2 The Mountford Gang Get Clever - S D Hudson

The Mountford Gang is a period audio drama, written three years ago for my children. It features five children who live in Mountford Lane. This is a guided drama that features the soothing sounds of Stephanie Poppins. It is for guiding you into a calm, relaxing rest.

In this chapter, the Mountford Gang set up their clubhouse.

Audio Drama Series written by author S D HUDSON
Performed by Stephanie Poppins
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

Welcome to sleep stories with Steph your go-to podcast. That offers you a calm and relaxing transition. Into a great night's sleep. It is time to relax and fully let go. There is nothing you need to be doing now. And know where you need to go. Close your eyes. And feel yourself sink into the support beneath you. And let all the worries of the day go. Drift away. This is your time. And your space. Take a deep breath in through your nose. And let it out with a long sigh. That's it! There is nothing you need to be doing now. And know where you need to go. Happy listening. Chapter 2 We didn't talk about the light in the round window. Not that night anyway. By the time we'd scrambled back over the wall and run all the way home. The sky was the colour of a bruise and mum was standing at the gate with her arms folded, Which was never a good sign. We got a telling off for being late, A smaller one than we deserved because Aunt Susan had gone to bed with one of her headaches. And that meant Mum was quietly relieved to have the house to herself for five minutes. We ate our dinner and went to bed, And I lay there in the dark thinking about that little round window. It was like a porthole to another world. Something that belonged on a ship, Not a house. And the light behind it was faint. Barely there at all. Perhaps it was a candle or a torch. But he was definitely something. Somebody. I decided there and then we were going to go back. And I told the others the following morning at the Green Triangle. Sam was the most excited which surprised me because Sam was usually the most cautious but he had his rucksack with him and his eyes were lit up the way they only got when he had an idea involving wires. I've been thinking, " he said, Pulling at the straps. I want to know everything about that house, Who built it, Who lives there, And who was in that window. So have I! Said Kathy. She was wearing a bobble hat pulled right down over her ears, Even though it wasn't even cold. Kathy liked hats. She said they helped her think. The rest of us didn't argue with her. Elliot said nothing. But he was grinning in that lopsided way of his which meant he was already planning something that he probably shouldn't. Jack just wanted to know whether there would be any more Blackberries. And so it was that afternoon we went back to the big brick wall, The blackberry bushes and the house with the little round window. This time though, There was no business about buckets or blackberries. We climbed over the wall same as before, Me giving Jack a push and Kathy going down last because she was most graceful and didn't need any help. Even though she always offered it. The garden on the other side was just as we left it. Overgrown. Silent. Smelling of rotten earth and something else that I couldn't name. Lavender, Perhaps? Something wild. Maybe one of those weeds that smells better than it should. We spread out instinctively. That was how we always were. No one decided it, It just kind of happened that way. Kathy went towards the farm wall where the ivy was thickest, Running her fingers along it slowly and looking for something even though she wasn't even sure what she was looking for. Elliot, Meanwhile, Just stood there, Chuckling to himself. Gould knows what joke he had on his mind, But Elliot was always chuckling to himself, So it was no surprise really. Sam crouched by the back step and opened his rucksack. Jack circled the house at a respectful distance and I went straight to the centre of the garden and stood still. I was at the edge of an overgrown path, Sunlight slipping in dappled coins around the leaves above. Ivy curled across the stone archway. And somewhere beyond it, A bird was drilling a note that sounded. . . Almost like an invitation. It was warm on my shoulders and bees made lazy paths between clover blossoms. A butterfly drifted past. And I followed it, As if it might be a clue. But in spite of all that. . . Or maybe because of it. No one wanted to knock on the door. No one really was brave enough to find out who was on the other side. I suppose, Coming to think of it, There was a kind of magic in the waiting. In knowing whatever lay beyond us. Would be so much more exciting if there was a long run up to it. Anyway, We've been there for some time. When Elliot hissed, I found something. He was poking around by the old rose bed, The one that had completely taken over the left side of the garden, Thorns and stems sprawling everywhere. He'd been quiet for a full two minutes, Which was unusual enough. Oi, He said, Come and look at this. We went over immediately and he was holding something between two fingers very carefully. It was a bright orange toy gun. The sort they sell in seaside shops alongside plastic buckets and kites that, In my experience, Never really fly properly. This was not any kind of gun though. This was in a garden that by all accounts nobody used and certainly no children were there. So what was he doing? I looked it over very carefully, Wishing I'd brought my magnifying glass, But nevertheless I could see it was brand new. But that was strange, Wasn't it? Because this was a garden by all accounts no one even used. I mean, No children use, Surely? Where did you find it? I asked again. Just over there, " said Elliot, Pointing at the rose bed. Sitting on top of the soil. He said, Like someone left in a hurry. We all looked at the rose bush. Sam took it very carefully and turned the gun over and over in his hands. The plastic's still bright, He told us. It hasn't faded. So therefore, Someone's been here recently, " said Cathy. Someone with a child. Say Jack. Or someone who is a child. I say. I felt very important at that point, Although I couldn't exactly say why. Sam put the plastic gun in his rucksack. We all agreed without speaking he should hold it. Evidence