Chapter 4

 

 

His gran was sitting in a chair by his bed when he woke up early the next morning and the first thing she did was give him a huge hug. Her eyes were tired looking, a little red rimmed and she had obviously been crying.

 

‘My goodness, Ben, you gave me such a fright!’’ she said. ‘You don’t know what went through my mind when the police rang me last night. How are you feeling?’

 

‘I’m fine, gran,’ Ben replied as he sat up in bed.

 

‘Well, I’m very glad to hear that, though the doctor thinks you’ve broken your wrist. They want to take some x-rays this morning.’

 

Ben smiled to himself. He had a feeling that the doctor would be a little surprised with his remarkable recovery.

 

‘My wrist is fine,’ he replied, holding up his arm. ‘Nothing wrong with it.’

 

His gran frowned.

 

‘Now that’s very strange,’ she said, taking his wrist in her gentle hands. ‘The doctor I spoke to when I first got here said he was sure you had broken it.’

 

Ben shrugged.

 

‘It was swollen last night, but it’s fine now,’ he said dismissively. ‘But how is Mr Wallace? Have you asked about him? He was very ill last night when they took him away in the ambulance.’

 

His gran was silent and the sudden sad look on her face told him what he didn’t want to hear.

 

‘No!’ he whispered in dismay. ‘He… isn’t dead… is he?’

 

His gran nodded.

 

‘I’m so sorry, Ben. He apparently had a heart attack and passed away soon after arriving here.’

 

Ben felt his throat go all tight and tears sprang into his eyes. He had a sudden empty feeling in his chest and didn’t know what to say, the words just not coming.  His gran gave him another hug at his obvious distress.

 

‘I’m truly sorry, Ben,’ she said. ‘He was a very nice man and it’s very sad. I’m sure they did their best to save him and you certainly can feel proud at what you did from what the police have told me.’

 

‘I… I should have done something earlier,’ Ben muttered in a dejected tone. ‘He was sick the other day when I was at his house, but he didn’t want me to call an ambulance or a doctor.’

 

His gran nodded in understanding.

 

‘If Mr Wallace asked that of you, then you can’t feel guilty, Ben,’ she said soothingly. ‘It was his decision to make, not yours. Some elderly people don’t like hospitals as they are afraid they won’t come out again.’

 

Ben was silent, still thinking that if Mr Wallace had gone to hospital then all this may not have happened. He was also suddenly very angry. All this had happened because of Alex Runcin and he knew somehow that he was behind the fire that had ultimately caused Mr Wallace’s death.

 

A nurse entered the room to take his temperature and then breakfast was brought in for him. He wasn’t very hungry and only some urging from his gran got him to eat a little of the cereal and toast. But it all tasted like ash in his mouth.

 

Then a different doctor to the one he had seen last night arrived doing the morning patient rounds. He was somewhat surprised at the remarkable recovery of Ben’s wrist.

 

‘I was expecting to see some serious swelling going by the notes on your chart, Ben,’ he said as he read the clipboard taken from the foot of his bed. ‘It’s all a little astounding that it has gone down so quickly. Can you move it?’

 

Ben nodded, flexing his wrist for him.

 

‘It feels fine to me, doc,’ he replied.

 

The doctor frowned, taking his wrist and feeling gently around it.

 

‘Well, we’ll x-ray it just in case, eh?’ he said. ‘I’m still expecting a break, but we’ll wait and see.’

 

As he was waiting to go off and have x-rays taken a nurse came in to say that a policewoman had arrived and was hoping to speak with Ben.

 

‘I’ll go out and see her,’ his gran said, rising from her chair. ‘Hopefully I can convince them to wait a while before being bothered with this.’

 

‘I don’t mind speaking with her, Alice,’ Ben said, though he didn’t know what he was going to tell them. Should he mention his suspicions about Alex Runcin being behind the fire? Of his threatening visit to Mr Wallace’s house earlier in the week? He mentally shook his head. No, he needed some kind of proof to do that. Alex Runcin was a powerful man and Ben knew his word would be small compared to his. And there was a warning in the back of his mind that told him it would be unwise to attract the attention of Alex Runcin.

 

‘Well, we’ll see,’ his gran said and headed out of the room.

 

That left Ben alone and his thoughts turned to the metal globe. It had still been in his hand under the bed covers when he had woken and he now took it out for another look.

 

Nothing had changed about it, save that the odd silver symbols were a little brighter in the daylight coming in through the room’s window. Its mainly black colour was also deeper, its surface appearing quite oily. As he held it he knew for sure that that it was not something of this world. There was nothing on Earth that could have mended his wrist in the same way.

 

So the next question was, where had Mr Wallace had got it from? He had a sudden wild thought that maybe Mr Wallace was some kind of alien from another planet, maybe an intergalactic traveller of some kind.

 

That made him consider very differently the elderly man’s museum and the artefacts that had been in it. They had been most likely completely destroyed in the fire, but the more he thought of them the more he wondered whether they too had been alien. Had the sculpture of the winged man been of someone real? If that was so, where had Mr Wallace been to have them?

