Free Invisible! by Robert Swindells Page B

and he’ll not see
my
place looking like a tip. Go on – get it sorted before I kick your backside.’
    Not fair.
On his knees on the concrete floor, stacking stuff under the bench while
The Simpsons
performed to his empty room.
Why do
I
always get the blame?
He wished he had Bart’s guts. He’d run through to the kitchen where Dad was putting the kettle on for his visitor, drop his jeans and moon the miserable so-and-so. Better, he’d wait till the mysterious visitor was actually
here
, drinking tea in the front room, and do it to the pair of them. Yeah,
that’s
what old Bart’d do.
Who did this, though? Somebody must have. It wasn’t like this when we got back from Safeways. What if somebody broke in? Is still here?
He glanced around, moistening his lips with his tongue, but the garage was brilliantly lit. No murky corners, except …
    He gazed towards the angular object under its black shroud.
Could be hiding under there with whatever it is.
Trouble was, he didn’t dare go look. Not because he was scared of what he might find, but because he was scared of his father.
What’s under that sheeting’s none of your business, boy. Understand?
He’d said that months ago, when the first mysterious shape had appeared, and Lee knew he meant it. It wasn’t the actual words so much as the dangerous light in the man’s eyes as he spoke them. Lee knew that light. The black sheeting had covered many an intriguing item since then and Lee had stayed well clear. You didn’t mess with Bob Kippax when he got that light in his eye.
    The Invisible Man.
Lee drew in a sharp breath, peering about him.
What if …?
He moistened his lips again and croaked, ‘Rosie? Rosie Walk, are you here? Did
you
do this? Say something, for Pete’s sake.’
    No, don’t.

Rosie stood beside the statue of Poseidon, holding her breath till Lee decided she wasn’t there and went back to stacking away the stuff she’d got out. Now the lights were on she could see she’d groped in vain. There was no flashlight. No matches.
    It
was
a statue. She’d lifted a corner of the giant bin-bag while Lee was busy and seen a greenish foot and the shaft of what might be a spear. She didn’t know for sure it was Poseidon, but it’d be a strange coincidence if it was some other statue after Peter’s midnight encounter with Kippax’s van in the gateway of Sowerby Old Hall.
    So I was right. Kippax senior’s our thief. I bet he lifted those two Turners from Inchlake Manor too. So. All I have to do is get out of here, go visible and tell the police. That’ll teach ‘em – case solved by prime suspect. Prime suspect’s kid anyway.
    Her train of thought was derailed by the sound of a motor. Lee shot a glance towards the garage door and began to work faster, but the door to the house opened and his father strode through.
    â€˜Leave that now. Go to your room and stay there till I say you can come out. Move.’
    Lee straightened up, scuttled past his father and vanished into the house.
Maybe I should follow
, thought Rosie, but old Kippax moved to a box on the wall and thumbed a green button. The garage door swung up. Rosie grinned.
Panic over. I can leave now whenever I want to.
    Under the floodlight stood a van. It had reversed up the driveway. Now it came scrunching into the garage. It wasn’t the blue Kippax van which had nearly squashed Pete. This one was red, and pretty ancient. Rosie tiptoed over to the house door so she could watch and not be in the way.
    Two men got out.
    â€˜Bit late,’ growled Kippax. ‘Thought you’d blobbed.’
    The driver shrugged. ‘Traffic, squire. God!’ He’d spotted the bin-bag. ‘I’d have hired a ruddy elephant if I’d known it was this size. Solid bronze and all.’
    Kippax shook his head. ‘Hollow. Just over a tonne. Piece of cake,
and
you get a cuppa when it’s