Really Weird Removals.com Read online

“Uncle Alistaaaaaaaaaaaair!” shouts Valentina, looking up at the second-floor window. Nothing.

  “I’m sure he told me to come here after school…”

  We hear hasty footsteps, and the door opens.

  “HELLO CHILDREN, COME ON IN!” Uncle Alistair’s reddish hair is standing on end, and there’s powder all over it. It looks a bit like snow. His nose is bright red and sniffly.

  Wait a minute… are those ice crystals in his nostrils?

  He sees us looking, and mutters, “Sorry, yes, bit chilly in here. Heating broken… and… and I was defrosting the freezer. You know the way it is with freezers!” He laughs. Loudly.

  What next? “I stuck my head in a bucket of ice cream”?? I manage to shoot a look at Valentina, and she shrugs.

  Uncle Alistair clears his voice and moves to one side to let us in. Camilla is floating in mid-air in the doorway. She waves, a big sunny smile on her face.

  “Hi Camilla!” we say in unison.

  We all walk – well, those who don’t float – into the front room. Uncle Alistair is dusting the snow off his shoulders.

  There’s a bunch of furs scattered around. Thick white furs, tiny speckled ones and a huge grey hairy one that takes up most of the sofa. They’re covered in snow, and the hairy one is matted with ice.

  “What’s all that?” asks Valentina.

  “What?”

  “The furs.”

  “What furs?”

  Valentina and I look at each other. You can’t really miss them…

  “These!” Valentina holds up the corner of the grey hairy one.

  “Oh, THOSE! They are… rugs. From Ikea.”

  “Over on the mainland?”

  “Yes… They delivered them. And I got this too, look! It’s a… a… Wukkatakka bookshelf. Yes. They delivered it in two batches, one yesterday and one today. You know the way it is with these Swedish couriers, they like batches, don’t they? They LOVE batches! Batches and funny names for furniture! These rugs are called… Varmundsnug. In the catalogue, I mean.” He’s beginning to witter.

  “Why are the rugs covered in snow?” asks Valentina briskly.

  “Because it’s snowing in Sweden.” Uncle Alistair looks away.

  Valentina can’t help laughing silently.

  “But never mind about all that stuff. Got this for you.” He waves a tin in the air. “Thought you’d be hungry after school.”

  “What is it? Ikea meatballs?” Valentina smirks.

  “No. That’ll be in the next batch. These are BEANS. And I’ve got sausages to grill too. I won’t be a second. Take your jackets off, make yourselves at home!” He disappears into the kitchen, leaving us with Camilla.

  “So, last night, we were talking about the scaring thing,” says Camilla. “Yes? Where? When? I can be very scary when I want to be. Look!”

  She floats up towards the ceiling, and it happens. Quick enough to make me want to scream in terror.

  Camilla’s face gets all white, even whiter than it normally is, her eyes become two black empty holes, her dark hair comes undone and floats all around her head like a fan. And then she opens her mouth wide, and makes the spookiest, scariest, most blood-chilling wail I’ve ever heard in my life.

  I freeze. My knees have gone to jelly and my heart is racing. The scream has frozen in my throat, I can’t make a sound.

  Then, as quickly as she turned monster, Camilla turns back into herself again. I let myself fall on the sofa, panting. I think I’m going to pass out.

  Valentina claps her hands enthusiastically. “Ooooh, that’s perfect! That’s really scary!”

  “I know! I even scare myself!” chirps Camilla.

  I’m still too petrified to speak.

  Uncle Alistair walks back in.

  “There you are: beans and sausages, the perfect after-school snack. It’s important to eat healthily,” he tells us, solemnly. “Have a seat.”

  I’m not going anywhere; my legs are still jelly. Alistair hands us each a tin cup with beans in it and a thin sausage sticking out, like a 99 ice-cream. And a glass of juice.

  Then he notices my ashen face.

  “What happened? Camilla?” he says reproachfully.

  “He asked me to! We’re going to scare a bad, bad boy in his school!”

  Uncle Alistair turns to me. “Luca. Camilla can be a bit frightening.”

