Ribblestrop Forever!

by Andy Mulligan

  It contained six bottles of rum and a stack of paper cups was ready beside it.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Hey,’ said Sanchez, as he finished his third burger. ‘Where’s Doctor Ellie?’

  ‘Who?’ said Doonan.

  Asilah looked around guiltily. ‘We forgot all about her!’

  ‘How did we do that?’ said Eric. ‘Without her we wouldn’t be here!’

  ‘Oh man,’ said Vijay. ‘She probably thought we didn’t want her, because . . . well . . .’

  ‘She’s fine,’ said Sam. ‘We just took her some food. ‘She’s got half the school with her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Doonan.

  ‘Captain Routon’s there. So’s Professor Worthington. They’re looking at that stone she found. The white one.’

  ‘You should see the van, sir,’ said Sanjay, who had come back for another sausage.

  The headmaster swallowed. ‘Whose van? I’m really not following this . . .’

  ‘She lives in a van,’ said Ruskin. ‘It’s like a little houseboat only with wheels.’

  ‘This is the lady who brought you here?’

  ‘She’s amazing,’ said Sanchez. ‘She knows everything.’

  The headmaster wiped his chin with a napkin. Like most of the children, he was on his third helping of food – it had seemed in never-ending supply. Where the money had come from he didn’t dare ask, but the children had bought enough for an army twice their size. The cooks had been round again and again, pressing more onto everyone. He looked at all the empty tables, immediately guilty that he had – yet again – let half the school drift off without really noticing. He also realised that his first priority should have been to meet and thank the children’s saviour.

  ‘I must be introduced,’ he said. ‘It sounds as if we owe this lady a very great deal. It also sounds as if she’s rather special.’

  His first impression was that he was looking into a gypsy caravan.

  The back doors stood wide open and the interior of the van was bathed in cosy light from two pink lampshades. It was crammed with teachers and children, who had found places to perch on what appeared to be shelves, alcoves and ledges. He could make out a low bed with a silk coverlet, and under people’s feet he could see Indian rugs. The old lady herself – Doctor Ellie – was sitting on a stool, with a glass of rum in her hand. The other hand rested on a slab of white rock and from time to time she stroked it, as if it were a favourite pet.

  ‘. . . so, you see,’ she was saying, ‘the Romans took advantage of civilisations that were already highly developed. The idea that they came along and taught everyone how to live is absolute poppycock.’

  ‘Were there Romans actually on Ribblemoor?’ said Anjoli.

  ‘Oh yes. There’s a hill fort quite close to your school. I’m surprised you haven’t seen it.’

  ‘Were there battles and things? Wars?’

  ‘There certainly were. There’s a grave site quite close to Lightning Tor. You’ve heard about Lightning Tor, I would imagine?’

  ‘We don’t really know the moor at all,’ said Millie.

  ‘Ah, well – you have a treat in store. Lightning Tor’s at the centre of things, I’m pretty certain about that. The scandal is that nowadays, nobody’s allowed near it. A clan was wiped out just beyond the boundary fence, probably on Hadrian’s orders. If you can just . . . can you pass me the book behind you, Vijay? The one with the axe-head on the cover. There are some very good photographs.’

  ‘Why were they wiped out?’ Miles asked. He was sitting next to Podma, who was gazing at a book of fossils.

  ‘Impossible to say,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘Who knows what quarrels took place as the Romans pushed west? It was a Roman atrocity, though, because the wrists of the victims were tied and the skulls had been smashed with hammers – which was a Roman way of execution. They kept their swords for combat, you see; they were far too precious to be used on slaves, or those who were considered slaves. A Roman sword – this will interest you – would have cost a soldier more than a year’s salary. It’s the equivalent now of buying a top-of-the-range Mercedes or BMW – something to be looked after very carefully and not used for a bit of casual butchery. And, of course, a good sword was believed to hold magical properties. If you could forge metal in those days, well . . . you would have been considered a god.’

  Doctor Ellie glanced up and noticed the headmaster. Oh,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry . . .’