 

He was disturbed by a nurse arriving to take him down to the x-ray department. He managed to hide the globe from view, stuffing his hand under his hospital gown. By the time he got back his gran had returned, along with the doctor with the x-ray films already in his hands.

 

‘Well, the x-rays don’t show any break,’ he said. ‘It’s all a little mystifying really, but if Ben feels all right, he can go home.’

 

His gran looked at him and Ben nodded.

 

‘I’m fine,’ he said.

 

‘Well, as long as you’re sure, Ben,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately I couldn’t dissuade the policewoman from wanting to ask you some questions… something about the night’s events still being fresh in your mind.’

 

‘No problems,’ Ben replied, though he was nervous about what she would ask.

 

He got dressed and followed his gran out of the ward to the hospital’s reception area. The plain clothed policewoman was waiting and she introduced herself as Detective Grant. She took them to an empty office that had been arranged for them.

 

‘Now I’d like to ask you both some questions about your relationship with Mr Wallace,’ she began, a pen and a notebook ready. ‘How long had you known him?’

 

‘We’ve been a neighbour of his for just over two  years,’ his gran replied. ‘We didn’t see a lot of him as he travelled quite a bit, but when he was at home Ben did some odd jobs around the house for him, mowing the lawns and the like.’

 

‘So what was he like, Ben?’ the detective asked with a smile at him.

 

‘He was a nice man, very softly spoken and paid me really well for any work I did for him,’ Ben replied.

 

‘Did you ever go inside the house?’

 

Ben nodded.

 

‘What was it like inside?’

 

Ben hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should mention the museum. Even with the fire, some pieces of the artefacts might have survived, so it might be wise to mention them.

 

‘Well, he had a very big study on the top floor with lots of books in it. He also had a kind of personal museum on the floor as well, full of old artefacts he said he had collected whilst travelling.’

 

‘What were they like?’ the detective asked, suddenly interested.

 

‘Mmm… they were mainly sculptures and pieces of rock,’ Ben answered, giving her just the basics.

 

‘Well, that’s a shame because there is virtually nothing left of the house,’ she replied. ‘The fire department thinks it’s somewhat suspicious, even though the house was wooden and old and may have been prone to an electrical fault. When did you notice the fire, Ben?’

 

‘Well, I was sitting in bed reading when I saw the flames from my bedroom window,’ he replied. ‘I rang the fire department and raced up to see if Mr Wallace needed help.’

 

‘Mmm… and you found him where exactly?’

 

‘He… he was collapsed on the path below the front veranda.’

 

‘Was he conscious?’

 

Ben nodded.

 

‘Yes, but he didn’t say anything except to help get him away. I got him across the driveway to a tree and then he passed out.’

 

‘And when was the last time you saw him prior to the fire?’

 

‘On Sunday afternoon,’ Ben replied. ‘I was doing some gardening for him… mowing the lawn and raking up leaves.’

 

‘And have either of you seen any strangers around the house or in the street in the past few days?’

 

Ben shook his head, as did his gran.

 

‘He rarely had visitors from what I could tell,’ his gran said. ‘He was a reclusive man and as I said he appeared to travel quite a bit.’

 

‘Well, the fire is being treated as suspicious and will be investigated, but for now that’s all the questions I have,’ the detective said. ‘I may need to ask you further questions later on and if so, I’ll give you a call.’

 

And that was the end of the interview.

 

On the way home Aunt Alice tried her best to cheer Ben up, even offering to buy him a videogame. Ben thanked her distantly, his thoughts again on Mr Wallace and the globe. He had suddenly been reminded during the interview about what the elderly man had said to him last night. He could still hear his strained voice as he thrust the globe into his hand.

 

‘This is yours now, Ben. Don’t let Alex Runcin have it!’

 

That made him wonder whether Alex Runcin knew about the globe. Did he know what it was, know about its healing powers? If he did then Ben could easily guess why he would want it. Something so powerful would be worth a lot of money.

 

His next thought sent a sudden chill through him. The globe was now in his possession and Alex Runcin would be the kind of man who would find that out. What would he do if he came looking for it?

 

* * *

 

For the next several days he was a bit jumpy, starting nearly every time a car drove by on the street. But nothing out of the ordinary happened over the weekend, except that it rained, keeping Ben indoors. He read, watched DVD’s and played videogames.

 

He also spent some time inspecting the mysterious, dark globe. Was there anything else to it besides being able to heal injuries and was there some way of commanding it? There was no way of telling of course without Mr Wallace alive to tell him. He thought it sad that perhaps its secrets had gone with him.

 

He wanted to go up and see the remains of the house, but the police had the property sealed off for several days. It was Wednesday before they were suddenly gone. Ben noticed their absence when he went outside to collect the weekly local newspaper from the letter box for his gran. He promised himself he would go and see the remains today.