  “A bit, yes.” My voice is small and shaking.

  Valentina is happily tucking into her beans and sausage like nothing has happened. “You found a great place!” she tells Uncle Alistair, enthusiastically.

  “I did, didn’t I?” He beams.

  “What are all those?” She gestures to the piles of books all around Uncle Alistair’s computer. “Ikea catalogues?” We laugh.

  “Those, children, are for research,” says Uncle Alistair, ignoring our teasing. “I’m working on the Scottish section of the Paranormal Database. The Scottish Executive commissioned it. It records, you know, apparitions, hauntings… sightings of all sorts of supernatural creatures, past and present. Cryptocreatures is a personal favourite of mine. I love cryptozoology.”

  “I love cryptozoology TOO!” cries Valentina.

  “Well, like uncle, like niece!” She and Uncle Alistair look at each other fondly. “By the way, I don’t think your dad needs to know about the Paranormal Database…”

  We nod in agreement.

  “And your… your removals business?” I ask.

  “Oh yes. That. Well, it’s not really like I told your parents…”

  “We know.”

  “You know?”

  Camilla clears her throat conspicuously.

  “Oh, I see. Well, you were going to find out sooner or later. The Really Weird Removals Company. Yes. RWR, for short. We are the one-stop shop for safe removal and/or rescue of any supernatural creature, from the humble fairy to the mighty troll.” He sounds like an ad on TV.

  “Cool. When do we start?” says Valentina.

  I choke on my beans.

  “Sorry, it’s not stuff for children.” Uncle Alistair looks regretful.

  “Camilla does it.”

  “She’s dead already, so there’s not much that can happen to her at this stage.”

  Camilla nods emphatically.

  “We’d give you a hand, Uncle Alistair,” Valentina insists. “Seriously. You wouldn’t be sorry!”

  My uncle gets up and goes to the window, looking wistfully out at the pale blue sky.

  “I’d love for you to be part of it. But this is dangerous business. If something happened to you, I couldn’t forgive myself, and your mum and dad would never forgive me…”

  I can see his point.

  “Like Dad never forgave you about Granny and Papa?” Valentina pales, realising what she’s just said. “Sorry, Uncle Alistair, I didn’t mean…” she scrambles.

  He looks rather shaken.

  “It’s ok, Valentina. It’s ok. Yes, just like that. In fact, that’s why I’m back, you see? To try and sort it out. To get Duncan to forgive me at last…”

  There is a brief silence.

  But Valentina can’t stay quiet for long. “Forgive what? What happened to them? To Granny and Papa. Nobody ever told us.”

  Uncle Alistair shakes his head. “I will tell you. But not now. Not yet. As soon as I’ve found a way…” He busies himself with some books piled up on the coffee table. His hands are shaking. Poor Uncle Alistair.

  Valentina is not defeated yet. “Please let us be part of RWR. We know what we’re doing.” I throw her a puzzled stare. Do we?

  “You’ve got to count us in,” she continues. “We’re part of the deal. The whole Eilean deal, I mean. And we can See. We’re like you, Uncle Alistair!”

  He takes a deep breath.

  “The sausages are burning…”

  “We trust you. You’ll look after us. Keep us out of danger.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “You can’t do all this removal business by yourself! We know
every nook and cranny of this place. We can help you!”

  Uncle Alistair holds his hands up. “Listen. If you die, I’m dead. I mean, your mum and dad will kill me. I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I can’t take you with me.”

  Valentina is devastated and I’m vaguely relieved. She’s about to open her mouth to protest, when a loud howling interrupts her. We both jump up. What creature makes that sound? A wolf?

  “No need for alarm, children. It’s just letting me know I have an email.” He turns to the computer. “Old Petru Vasilescu sent me the podcast. We were in Transylvania together for a while, before he went a touch crazy and started believing he was a bat. But I digress.” He leans towards the screen. “Oh… excellent. Splendid. Smashing.”

  “Wonderful. Amazing,” mutters Valentina, rolling her eyes. She’s sulking.

  “Looks like the first case is in, children!”

  “And we can help?” Valentina perks up.

  “No.”

  And that’s the end of it.

