Hidden Secrets

By Steve Doolan

Up on the cliffs above the seaside village of Ashport is a new wind farm, but the wind farm is not all it appears to be.

Are the wind turbines really talking to each other?

It's the summer of 1993 and 10 year old Freddie and his 9 year old sister Melanie are on holiday in Ashport. They befriend 10 year old Rakesh who is also on holiday there, staying with his grandparents. Also staying in the village is Tommy Lawson, a 10 years old boy who comes from a rough area in the inner city. He is staying in a holiday cottage in Ashport with his uncle, who has just come out of prison. Tommy is in a gang when back home and he is always getting into trouble.

Why have Tommy and his uncle come to Ashport?

Join these four children, together with their dog called Slipper, and get caught up in an exciting fun filled adventure which involves friendly talking wind turbines, Turbo and Gale.
If you like The Famous Five or The Secret Seven, then you'll love the action and mystery of 'Hidden Secrets'.
Ideal for young boys and girls with an interest in crime, spy, mystery and adventure thrillers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Doolan
• Release date: Jan 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201394448

Book preview

Prologue.

Two weeks earlier

Ring..........ring.......

The telephone rang unanswered for 5 rings then stopped. Immediately, the man sitting next to the telephone started dialing a number. The phone was answered straight away by a man with a strange accent, possibly Eastern European.

Ya said the voice on the other end of the line.

It’s me said the first man, Stan.

Ah, good answered the foreigner. You got my message then, when you were in prison?

Yes, I got it two days before my release. You left it long enough, didn’t you?

Ya, We had it to do. We had to be careful. I’m pretty sure that the police were watching us for over a year after you were arrested.

OK. Fair enough. You still have the key to the box, yeah?

Of course we have. Where is ze box?

You think I’m gonna tell you that over the phone? You must be kidding. I’ll tell you where we can meet up, where there will be no prying eyes, then we can get the box and share out the stuff.

OK. Go on.

The men continued to talk on the telephone.

Chapter 1.

Flash.........

Kerashhhhh.

Wooooooooosshhhhh......

Up on the cliff tops, the storm raged on into the night. Lightning flashes were followed almost immediately by deafening thunder. The wind howled continuously. Down below at the base of the sheer cliffs, the angry sea crashed against the rocks ceaselessly, as though it was trying to bully them into submission.

It was not a night to be out on those cliff tops.

Yippee, this is brilliant!

Shhh Turbo, you know that Captain Storm wants us to concentrate on our work

Sorry Gale, I just love it when it’s like this .....................yippee.......................sorry

To the casual observer -  not that there would be one on those cliff tops at that time of night in that weather - not a man, woman, boy, girl, dog, cat, mouse or even a moth could be seen. Nothing ventured out in conditions as unwelcoming as these. On nicer days, the cliff tops, half a mile away from the sleepy village of Ashport, on Cornwall’s rugged coast, were a popular view point for locals and visitors alike because they had far reaching views down the coast and out to sea. More recently, the cliff tops had become even more popular because eight wind turbines had been erected, just back from the cliff edge, and these attracted the more inquisitive kind of people. Two of the turbines on the cliff top were smaller than the others and were set slightly apart on a small mound. Rumour had it that they were smaller because of planning restrictions, but no-one seemed to know why for sure. Ever since the first wind turbines had been erected up the coast 18 months ago in 1991, tourists had flocked to see them. Although the novelty had worn off a little, the extra tourists that Ashport’s turbines attracted were a welcome source of extra income to the village. These turbines, driven by the strong wind, were currently spinning fast - almost as fast as a Catherine wheel on bonfire night.

Woweeeee

shhhhhhhh

QUIET DOWN THERE

sorreeee

Chapter 2.

For five days and nights now, the rain had poured down and the wind had howled. The small, sleepy seaside village of Ashport seemed even quieter than usual because, as no-one in their right mind wanted to be outside in the terrible weather, everyone stayed inside. Occasionally in the past, storms like this one had sprung up, but they usually happened in winter, not in the middle of July, and everyone had been taken by surprise at its ferocity.

At the bottom of Ashport’s main street, the sea crashed against the side of the harbour wall. The two fishing boats that were moored in the harbour lay empty, gently rolling about in the sheltered waters. Near the bottom of the main street was the quaint old village pub – ‘The Drunken Sailor’. Inside, two local fishermen were quite happily sitting the storm out, exchanging stories of even bigger and wilder storms as they enjoyed their pints. Between them, they had too many years’ experience to risk sailing in this weather.

Do you think that it’s going to let up tomorrow, Harry? said one to the other.

It should do, Jim replied the weather beaten old man leaning on the bar. I got the grandson, Rakesh, to check the weather on that new internet whatsit this morning. It said that this wind and rain will start to die down later today.

Reminds me of the big storm of ‘76" said his companion.

Oh, yes said the landlord, who had just emerged from the cellar, that was a big one, 17 years ago now. We thought it was never going to end.....but in the end it did. They always do. he added as an afterthought.

This storm is playing havoc with my pleasure cruise business said the weather beaten old man, who name was Harry Fellows. No tourists can get to Ashport through the floods, and even if they could, they wouldn’t want to go for a sail around Gannet Island in this weather. I know that it’s only a part-time business since I retired but it still helps with the finances, especially now that we have the grandson to look after.

At that moment, a loud clap of thunder startled the three men. Jim was about to take a drink from his pint glass when it happened, and he jumped so much that he spilt some of his drink on the floor. The three men laughed and continued to talk about old times as the storm raged on outside.

Chapter 3.

