Tales From The Wyrd Museum 2: The Raven's Knot by Robin Jarvis Read Free Book Online Page A

and his father and brother had moved into The Wyrd Museum over a week ago. It was a peculiar sensation, that forbidding building, and the manipulating controllers of destiny it contained had fuelled his thoughts from the very first day. Now the real, normal world seemed pale and unimportant by comparison.
    The boy shook his head, startled at his own thoughts. Now that everything was as it should be he was finding life a bit dull. At breakfast that morning, Josh had been his usual annoying self and made no mention of what had happened, almost as if he had forgotten the entire episode—either that or he had been made to forget. Then, when Neil tried to explain it to his father, he could see that Brian didn't believe a word.
    Regretfully, Neil realised that it was no use pining for excitement. For him the adventures were over, he had completed his task for the Websters and would now have to get used to living a mundane life again.
    Looking around him, he tried to take an interest in his new surroundings, but wasn't impressed. His old school in Ealing had been much more modern and better equipped, with its own swimming pool and three playing fields, whereas this one had to make do with an all-weather pitch and very little else as far as he could tell.
    As for the pupils, they appeared to be a rough looking, slovenly crowd and the uniform which his father had been assured was essential hardly seemed to be adhered to by the majority of them.
    Laughing and calling out names, they boisterously jostled their way around the building, scuffling outside classrooms and jeering at each other as they boasted about what they had been given for Christmas.
    Waiting at reception, Neil watched them barge by, but hardly anyone bothered to look at the new boy and if they did it was only to snigger and nudge their friends. 'Chapel did you say?’ came a nasal, unenthusiastic voice. ‘Can't seem to find you anywhere.’
    The boy turned and looked across the desk at the school secretary, a large, middle-aged woman with bleached hair, wearing a turquoise blouse that was one size too small for her ample figure.
    ‘Chapman,’ he said with mild annoyance, exaggerating his lip movements in case the chunky earrings she wore had made her hard of hearing.
    The woman dabbed at the computer with her podgy fingers and without looking up at him said, ‘You're in Mr Battersby's form. Room 11a, down the corridor on the right.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Neil muttered, slinging his bag over one shoulder.
    ‘They won't be there now though,’ the secretary added. ‘There's an assembly this morning. They'll have gone to the drama centre, across the playground on the left. You'd best get a move on—you're late.’
    Neil didn't bother to answer that one. He hurried from the main doors and into the rain again. Over a bleak tarmac square he ran to where a low building stood, and hastened inside.
    Fortunately, the assembly had not yet begun and Neil slipped in amongst the children still finding their seats.
    The drama centre was a modestly sized theatre where school plays, concerts and assemblies were held. It consisted of a stage, complete with curtains and lighting equipment, and tiered rows of seats to accommodate the audience.
    Today the atmosphere was rowdy and irreverent. The stale smell of damp clothes and wet hair hung heavily in the air as the congregated pupils settled noisily into their places. The watchful teachers patrolled up and down, keeping their expert eyes upon the troublesome ones. Several of these had pushed their way to the back of the highest row but were already being summoned down again to be divided and placed elsewhere under easy scrutiny.
    Neil's eyes roved about the large room. At the back of the stage there was a backdrop left over from the last school production, depicting the interior of an old country house complete with French windows, and he guessed that it had been a murder mystery.
    In front of the scenery was a row of chairs which