  6. WE GET OUR FIRST GIG

  Alistair Grant’s Scottish Paranormal Database

  Entry Number 150: Stone fairies attack

  Type: Fairy

  Location: Lochgilphead

  Date: 19 October 1973

  Details: On 19 October 1973, a tribe of stone fairies made their way into the home of Frank and Eavan McTaggart in Lochgilphead, in order to steal their newborn daughter and swap her for a changeling. Stone fairies are elementals, said to be born from the stones themselves. They are mischievous by nature, and can be malicious and vindictive. They’ve been known to steal babies, to raise them as their own. Luckily, in this instance, the little girl’s grandmother scared them away.

  Except it’s not.

  “Mmmmm.” Uncle Alistair points at the screen. “See what you make of that.”

  Valentina doesn’t need to be asked twice. She stands up like a shot and starts reading the email aloud, over Uncle Alistair’s shoulder.

  To [email protected]

  From [email protected]

  Dear Alistair,

  It’s Kenny McMillan here – do you remember me? I’m a distant cousin on your father’s mother’s side. I’m writing to you because here in Hag we have a big problem, and we need your help.

  It’s the stone fairies. My own grandfather always said they were a nuisance, but they have got out of hand now. They scare the children. They turn the milk. Precious things disappear. They steal from letter boxes – anything they can get their hands on. They trip people up – poor Bill broke his wrist last Wednesday. They tripped a woman carrying her baby down the stairs of the post office. Thank goodness they were both fine, but she was terrified. They rip books in the library and make a mess in church. The kirk elders are in such a state!

  We’ve tried everything, Libby and I – Libby’s my wife, I don’t believe you ever met her? We put salt on the doorsteps and the windows, then pine needles and garlic too. We left bread and milk and cream in bowls all around the place. We left copper kettles and pots in the woods, and little mirrors, and even jewellery. As you’ll know, they love copper. But nothing works. Nobody knows what to do. We’re at the end of our tether. I went into the woods and asked them to stop, but they didn’t even acknowledge me. When I turned away, one of them – how can I put this? – did something rude on my head. I went home stinking, and we had to wash my clothes five times before the smell went away!

  But yesterday, it all turned even worse. My neighbour Jimmy and I were out mushrooming, and Jimmy got bitten. It was agony, but worse was to come. Fairy bites, as I’m sure you know, carry weird illnesses and they make you do strange things. Now Jimmy has forgotten who he is and he’s disappeared into the woods. Today I saw him behind a bush, naked as the day he was born, talking to things we can’t see.

  Worst of all is that the stone fairies want our baby granddaughter, Ella, for their own! We can’t deal with this alone, and I was reminded of you last week by a friend of my cousin I remember when you were just a wee boy, and you blew up your parents’ garage–

  “Did you, Uncle Alistair?” Valentina asks, her eyes twinkling.

  “Not on purpose. It sort of… happened,” he mutters. For a moment, he looks like a little boy caught doing something naughty. Valentina giggles.

  I don’t think your dad’s eyebrows ever fully grew back. Happy memories!

  Anyway…

  Alistair, please stop the fairies making our lives a misery, protect Ella and get Jimmy back to normal. Only you can do it.

  Best regards,

  Kenny McMillan

  “This sounds so cool, Uncle Alistair. I’m sure we could be useful!” Valentina hasn’t given up yet.

  Uncle Alistair appears lost in thought. For a few seconds, there’s silence – all I can hear is my heartbeat. Finally, he speaks.

  “This could be a good first case. For you, I mean. The stone fairies might bite, but they don’t kill. Usually.”

  Oh, that’s a relief, I think – not reassured in the slightest.

  “Does that mean we can go with you?” exclaims Valentina, her eyes shining again.

  “On probation…”

  “YES!” Valentina claps her hands.

  “Let’s see how it goes, we’ll take it from here.” Uncle Alistair is trying to sound all wise and restrained, but I can see he’s excited about having us with him.

  I’m excited too – and a bit scared. Valentina is entirely without fear, as usual.

