Night on Terror Island (4 page)

THE SCENE WAS
replaying itself in Kip’s head as he stepped through the cinema entrance the following evening. It had been brilliant: fast, punchy and close enough to make you feel as though you were part of the action.

He found Dad sitting at his desk in the ticket office, looking a bit more positive than he had the night before. It had been one of the best Fridays in ages. As Kip came in Dad glanced slyly round and handed Kip a small gift box.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

Kip opened it and found that it contained a cheap-looking digital watch.

‘It’s very nice and everything,’ said Kip, ‘but I’ve already got one.’

‘It’s not for you, you idiot! It’s for Norman. It’s his last night, I had to give him something after all these years, didn’t I?’

Kip nodded. He tried to imagine the watch on Norman’s wrist and somehow couldn’t quite see it.

‘You don’t think it’s a bit … trendy for him?’ murmured Kip.

‘I’m sure it is, but I was in a fix. I had half an hour to run into Manchester and a budget of twenty quid. I had to grab something fast.’ He looked at Kip defensively. ‘I got him a lovely card,’ he added. ‘And I’ve laid on a few bottles of wine and some dinky pies for afterwards.’

Kip shrugged and handed the box back to his dad.

‘I’m sure it’s better than a poke in the eye,’ he said. ‘Oh, by the way, Beth said she’d drop by after the film, to say goodbye and all that.’

‘Oh yes?’ Dad waggled his eyebrows. ‘Getting serious, is it?’

‘Don’t be stupid. She just wants to say goodbye, that’s all. Better keep that present hidden, Norman will be in soon.’

‘He’s already here. Went straight up to the projection room with a duster and some polish. Said he wanted it all to be spick-and-span for when Mr Lazarus arrived.’ Dad frowned. ‘What did you make of him, by the way? Didn’t you think there was something … odd about him?’

‘Odd? He was a complete weirdo.’ Kip reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the business card. He’d spent a lot of time looking at it since last night, but not once had he seen anything else unexpected. ‘Did you have a proper look at this thing?’ he asked.

Dad grinned. ‘Yeah. Great business card that, isn’t
it
? No address, no phone number, just a name. What use is it?’

‘That’s not what I mean. Did you … did you see anything else when you looked at it?’

Dad seemed puzzled.

‘Like what?’ he asked.

‘Oh, like a Tyran … a big Tyran …’ Kip’s voice trailed away. How could he explain what he’d seen without coming over as a complete nutter? ‘Like an email address?’ he finished lamely.

‘No,’ said Dad. ‘Like I said, useless. But what about all that stuff he
knew?
He described our projection room as though he’d lived in the place. And he knew more about Norman than I do and I’ve worked with him for years!’ Dad’s expression darkened. ‘Most baffling of all, if he really
was
living in Venice and I only put the advert in the
Manchester Evening News
six days ago, how in the name of God did he manage to get himself over here in time to—’

‘I flew,’ said a voice from the open doorway and Kip and Dad nearly jumped out of their skins. Mr Lazarus was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, an amused smile on his thin lips. ‘You’ve no idea how tired my arms were.’

‘Oh … er … sorry, we didn’t hear you come in,’ stuttered Dad. ‘I hope that didn’t sound rude.’

‘It did, now you mention it, but there’s no problem.’ Mr Lazarus sauntered into the office and
stood
beside the desk. He noticed the gift box lying there and reached out a gloved hand to tap it with his forefinger. ‘It looks as though somebody is going to receive a little gift tonight,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes, just something for Norman, to mark his retirement,’ said Dad. ‘It’s really not very much.’

‘Everybody appreciates a gift,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘And a watch is always a nice present, don’t you think?’

Kip and Dad exchanged glances. The box was closed.

‘How do you
do
that?’ asked Kip.

Mr Lazarus gave him a look of pure innocence.

‘A simple deduction,’ he said. ‘What else would you give somebody after so many years of faithful service? A watch is the traditional gift, no?’ He smiled. ‘Oh, Mr McCall, I just wanted to warn you, I’ll be having some equipment delivered tomorrow morning. I’ll get the keys from Norman tonight and I will be there to organise carrying the boxes up to the projection room.’