we decided it was, Except we weren't really quite sure what we were gathering evidence for. But it was evidence nevertheless. Having been very happy with our spoils and very happy with what we discovered, We all decided to climb the wall again and go home. It was on the way home we thought about making a clubhouse. We needed somewhere to think, Somewhere private. This was important business. There was a little round window in a deserted house. No one lived in it. And yet there was a brand new toy in the garden. Maybe a child was trapped there. Maybe he'd been kidnapped. We needed somewhere to talk. This was private and we didn't want Bradley coming and sticking his nose in. If we made it to the green triangle and talked there, He'd listen to everything we were saying. And we couldn't go back to any one of our bedrooms, They were too separate. And besides, Mum had made it quite clear Aunty Susan's nerves could not cope with five children thundering up and down the stairs. We must have a base, I said. Something that was ours. Now I'd had my eye on the old bike share for some time. He stood on the corner of Mountford Lane and the little alleyway that ran behind the back gardens. It had been broken and empty for as long as I could remember. The door hung on one inch and the roof at the far end had a split in it letting the rain. But someone at some point had draped a heavy sheet of thick green plastic across the top and weighed it down with bricks. That kept most of the weather out. It smelled of rust and old leaves, But it was dry enough in there when it mattered. More importantly than that, No one ever went near it. We can fix it up, " said Jack, Always the practical one. I've got wood glue and there's spare timber on Mrs Bantry's side passage. She said I could help myself. I said I borrowed Dad's hammer once. Which was true, But not something I plan to repeat. He'd stepped on it in the long grass and the word he said was one I wasn't supposed to know yet. So I put it back very quietly and said nothing whatsoever. Kathy, Though, Was always thinking about the inside. She liked decorating and told us we needed a table and something to sit on. I'll get the crates from inside the greengrocer, " said Elliot. He has them on a Thursday. They're paper, Well, Cardboard, But we can use those, They're solid enough. So how do you know what he does on a Thursday? " I asked. Elliot tapped his nose, Then he said, "'Cause I knocked his display over last Thursday and he made me snack everything up again. " He's got hundreds of cardboard crates, So he won't miss five of them, Will he? I tended to agree with that. And seeing as it was Elliot and Sam carrying them back. . . I wasn't bothered either way. By the time we pushed the door open and stood inside, In a line, Looking at the space the way you might look at a blank page in your school book, It was already decided. This would be our place. We could design it the way we wanted and it could be where we would do our most important work. We each had a job. I would keep the records, A proper notebook with names, Dates, Facts, Everything we knew and everything we needed to find out. Kathy would handle the disguises because she'd once turned herself into a convincing Victorian ghost for the school play. Sam would handle the technical side. He was the youngest but he had plans for a listening device that he was far too pleased about and he was very clever with that sort of thing. We also said that he would be the person who looked after the gun. No one would really suspect him of doing anything weird, Would they? Elliot could be our legs, Fast and fearless, And he could talk his way out of anything if it came to it. And Jack, Who no one ever suspected anything much of, Because he seemed far too cheerful and straightforward, He could keep watch. Jack was always observant in that way people didn't really expect him to be. I wrote in the notebook that very evening. That we were called the Mountford Gang. We were five members, No exceptions. And that brings me to Bradley. We should have known Bradley Button never in his life minded his own business for longer than it took him to find something more interesting to poke his nose into. And we. . . It's fair to say we're right. It was Sam who first noticed him sniffing around. We were in the shed the second afternoon, Sitting on the crates that Elliot got, Going through everything we knew about the house, Which was not very much. When suddenly his ears picked something up. He held up a finger to Shushus and then he pointed at the gap between the plastic sheet and the back wall of the shed. It was a very narrow gap, No more than a few inches. But it was a gap nevertheless, And through it, Just visible, Was the unmistakable golden top of Bradley Button's head. None of us moved and none of us spoke. We carried on like we were, Except I closed the notebook. I put it behind the crate where we couldn't see it. Elliot began talking very loudly about absolutely nothing. Which he was extraordinarily good at. He launched into a long fictional story about a tortoise he'd seen on the way over and whether tortoises were actually legal in England and whether you could train one to come out to see you when you called it. The rest of us then made interested noises and eventually the golden head disappeared from the gap. He'll be back. Sit down. Of course he will, I said. But for now, I opened the book and wrote at the top of a fresh page. What do we know? I had to get something down so that we could go back to the house for more investigations. So what did we know? Well, The house on the other side of the wall was built in the 1930s. It was red brick with a round window. The garden was overgrown. It had been for years by the look of it. The light in the window was. . . Faint, But it was definitely real. We all saw it. The toy gun was orange, Recently purchased and left in the garage. In a rose bed. But it was new. So what was it doing in that garden? Someone we decided had been there, Probably our age or younger. I underlined that last one because I thought it was very important. Then I started a new column. . . What do we need to find out? And underneath it I wrote. . . Everything. Absolutely everything. Starting with what on earth was going on. In the big house. With a little round window.