The Highland Falcon Thief Read online

  Hal nodded. ‘You can count on me, Mr Singh.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mr Singh smiled and turned back to his engine.

  Lenny and Hal made their way back through the tender. This time, Hal barely felt a flicker of fear as he jumped into the carriage.

  ‘Why is your uncle on the Highland Falcon?’ Lenny asked, as they retraced their steps through the service cars. He doesn’t seem posh enough.

  ‘He’s writing an article for the Telegraph about this journey. He writes a lot of books about travelling on trains.’

  Lenny stopped. ‘Is your uncle Nathaniel Bradshaw?’

  Hal nodded.

  ‘But, he’s my favourite writer! Have you read Steam of the Dragon?’

  Hal shook his head. ‘I haven’t read any of his books.’

  Lenny looked shocked.

  ‘I’m going to,’ he added hastily.

  ‘I’ll bet he could help us catch the Magpie? He’s probably noticing all sorts of clues.’

  Hal shook his head. ‘He doesn’t believe there’s a thief. He says no one would be mad enough to come on the royal train and steal things.’

  ‘Ha!’ Lenny skipped forward. ‘Well we know there’s a thieving birdie on this train and we’re going to catch it. We are train detectives.’

  ‘Lenny.’ Hal hurried after her. ‘How are we going to do that when you can’t risk being seen?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask the questions and look for clues,’ she replied, frown lines appearing on her forehead. ‘Then you’ll tell me what you’ve discovered, and we’ll do the detective work together, cos I know this train inside out. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘First, we need to know more about the stolen jewels. What did they look like? Exactly when were they stolen and where from?’

  ‘I didn’t see Lady Lansbury’s earrings. She said they were pearls. But I did see Lydia Pickle’s brooch. Look, I’ll draw it for you.’

  Hal sank to the floor, and Lenny knelt down beside him. Pulling out his sketchbook, he started to draw, but the jolting of the carriage jarred his pen. ‘Urgh, this is impossible.’

  ‘Put the book flat on the floor and lie on your belly,’ Lenny said. ‘Relax your arm and go with the motion of the train. Don’t fight it.’

  Hal paused. ‘I think I know when the brooch was stolen.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘You were there.’ He turned to a fresh page and drew five diagonal lines that would meet at a point if they continued off the page.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Perspective lines,’ he replied, half closing his eyes. He pictured the observation car, the groups of people standing and talking. Hal barely looked at the paper, his pen skittering about the page drawing the scene.

  ‘I was here,’ he muttered, ‘looking for you.’ He drew an X, and Lenny nodded. ‘Where were you, by the way?’ Lenny grinned. ‘Between the white cloth at the back of the trolley and Amy’s legs.’

  ‘Then Uncle Nat came over, and as we left the carriage, Lydia Pickle complained about having lost her brooch.’ His pen went to her figure in the picture. ‘Yet here, only minutes earlier, it was pinned to her chest, because that’s when I saw it.’

  Lenny stared down at Hal’s drawing. ‘How do you do that?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Draw that.’ She looked at him. ‘Like it’s happening in front of you.’

  Hal shrugged. ‘If I tried to tell you what I saw with words, it would come out wrong. I get confused. I can’t remember it right. But, if I draw what I see in here –’ he tapped his head with the pen – ‘it comes out right.’

  Lenny gave a quiet whistle. ‘With us on the case, the Magpie hasn’t got a chance.’

  Hal felt a warm burst of pride. No one but his mum had ever been interested in his drawing.

  They heard a noise, and Lenny quickly dragged Hal into the pantry. Looking through the slit in the door, Hal saw Graham the guard walk past.

  ‘Come on! Let’s get you back to your compartment before we get busted,’ Lenny hissed. ‘Let me see that drawing again.’ She stared at the picture as they walked. ‘The Magpie must be one of the people in this picture. Wait – where’s Ernest White?’

  ‘There.’ Hal pointed to a circle. ‘That’s the back of his head. He was sat in an armchair.’ His eyes flickered across the figures in the picture. He couldn’t help noticing that one of the people standing next to Lydia Pickle was Uncle Nat.

  ‘We have to suspect everyone until we can prove they’re innocent,’ Lenny said. ‘That’s how these things are done on TV.’ She handed Hal’s book back and slid open the connecting door to the royal carriage.