‘What kind of equipment?’ asked Dad warily.

‘Just my own little bits and pieces,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘Over the years I have developed my own particular way of doing things. I can assure you it won’t interfere with the normal running of the cinema; in fact, I think you will be delighted with the results. Oh yes, before I forget.’ He lifted a hand
with
a flourish and a large brown envelope appeared magically in his fingers. ‘You might want to look at these,’ he said, handing the envelope to Dad.

‘What are they?’ asked Mr McCall.

‘You wanted references, did you not? I found a few scraps of information among my papers that I thought might interest you.’

‘I’ll er … look at them when I’ve got a spare moment,’ said Dad. ‘Thanks for bringing them in. Anyway …’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Kip, it’s half seven, we’d better get the popcorn on.’

Mr Lazarus smiled. ‘And I’d better get up to the projection room. Poor Norman has been working so hard up there, cleaning and polishing. There was really no need for him to go to such trouble. I’ll see you after the film. For the party.’

He seemed to glide out of the ticket office and around to the doors of the auditorium. Dad shook his head.

‘Did you tell him about the party?’ he asked.

‘No. Maybe Norman did.’

‘Norman doesn’t know,’ said Dad. ‘That’s why they call it a
surprise
party.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Kip. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Maybe Mr Lazarus is a mind-reader.’

He went through into the sweet kiosk and switched on the popcorn machine, telling himself as he did so that, the first chance he got he was going
to
have a look at Mr Lazarus’s references, to see if they might give him any clues about the mysterious projectionist.

It was a Saturday night, usually the best night of the week, and sure enough the place was almost three quarters full, so Dad was very pleased. After the crowd had drifted out, Kip helped to set up the refreshments on a table in the foyer, while Dad fetched the bottles of wine he had stored in the office and some paper cups left over from Christmas. Beth called in with a card she’d bought for Norman. Minnie, the lady who helped clean the cinema over the weekend, turned up too, and Dad had invited several regular customers to join them.

‘Help yourselves to drinks from the fridge,’ Dad told Beth and Kip. He set the box of wine on the table, opened the flaps and lifted out a bottle. He stared at it for a moment.

‘That’s odd,’ he said.

‘What?’ asked Kip.

Dad was taking out other bottles. ‘These aren’t the wines I bought.’

Kip stared at him. ‘They must be,’ he said.

Dad shook his head. ‘No way. I bought supermarket plonk at four quid a go. This stuff …’ He peered at the label of the bottle he was holding. ‘
Sangiovese
,’ he read.
‘Chianti Classico
. 1945 …’
His
jaw dropped. ‘Good grief, Kip, this is vintage wine. It must have cost a flipping bomb!’ He peered into the box as though expecting to see other cheaper bottles in there. Instead, he pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper. He unwrapped it to discover a crystal wine glass. ‘There’s more of them in here,’ he said. ‘There’s even a corkscrew. I don’t understand. It’s the same box but …’

At that moment, the door of the auditorium opened and Norman and Mr Lazarus strolled out, deep in conversation – or, at least, Mr Lazarus was talking while Norman listened intently. He glanced up at the small gathering in surprise.

‘Oh, hello,’ he said. ‘What’s all this, then?’

‘Just a little farewell party,’ Dad told him. ‘To say thank you for all your hard work over the years. Will you have white or red, Norman?’

‘Oh, well,’ said Norman. ‘I don’t normally drink alcohol but, as it’s a special occasion, I’ll have a little drop of red.’ Dad uncorked a bottle and filled a couple of the crystal glasses. ‘Mr Lazarus?’

‘I’ll go for the
Tocai Fruliano
,’ he said. ‘Fifty-one
was
a spectacular year.’

Dad looked at him.

‘So this must be your doing,’ he said.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘I thought an occasion like this demanded something special – and, of course, you cannot drink vintage
wine
from a paper cup.’ Dad filled a glass with white wine and handed it to him, then passed out drinks to the other guests.

