1 The Mountford Gang And The Kestrel Camp - By S D Hudson

Chloe, Jack, Cathy, Sam, Bradley and Elliot all live on the outskirts of an English town called Mountford West. It is the 1980s and life for the Mountford Gang is simple and fun. Until they discover a secret and are thrown into a world of mystery and intrigue. This audio drama was written as a cosy, mysterious, nostalgic trip to simpler times.
In this episode, the gang relocate.
All rights reserved. Individual use only. Copyright Neworld Books Ltd.
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Written by S D HUDSON
Performed by Stephanie Poppins
Music by Jean-Miles Carter
Published by Neworld Books

Transcript

Orchestral in Mountford Wood Mystery. Written by S. D. Hudson Performed by Stephanie Poppins. Music by John Miles Carter Chapter 1 Hello again, It's Chloe Marsh here. I'm here to tell you another story about when I was part of the Mountford gang, When I was a little girl. I've been thinking long and hard about this one and I've decided there are two kinds of nuisance in this world. There's the loud, Obvious kind, Like a wasp at a picnic, And there's the kind that sits quietly at the edge of things with its ears pricked. And that one's far worse. Bradley Button was the second kind. I remember this tale like it was yesterday. It was autumn they finished the M25 and Mountford West was in a state of excitement. Dad said it would be the end of us. He said any day now the whole of Surrey would be driving down our lane on the way to Heathrow and he'd be forced to put up a sign. Mum said she believed that when she saw it, But neither of them ever did see it. Because there was nothing really in Mount for West 2C. You gotta picture the place to understand how we got away with so much. We were right on the outer edge of London, Where the tube gave up and then the fields began. There was a thin green ribbon the telly called the commuter belt and our parents called it home. Our town was all mock Tudor gables and privet hedges and all those other gardens with monkey puzzle trees and clumps of grass that nobody remembered planting. Then there were long avenues lined with trees and they had these sticky leaves that ruined the paintwork on every Austin Metro and Volvo Estate that dared to park beneath them. Behind the high street there was an old railway line that cut through the beech woods. Twice an hour a silver train has passed, Full of men in grey suits reading the evening standard. And thinking, I suppose, All about money. It was an orderly sort of place, But our lane, Mountford Lane, Was the quietest of them all. Every house in our lane had a neighbourhood watch sticker on it and almost every Saturday someone was washing a car and nosing around to see if there were any new faces or who's that person over there talking to whoever. But we couldn't get used to Bradley Bond and his nosy ways, No matter how much we tried. So even though life was nigh on perfect for us and where we live, He was the fly in the ointment, So to speak. The time of this story was October. The trees had gone the colour of toast and marmalade, And the gutters were clogged with conker cases. The air smelled of bonfire smoke and diesel, And the warm steam from the vents at the back of the co-op bakery. Oh, It smelled lovely. In the window walrus, Between the spangles and the smashy its annuals, Someone put up a cardboard skeleton and a shelf of plastic fangs. Halloween then was only just becoming a thing in England, But we loved it because it meant free sweets and freedom to go out in the dark. Now on this year, Because the boiler had packed up at Mountford Primary, We'd been given not one week, But two weeks of half-term. A whole fortnight. Which would have been bliss if Bradley hadn't turned up at the clubhouse with a folded sheet of paper headed Official Rules of the Mountford Gang, Which he'd written himself in felt-tip. There was one rule about wiping our feet. We just couldn't get our head around. It was supposed to be our special place. No adult rules. Boring stuff. On Tuesday he told my mother very politely Jack had a length of rope in his bedroom and he hoped no one was planning anything dangerous. Then Mum looked at Jack. Jack looked at the ceiling and the rope was confiscated. Jack was so upset that night he skipped pudding which was unheard of. It was arctic roll. Who skips arctic roll? The rope was another sore point. There were too many building up. We had to get rid of Bradley. It just wasn't fair. Ever since Elliot's mum had a go at him for not including his brother enough, Bradley had been hanging around like a bad smell. It was a Wednesday and we found Bradley's golden head poking through the gap between the plastic sheet and the back wall of the shed again. This time he didn't even bother to duck. I'm not spying, He protested when Elliot dragged him inside by the anorak. I'm just sort of hanging around. You're always hanging around, Sir Elliot. His face did that crumpled thing it did when he was really annoyed. So later that day I called an afternoon meeting. Bradley was safely at home having his tea. Five of us sat on the crates then and I stood by the map on the wall with a marbled notebook open, That was a gift from my auntie, And my pen at the ready. I want it to look really official this time. He's gonna tell on us for not including him, Said Elliot gloomily. Sam agreed. He was the smallest of us and he got upset about more things than the rest. He'll probably tell about the new lock we've put on and the walkie-talkies and the fact we've got a packet of digestives Mrs Bantry said we could have. Looking at Sam's face, I knew I had to take action. Let's decide what we're going to do today. Let's talk about Halloween. And then later on, I said, I'm going to go to Mrs Bantry. She'll know what to do. She was in her kitchen with her sleeves rolled up to the elbow when I went. Carving something small and pale out of a block of limewood. She didn't even look up when I came in. She was getting used to me now. She just said, Sit down Chloe. So I sat and