[Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

The girl could see their new friend was being kind to her brother, and she nodded. “That’s right, Ben. There’s better ways of being brave than letting yourself get beaten up by Smithers’s gang.”

Ben rose as he saw Mrs. Winn approaching. “Your sister’s right, Alex. Courage shows itself in different ways—chin up, pal, you’ll see.”

Mrs. Winn loaded more purchases into the basket and greeted the two young people.

“Well, good morning, do you remember me? You came with your father when my cat was sick last year. Now let me see, you both had names beginning with A . . . Amelia and Alexander!”

Alex had cheered up a bit, and he corrected her. “Amy and Alex, Miz Winn. I remember you gave us apple pie and lemonade. How is your cat now?”

Mrs. Winn rummaged through her purse as she replied. “Horatio’s fine, thank you, fine. Ben, how would you like to take your friends for some ice cream? Evans Tea Shoppe makes their own, you’ll enjoy it. I’ll come over later for tea and a scone. Here, Amy, you can be in charge of the ice cream money. Don’t forget to buy one for Ned, too. He’s a good dog.”

Ben picked up the basket. “Where are you going, Miz Winn?”

Setting her lips tightly, she pointed at two figures entering a building on the square’s east side. “Right where those two are going, to my lawyer’s office. I’ve been hoping to see Mackay. Time’s of the essence, isn’t it.” She had said nothing about an appointment. “I’ll see you later.”

As they watched Mrs. Winn walking swiftly across to the lawyer’s office, Amy nodded to the man who was ushering a young lady into the building ahead of him. “That’s Obadiah Smithers, Wilf’s dad. He’s the one who’s buying the village to turn it into a cement factory. I don’t know who the lady is, though.”

Ben glanced at the pair. “Neither do I, but I saw them get off the train together when I arrived here. Maybe she’s from London, part of that firm Smithers has dealings with—”

Alex interrupted. “Jackman Donning and Bowe, that’s who my dad said they were. Wonder which one she is?”

17

EVANS TEA SHOPPE DID SERVE GOOD ice cream—it came in a long dish, pink and white with raspberry sauce and chocolate crumbs sprinkled on top. Mr. Evans worked in the back of the shop, baking and making ice cream. Blodwen, his wife, an immense jolly woman with a strong Welsh accent, served them. Though animals were not usually allowed inside, she was charmed by the big black Labrador, who looked very meek and offered his paw. Mrs. Evans lifted the edge of the tablecloth. “Ooh look you now, there’s a lovely dog, he is. Sit him under the table now. Indeed to goodness, who’d be keepin’ a fine dog like him outside with no ice cream!”

As Ned tucked into his ice cream, which came on a tin plate, Ben tuned in to the dog’s thoughts. “Delicious, wonderful stuff. Just the thing after a hard morning’s shopping!”

Ben put his feet on the dog’s back as he answered. “You great furry fraud!”

Ben pulled aside the lace curtain. From where he was sitting he could see an ancient, rambling, one-story building at the square’s northwest corner. It was a jumble of wattle and daub, stonewalling and patches of worn brick, with crumbling mortar, makeshift repairs against the ravages of time. The faded roof of thatch sat on it like a badly fitted wig with a raggedy fringe. A large bump sticking up in the center of the roof gave it an odd, rather comical aspect. The whole thing was fronted by an overgrown patch of greenery and a rickety fence, partially broken by bushes growing through it. Sunlight shading through high hawthorns lent it an air of picturesque dilapidation. He pointed with his spoon.

“Is that the place they call the almshouse?”

Alex looked up from his ice cream. “Yes, but you’d best stay away from it, Ben. The mad professor lives there!”

Ben laughed, as if the other boy was joking. “Haha, mad professor?”

Amy backed her brother’s statement up. She whispered, “It’s true, Ben, a mad professor does live in the almshouse. He doesn’t like people and he seldom comes out—even Wilf Smithers and the Grange Gang don’t go near there. They say he has a double-barreled shotgun and he’s not afraid to use it. Alex is right, keep away from the almshouse!”

From her side of the table Amy could see Mr. Mackay’s office. “Look, Ben.” She pointed. “There’s Miz Winn coming out of the lawyer’s office. I wonder what she was doing in there?”