The night draws in early now around the Hall and icy fingers hold its walls through the night. Emily likes the frost with its sparkles, painting an opaque layer over the ugly and abandoned but it reminds me of death. Its pale white sheen filling in the cracks of the living, like an old face in death suddenly appearing smooth, having lost the anguish of life.
After a rather entertaining Halloween, I decided to return to the burnt rock with the black dog, Beelzebub. We all had to stay away from downstairs anyway because the ghost hunters arrived. Just such funny creatures with their cameras and sound equipment. Our frolics over Mischief Eve brought them in for a few days. We were restrained to icy blasts of air and the occasional thump of furniture. Very dull really when all you want to do is give them a real treat but rules are rules…
A council woman turned up too, looking into the situation with Baby. She and Charles spent at least an hour together and he took her on a tour of the historic Hall. She gushed with pleasure when he told her of the priest hole and showed her the ancient chimney, the tunnel leading up to the church and ovens. As she left she told him she was going to look into a few things and be back to see him soon. She might be able to help him. Charles looked bemused but pleased. Brigitte watched everything with stern eyes. I don’t think she was too happy with the council woman.
So I disappeared with the black beast. Obviously we don’t banter much so the journey was quiet but fast. I actually quite enjoy travel now. Been a few places and seen a few things. I do mean just a few though.
We arrived at dawn to watch a strange scene of two grown men dragging a young lad into an abandoned building. The dog got a bit excited about it all and then we sped off to find her owner.
The island looked beautiful, bathed in orange as the sun rose, especially after the sugar coated colourless world I had just left. And we were there, on the mountain side, at the home of the girl called Loulou. The dog demon started to get very agitated and somehow merged himself into my, I mean, the sleeping teenager. I didn’t like that much and when she suddenly tossed and fell off the bed, I liked it even less. I feel strangely protective over her.
Well, I barely know how to explain what happened next. Lou’s best friend Nelson had disappeared and she seemed sadly devastated. Over the next two days it was a roller coaster of excitement and suspense. I’m no story teller so cannot relive the experience for you in words but I can say that Loulou is an amazing girl; so feisty and brave. She helped solve a mystery and catch some criminals without really blinking an eye. She did have some help though; Beelzebub the dog. Yes, the dog. Oh and there was a man in a pink van, a beastly cake maker and a turtle called Pugsley, drugged children, strawberry cake and the dog vomited. I know it sounds a little odd but it was the best time I’ve had in ages!
I really didn’t want to come back to the chills of the Hall but the Captain came to get me. Something bad had happened and they needed me to help. I had only been away a couple of days…
Who’s got Baby?
Baby, the cute cuddly, vicious, killing creature had somehow disappeared. There had been heavy snowfall one night and in the morning she was gone. The Captain had been up in Grimsby at a soldiers reunion and Emily had gone into Hull to watch rehearsals for the Christmas pantomime (Oh no she didn’t, oh yes she did) and spent the night in the costume wardrobe rolling about in the gowns and the glory. The only one in upstairs was the Norse and no one dare ask him anything.
Maria arrived and swiftly took control. She had a way with the Norseman (her Icelandic blood I guess) and he appeared out of his hide hole. He said he saw nothing but felt the Tiger was still there, somewhere. He had heard voices outside in the night but he didn’t care who they were so he didn’t look. Amazingly he offered his help. We were too stunned to speak. Things must be bad.
Downstairs are a mess. Old William trundles slowly about looking ashen, while Charles sits with his head in his hands. The loss of the tiger has hit both emotionally and financially. The world has come crashing down. Brigitte, on the other hand, remains cool and calculated. She strokes Charles back murmuring gently; “Don’t worry; you’ll just have to sell the Hall…”