Alfie Bloom and the Secrets of Hexbridge Castle (3 page)

“Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. It all depends on how you look at it.” She smiled. “I think I'm going to like you a whole bunch, Master Bloom. Now wherever did I leave my manners? I'm Emily – Emily Fortune – originally Amelia Fortuna but that sounds far too much like a frumpy old fish, so I tweaked the first name and swapped an A for an E. Much more modern now, isn't it? Very classy, very sassy, very
now
! One should always keep up with the times, don't you think?” Alfie didn't have time to reply as she ushered them over to her desk. “Anyhoo, chop-chop, let's get you signed in before you head on up to your meeting. If you like this room, just wait until you see Mr Bone's office.
Very
swish.”

Alfie finally exhaled as Emily finished talking and plonked a large book in front of them. He took a deep breath and noticed his dad do the same. He wondered how she found time to breathe.

“OK, just press your thumbs on this ink pad for me … good, now stick your thumbprint next to your name and the time … thank you. Now, if you could both shimmy on to the crest, please.”

Alfie wasn't quite sure how to shimmy but followed his dad and stepped on to the brass disc in the centre of the room.

“Lovely, thank you. Now hold still and keep your feet away from the edges. This won't hurt a bit and you'll be there in a jiffy.”

“Wait, what's going to happen?” asked Alfie apprehensively as he noticed a long brass cylinder descending from the ceiling like a telescope extending. “Ms Fortune?”

“Don't worry, it's perfectly safe,” she assured them. “Well, as long as you don't touch the sides…”

 

Everything went black as the cylinder dropped down over them. With a
click
and a
whoosh,
the crest beneath their feet propelled them upwards at a startling rate. Beyond the brass cylinder that had descended from the ceiling the walls were stone, worn smooth as marble by the disc's passage. Alfie fought the urge to touch them as they whizzed by and stayed as close to the centre of the crest as he could. Light flickered into the lift as door after door with porthole-style windows zoomed by. Alfie thought that it was the best lift he had ever travelled in and tried to glimpse whatever was through the little windows as they flew past.

“What an ingenious system!” In the flickering light Alfie could see that his dad was grinning from ear to ear. “Do you hear that whooshing noise? I'll bet the disc we are standing on is being propelled upwards by air alone. The pressure required to lift both it and us must be immense.” Alfie smiled. His dad was always happiest when trying to figure out how something worked. “Hmm, something would be needed to stop us at the right floor – there must be a powerful clamp on each level. It would need to grab the edge of this disc at exactly the right millisecond to stop us shooting through the roof.”

He was proved right when the disc stopped moving with a loud clank in front of a brass door. As their feet landed back on the floor, he laughed with delight and patted the wall.

“Remarkable.”

The door slid open. Alfie stared in awe as they stepped into an enormous round room with a beautiful blue domed ceiling on to which constellations of stars had been painted. A winged device made of wood and canvas hung from the centre. He recognized it from a picture in his dad's favourite book on Leonardo da Vinci.

“Alfred and William Bloom, I presume?”

A tall, dignified figure had risen from a deep leather armchair in front of a fire that burnt with a green flame.

“It's just Alfie, not Alfred,” Alfie replied before he could stop himself.

“I will ensure that our records are amended accordingly,” said the man in a crisp tone. “Now, if I may introduce myself, I am Caspian Bone, senior partner at this firm. I have been expecting this meeting for longer than you might imagine.”

Alfie took in Caspian Bone's quirky appearance as he shook his hand. His sharp, pale face was framed by shining shoulder-length ebony hair. The irises of his eyes were almost completely black. He didn't look much older than his mid thirties, but wore an old-fashioned, tailored black suit giving him the appearance of a Victorian gentleman. Alfie's gaze shifted to the cape hanging on a coat stand and something clicked in his memory.

“It's you!” he shouted triumphantly. “You're real! You were watching me yesterday from the school field. You turned into a bird, then later, after the car…”

“Perhaps so,” said the solicitor. His head twitched to one side as he stared intently at Alfie. “However, tonight we deal solely with your inheritance and matters pertaining to it.”