‘You must let me know what you’ve spent,’ he told Mr Lazarus. ‘I can’t allow you to pay for this out of the pittance I’m going to be paying you …’ Dad looked mortified. ‘Oh, my goodness,’ he said. ‘We never even discussed your salary, did we?’

Mr Lazarus waved a hand in dismissal.

‘It is no great matter, Mr McCall. Pay me whatever you used to pay Norman. And as for the wine … well, that is my pleasure. Consider it my little contribution to this charming party.’

‘You’re really too generous.’ Dad picked up his glass of red and then lifted it in a toast. ‘Well, we all know why we’re here tonight, to say thank you to Norman, who has been a vital part of the Paramount for so many years. We really couldn’t have kept going without him. To Norman,’ he said, ‘wishing you every happiness in your retirement.’

‘To Norman!’ everyone raised their glasses in unison and they all drank.

Norman looked around, a little misty-eyed.

‘How kind,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting anything like this.’

Kip stepped forward with the cards and handed them to Norman. There was an awkward silence while he opened each of them and examined them
in
great detail. Beth had actually found a card featuring an old black-and-white photograph of a silent-movie cinematographer. The message inside read,
To The World’s Greatest Movie Buff
.

‘It took me ages to find the right card,’ said Beth. ‘No idea who the guy in the picture is, but I thought you’d like it.’

Mr Lazarus leaned across to look at the photograph.

‘It’s Wallace Evans,’ he said. ‘A charming fellow, very fond of chocolate cake, as I remember.’

‘You … know him?’ gasped Beth.

‘I
knew
him,’ said Mr Lazarus. ‘He’s gone now, of course. But we had some happy times together.’

Now Dad stepped forward with the gift box.

‘We’ve bought you something,’ he said. ‘It’s really not very much and, of course, if the style doesn’t suit, you can always exchange it for something else.’

‘I’m sure it will be perfect,’ said Norman. ‘Thank you so much.’ He opened the box and looked at the contents. For a few moments he said nothing and Kip couldn’t really blame him. The trendy watch wasn’t a suitable present for a man of his age, he probably wouldn’t be seen dead in something like that. Then Norman let out a gasp and his eyes filled up. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘Exquisite.’

Kip and Dad exchanged glances. Kip thought he
was
laying it on a bit thick for a twenty-quid digital with a plastic strap.

‘It’s nothing really,’ protested Dad. ‘There wasn’t a lot of time and—’ He broke off in baffled silence, because now Norman was taking the watch from the box – but it wasn’t the watch that had been in there before. It was a large silver pocket watch on a length of chain. Norman turned it over in his hand and he gasped again. ‘You’ve had it engraved!’ he cried.

‘Have we?’ asked Dad incredulously.

Dad and Kip could only stand and stare as Norman read out what was inscribed on the watch’s silver case.
‘To Norman with much affection from all your friends at the Paramount.’
He looked up at Dad. ‘This is too much!’ he protested.

Dad looked like he was in total agreement.

‘I … I don’t quite understand …’ he mumbled. ‘I only …’

‘Open the watch,’ suggested Mr Lazarus, pointing. ‘You see, there’s a little catch there.’

Norman pressed the catch and the silver cover flipped open. The watch began to play a familiar tinkling tune.

‘The theme from
The Godfather!
’ said Norman. ‘My all-time favourite film!’ He stared at Dad. ‘How did you know?’

‘Er … because er … you … you must have …
mentioned
it some time?’ Dad lifted his glass of wine and took a large gulp of the contents.

Kip’s mind was racing. How was such a thing possible? He could understand how Mr Lazarus might have substituted the wine, but he had only been told about the gift two hours earlier, before the showing had started. The box had been on Dad’s desk ever since and, as far as Kip was aware, Mr Lazarus had been up in the projection room, all through the film. And besides, even if he had sneaked away for a few moments, there was nowhere around here where you could buy a watch like that and get it engraved in a couple of hours.