  ‘As soon as I find anything out, I’ll come and tell you,’ Hal said.

  Lenny nodded. ‘And I’ll see if the train staff know anything.’

  Hal hurried back, thrilled by their plan to catch the Magpie. His face felt tight from the wind and the heat of furnace on the footplate, and he could still taste baked beans. As he rounded the corner, he heard Mr Pickle shouting.

  ‘I demand you open this door!’

  Uncle Nat was in the hallway, his back to the door of their compartment. Beside him was Gordon Goulde.

  ‘I understand you’re upset, sir,’ Gordon Goulde said, ‘but I’m afraid I can’t do that. We respect our guests’ privacy.’

  ‘Respect? That boy didn’t show any respect for my wife when he bumped into us in the observation car and nicked her brooch!’

  Hal winced. They were talking about him.

  ‘The evidence we need to prove that boy is guilty is in there.’ Mr Pickle pointed at the door.

  ‘Then the police will find it when we get to Balmoral,’ Uncle Nat replied calmly.

  ‘That’ll give the boy time to hide the evidence or … or throw it out the window!’ Mr Pickle’s round face was flushed, making him look like a salami. ‘There he is!’ Mr Pickle spluttered. ‘What are you smiling at, boy? Where have you been? I’ll bet he’s been stealing again.’

  ‘I’m not a thief,’ Hal said, feeling certain he hadn’t been smiling.

  ‘Check his pockets!’ Mr Pickle lurched towards him.

  ‘Get your hands off my nephew.’ Uncle Nat leaped in front of Hal, pushing Mr Pickle back.

  ‘Mr Pickle, please.’ Gordon Goulde grabbed Steven Pickle’s shoulder, and the angry rail tycoon shrugged him off.

  Baron Essenbach opened his compartment door. ‘Is there a problem, gentlemen?’

  ‘A small disagreement,’ Uncle Nat replied in a steely voice. ‘Mr Pickle seems to think he is Sherlock Holmes.’

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ Sierra Knight stepped into the corridor clutching an electric-blue shawl around her shoulders. Lucy Meadows was two steps behind her holding a script. ‘Would you mind keeping it down? I’m trying to run lines,’ Sierra said.

  ‘Open this door or—’ Mr Pickle started to say, but Uncle Nat interjected loudly.

  ‘Gordon, I would like you to open up Mr Pickle’s room.’

  ‘What! Certainly not!’ Mr Pickle bellowed. ‘I’m the victim, not the thief!’

  ‘I am sure if I made a thorough search of your compartment, I’d find your wife’s brooch,’ Uncle Nat said, ‘as I suspect she has merely misplaced it.’

  ‘Outrageous!’ Mr Pickle’s face was positively puce. ‘I will not allow you to root around in my private things.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Uncle Nat snapped. ‘Nor I you.’

  A cloud of barking white fur filled the far end of the corridor, followed by a grumpy-looking Rowan Buck. A metre behind him glided a perfectly poised Lady Lansbury. The hallway was a traffic jam of people and barking dogs.

  ‘Urgh, this is impossible!’ Sierra grabbed Lucy by the wrist. ‘Come on. We’re going to the observation car.’ And the two of them squeezed through the crowd.

  Behind Lady Lansbury, Hal spotted Milo Essenbach enter the corridor. He had an odd look on his face, his eyebrows raised high.

  Steven Pickle stepped aside to let
Sierra pass, but the actress couldn’t get past the excited dogs, who were suddenly barking and jumping up at her.

  ‘Oh!’ she wailed. ‘They’re attacking me!’

  ‘Hey, hey!’ Hal rushed forward, kneeling before the dogs. ‘Sit!’

  All five of the dogs immediately sat down, their curly tails wagging.

  ‘Good dogs.’ Hal petted their heads, looking up at Sierra. ‘They’re just being friendly.’

  Sierra looked uncertain, hurrying past the canines towards Milo.

  The baron’s son shoved his hand into his pocket, bowing his head as Sierra and Lucy passed him. A flash caught Hal’s eye. Something had sparkled between Milo’s fingers.

  It had looked like jewellery.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE INVENTION OF TIME

  ‘So,’ Uncle Nat said, putting an arm around Hal’s shoulder, steering him into their compartment and closing the door. ‘Where’ve you been?’

