They pushed the chest aside together, the scrape of wood echoing through the barn. Beyond it, a rust-brown tarpaulin covered a large square object.
‘This is it,’ Gulliver murmured and gave an involuntary shudder.
They pulled the cloth away and dust spiralled, catching the murky light as the taxidermy sculpture was revealed in all its horrific glory.
It oozed violence. One magpie lunged, wings outstretched, beak wide as though screeching, its eyes black and pitiless. The other, standing incongruously on a hardback book, shrank away, wing twisted, head bowed in defeat, ready for death. Tabitha felt both pity and revulsion as she stared at the two birds, frozen forever in the terrible quarrel.
‘It’s hideous,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ replied Gulliver simply. ‘Mum said the clue mentions a whistle, this is why I don’t think it can be this monstrosity. There’s no?—’
Tabitha pointed to the glimmer of gold around the injured magpie’s neck and Gulliver bent down for a closer look.
‘In all the years I used to race past this, I never noticed the whistle,’ he admitted.
‘Where did this stand?’ Tabitha asked Gulliver.
‘In an alcove in a corridor near the library. I used to race past it with my eyes shut,’ Gulliver said grimly. ‘My father broke the glass – whether by accident or design, I never knew – but it meant it was unsafe and had to be removed.’
A crack like jagged lightning snaked down the left side. Despite the damage, the panel remained within the frame of the box, trapped, like the two birds inside.
Tabitha’s stomach knotted. The scene was grotesque, and yet the whistle drew her eye.
‘I’m glad he didn’t throw it out; otherwise Edith’s treasure hunt would be over.’
‘Do you honestly think this hideous thing will help us?’
‘The other clues have all led somewhere. We have to look.’
Gulliver stared down at the tortured birds.
‘Where though?’ He gave half a smile, his eyes amused, even though his tone was mock-stern. ‘I refuse to dismember the magpies to check whether the clue is inside.’
‘Gross,’ said Tabitha with a shudder, the thought of touching the dusty, dead birds made her fingers tingle with revulsion, but there was a small spark of relief in sharing the dark humour with Gulliver. ‘We’ll have to take the case apart to check whether the clue’s inside.’
‘Really?’ said Gulliver, a naughty grin illuminating his face. ‘Smashing the case might mean it has to be thrown away. At last.’ He raised his arms in mock triumph, his T-shirt riding up to reveal tanned skin. Heat flickered through Tabitha before she forced a laugh.
‘Not until we’ve checked for more clues.’
There was a noise behind them and they both turned to see Molly and Tamar gingerly picking their way through the thin space Gulliver had cleared.
‘It’s hideous,’ exclaimed Tamar and Molly grimaced in agreement.
‘There are some old newspapers near the door,’ said Gulliver. ‘I’ll fetch them. We can put them underneath and smash the broken panel into them.’
He edged back around the case and past Tabitha, his leg brushing hers as he passed and he paused, their eyes meeting for an infinitesimal moment. She saw a flicker of passion and, again, felt her own attraction to him rise unbidden like a snake, then he looked away and the connection broke.
Gulliver returned within minutes and the four worked together, spreading newspaper and old blankets around the case. Gulliver pulled on a pair of protective leather gloves and, using a small hammer he had found on one of the shelves, tapped the panel with the long crack. The glass shattered and, with great care, he cleared the broken shards.
‘Let’s take a closer look,’ said Gulliver, kneeling down. Tabitha crouched beside him.
‘Can you reach the whistle?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Gulliver, reaching inside and unhooking it from around the neck of the bird.
He sat back on his haunches and rolled the golden whistle over in his palm. Tabitha gasped in surprise. It was exquisite, engraved with vines and tiny birds, intertwined were words.
‘It says,“Two for joy”,’ said Gulliver.