  ‘What for?’ said the headmaster.

  ‘Don’t stop,’ said Sanjay.

  ‘I’m just sitting here rabbiting,’ said Doctor Ellie, struggling to her feet, ‘when I haven’t had the pleasure of introducing myself. You are the headmaster, I presume?’

  The headmaster was pressed against the doors now, leaning in.

  ‘Come in, sir!’ said someone.

  ‘Is there any room?’ he said. ‘That was the most fascinating story.’

  ‘We can make room,’ cried Eric. ‘Shift up! Sanchez, sit here!’

  Bodies heaved and shifted, and somehow room was made. Doctor Ellie, meanwhile, was peeling off a pair of latex gloves. The headmaster was at last inside and extended his hand. Doctor Ellie clasped it.

  ‘What a school you have, sir,’ she said. ‘What remarkable children! I’ve been getting to know them, and I have never met a group more fearless, more hungry for knowledge – and more instinctive. I expect people say it all the time, but you are a magician and you should be proud of yourself.’

  There was a burst of applause and the headmaster found himself blushing to the roots of his hair.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Honestly . . .’

  ‘They saved my bacon today and they made the most extraordinary find. A find of genuine historical interest that means I am even closer to my goal.’

  ‘Which is what?’ interjected Millie. ‘What is this goal of yours? You never actually tell us.’

  The headmaster found that he was sitting down and that there was a glass of rum in his hand. There were books everywhere and many of the children were sharing them. The axe-head book was now open on Sanjay’s lap and heads were poring over photographs of skulls and skeletons.

  ‘Have I not told you what I’m doing?’ said Doctor Ellie.

  ‘No!’ cried the children.

  ‘I keep getting side-tracked! I try to explain and you keep interrupting with questions!’

  ‘You take your time, miss,’ said Captain Routon. ‘Are we in a hurry? Of course we’re not.’

  ‘Is everyone here?’ said Asilah. ‘Are we missing anyone?’

  ‘Just tell us,’ said Millie. ‘We met you in a field, taking photos of a stone. You live in a van . . . or do you? Do you actually live in this? Or are you on holiday?’

  Doctor Ellie smiled and sipped her drink. ‘I think I told you a few things as we fled from that awful Mr Ian,’ she said. ‘I’ll be totally honest and admit that I am, in fact, a criminal-fugitive. On the run and desperate. And, to answer your question, yes, I do live in this vehicle. I had a flat in London, but couldn’t afford to keep it, so I ran away and went on the road. I’m surprised you haven’t guessed, my dears! I’m an out-of-work librarian. This is a library, and I stole it.’

  There was a stunned silence.

  ‘What you’re sitting in,’ she continued, ‘is the mobile unit for North London District Council – but they decided they no longer needed it. It was my job to drive it round that bit of London, you see. I went to schools, community centres, old people’s homes. I used to go to a maternity hospital, a couple of day-centres . . . and anyone who wanted a book could come onboard and choose one.’

  ‘Did they have to pay you?’ asked Imagio.

  ‘Good Lord, no,’ Doctor Ellie said. ‘It was a free service, because the people of London had paid quite enough already in taxes, rates, insurances – oh, don’t get me started on that. No; it was a free service. But, of course, when times got hard and money was scarce, somebody somewhere decided that what I
did was far too costly and needed to be stopped.’

  ‘That’s happening everywhere,’ said Captain Routon.

  ‘I arrived at work one morning and was told my job would only last another six weeks. They also told me that the van would be scrapped and the books recycled as pulp for chipboard furniture. Could I be taken on by another library? I asked. No, they said, because the libraries were all shrinking. They might be able to get me a few hours a week in a school-dinner factory, putting lids on those little trays of chemicals . . . but that was about it. Sorry, I’m losing my thread again. The point was that everything was coming to an end, and I was about as useful to the world as a chocolate teapot. So I found myself driving back from this particular old people’s home, on the last day of the sixth week . . . and I’d been chatting with a man, who was one of my regulars, about the flare paths of Ribblemoor. He’d been a very keen walker and had mapped one of them. And I had all that churning about in my head, and I have to admit I’d been quite emotional saying goodbye to him. And I was on the road, coming towards the garage where we kept the van – and I just drove past it. I . . . I just drove on until I found the M25. I made a phonecall, and a friend brought me some clothes and a few suitcases of books . . . and I thought: dammit. This is not the end of something, Ellie. This is the beginning.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Miles. ‘That’s brave.’