“Has someone died?” Alfie barely heard his dad ask the question as he stared up at the solicitor wondering what he really was and why he had been spying on him.

“The inheritance we are here to discuss is not related to the recent demise of any friends, family or acquaintances. It is the legacy of Orin Hopcraft.”

“Orin Hopcraft!” whispered Alfie's dad, reeling back slightly. “So he
was
real?”

Alfie was surprised at his dad's reaction to the strange name. Who were they talking about?

“If you would both take a seat.” Caspian led the way to his stately desk and Alfie found himself dropping obediently into one of the chairs offered.

“Now, to business.” Caspian reached into a drawer and produced a large leather binder, which he laid on the desk between them. He sat forwards, gazing down his long sharp nose at Alfie, his fingers steepled in front of his chest.

“At four in the afternoon, on the twenty-second of July, you performed an unaided timeslip.”

Alfie snapped his attention away from the binder and looked at the solicitor accusingly. “Wait, I did
what
?” That was the time he would have been walking home from school.

“Alfie timeslipped on his own?” gasped his dad. “Is this because of where he was born?”

“Indeed,” said the solicitor.

Alfie couldn't believe what he was hearing. Caspian was clearly mad. Looking up at his father's flushed face, he was even more shocked to see that he wasn't surprised by the solicitor's words. “Dad, what is he talking about, and who is Orin Hopcraft?”

“My apologies,” said Caspian, looking from Alfie to his dad. “I was unaware that your father had not revealed the unusual circumstances surrounding your birth.”

Alfie's dad shifted uncomfortably on his chair. “It hardly seemed real,” he mumbled, trying to avoid Alfie's gaze. “His mum wanted him to hear about it where it happened, and we just never got around to telling him…”

“Telling me what?” asked Alfie, using all of his reserve to stop himself kicking Caspian's desk in frustration.

“I'm afraid that conversation is between you and your father,” interrupted Caspian. “At present, we have other matters to discuss.”

Alfie didn't feel remotely ready to let the matter drop, but the solicitor's unblinking stare and authoritative tone won the battle. Alfie sank back in his chair as Caspian pushed the leather binder across the desk towards him, looking even more like a raven now as his hair glinted with blues and purples under the light of the oil lamps. Alfie opened the file. It contained a bundle of documents written in elegant calligraphy on parchment that was slightly brown and curled around the edges.

“These deeds were entrusted to this firm quite some time ago with the instruction that they pass to you on your twelfth birthday. However, in light of yesterday's …
event
, we deemed it necessary to set into motion the early transference of your inheritance.”

Alfie scanned the pages of legal text and a familiar name caught his eye. A name linked to the village where his mum's family still lived. He looked up in amazement. “These papers … they're about Hexbridge Castle?”

“Your castle,” asserted Caspian.

“You're kidding?” Alfie searched Caspian's face for the slightest sign that this was a joke. He found none.

“I do not kid. The deeds are yours, making the castle yours.”

Alfie clutched the papers to his chest as if they might blow away at any second.

“Seriously? I can live in it if I want?”

“That is, in fact, the only caveat. You
must
live in it. It contains a great deal of Orin's work and most precious possessions, and they are to pass only to you and your heirs. The castle can never be sold or pass out of your family. If you cease to call it your home, it will seal itself for ever.”

“How can Alfie own a castle? He's only eleven!”

“I'm nearly twelve, Dad,” said Alfie, already imagining life in Hexbridge Castle near the farm where his cousins, Madeleine and Robin, lived. He could visit them every day!

“As you know, the castle has been sealed for hundreds of years,” Caspian continued, “although it is still in the same fine condition as the day it was left. I assumed that you would require certain aspects of the building to be brought up to modern standards and have taken the liberty of arranging the renovation. The work will be conducted over the next four days, after which time you will move into your new home.”

Alfie noted the way that Caspian spat out the word “modern” as though it had left an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

“That must be an awful lot of work,” said his dad. “Can it really be done in so little time? Surely it would take weeks.”

“With our contractors, anything is possible,” replied the solicitor. “I will meet you outside the castle at noon in four days time to hand over the keys.”

