The Curse of Thelonious [✓]

four

CHAPTER FOUR

“Do we have to?” Lera grumbled, tugging onto her mother’s arm. She didn’t mean to sound like a whining little kid but she couldn’t help it; she really didn’t want to go into town. So far she had avoided stepping foot in the town centre as much as possible but there was only so much she could do to delay the inevitable. 

It was Sunday afternoon and her mother had forced the girls to get dressed and go out to show their faces instead of lounging around the house like they'd intended. They were starting school the following day and still needed to buy their uniform. That was the one thing Lera was dreading the most. Her school uniform in London consisted of a white shirt and black trousers with a navy blazer and matching tie. Simple and stylish: her favourite combination. But Clearford High had what the sisters had decided was the ugliest uniform to grace the country. It was a mix of a murky brown colour and mustard yellow!

The school uniform shop – so eloquently called Clearford Uniforms – stocked the uniforms for the nursery, primary school and high school of the town. Lera had a sneaky suspicion they’d previously never had to actually open during the middle of the year as getting new students was unheard off.

The old man who welcomed them into the shop beamed brightly at them. "Welcome!" he boomed with a friendly smile as he ushered them into the cosy store. "Ah you must be the Petre’s! It's well nice to see you all, towns been buzzing about ya being back!"

He took one glance at the girls and flicked through the clothing rails, having guessed their sizes within half a second. Making a pile of two brown blazers, two white shirts, two yellow pencil skirts and matching ties, he continued talking without pausing for breath.

“Oh it’s terrible that you’re back at such a tragic time though, eh. I suppose you’ve not heard about the poor lad at the annual bonfire?” he asked, his tone dropping to one of sadness. When Mariha shook her head in confusion, he continued, his voice dropping in a dramatic hush.

Anya and Lera were both listening eagerly now: they had been at that party and nothing had seemed amiss.

“The Davids’ son had a bit too much to drink, eh, and it seems he was sitting a little too close to the fire. Poor lad, the flames swallowed him whole. Boy didn’t stand a chance against such a ragin’ fire and none of the kids knew why it spread so fast. Strange, hmm, yes very strange.”

Anya spluttered, shock evident on her face. “Do you mean Callum?!” she screeched, putting the pieces together. “Callum Davids?! But I was with him before! No, it can’t be! He’s dead?”

The old man nodded with pity. “Aye, poor lad was no match for a fire that big and bright. His family must be fallin’ apart, I heard from the Beckett’s down at the church that his funeral will be sometime this week although they could barely salvage his body.”

Lera shuddered; dread forcibly washing over her like a riptide. “What a terrible way to go,” Lera murmured, her voice not much louder than a whisper, as Anya let out a sob.

Although she hadn’t spent much time with Callum, he had been nice and she’d begun to like him. They’d made plans to sit together at lunch in school and now he was gone! The air felt somewhat ominous as she thought about how fast death could strike.

“How terrible!” Mariha exclaimed, having remembered the Davids family from when she was young herself. “Oh, we must go to pay our respects!”

The shopkeeper smiled sadly before beckoning at them to follow as he led them to small opening at the back of the shop. There were three rickety changing rooms and he carefully handed a pile of clothing to each sister. "I remember selling the high school uniform to yer dad when he were a lad, seems as though it were only yesterday he was a kid 'imself and now he's got two little ones!" he said as Lera forced a polite smile onto her face.