 

He took the newspaper back inside, putting it on the kitchen table. His gran picked it up and began to read as Ben sat down and began to eat some toast and jam she had made.

 

‘Well, well…’ she suddenly said surprise. ‘It seems you’re a bit of hero, Ben. You’ve got yourself into the newspaper.’

 

Ben gave a splutter on some toast catching in his throat.

 

‘Your joking!’ he exclaimed.

 

His gran shook her head with a proud smile at him.

 

‘No… it says that you showed a lot of bravery in helping Mr Wallace away from the fire, even though he passed away later. Here, have a read of it yourself.’

 

She handed the paper to him as he sat down at the table and began to read.

 

The article described the fire incident and the sad death of Mr John Wallace, a long resident of the area. It went on to say that Ben Williams, a local boy and neighbour, had rung the fire department and then raced up to the burning house where he had helped Mr Wallace away.

 

The article went on to say that Mr Wallace had been in his late seventies and had lived in the old house for many decades. Whilst he had been a reclusive man, he had been apparently very generous to various local charities and sporting groups and would be sorely missed.

 

It went on to say that he had never married and to the paper’s knowledge there were no known relatives.

 

‘Don’t you think it’s nice the paper saying how brave you were?’ his gran asked.

 

‘I guess…’ Ben replied, not quite sure what to think. He was sure of one thing though. If Alex Runcin had been unaware that he knew Mr Wallace, he certainly would know now.

 

‘You might even get a medal one day for it,’ his gran went on.

 

‘A medal!’ Ben said in shock. ‘I really only helped him away from the veranda. It’s not as if I ran into the burning house itself.’

 

‘That may be so, but it was still a very commendable thing to do.’

 

It seemed other people thought so too as a few friends rang up to congratulate him, as well as asking for any gory details. But Ben felt anything but a hero, the death of Mr Wallace very raw in his mind. What he really wanted was to be able to turn the clock back so that none of it had happened.

 

When the phone rang again late in the afternoon Ben almost didn’t answer it, figuring it was another friend wanting to know about the fire. But his gran was out in the backyard hanging out some washing, so he picked it up.

 

‘Hello, Ben speaking,’ he said.

 

‘Hello, Ben My name is Tom French from the law firm French and Williams,’ a man’s voice said. ‘Firstly, allow me to extend my condolences to you at Mr Wallace’s death. He thought a great deal of you, you know.’

 

‘Ah, thanks…’ Ben replied with a frown, wondering why a lawyer would be calling him.

 

‘Well, my firm is handling his estate as well as organising his funeral for next Monday. I was wondering whether you would be attending?’

 

Ben was a little startled as he hadn’t even thought about Mr Wallace’s funeral.

 

‘I… I guess so,’ he said. ‘My gran would probably want to come to.’

 

‘That would probably be a good idea,’ Mr French said. ‘Could I speak with her?’

 

Ben put the phone down and went and got her, telling her as she came inside what Mr French had said.

 

‘I hadn’t thought about his funeral either,’ she admitted as she came to the phone. ‘I think we should go though.’

 

‘I think so too,’ Ben agreed as she picked up the phone.

 

She spoke to Mr French for a minute or two, responding to some questions. When she hung up there was a small frown on her face.

 

‘What’s wrong, gran?’ Ben asked.

 

‘Mr French wants to see both of us before the funeral on Monday,’ she said. ‘I wonder what he could want with us?’

 

Ben felt his face suddenly redden in embarrassment.

 

‘You… you don’t think he’s left us something in his will do you?’

 

His gran’s eyes widened.

 

‘I… I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘I guess he might have. Goodness, me… I don’t know what to think! I suppose we’ll just have to wait till we see Mr French on Monday.’

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon he went up to see the ruins of Mr Wallace’s house. His gran thought it a good idea, saying it would help with his grieving, even though seeing the remains would be painful. She offered to come with him, but Ben declined, wanting to go alone.

 

Shortly he was walking down the driveway, his eyes on the gravel ahead of him. He didn’t look up till he was almost on top of where the house had been and when he did, the shock of what he saw was still sharp.

 

The grand old house was now a gutted ruin, grim looking in the fading afternoon light. All that was left were blackened beams of wood lying amidst pieces of roofing tiles and ash. He stood there in shock for some minutes, then began to carefully walk through it, looking for anything of the museum that might have survived.

 

But it appeared that nothing had survived, though he wondered whether there might be something buried under the ash. But that would go when the remains were cleared away and dumped somewhere. He was saddened at all that had been lost, but then grew angry again at the thought that someone had done it on purpose.

 

But as he returned to the driveway to walk home, something caught his eye. There was a pale gleam amidst the grass by a nearby tree. He walked over to it and kneeling down, suddenly grinned.

 

It was the glow-stone from the museum that brightened when warmed in the hand. He figured that it must have been thrown out during the fire and hadn’t been found or bothered with by the police. He pocketed it, thinking that it might come in handy one day. Then he headed home.