  ‘There’s always a good reason when you break the law,’ said Doonan. ‘I tried to explain that to the police sergeant.’

  ‘Why did your mobile library van have a bed in it?’ said Oli.

  ‘Good question,’ said Doctor Ellie. She turned to the headmaster again. ‘This is what I mean about your students being so intelligent. The reason there’s a bed in the van, Oliver, is that I had one built. I spent the weekend with a friend who used to build boats and he helped me kit it out the way you see it now. There is actually a little stove, just behind where Tomaz is standing. I’ve got running water, a place to cook. I’ve got a small dynamo. And the wonderful thing is, because I have Mobile Library on the side of the van, people tend to leave me alone. They assume I’m on library business, so the only time I’m disturbed is by people who want to borrow books.’

  ‘Do you let them?’ said Ruskin.

  ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘How do you get them back, though? Do you have to hang around and wait?’

  ‘I don’t bother. If someone wants a book out of this library now, I simply give it away. Whatever book they choose, even if it’s one of mine, I let them have it and they can keep it forever.’ She laughed. ‘One day I might be driving around with just one book left, looking for the person who needs it.’

  ‘That’s crazy,’ said Millie. ‘You should sell them. You could make a lot of money.’

  Sanchez looked at her. ‘How is it you always miss the point, Millie? Whenever anything serious is being talked about, you just don’t get it.’

  Millie turned on him, but they were interrupted by Vijay. ‘Look!’ he shouted. ‘I found your name, miss! Look, guys, look at this!’

  Vijay was standing and the book he’d been leafing through was cradled upside down in his arms. There was a large black-and-white photograph of a line of white stones that disappeared over a hill.

  He held it under the headmaster’s nose. ‘Read the bit at the bottom, sir!’

  The headmaster took the book, aware that half a dozen heads were pressing against his. The print was small, but he was just able to read it when he took his spectacles off.

  ‘View of the Hatchington Flare Path, Ribblemoor – the only documented Caillitrian flare path in the British Isles. Photo by Ellie Mold, Doctor. Well, well, well! You wrote this, did you?’

  ‘You wrote a book?’ said Kenji, in an awestruck voice. ‘You actually wrote that?’

  Doctor Ellie was turning pink. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I submitted a few photographs and sent in my dissertation on that particular site.’

  ‘But what are they?’ said Professor Worthington. ‘You keep mentioning the phrase “flare path”, but I don’t think any of us know what you mean.’

  ‘Flare paths are runways, aren’t they?’ said Captain Routon.

  Doctor Ellie nodded. ‘Yes, they are – you’re right. But in the context of Ribblemoor, they’re rather different. I don’t want to be a bore, though – if you get me started—’

  ‘Tell us!’ cried various children.

  The rum bottle was being passed again and someone leant in to give Doctor Ellie another generous measure.

  ‘I don’t know how much you know about the area your school’s in.’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Imagio. ‘I’m stupid.’

  ‘Shhh!’

  ‘I’d better start from the beginning, then.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Doctor Ellie sipped her rum.

  The children sipped theirs. Tomaz arrived with Eric, who’d been toasting chocolate brownies. The van was soon heavy with their scent, and the old lady continued.

