow.

  The officer lifted her radio and pressed a button, making a short jingle of noise. She spoke into the receiver and waited for an answer.

  "You're the first to respond. No other officer on the scene. Over."

  "There's a guy upstairs," May insisted.

  Welling nodded. "Show me where he is. Perhaps there's been some confusion."

  They led her upstairs and Oliver gestured to his mother's room. "Mum's stuff's been destroyed. The other guy is investigating it."

  Welling nodded and walked ahead of them, disappearing into the room.

  She exited a moment later. "There's no one in there. And what items were destroyed exactly?"

  Oliver sprinted past her and stopped dead as he gazed into the bedroom.

  It was in perfect condition as if the room had never been ransacked and there was no sign of Officer Hawking anywhere.

  May appeared beside them and gasped. "What's happened? How has it all been put back together?"

  "What's going on here? You kids aren't winding me up are you? It's an offence to waste police time."

  "We're not," May said in a panic, turning to her. "Our mum's missing."

  Welling frowned. "When did you last see her?"

  "This morning before school," May said.

  "Her car's in the drive and I tried ringing her but her phone's in the kitchen. She never goes anywhere without it," Oliver said.

  "Okay guys. Well everything looks pretty normal here, there's no sign of a break-in so I'm sure you don't need to be alarmed. No doubt she's got held up somewhere or she's just popped round to a neighbours' house," Welling said calmly.

  "No. She wouldn't. Why would she be out this late and not ring? And her room was destroyed! That guy must have fixed it somehow," Oliver said, becoming breathless with his anger.

  "You need to take a deep breath and calm down. Can you ask a relative to come and stay with you?" Welling asked.

  "We don't have any relatives," May said, shaking her head.

  "A friend then or perhaps a neighbour?" Welling suggested.

  "We don't need to ring anyone. We need to be looking for our mum," Oliver snapped.

  "A person cannot be reported as officially missing until they've been gone for more than twenty four hours. If she hasn't turned up by tomorrow-"

  "No! You're not listening. Her room was destroyed, what if she's been attacked? That guy must have something do with it. He must have been pretending to be a policeman!" Oliver said wildly.

  Welling eyed him suspiciously. "Have you taken any illegal substances tonight?"

  "What?" Oliver asked in disbelief.

  "Alcohol? Drugs?" Welling pressed.

  The insinuation set his blood boiling and he went to retort but May touched his arm. She filled her gaze with warning then turned back to the officer. "He's not had anything. He's just upset."

  Oliver shrugged his arm out of her grip but bit his tongue before he said anything more.

  Welling frowned. "I want you to call a friend or neighbour to take care of you tonight. If your mother hasn't turned up by tomorrow you can file a missing person's report down at the station and we'll start an investigation into her whereabouts."

  "Fine," Oliver said through gritted teeth, anxious for the woman to leave so he could get out looking for his mum.

  "I'll be waiting here until this is all organised, you understand?" Welling said, watching him closely.

  "We don't need a guardian, we're sixteen," Oliver said, trying to keep his tone level.

  "By law, you are only allowed to be left alone overnight if you are at no risk of harming yourselves. As I'm quite aware that you are both going to charge out the front door the second I leave, I'm deeming it more appropriate that you're under adult supervision tonight."

  Oliver nodded, trying to keep his anger contained as he walked off down the corridor to retrieve the phonebook.

  He couldn't understand how Hawking had done it but knew, if it was worth covering up, his mum must be in serious trouble.

  2

  The Family Tree

  Oliver sat next to his sister in the back of a BMW that smelt of leather and lemons, suggesting it had recently been valeted. The car wound through narrow lanes surrounded by trees that arched over the road, the tips of their leaves tickling each other in the wind.

  Their social worker, Mr Greene, leant around to talk to them from the passenger seat. May continued to stare out of the window, her eyes glassy and her jaw set.

  "I know this is going to be difficult but your grandfather is very excited for you to come and live with him," Mr Greene said.

  "We've never even met him," Oliver replied, folding his arms.

  "No, but that doesn't change the fact that he's family and he'll take very good care of you both."

  "I just want to go home," May muttered.

  "We shouldn't be moving so far away. I want to help the police look for her," Oliver snapped.

  "She's only been missing a week and we're already being relocated," May agreed.

