by Sylvia Waugh
CONTENTS
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
1 The Bullying
2 A Lesson for Ginger
3 Starlight, Perhaps
4 The Faraway Planet
5 The Signal
6 The Shock
7 Let it not be true
8 Explanations
9 Stella’s Visitors
10 Saturday in York
11 Matthew’s Return
12 Fresh Instructions
13 Sunday
14 Monday at School
15 The Man from the Ministry
16 I’m not going
17 Forewarned is Forearmed
18 Nesta’s Decision
19 Tuesday at Home
20 Amy’s Garage
21 Where can she be and what can we do?
22 Amy on Thursday
23 Thursday at the Gwynns’
24 Friday in Carthorpe Road
25 Friday in Linden Drive
26 Snow!
27 Searching for Nesta
28 Travelling North
29 Suspicious Circumstances
30 Nesta in Casselton
31 Further Enquiries
32 Belthorp
33 A Strange Farewell
34 Stella and Nesta
35 Nesta and Stella
36 Where the Frog Went
37 News and Intrigue
38 Sunday Morning
39 Detective Inspector Stirling returns
40 The Journey Home
41 The Last Chapter
About the Author
Also by Sylvia Waugh
Copyright
About the Book
Is it possible to both love and hate someone at the same time? It seems to Nesta that it is. Suddenly faced with this terrible dilemma that changes her world for ever, she runs away from home.
What shattering event has taken place to make her take this devastating action?
Earthborn tells of a family torn apart as an extraordinary chain of events unfold.
For my grandson,
Liam Peter Waugh
‘Whatever shape, size or form you have, there’s you inside it, making it work.’
Space Race
CHAPTER 1
* * *
The Bullying
The Gwynns had lived just outside the city of York for the past fourteen years. Nesta, their only child, was born there. As far as the neighbours knew, Matthew and Alison Gwynn were a pleasant, young American couple who had settled and made their home in England. Only the faintest of accents and the odd phrase here and there made people remember that they were not British born and bred. They kept themselves to themselves, but so did everyone else in their leafy, comfortable suburb.
Never in a million years would anyone have guessed their astonishing secret.
In fact, the only difficulty they had experienced so far in their time here had been the bullying their daughter had suffered in her first years at Carrick Comprehensive. But that could have happened to any ordinary child, born of purely human parents.
For a year and half, Nesta had been bullied and tormented at school. It was never clear why. She was shy and clever, never one of the crowd, but not friendless. Then one day another girl from the form above, with a long ginger ponytail and eyes like a cat, came up to Nesta in the playground and said, ‘Is your name really Nesta?’
‘Yes,’ said Nesta, not quite sure what this strange girl meant. She did not know her at all.
The girl gave a feline smile, eyes closing almost to slits.
‘Where’d you get a name like that from?’ she said.
‘My mom called me that. She chose it,’ said Nesta. ‘It’s Welsh for Agnes I think.’
‘Mom!’ said the girl, with a snigger in her voice. ‘Who’s this “Mom”? Haven’t you got a mam then, like the rest of us?’
‘I’ve always called her “Mom”. It’s what she called herself, I suppose. My parents came from Boston two years before I was born. That’s in America.’
‘Oh dear and la-di-dah!’ said the girl, tweaking a lock of Nesta’s fine hair. Looking at the two of them, the ginger girl would definitely have been the one to stand out in the crowd. Nesta was pale but pretty with grey-blue eyes and soft, light brown hair. She was quite tall for her age but slightly built. The other girl, besides her very distinctive red hair, was large-boned and clumsy-looking. Her complexion was ruddy and she had a wide, toothy grin.
Nesta made no reply and no protest. She felt so nonplussed at such uncalled for attention. She just walked away as quickly as she could.
From such a small beginning, the bullying grew, pushing and shoving, mocking and calling names. The girl, who was known to everyone as Ginger, got a group around her for the wonderful break-time game of tormenting the first-former who never fought back.
Nesta tried hard to stay out their way, but she told no one, not even her parents. She had felt so ashamed of being singled out. She wept into her pillow at night and wondered, Why me?
She couldn’t understand what was so special about herself. It couldn’t just be the name. There were plenty of strange names in the school – a girl called Ethena in 1B, a spotty little boy called Godwin in her own class. No one picked on them.
Her staunch friend in all her troubles was Amy Brown, a short, stocky girl, but very brave despite her lack of height. In the playground, Amy tried to defend Nesta from the bullies. But one against many, no matter how brave, is not always effectual.
‘Leave her alone, you lot,’ she said. ‘She’s not doing you any harm.’
‘Who’s gonna make us? You?’ said Ginger, putting her tongue out at Amy. ‘You’re a shrimp! If you’re not careful, we’ll add you to the hit list, Goggles!’
‘Don’t speak to them, Amy,’ said Nesta anxiously. ‘It will only make things worse.’
Amy tossed her head at the bullies and said, ‘Touch me and I’ll yell so loud I’ll be heard from here to the Minster.’
She might be short and bespectacled, but she bristled in a way that made sure no bully ever ventured too far with her. Nesta, however, was a different proposition altogether . . .
