Interlopers From Hell

Chapter 2-2

Richard sat rigid with shock, hardly daring to breathe. The man, so abrasive, so angry, stood, holding out the book towards his grandson. Eddy quietly did as he was ordered and replaced the great volume in its allotted place in the book shelf. The charged tension in the atmosphere lessened, but only slightly.

Eddy’s mother brushed away a lock of hair, her face reddening, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Richard. We are somewhat jealous of our privacy. It is nothing personal.”

Richard forced a smile, aware of the grandfather’s looming presence, the open hostility. He chanced a quick glance and saw the latent, simmering fury lurking in the man’s face. He seemed to be struggling to contain his temper, and Richard turned away from those blazing eyes. Eddy stood, wringing his hands, clearly uncomfortable and not daring to meet his friend’s stare. But Richard needed no explanation for what was going on – the grandfather did not want him in the house.

The mother, bizarrely, seemed the complete opposite, anxious for Richard to stay and relax. She poured him a cup of tea and passed it over, then offered him a plate from the tray. “Cucumber sandwiches, Richard. No crusts!”

Richard took a sandwich and sipped at the tea, forcing himself not to react to there being no sugar. His discomfort grew as all three of them stood and stared at him in silence, studying him as if he were an exhibit in a museum … or a zoo. The mother, with her set smile, Eddy’s eyes wide with admiration, and the grandfather standing in silence, scowling, each of them so unsettling, the scene tinged with an indescribable weirdness. Nothing in this house, this family, their reactions, their manner, none of it struck him as normal, more like something he’d see in a creepy film. An old black-and-white horror, images flickering, jerky, making him sit on edge, eyes now clamped on the cup of tea in his hand, hardly daring to eat his sandwich.

Richard had a burning desire to check the time on his watch, make the necessary excuses, and get out as quickly as he could. Friday night, the weekend to look forward to – he should be relaxed, grateful for no school the next day. Instead, he felt awkward, uncomfortable, an exhibit. But then, as Richard went to move, as if by some secret signal the grandfather left the room. Immediately, the oppressive atmosphere lifted. Everyone relaxed and Richard took a tentative bite, found the sandwich delicious, and quickly wolfed it down. Clapping her hands in glee, Eddy’s mother used a set of silver serving tongs to place two more on Richard’s plate. If anything, she at least wanted him to stay. And Eddy. Well, as he came forward and squeezed Richard’s shoulder, he seemed to insist on his friend remaining where he was.

The minutes trawled by with no one speaking until, at last, with a second cup of tea and more sandwiches finished, Richard looked around expectedly, clapped his hands down on his knees and announced he had to leave. “Thank you very much for the tea and everything. It was lovely to meet you, but I’d better be going now.”

He made to stand up, but Eddy’s mother beat him to it, hand coming down on his shoulder, pressing him back down. She beamed broadly. “Why don’t you take Richard to your room, Edwin? Show him your collection. I’m sure he’d be interested.”

Richard, despite his curiosity being roused, would have much preferred to have made a hasty exit. “I really must be—”

But already Eddy, without a word, started walking out of the room, and Richard, gripped by a strong, unfathomable urge, felt compelled to follow.

He dared not glance back into the room, knowing the mother’s eyes would be boring into him, so he stepped in behind Eddy and mounted the stairs.

“The house is on three floors,” said Eddy, voice echoing through the expanse of the building. “You won’t be surprised to know that my room is right at the very top!”

Eddy took the stairs two at a time, never flagging. Richard wondered how long it would take. Everything about the house was big, including the staircase, and every step creaked, sometimes alarmingly. On reaching the first floor, Richard chanced a glance down the dark, unwelcoming hallway. He thought he caught a glimpse of a light trickling under a doorway, but he couldn’t be sure. He stared at the walls. No paintings to hyphenate the austere feel, and no bulbs in the lights to give any chance of lifting the gloom.

He pulled up short and considered the implication of there being no bulbs in the…

“Come along, Richard, do not tarry. There is only one more flight to go!”

Richard looked up to see Eddy grinning down at him. Sighing, Richard continued with the climb, taking his time, fearful that at any moment the stairs would give way and he would find himself in freefall.

“This way, Richard,” said Eddy, beckoning to him from an open door at the far end of the hall.

Not knowing what he would find when he crossed the threshold, Richard gasped. The room was enormous and well-lit thanks to the large bay window. But what astonished him more than the sheer size of the space was what Eddy stood next to, arms folded, a proud grin splitting his face.

Running the length of walls were shelving units, like bookshelves, only deeper and higher. Enormous, gleaming white display cabinets. No books graced these shelves, each filled with toy soldiers, rank upon rank of them, painted and resplendent in a variety of colourful uniforms.

All thoughts of escape were now banished, and Richard stood in awe, his eyes running across the magnificent display. He went straight to the nearest display case and gaped at the wonders that lay within. “My God,” he whispered. He looked to his left and did a quick calculation. “There are thousands of them.”

“They’re made from lead mainly,” said Eddy, voice confident, proud. “Some of them come from Germany. All of them are accurately painted in authentic, historical colours, depicting the armies of the Seven Years War. Prussians, Austrians, French. Even English.” He moved next to Richard, eased open the glass door, and picked out a group of four blue-clad infantrymen marching boldly forward. “It used to be my father’s collection, which passed down to me when…” He shrugged, turning the group of figures over in his fingers. “He collected and painted each of these miniatures over a period of many, many years. My father was a remarkable man, Richard. I shall tell you about him one day.” Without a word, he handed Richard the little group.