  “But if you get killed, don’t come and haunt me. It’s not like I haven’t warned you,” continues Uncle Alistair. I’m not completely sure he’s joking.

  “So, here we are, the Really Weird Removals Company! RWR!” Valentina beams, looking around happily.

  “Cool!” squeals Camilla, doing an airborne cartwheel.

  “Here we are indeed. Right.” Uncle Alistair claps his hands, sounding suddenly businesslike. “Let’s give Kenny a suitable reply.” He cracks his knuckles and sits at the desk. “There. What do you think of this, ladies and gentlemen? And… er… gentleghost?” he adds, careful not to leave Camilla out.

  Valentina starts reading aloud.

  To [email protected]

  From [email protected]

  Dear Kenny,

  How awfully nice to hear from you, though in such troubling circumstances. We’ll be with you on Saturday. You don’t need to put us up; we’ll be camping in the woods. Better to be near the action. I’d be grateful if, once the case of the fairies is closed to your satisfaction, you’d make a voluntary donation to the RWR to cover our expenses and aid our survival.

  Thank you and best regards,

  Alistair Grant, on behalf of the RWR

  P.S. The garage thing. It was an unfortunate accident that could have happened to anyone.

  “The RWR means us!” Valentina grins.

  “Just for this once!” Uncle Alistair reminds her. “Now all we need to do is convince your dad to let you go.”

  ***

  “Under no circumstances can you go with your uncle. No.”

  “Duncan–”

  “Please, Dad–”

  “I said no, and that’s my last word.”

  If Dad says that’s his last word, there’s only one person who can turn it into his penultimate word, and that’s my mum.

  “Mum, please… Camping is great, it’s… educational!” I try.

  “We’d be seeing Kenny! He’s our cousin – distantly!” Valentina hugs Mum enthusiastically. “And, really, their infestation is terrible!” she adds, for good measure.

  “Everybody on this island is your dad’s distant cousin!” laughs Mum. “Why is it that they need your uncle again?”

  “Rats.”

  “As big as ducks,” I chip in.

  “And you know I love mysterious creatures!” Valentina clasps her hands together.

  “What’s mysterious about rats?” Mum laughs.

  “Rats can be very shifty,” Valentina says sole
mnly.

  “Right, right, leave it with me.” Mum, still chuckling, runs upstairs after my dad.

  Fingers crossed.

  I feel awful, lying to my mum and dad like that. But I’ve just got to go with Uncle Alistair. It’s as if something’s calling me. As if this is something I must do.

  Aunt Shuna shepherds us into the kitchen, where dinner is about to be served.

  Camilla’s hovering over the stove.

  “She seems soooo nice, your aunt. I wish she could see me!”

  “What was that, Valentina?” asks Aunt Shuna.

  “Pardon?”

  “What did you say?”

  “It wasn’t me, it was–” Valentina puts her hand to her mouth and makes a face at me.

  Had Aunt Shuna heard Camilla speaking?

  “I just said… I said, ‘Mmmm, my favourite, fish fingers and chips!’”

  “With your mum’s home-made ketchup.”

  I know. Mum makes her own ketchup. Boils a ton of tomatoes with vegetables and sugar and vinegar, and makes the most delicious ketchup ever. And she makes the fish fingers herself too, with freshly caught fish from the local fishmonger, and the chips she double-fries with rosemary and coarse salt. It’s as if we live in a restaurant.

  But Camilla isn’t in the least interested in home-made ketchup. She is birling round the kitchen, trying to attract our aunt’s attention.

  “Shuna! It’s Camilla! I’m here! Look up here!”

  “Is there a radio on somewhere?” asks Aunt Shuna.

  Valentina wags a warning finger at Camilla.

  “Maybe. It must be coming from outside,” I say, trying to sound breezy.

  As we sit there waiting for Dad to make a decision, I can’t help wondering why Alistair, Valentina and I can See, when my dad and his sister can’t. I wonder if my grandparents could?

  On the way back to our house from his office, Uncle Alistair explained to us that the Sight allows you to see things like they really are, not like they appear to be.

  “The thing is, some of the creatures I work with look perfectly normal, perfectly human, but they’re not.”