Even after the summer holidays, the bullying continued. Her second year in the school looked like being no better than the first. The very first day back, Ginger pulled her hair just in passing and said, ‘See you later, Skinny-pins. Let you know how much we’ve missed you!’
Nesta looked down at her legs, which were really not especially skinny at all, and wished she were fatter. Would that have made a difference?
‘Are my legs really skinny?’ she asked Amy.
‘They’re thinner than mine,’ said Amy, looking down at her own sturdy legs, ‘but that doesn’t mean anything. I always think my legs are too fat. My brother says I have hockey-player’s knees. I’m quite used to insults. It’s best to ignore them.’
The day that Ginger’s friend, Lesley, punched Nesta in the face and made her nose bleed was the day the bullying reached its peak.
‘Do you never fight back, Spike?’ said Lesley, a heavy-jowled girl of less than average intelligence. She had caught Nesta in a corner between the wall and the school gate. It was too good a chance to miss.
‘No,’ said Nesta, fearful but firm. ‘I never fight at all. Fighting is stupid.’
Then, quite suddenly, Lesley lifted her fist and levelled it at Nesta’s nose. It was a harder blow than she meant to deliver and even she was startled when there was a spurt of blood.
Nesta could hardly believe it had happened. She hurried to the cloakroom to bathe the blood away.
Amy followed her.
‘I’m going to tell,’ she said firmly. She stood with one hand on the washbasin, gripping th
e rim tightly. ‘That Ginger and her mates can’t get away with this. I won’t let them.’
Nesta stopped with the paper towel in mid-air and gave her friend a look of horror. The thought of everyone knowing – teachers, parents and even any other children who were not yet aware of the situation – was unbearable.
‘You can’t tell,’ said Nesta. ‘Please don’t tell. They’ll stop some time. They’ll have to. I never do anything to them.’
‘I’m telling,’ said Amy grimly, ‘and nothing you can say will stop me.’
She ran out of the cloakroom, up the stairs, and straight to the staffroom door where she knocked loudly. Mr Winters opened it.
‘Yes?’ he said, looking down at Amy over his mug of coffee.
‘Please, sir, Ginger Watkins and her gang are bullying Nesta Gwynn. And it’s got to stop,’ said Amy, her chin jutting out determinedly. Harold Winters smiled down at her in amusement, but he took notice all the same. It was the first the staff had known of the problem. The information was acted upon immediately.
Mrs Powell, the head teacher, rang Mrs Gwynn. Fortunately, Alison was at home. Arrangements were made for Matthew and Alison to come to the school and discuss the problem. It was agreed between them that Nesta should know nothing about their visit. It is important not to punish the victim.
CHAPTER 2
* * *
A Lesson for Ginger
Alison Gwynn had long suspected that something was wrong, but Nesta would never admit to it. She would come in from school looking so bleak, and when she smiled at her mother it was as if she were deliberately switching on a happy face.
‘How’s it going at your new school, honey? You’d don’t seem to have much to say about it.’ Alison tried not to sound anxious, but it was difficult.
‘It’s all right,’ Nesta would say. Then she would busily show her mother the book she had brought home, and the tasks she had for homework.
‘Have you made any new friends yet? Tell me about them,’ Alison asked a few weeks into the new term. ‘I’d like to hear a lot more about your school and what you do there – and I don’t just mean French and History!’
‘I do have a friend,’ said Nesta. ‘She’s called Amy Brown.’
‘Bring her home to tea some day, why don’t you?’
‘Some day,’ said Nesta, but she never did. It was too much of a risk. Amy might have told her parents about the bullying, and that would never do.
So the summons to the school, for that is what it felt like, came as no surprise. Matthew took time off work to be there. They sat in Mrs Powell’s room feeling as if somehow they had failed. The head teacher realized how they felt and made every effort to be reassuring.
‘We never know the causes of bullying,’ she said. ‘I only wish we did. This school is no worse than others. It happens everywhere. Outsiders give all sorts of reasons but, to be honest with you, there is no answer that covers every situation. What we can do in this case is make sure that Nesta is well protected, and that these particular bullies are brought to book.’
‘How?’ said Alison. ‘What will you do?’
‘A fair enough question, Mrs Gwynn,’ said Mrs Powell. ‘I propose to exclude two of the girls – Amanda Watkins and Lesley Blake – for a fortnight. Their parents will be called in for detailed discussions to make them fully aware of how seriously we view their daughters’ behaviour. And all of the staff will be told to keep a look-out for any fresh occurrence of bullying. You can be sure that we shall be extra watchful.’
‘Can I make a different suggestion?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do nothing,’ said Alison. ‘Nothing at all. Just let me have a quiet, civilized word with the ringleader. Here and now, in your presence of course.’
‘If you think it would do any good,’ said the head teacher doubtfully.
‘I believe it would,’ said Alison.
When Ginger Watkins came to the head’s room she walked in with a look of defiance on her face. Alison quickly recognized that it was mainly bravado.
‘This is Amanda Watkins,’ said the head teacher, giving the girl a withering look. ‘Sit down, Amanda. Mrs Gwynn would like a word with you.’