  Mr Greene gave them a sympathetic look. "The police know what they're doing. It's best if you leave them to it. I can let you know if there's any news on your mother's whereabouts."

  "We should be helping. No one knows her as well as we do," Oliver said stubbornly, resenting the man's pity.

  "You'll feel better when you get there. Wait 'til you see the place. You guys are gonna love it," Mr Greene said, turning back to face the front and closing the subject.

  "I don't care how nice it is. It isn't our home," Oliver said, catching a look of frustration from May.

  He sighed and leant against the window, balling his fists. He had to bite his tongue more than he normally would of late, knowing that his actions could affect the both of them. His quick temper had already caused him problems with the police during the investigation.

  May had warned him not to mention Hawking again and even they had barely spoken of it since. He couldn't understand how the man had managed it and fear raked at his heart when he considered the notion that Hawking had something to do with his mum's absence. Since that night, he was left in a state of anxiety and found himself plagued by vivid dreams that brought his fears to life.

  After a week of searching, the police had looked for his mum's will. It had stated that her father was to be given full custody of her children in the event of her death. Oliver knew next to nothing about his grandfather who lived miles away in the countryside. It was only now that he truly appreciated how odd that was.

  * * *

  The car entered a quaint village, winding up a hill past a small school. Locals were meandering up the street looking happy and content with their lives and Oliver stared out at them bitterly, wishing he was back in his own home.

  The car approached a steep hill covered in trees on the outskirts of the village. At its base sat a wide gateway with an ornate sign upon it that announced their arrival at Oakway Manor. The driver indicated, turned off of the road, and drove through it.

  The track wound higher and higher up the hill, the trees so dense that they blotted out the sunlight. Oliver peered into the gloom and May pressed her face gently against the window.

  "Are we nearly there?" she asked.

  "Yes, this is your grandfather's estate," Mr Greene said.

  "What? He owns all of this?" Oliver asked, distracted for the first time.

  "Uhuh, great isn't it?" Mr Greene said enthusiastically.

  "I guess," Oliver said, his eyes flicking from tree to tree as the car moved through the woodland.

  They emerged in a clearing and caught their first glimpse of their grandfather's home. Oliver sat forward in his seat, taking in the grand building.

  It looked as though it had once been a fine, manor house but now the grey ston
e was cracked and aged; thick vines wrapped around the walls which seemed to be holding parts of the building together.

  A colossal tree appeared to have grown straight through the heart of it, creating a gaping hole where it burst through the rafters. The canopy hung over the house in a display of brightly coloured leaves, splashes of yellow and orange signalling the start of Autumn. Branches reached out through the top windows and their boughs were bent where they had grown skyward in search of sunlight.

  "May, are you seeing this?" Oliver glanced at her.

  "I see it. Why's there a tree growing out of it?" she asked, looking stunned.

  "There you are. What do you make of that then?" Mr Greene asked smugly, as if unveiling a grand prize.

  "Are we actually going to be living here?" Oliver looked at the man disbelievingly, unable to truly accept how much his life was changing.

  "Yep," he said, smiling at them.

  Oliver felt an irrational surge of anger towards the man though he knew Mr Greene wasn't to blame for their situation.

  The driver revved the car's engine as it laboured up the steepest part of the hill, coming to a stop with a jolt as he pulled the handbrake. Mr Greene exited the vehicle and opened the door for May. Oliver climbed out slowly and looked up at the building, wondering who would choose to live in such a strange house.

  An enormous, wooden door creaked as it opened beneath a twisted, stone porch. A tiny man appeared in the doorway wearing a suede coat and a fancy neckerchief. He had a thick head of dark hair accompanied by a short beard.

  Their grandfather was much younger-looking than Oliver expected and would have assumed the man was in his forties if he hadn't known it was impossible. He had a round nose and large, round eyes to match which bulged as they landed on Oliver.

  In his haste, the man half ran, half fell down the crumbling, stone steps. He grabbed Oliver's hand and shook it vigorously.

  "Oliver, great to finally meet you. Just wonderful. Don't you look like your mother? You can see she got all the looks in the family, eh? Good for you, good for you."

  Oliver nodded vaguely, feeling bemused. "Thank you, er, sir."

  "Oh good heavens, you can forget about calling me sir. We're family after all, aren't we? Just call me Ely. Bit odd after all these years to call me Grandpa, I'd expect."