Heart pumping fast, Richard’s mouth went slack as he gazed at the model soldiers in his palm. To be so close to so many models brought such a thrill that he could hardly speak for a moment. When he did, his voice barely rose above a whisper. “But, these must be worth a fortune, Eddy. I’ve never seen so many soldiers in one place.”

“Yes.” He gently took the figures back from Richard’s grasp and returned them to their shelf. “They are worth many thousands of pounds, but I would never sell them. Their value far transcends mere monetary concerns.”

“Eh?”

“They mean more to me than what they’re worth in money, Richard. I am not interested in financial gain.”

“How old are they?”

“Some are fairly new, some very old, well over a hundred years old in fact. Many of them are Britain’s originals. Others were made by Elastolin. They are not lead but are still immensely valuable. Around twenty or so years ago, my father started collecting smaller-sized miniatures. Most of what you see here are made from alloys and are based according to rules, which my father wrote. You know about military history, Richard?”

“English history? A little. Battle of Hastings. We did that last year in my previous school. Not much else. Battle of Britain, I’ve heard about. Oh, and D-Day. We had a presentation at school about that. Some guy came in on Remembrance Day to talk to us.” He was about to go into further detail, but something told him Eddy would not be interested in anything that was not centred on himself or his father. He shrugged. “But not much else.”

“Most of these soldiers, as I said, are from the conflict known as the Seven Years War. Here.” He pointed to a mass of red-coated soldiers adorned in tricornes. Most, like the ones Richard had held, were modelled marching, but one or two held massive flags whilst others lugged huge drums. “These are British. British Redcoats.” Eddy gently opened another glass door and brought out a group of the Redcoats. Richard peered at them. They were exquisite, the paint gleaming as if brand new.

“It must be great to know all about this stuff, Eddy.”

“I know a great deal as my father would regale me with his tales. It was immensely fascinating.”

“Regale?” Richard scratched his head. Talking to Eddy was always like stepping back in time. And now, with these soldiers, it felt like history and the past had come to life.

“We could play with them, perhaps? I will prepare the terrain, and we can refight some battles. Would you enjoy that, Richard?”

Frowning, Richard shrugged. “Yeah, of course I would.”

“Splendid. I shall—”

“But not now, Eddy,” said Richard quickly. “I’ve got get back home.” His heart sank when he saw Eddy’s crestfallen expression. He took another look along the arrayed mass of little men. “This has been great, Eddy. Really. They are incredible. Perhaps I could call again, and we could play that battle?”

“Yes!” Eddy’s grin widened as he carefully replaced the figures to their shelf and closed the door. He turned to Richard, eyes wide with excitement. “Tomorrow, you can call again, have tea. I'll let Mother know.”

Before Richard could offer any sort of fumbled excuse, Eddy took him by the arm and escorted him back down the stairs at a quick pace. Eddy jabbered away, words tumbling out in one long, breathless sentence. Richard caught some mention of Minden but not much else. Reaching the front door, Richard found Eddy’s mother waiting, hands clasped together, beaming. “Oh, Richard, say you’ll come for tea – Edwin will be so pleased.”

Before he could give anything but a smile for a reply, she guided him out into the open air. It seemed that his visit was over. He saw Eddy raising his hand. “Thank you, Richard. I know we’re going to be great friends. You’ve made my first day here truly memorable. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you so very much, Richard,” said the mother, and she closed the door before anyone could say anything more.

Richard stood, not knowing what to do. The whole visit had been so bizarre, almost as if he’d been allowed a glimpse into a bygone world – a virtual reality tour of the Edwardian age. And now, all of a sudden, here he was, bang up to date. Confused, he checked the trees and the road. Everything appeared normal enough. There were a few cars parked opposite. Up-to-date models, so this was clearly the present. A man was pottering about in his front garden opposite, saw Richard staring and smiled. Richard returned it and turned to study Eddy’s house one more time. The windows were black. No sign of life. It was almost as if it had gone to sleep, but that was a stupid notion.

“Owned by the nouveau riche of the Victorian era,” said a voice. Startled, Richard turned to see the man from opposite admiring Eddy’s house for himself. He’d drifted up in almost total silence but seemed oblivious to Richard’s alarm. “Interesting architecture. I had mine fully modernised, but I’m not so sure whether that was the right thing to do. Beautiful architraves there, above the door and windows.” He stared to the upper storey, a wistful look on his face. “Nobody has lived there for ages.” Chuckling, he moved back across the road, leaving Richard confused and a little uneasy. Did he not know Eddy and his family had just moved in? Surely, in such a quiet street, he would have seen them? Looking again at the windows, Richard’s unease grew. Everything about this place seemed bizarre and, thinking about it now, the entire visit felt as if it had been choreographed and planned. The sandwiches, the tea, the toy soldiers. And how did Eddy’s mother know Eddy had invited him to tea tomorrow? Was she listening? From the downstairs hallway? It didn’t make sense, and neither did the grandfather snatching away the family bible the way he did. What was he afraid of?

Deep in thought, it took Richard a long time to wander home.