Amanda sat on the edge of the chair Mrs Powell indicated, a red plastic classroom chair set to one side of the desk so that all three adults could focus their attention upon her. She did not look directly at any of them but held her head high and gazed at the Lowry print that hung on the wall above the visitors’ heads.
‘I am Nesta Gwynn’s mother,’ said Alison, coming straight to the point. ‘They tell me you are making my daughter’s life a misery, Amanda. Is it such good fun to pick on somebody smaller and younger than yourself?’
Ginger glanced at her briefly but did not answer.
‘You are, of course, expecting some punishment for your behaviour.’
Ginger looked warily towards Mrs Powell. There was something not quite right about this interview. If she dared, she would complain. The glance wavered. Then a voice, a strange, strange voice demanded her attention.
‘Look at me,’ said Alison in words that carried an alien resonance. ‘Just look at me.’
Ginger was drawn to look deep into the stranger’s dark eyes. Then the oddest thing happened. The room swayed and swirled and everything in it disappeared from her vision. Suddenly she could hear her heart beating. And all she could see was a pair of dark, dark eyes that held her gaze.
There was silence.
The headmistress held her breath. Matthew Gwynn smiled down, a little doubtfully, at the carpet. He knew exactly what his wife was doing and what power she was using. It was impressive.
‘I have asked your head teacher not to punish you,’ said Alison in hollow tones that seemed not to belong to her. ‘But I am telling you very firmly that neither you nor any of your friends will ever torment Nesta again.’
She paused till the girl nodded.
‘In fact, Amanda, you will never again bully any child in this school. Do you understand?’
Ginger felt her mouth go dry so that she had to swallow before she could speak. Whatever illusion Alison was creating, it made the girl feel the complete stupidity of bullying.
‘Yes,’ said Ginger in a voice that cracked as she spoke, ‘I understand.’ She blushed to the roots of her hair. Never in her young life had she been so embarrassed. It was a terrible, frozen moment that felt like eternity.
Then Alison spoke briskly in her normal voice.
‘With Mrs Powell’s permission,’ she said, ‘you may now return to your class.’
At that, the room resumed its normal appearance. The walls and the windows, the door, the picture and the furniture were all back in their proper place.
The headmistress nodded vaguely. Ginger stood up and went straight to the door, glad to escape.
‘I think you will have no further trouble with Amanda,’ said Alison after the girl had left. ‘There will be no need for punishment, and no need to keep any special watch on my daughter.’
Then she smiled at the older woman, who still looked puzzled. Josephine Powell was not quite sure, but she fancied she had witnessed some form of mesmerism. It crossed her mind to wonder whether it was legal or moral, but then she rejected such a quibble. Did it work? That was what really mattered!
‘I am not sure you should have done that,’ said Matthew as they made their way home. ‘We really aren’t supposed to use our powers here. We never have done, not in fourteen years, it could be dangerous.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Alison. ‘We have the right to protect ourselves, don’t we? And it was a very minor infringement. I didn’t attempt to change that girl’s personality. I simply brought out what was best in it. Her behaviour will change because she knows herself better.’
‘Maybe,’ said Matthew. ‘But Mrs Powell was puzzled. You could see she was. We must never put ourselves at risk of being discovered.’
‘There is no risk,’ said Alison. ‘The voice perception fad
es almost immediately; you know it does. The worst that can happen is that Mrs Powell will think I used some form of hypnosis. But anyone can see that she’s a practical person. When she has no further trouble with Amanda, she will be content to let it go. She’s too busy a woman to try to mend what’s not broken.’
A week later, Nesta made a positive move that showed her mother that her somewhat improper intervention had produced the required effect. The problem of bullying had gone away. It was no longer necessary to separate school and home so completely.
‘Can I bring Amy home for tea some day, Mom?’
‘Of course you can bring Amy home for tea! Any day you want, sweetheart. You know that.’
Alison Gwynn had been so pleased to see her daughter looking happy again. Nesta talked quite freely about school and its day-to-day happenings. The autumn term ended and she was actually looking forward to going back to school in the New Year.
Then, suddenly, in the middle of January, all of that contentment was threatened. Things began to happen over which neither Nesta nor her parents had any control at all.
The new turn of events was all down to something that occurred in Casselton, nearly a hundred miles away. At Christmas, in that northern town, two people, a father and a son, seemed to have vanished from the face of the Earth.
CHAPTER 3
* * *
Starlight, Perhaps
MINISTER QUESTIONED ABOUT HOSPITAL SECURITY – Times
BOY DISAPPEARS FROM CHILDREN’S WARD – Guardian
ARE OUR CHILDREN SAFE ANYWHERE? – Mirror
THE TALE OF A COAT – Independent
STARLIGHT, PERHAPS – Casselton Courier
The papers carried the story of the disappearance of Patrick Derwent and his son, Thomas, every day for a fortnight. The father had been the first to vanish, after an accident in which a tanker crashed into a post office van. His son had later been somehow spirited away from the hospital where he was being kept in for observation because he seemed unable to speak or to identify himself. The facts, however, proved so hard to come by that there came a point where the police were forced to ‘scale down enquiries’. Here was a case that might not be a case at all and was proving totally insoluble . . .
