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

faced the pupils and already some of the teachers had taken their places upon them. There were two female teachers and three male, but against that painted setting they looked less like members of staff and more like a collection of suspects.
    Mentally performing his own detective work, Neil wondered which of them was Mr Battersby. Of the three men sitting there, one was fat and balding, another tall and slightly hunched, but the last one Neil dismissed right away for he was obviously some kind of vicar, dressed in long black vestments.
    Suddenly, the level of chatter died down as a small, stern looking woman with short dark hair strode into the room. One of the male teachers who had not yet joined his colleagues raised his hand as though he was directing traffic and at once the children in the theatre stood.
    Neil did the same. This was the headteacher, Mrs Stride.
    ‘Good morning,’ she said, briskly rubbing her hands together.
    The children mumbled their replies.
    ‘I said, “good morning”,’ she repeated, a little more forcefully.
    This time the response was louder and Mrs Stride appeared satisfied. Nodding her head, she told them to be seated and the room echoed with the shuffling of over three hundred pairs of feet and the usual chorus of pretended coughs before she could begin.
    Only half listening, Neil watched the head pace up and down the stage, but his attention was quickly drawn away from her and directed at the person sitting beside him.
    Here was a slight, nervous looking boy with untidy hair and large round spectacles, whose threadbare blazer was covered in badges. With one watchful eye upon the teachers, the boy lifted his bag with his foot, unzipped it and drew out a science fiction magazine which he laid upon his lap and proceeded to read, ignoring everything else around him.
    Lowering his eyes, Neil peered at the colourful pages and read the bold type announcing ‘real life’ abductions by strange visitors from outer space.
    ‘Now,’ Mrs Stride's voice cut into his musings and Neil returned his gaze to the front of the stage. ‘You all know Reverend Galloway. He came to see you quite a few times last term to talk about the youth club, before it burned down. Well, I haven't a clue what he's going to tell us this morning but I'm sure it will be most interesting. He's even gone all out and put his cassock on for us. Reverend Galloway.’
    The head stood aside as the man in the vestments rose from his seat and a distinct groan issued about the theatre.
    ‘Not the God Squad again,’ complained a dejected voice close by, and Neil looked at the boy at his side who had glanced up from his magazine to contribute this mournful and damning plea.
    Neil studied the vicar more closely. Apparently he was a familiar and unpopular guest at these assemblies.
    The Reverend Peter Galloway was a boisterous young man with a haystack of floppy auburn hair and a sparse, wispy beard to match. Suddenly, he broke into an enormous, welcoming grin and his large, green eyes bulged forward as if they were about to pop clean out of his head. Then he held open his arms in a great sweeping gesture which embraced the whole audience.
    ‘I hope you all enjoyed Christmas,’ he said benignly.
    The children eyed him warily as though he were trying to sell them something and an agitated murmur rippled throughout the tiered seats.
    Peter Galloway looked at the sea of blank faces. The pupils’ expressions were those of bored disinterest but that did not deter him, in fact it spurred him on. For the past seven months, ever since he had left college, he had ministered to the spiritual needs of this difficult area and never once suffered any loss of confidence, whatever the reaction to his exuberant ministries. His soul brimmed with the joy of his unshakable beliefs and he never missed an opportunity to try and share this with others.
    In this short time, however, the Reverend had become increasingly aware that the Church was failing to