Mrs. Becket ran the village store. In times like this, the shop was a lifeline to everyone in the village, as bad storms almost always flooded the only lane that connected the village with the main road two miles away. Mrs. Becket prided herself in keeping a good selection of stock in the shop for times like these although, in truth, it was a farmer, her friend John Shorrock, who did it as he could drive through the flood water in his tractor and collect essentials from the wholesalers in the main town six miles away. Every now and then, someone through necessity would venture out to Mrs. Becket’s store. The subject of conversation between that person and Mrs. Becket was usually a grumble about ‘the youth of today’ and ‘what is the world coming to’. Today, however, the atmosphere was happy as Mrs. Becket spoke to her friend Janet Dean in the shop.

Don’t leave Slipper out there, Janet said Mrs. Becket. Let him come inside. There’s nobody about that’ll bother and he’s getting soaked out there.

Oh, thanks said Janet, I tried to leave him at home, but he gave me that look that he gives and I couldn’t resist, so I let him tag along.

Outside, lying down by the door of the shop was a little brown and white mongrel. By his side was an old faded tartan slipper, obviously very much the worse for wear. Hanging loosely round his neck was a tartan collar. Janet had bought him the collar earlier that year as it almost matched his slipper. The only problem was that it was too big for him and occasionally slipped off, usually when Janet was trying to hold him back when he wanted to chase a cat.

Slipper said Janet as she opened the shop door, in you come.

Slipper gave his short stubby little tail a quick wag, picked up the slipper in his mouth and ran into the shop. Once inside, he commenced shaking his body violently from head to tail. Water went everywhere but amazingly the slipper never left his mouth and his collar managed to stay around his neck.

Sorry laughed Janet.

Don’t worry said Mrs. Becket. It’s only water. I’ll mop it up when you’ve gone.

Slipper looked at them both, dropped his slipper, barked once and wagged his tail innocently. Almost immediately, a brown and white spaniel came running out from the back room of the shop and ran straight over to Slipper, wagging its tail furiously. Mrs. Becket laughed and spoke to the spaniel. You don’t miss anything, do you Toby. As soon as you heard your best friend Slipper bark you came running in to greet him. The two dogs were happily sniffing each other all over and wagging their tails, obviously happy to see each other.

Mrs. Becket laughed, then turned to Janet and asked How are the children?.

Oh, poor things replied Janet. They’ve been here five days now and not been able to go out once. I promised their mum that I’d make sure they had a good holiday, but this storm has prevented us from doing anything. They’ve not had the best time of it since their dad died two years ago and my sister is struggling making ends meet so this is the first holiday they’ve had since then.

Never mind said Mrs. Becket. The weather forecast this morning said that the weather will improve later. It’ll still be windy, but at least the rain will stop.

Janet sighed. Oh, thank goodness for that. At least they’ll be able leave the house and get a bit of fresh air.

Just then, as they were talking, the shop door opened and a young boy who looked to be about 10 years old, thin and wearing a scruffy raincoat, came in and let the door slam with a bang behind him.

20 Embassy he said, totally ignoring the fact that he could have broken the shop door window by letting it bang to like that. Janet and Mrs. Becket exchanged glances.

Sorry, what did you say? said Mrs. Becket.

20 Embassy King Size.

Mrs. Becket again exchanged a glance with Janet and continued Sorry, young man, but I don’t serve cigarettes to young people under 16 years old. It’s against the law. They’re for my uncle said the boy unconvincingly. Well I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your uncle will have to come in and buy them for himself replied Mrs. Becket. I’m not selling them to you.

The boy glared at the shopkeeper and without another word, turned round and walked out of the shop, slamming the door behind him. Mrs. Becket sighed then turned to Janet and said I don’t think you’ve seen him before. He and his uncle moved into the holiday cottage at the top of the village about a week ago. They keep themselves to themselves but I can tell you, that boy needs some supervision. His uncle isn’t much better. Ignorant, the pair of them. Not a ’please’ or ‘thank you’ between them. I hope that they aren’t staying long in the village.

It’s a shame that people can’t be more polite replied Janet. It doesn’t cost anything, does it? I’m glad that my two aren’t like that.

Ah, well, it takes all sorts replied Mrs. Becket.

The two women carried on with their conversation quite happily whilst Slipper lay on the floor, contentedly chewing on his slipper, with Toby lying next to him.

Chapter 4.

W ell, Mel, what do you fancy doing this afternoon? asked Freddie to his sister who was sitting next to him on the window seat. They were staring out onto the wet and windy street from inside their Aunt Janet’s cottage which was located at the top of the High Street in Ashport.

Firstly, said Mel haughtily, my name is Melanie, not Mel. You know that I don’t like to have my name shortened like that. It sounds common. Sorry Mel..........anie replied Freddie. He smirked. Melanie glared at him.

Freddie and Melanie, although brother and sister, were completely different from each other in appearance. Whilst Melanie was quite small for her age and a little chubby, (she would call it chunky), Freddie, the older of the two, was quite tall for his 10 years and had what could be called an athletic build. Both children had blonde hair. Melanie’s was shoulder length whereas Freddie’s was quite short, cut in the style of one of his sporting heroes Colin Jackson, the hurdler.

There isn’t much we can do, is there continued Freddie quickly. It’s raining cats and dogs out there so we can’t go out, and there’s nothing much on tele’ ‘til later.

I suppose we could read suggested Melanie.

Freddie pulled an exaggerated frown. Reading’s for school, not holidays.

Melanie cast her eyes up to the ceiling, and then shook her head as if in despair. Although at 9 years old, she was 10 months younger than Freddie, she was in the same year at school as him, and always came higher in exams. She enjoyed most academic subjects but particularly liked reading. Freddie, on the other