The Case of the Wayward Professor by Gareth P. Jones Read Free Book Online

touch that mouthpiece, young lady. Hold it up straight and stick your chin out. Band rehearsal is on Monday after school and the concert takes place on Thursday, when we will spend the entire day at the concert hall.’
    Holly thanked Miss Gilfeather and left. In the corridor she found Callum, apparently waiting for her, but when she got near he shrank away.
    â€˜I got in,’ she said. ‘I heard you play, you were amazing.’
    â€˜I like music, I like playing, it makes me feel safe,’ he said. ‘I heard you too. You made some mistakes.’
    â€˜Don’t worry about that spoilt pop-star’s daughter. She’s just mean. She killed my pet mouse.’
    â€˜I don’t care about her,’ he replied. ‘She doesn’t know anything, but I know. I see too much. They all think Callum is mad because of the monsters in my head. They are all in my head, but they’re real too.’
    â€˜Who?’ asked Holly, concerned. ‘What are you talking about?’
    â€˜The doctors don’t say mad. They call it post traumatic stress instead. It’s when you go mad because you’ve been through something horrible.’
    â€˜What happened to you?’
    â€˜They’re in the trees. They look like trees. You think they are trees, then they move and they talk and they have wings and teeth and I know they’re in my head, they’re all imaginary. They took me before and they’ll take me again. They’ll come soon. They told me they would, but what does it matter if it’s all in Callum’s head? Callum can control it. That’s what the doctors said. There’s no such thing as monsters.’
    â€˜Callum, what are you saying?’ asked Holly anxiously.
    â€˜No one believes Callum. No one does.’
    â€˜I want to help you,’ she persisted.
    â€˜No one helps me.’
    Holly reached for his arm, but he shrugged her off, turned round and hurried down the corridor.
    â€˜Callum, wait,’ she called after him, but he quickened his pace, smoothing down his greasy black hair.

Chapter Eight

    Looking at the green English countryside whizzing past the train, Dirk felt a tingle of nerves in his stomach. London was his home. It was where he felt safe. All this space made him feel uneasy.
    The train had been travelling for a few hours when, finally, it stopped at a small village station with a sign that read Stonegarth, where Professor Rosenfield alighted, carrying the silver case. He looked up and down the empty platform. The train pulled away and Dirk jumped over Rosenfield’s head on to the station roof. It was a bright, sunny day and Dirk was glad that dragons cast shadows upwards.
    He peered over the other side of the roof. In the carpark of the station was an old yellow car, its paintwork chipped and eaten away by rust. Two men were leaning against the side of it. Dirk recognised them instantly.
    â€˜What’s he a professor of, then?’ said a short fat man with tightly curled red hair.
    â€˜Although a valid question, my tubby sidekick, I’m afraid that Mr G has not furnished me with a full biography of the gentleman concerned, so I will have to decline from honouring your inquisition with a satisfactory answer,’ said the taller man with a merest wisp of hair combed carefully across his head.
    â€˜You mean, you don’t know?’
    â€˜I am saying words to that effect, yes, Reg.’
    It was the two idiot crooks who worked for the Kinghorns, Arthur and Reg. They had no idea that the Mr G they spoke of was in fact a dragon, the mysterious Vainclaw Grandin.
    â€˜Mr G don’t tell us much, do he?’ said Reg. ‘I still don’t know what we were doing with all those cats.’
    â€˜He certainly likes to play his cards close to his chest, Reginald,’ agreed Arthur, ‘but remember, it was he who paid for the lawyer who got us off. We owe him a great deal.’
    â€˜We only got