“Wait a minute, Mr Bone.” Alfie's dad looked as though he had just snapped out of a dream. “You're assuming too much. Don't we have any say in this? I can't afford the upkeep on a building like that. What about the bills?”

Caspian looked mildly amused.

“You will find the castle remarkably self-sustaining. As Alfie's guardian, you inherit a generous monthly allowance that will be transferred into Alfie's name when he comes of age. It will provide very well for both your needs.”

“That may be so, but this all sounds far too good to be true. What's the catch, Mr Bone?”

“No catch. Take it, or leave it.”

Alfie stared incredulously at his dad as Caspian tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk. “Are you kidding? We can live in a castle instead of our poxy old flat! You won't have to worry about working all those jobs.”

“I know, Alfie, but just think about the practicalities.”

“You'll have a lot more room to work on your inventions.” Alfie couldn't believe he had to convince his dad to accept a free castle. “You're always saying the workshop is too small. Imagine what you could create with all that space to work in.”

His father gazed up at the flying machine hanging from the ceiling. Alfie sensed him weakening and began to list all of the projects he would be able to finish.

“OK, OK,” he sighed finally. “But this is all happening very fast. I'd like to think I had
some
choice in it.”

“I apologize if I seemed presumptuous,” said Caspian Bone, looking at his fingernails and not appearing the slightest bit sorry. “However the choice is Alfie's to make, and I believe he has already decided.”

Alfie beamed at his dad who laughed and threw up his hands in defeat.

“If I may continue?” Caspian flipped through pages that Alfie could have sworn were blank seconds before. “As you can see, the name on the deeds now reads Alfie Bloom. These should be kept somewhere secure. I suggest that you continue to entrust them to our care.”

“That's fine by me,” said Alfie. After the strange journey he had the feeling that Muninn and Bone was a very safe and secret place indeed.

“A wise decision, Master Bloom. They will be transferred back to the vaults. Now, the final matter on the agenda.” Caspian drew a small velvet pouch from his breast pocket and placed it into Alfie's hand. “Open it.”

Alfie reached inside and pulled out a thin gold disc the size of a two-pound coin. There was a strip of leather threaded through a loop at the top so that it could be worn around the neck. Lots of tiny runic symbols had been scratched into the gold, spiralling out from a purple-coloured lens in the centre. It felt warm in his fingers and looked old. Very old.

“What is it?” he asked.

“An ocular talisman,” replied Caspian, as though the answer was obvious. “Put it on.”

“A
what
talisman?”

“Ocular. It means you can look through it. Make sure you wear it at all times.”

“Why?” asked Alfie as he fastened the cord around his neck.

“Please excuse me,” Caspian stood up and straightened his jacket.

“But, I wanted to ask—” began Alfie.

“Our business is concluded. I have matters to attend to elsewhere.” Caspian stepped around the desk and shook their hands again. “Congratulations on your marvellous inheritance. Our next meeting will be at your new residence.”

Alfie and his dad stood up, still reeling at the news and rather surprised at the abrupt end to the meeting.

“Aren't you travelling down with us, Mr Bone?” asked Alfie as they were ushered back on to the brass disc.

“I will use the other exit,” replied Caspian.

Alfie's eye fell on a large open window and Caspian gave him the tiniest hint of a nod before the door slid shut.

Thankfully the lift was slower on the way down. Emily Fortune met them at the bottom and they signed the book to confirm the time they had left. Alfie had slightly longer to look at it this time and noticed how strange some of the other thumbprints were. Next to two names that could only have been read with a magnifying glass were two tiny handprints. Then there was a thumbprint as big as a fist next to a huge scrawled signature. The other three visitors that day had written their names in hieroglyphics and there was a little prick mark above each of their prints as if the owners had claws.

“Ooh, I see you're wearing Orin's talisman,” said Emily as she closed the book. “Very good, but Mr Bone should have told you to keep it hidden. You may meet people who shouldn't discover that you have something like that.”

“Do you know what it is and why I have to wear it?”

“You mean no one has explained it to you yet?”

“No one has explained
anything
!”

“Oh dear. Mr Bone does love to make things mysterious.”

“He's not the only one.” Alfie cast a sideways look at his dad, who suddenly appeared very interested in the ceiling.