  ‘Ribblemoor’s been the centre of all kinds of activity for many thousands of years,’ she said. ‘There are tunnels underground, ancient quarries – tin and silver mines. The flare paths were early roads and they were laid out long before the Romans. We call them “flare paths” because they were illuminated by moonlight. The moon rose and the white markers would shine in the light – then these special paths would have been passable, even in darkness. It’s my belief that the ancient tribes needed to pass over the moor at night, perhaps for religious reasons. Perhaps because they were trading in precious goods and wanted the cover of darkness. I don’t yet know. What I do know . . .’ Her hand rested on the stone at her feet again. ‘What I do know is that the stones we find are always inscribed with a pattern of hieroglyphs that is totally unreadable. It’s a language that remains secret, and I’ve spent many years trying to decipher it. I fell in love with Ribblemoor and . . . this is going to sound odd . . . but I fell in love with the people who carved the flare paths. They were called the Caillitri, which means “those who pass” – I fell in love with their customs and their lifestyle. They did not bury their dead, for example, nor did they cremate them. I’m getting bogged down again, but it was one of the details that caught my imagination all those years ago. When a member of the tribe died, the body was cleaned and dried, and it was folded somehow – shrunk, of course. I’ll show you pictures, or you can visit Ribblestrop Museum. They put the bodies into earthenware jars which were then sealed, and they carried them around, strapped to their backs. So, if you lost a child, for example, you had it with you still, under your bed, or even under your arm when you went for a walk.’

  The van was silent.

  ‘I believe the Caillitri – the tribe whose carvings are so impenetrable – came from the Far East. They may have been trading in gold. They may have brought spices all the way from the Indus valley . . . which is where I think some of you come from?’

  She was looking into Anjoli’s soft eyes, and he held her gaze.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  Asilah said, ‘We’re from the mountains.’

  ‘Ah, but your ancestors,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘They would have fished in the Indus Valley, before climbing into the snowline. They would have met Alexander the Great and built cities with him. They would have walked the Silk Road all the way across Persia and west into Greece. They would have sailed past Crete and Sicily, and waved to the Carthaginians – can you imagine that? Finally, they would have come all the way west to Ribblemoor – that’s my belief. And there they stayed, for quite some time.’

  ‘We’ve been here before, then,’ said Sanjay.

  Doctor Ellie smiled at him. ‘I rather think you have. And what you found today is a keystone,’ she said, stroking the white rock again. ‘This is no simple marker of the flare path; this is part of the coding stone, which I have been hoping to find for years. I think it’s in three or four parts, and now we have two. And I think it’s going to help us decipher the language we�
�ve lost.’

  The headmaster found that he had moved closer to Doctor Ellie and that his hand was on her arm. How it got there, he didn’t know – because he rarely took the liberty of touching anyone. He found, as well, that everyone in the van was looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

  ‘You are coming to Ribblestrop, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t think of deserting us?’

  There was a silence.

  ‘Oh,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘That’s very kind, but . . .’

  ‘We mean it, miss,’ said Sanchez.

  ‘You said the police were looking for you,’ said Oli. ‘You said you were on the run, so . . .’

  Anjoli spoke. ‘So live with us. Teach us. Be our history teacher.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘No, no, no!’

  ‘Why not?’ cried Sanjay.

  Doctor Ellie shook her head. ‘No. I am the most boring woman on the planet,’ she said. She tried to laugh, but the laugh died under the children’s gaze. ‘I’m dry as a stick, honestly – children can’t stand me. All I talk about is the past and . . . people find me very, very dull. I will kill you with boredom – you don’t realise what you’re getting into.’

  Podma said, ‘I want to know about the Caillitri tribe. We all do.’

  ‘They’re our ancestors,’ said Vijay. ‘That’s what you said, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I want to see that Lightning Tor place,’ said Eric.

  ‘Anyway, miss,’ said Sam, ‘we can help you, can’t we?’

  ‘Yes!’ cried Kenji. ‘We can help you discover things. We can carry your camera and write things down for you. You can show us the flare paths – we can go on walks together. Can’t we?’

  The headmaster interrupted. ‘I don’t think we’re going to take no for an answer, Doctor Ellie. The school needs you, and you need a place to be safe. I think a lot has happened today that may have been . . . Well, forgive me, because I am actually a rationalist, the same as Clarissa over there, so I do not believe in mysterious happenings. But a lot has happened today, and—’