  Hal sat on the sofa, noticing the beds had been put away. He wanted to tell the truth, but he wasn’t about to break his promise to Lenny and her dad. He swallowed. ‘Nowhere.’

  ‘Ahhhh.’ Uncle Nat sat down in his desk chair. ‘Nowhere. Yes, I used to go there when I was a younger man.’ He smiled, but his eyes looked serious. ‘Hal, it would be better if you told me what you’re up to.’

  ‘I can’t!’ Hal blurted out. ‘I promised.’

  Uncle Nat blinked, took off his glasses, and cleaned them with a cloth from the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘How about I tell you where I think you might have been, and you nod your head if I’m right?’ He put his glasses back on and grinned. ‘That way, you wouldn’t be breaking any promises.’

  Hal thought about this for a moment and then nodded.

  ‘I noticed you entered the corridor from that direction.’ His uncle pointed. ‘That means you were either in the other carriage of compartments, the royal carriage or the service cars …’ He looked at Hal expectantly. ‘Or you could have been on the footplate.’

  Hal furrowed his brow, trying to stop a smile from spreading across his face.

  ‘If you did happen to find someone kind enough to take you on to the footplate, then you would have witnessed the extraordinary event of the water scoop.’ He leaned towards Hal, his hazel eyes dancing, and Hal felt his own eyes must have been dancing too.

  He nodded the tiniest of nods.

  ‘Oh, Hal!’ Uncle Nat gasped, jumping to his feet. ‘Do you know how lucky you are? You’ve experienced something I never have … and probably never will. There are no water troughs in use any more. They filled that one specially for this trip. I had my head and shoulders out the window trying to see it! And you were on the footplate?’

  ‘It was amazing!’ Hal exploded, bouncing up and down on the sofa. ‘Mr Singh let me blow the whistle!’

  ‘That was you?’

  ‘Yes! And Joey gave me baked beans and potato cooked on the boiler.’ Hal’s insides suddenly deflated as he realized he’d broken his promise to Lenny’s dad. ‘But I promised I wouldn’t tell.’

  ‘Listen –’ Uncle Nat knelt down in front of him, holding up his right hand – ‘I, Nathaniel Peter Bradshaw, do solemnly swear that I will never tell a living soul that you have been on the footplate of the Highland Falcon, even though I’m jade with jealousy.’

  Hal smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  Uncle Nat hopped back into his chair, grabbing his pen. ‘Now, tell me all about it. It’s priceless detail for my article. I couldn’t see much out the window.’

  Hal felt a flutter of panic. He’d only broken half his promise. He mustn’t betray Lenny. Changing the subject, he said, ‘Uncle Nat … um … I feel bad. I haven’t read any of your books.’

  Uncle Nat blinked. ‘I can get you one, if you’re interested?’

  ‘Mum told me about Steam of the Dragon. That sounds good.’

  ‘My adventure into China?’ Uncle Nat put his pen down.

  ‘Can I read it now?’

  Uncle Nat stroked his chin. ‘We could see if the library has it.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Hal jumped up.

  As they entered the library, a figure at the far end started, dropping a leather-bound book to the floor.

  ‘Apologies, Milo,’ Uncle Nat said. ‘We didn’t mean to make you jump.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ Milo picked up the fallen volume. ‘I was lost in thought.’

  Hal frowned. Ten minutes ago, Milo had been on his way back to his compartment. Why was he now in the library? He stared at the pocket he’d seen Milo put the sparkling object into, but the line of his trouser leg was flat. Whatever it was, it was gone.

  ‘Hal is interested in my writing.’ Uncle Nat smiled down at Hal.

  ‘I hear your uncle’s books are superb –’ Milo placed the fallen book on the shelf – ‘if you like trains.’

  ‘I do,’ Hal replied, realizing it was true.

  ‘Right … I think I’ll return to my room,’ Milo said, and left.

  The library felt and sounded different from the rest of the train. The walls of books deadened the sound of wheels on rails. There were no windows, but a soft light filtered in through three small skylights in the roof. Two armchairs stood either side of a square mahogany table in the middle of the floor.

  Hal crossed the room to see which book Milo had been reading. He read the spine: The Mating Call of the Mallard Duck. ‘Weird,’ he whispered.

  ‘Here we are.’ Uncle Nat put a pile of books on the table. ‘A History of the World in Thirteen Railway Journeys, Sleeping Car to St Petersburg, The Bishop’s Branch Line – which I wrote with the lovely Rev. James Challoner – and The Invention of Time.’