I watched the shavings curl off her knife in long sweet smelling ribbons. Over on the windowsill, A row of turnips was waiting, Each with a candle stuck beside it. On the dresser there was a jar of dried herbs labelled, In her spidery hand, For Tuesdays. She was such an interesting person, Was Mrs Bantry. I told you she was a white witch. And I think she was called that because she always did things that no one else did. She made things that no one else made. And of course she had the answers. There are three ways to deal with a nuisance, She said when I told her all about it. You can outweigh it, You can outrun it, Or you can give it something better to do. She blew a little dust off the wood and I watched her intently. The first never works on children. The third takes more patience than you've got. So that leaves the second. We can outrun it? What, Run away from Bradley? I said. No not run away i said out run she said setting the knife down Then she looked at me over the top of her glasses, With those eyes that always seemed to know the end of the story before you'd even got to the middle. There's a place a lot of you could go, She said. Up the hill, The other side of the sheep, There's Mountford Wood. The paths aren't kept up up there and the wind sounds odd in the beaches. Most people stay clear on account of that. But I quite like it. And she picked the knife up again. It just so happens Camp Kestrel hasn't had any visitors in a very long time, She said with a sniff. They'd probably be glad of some. What? " I said. But then she went back to her carving. Suddenly, A front doorbell rang, So I ran off out the back door and thanked her for her help. There was Jack on the front step, His mouth already open. I stood there for a moment before he saw me, Wondering if I should say anything. But he was hungry, Jack was always hungry and Miss Bantry had more food than was necessary. So who was I to challenge my brother? According to mum, Mealtimes were strict three times a day and that was it. So if he needed a snack in between, He had to have somewhere to go, Didn't he? Anyhow, I went back home after that. And that evening I called a meeting and I told the others about the wood. I'm not sure why I didn't tell them what it was called. I felt like something had to be secret just for me. I always felt special when Mrs Bantry told me things and I wanted to keep that feeling for a while I suppose. Mountford Wood? " said Sam. That's what he called it. No one goes up there. Dad says it's got a bog up there. It'll be alright, " said Kathy. It's perfect, Sedalia. We could see he was over the moon at the idea he might be able to get away from his brother for a change. So we made plans. The plan was actually one of Elliot's. It was brilliant. At lunchtime on Thursday he strolled up to the button's front gate looking as if he had all the time in the world. Then he told his brother in strictest confidence the gang was meeting at the green triangle at three o'clock sharp. He said he felt bad from keeping it from him and he remembered what his mother told him and Bradley swallowed the whole story. Then, At ten past two, While Bradley sat on the kerb of the Green Triangle with his air combed and his swatch watch, Pushed up his wrist, All in preparation for a new meeting, We were slipping over the low wooden fence at the back of the allotments, Carrying everything we could carry to our new campsite. As we walked we looked into the allotments Big fat marrows lay fat and abandoned in their beds, And someone's scarecrow, Dressed in what looked like a fair isle jumper, Nodded at us as we passed. That made us run. It was nearly Halloween after all. Spooky things happen at Halloween. Then, After about 10 minutes of walking, We caught sight of the bottom of the wood. It didn't look very inviting. It looked like a place where old things went to be forgotten. That might be why Mrs Bantry liked it. The path wound up between Brambles and Bracken. The trees had closed overhead the higher we climbed up, Until the afternoon light came down in their thin green gold strips, Like something we'd seen through a stained glass window. The trees were huge, Grey and smooth as elephant's legs. Their branches were like long, Knotted arms with twisted fingers and knotted knuckles. The air was sharp enough to taste now and somewhere below we could hear a train sounding its horn on the Metroland line. Which is thin and far away, Like a radio left on in another house. Dad was right about the bog, " said Sam, Hauling his boot out of a patch of black mud. Your dad is never right about anything. He's Jack. I heard it, But no one else did. Which was just as well. What he said was true, But we didn't want Sam to know that. Then all at once the trees opened out and there was a little circle where the ground was flat and the light fell in. There was a ring of blackened stones there and a ghost of a fire stamped into the earth. Beside it was a rotted log worn smooth in the middle by lots of people sitting there over a long period of time. And beyond that was a lean-to of grey canvas, Sagging and green with moss, But still against all odds managing to hold its shape. This was what Mrs Bantry was talking about. A secret place we could hold our camp with Bradley Button knowing nothing about it. A rusted tin can hung from an iron hook on a branch and on the great oak at the edge of the clearing someone fixed a sign that said Kestrel. Picture was above it, A bird with its wings half folded, Caught in the moment before it dropped. I walked up to it and put my hand on the bird. The strangest feeling came over me. I'd seen that picture somewhere before. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Chloe asked my brother, What is it? Nothing, I said. I'll tell you later. But I was already in two minds as to say anything or not. This was eerie enough and I wasn't quite sure where I'd seen the picture before anyway. One thing that was for sure though. . . We've found a new place to have our camp. A place we desperately hoped no one but Mrs Bantry knew about.