  ‘Where’s Steam of the Dragon?’

  ‘It appears to be missing.’ Uncle Nat looked pleased. ‘Someone must be reading it.’

  Hal picked up The Invention of Time. ‘How can someone invent time?’

  ‘Not literally invent it. Before the railways came along, it wasn’t important to be accurate about the time,’ Uncle Nat explained. ‘But, if you run a railway, you need a timetable. You have to be exact. The railways changed society in different ways, but in particular, how we measure and record time.’

  Hal blinked. ‘That’s cool.’

  Uncle Nat’s face lit up. ‘My books are stories of travel, but they are also about how railways have changed the world. I have ridden the world’s most extraordinary trains, from Stephenson’s Rocket to the Japanese Shinkansen—’

  The carriage jerked, and Hal stumbled as the Highland Falcon slid to a halt. ‘What’s happening?’

  Uncle Nat glanced at one of his watches ‘It’s ten thirty. We must be approaching Aberdeen.’ He stepped over to a framed map of the British Isles, which hung within one of the bookcases. ‘We’re here.’ Uncle Nat ran his finger along a black line parallel with the east coast of Scotland. ‘We’ve crossed the Tay, passed through Dundee, and come up the coast.’ He looked at Hal. ‘At Aberdeen, the train turns around. Shall we go and see?’

  Following his uncle from the library, Hal saw a field of tangled rails, grey stones and defiant thistles out of the window.

  ‘We’re in Ferryhill Sidings.’ Uncle Nat opened the door at the end of the carriage. ‘Come on.’ He jumped down to the trackbed several feet below. ‘Be careful how you land on the ballast.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The grey stones round the sleepers.’

  A salty summer wind buffeted Hal’s cheeks, and he enjoyed the stones crunching under his shoes.

  ‘We’ve got to be quick to get a good view,’ said Uncle Nat, jogging alongside the train.

  They picked their way over the rails to a low wall and sat down. A grey-backed barred warbler, burst out of a thicket of brambles and ivy, trilling at them. Hal guessed the bird’s nest must be hidden in the bush.

  Joey jumped down from the hissing engine, slipping between the tender buffers and the rest of the train.

  ‘He’s uncoupling the Highland Falcon from her carriages,’
Uncle Nat explained.

  Joey waved to Lenny’s dad on the footplate, who eased the engine forward with two chugs of steam. Striding over the rails, Joey made his way to a tall iron lever beside the track.

  ‘That changes the points,’ said Uncle Nat as Joey leaned into the lever. ‘Mohanjit can now reverse the loco along that parallel track, back this way.’

  ‘Why aren’t we going straight into Aberdeen?’

  ‘The track doesn’t loop round towards Ballater. We have to double back on ourselves and take a different line west. A train can’t turn around, so instead the engine moves to the other end of the train. The Highland Falcon will pull us in reverse to Ballater.’

  ‘Will I be able to see the engine from the observation car?’ Hal asked, watching Mr Singh reverse the locomotive.

  Uncle Nat nodded. ‘Mohanjit takes her up to the next set of points and then—’

  His voice was drowned out by a great shush of water vapour as the Highland Falcon passed them, hooting steam through her whistle. They waved madly in reply. The enormous wheels were as tall as Hal. He pulled out his sketchbook. He’d barely drawn the outline of the engine casing when he heard barking.

  Lady Lansbury’s dogs were bounding about in the scrubland beside the track. Rowan Buck followed them with a fistful of little black bags.

  ‘I’d like to be a dog handler when I grow up,’ Hal said, watching Viking and Trafalgar play-fighting in the weeds.

  ‘And spend your day picking up dog poo?’ Uncle Nat laughed. ‘Mr Buck doesn’t look too happy to be doing it.’

  The Highland Falcon had huffed up the track, clanking over another set of points. Lenny’s dad waited for them to shift, and began to drive the loco forward, crawling towards the observation car. Hal continued to sketch, marking the outline of her claret belly and where her golden pipework became visible.

  ‘Soon, we’ll be chuffing through the River Dee valley,’ Uncle Nat said, watching Joey jog ahead of the engine.

  ‘Does it take us to the castle?’

  ‘It stops a few miles short, at Ballater. The royal family wouldn’t have a railway line running through their back garden.’