‘She’s going to accept the humiliating consolation prize. She’s going to tour in Europe with a line-up of scrabbling unwashed Indies, for peanuts. She’s too disappointed to think straight. She loves me and she owes my dad. She’ll see reason.’
‘The Wild Card isn’t a consolation prize, George. It’s a terrific chance.’
Then George saw the tears. Before she could stop him he had her face cupped between his hands. ‘Ooh! Don’t take it like that Heidi. We’re still okay. Pwetty lady, pweas don’t cwy—’
‘Leave me alone, George. You’re drunk.’
But she had to try to escape without a scuffle, because a there was a couple coming towards them, and the woman was Challon. The man was older, a lot older; dressed in black. His pale, commanding face peered sternly out of the night, uplit; almost disembodied. His eyes were pits of shadow, his mouth an angry line —
It was the man who had looked into her room.
‘Pwetty lady,’ crowed George, alcohol breath in her face, arms all over her. He saw Challon and the face coming up, and jumped in shock. She stamped on his foot. George yelped and backed off, hopping on one leg. Heidi sat on the terrace steps, head in her hands, so shaken she couldn’t even pretend she was okay. Challon’s arm went round her shoulders.
‘Chall, I’m really sorry. I didn’t want that!’
Challon hugged her. ‘I know you didn’t. I’ve got eyes. George was being an idiot. I’ll make him apologise when he’s slept it off.’
‘No, don’t bother. I’m just so sorry,’ repeated Heidi. ‘Who was that man with you?’
George and the stranger, Heidi’s enemy without a body, had both vanished while she was hiding her face—
‘That man?’ Challon laughed: a different person from the nervous girl she’d been a few hours ago, cool and confident and in control. ‘That was Mr George Carron-Knowells senior! Didn’t you recognise him? He’s not thrilled, but at least I got an award.’
‘Oh,’ said Heidi, slowly. ‘George’s dad. Right. So that’s who—’
She could say no more. Challon shook her gently. ‘Come on Heidi, wake up, my girl. The champagne party’s over. Time to go home.’
18: Wild Garlic
It’s normal to lose things. Things Heidi needed had disappeared at home all the time, and turned up in strange places. Or never turned up at all, and it was no use asking Mum or Dad. They both had memories like sieves. When she really couldn’t find the Rock Mouse in her room, Heidi searched for him inch by inch, in all the parts of the house she was allowed to enter. Then she gave up, comforting herself with the hope that he might just reappear one day, somewhere totally inexplicable; like a screwdriver in the fridge.
In Mehilhoc, even Tanya had been all set for a victory parade: Chall in an open car with ribbons, having flowers thrown at her; a slap-up party in the Corn Barn. But the award was an anti-climax. No celebrations for the Wild Card, just Challon walking tall and smiling more than usual: and the parcel van stopping at Missy Pulak’s with old-fashioned-style 3D mail that hadn’t been seen first by her backer. The Teens had to wait for the May Picnic for their feast: an annual treat the Carron-Knowells provided after the wild garlic harvest.
Nobody local would touch wild garlic (except Andy’s family), but the pungent leaves fetched a high price in the restaurant trade. The Exempt Teens were up at dawn on the appointed day, pulling the tenderest leaf (you weren’t allowed to cut it, and you had to take only the best); from woodland edges, from the hazel coppicing, and all along the trails in the Carron-Knowells woods.
When the boxes had been filled to the estate manager’s satisfaction and carried off, the horse-drawn carts returned with the picnic, to take the harvesters to the sands of Maymere Haven; the traditional spot. Two assigned Elders came along, as other arrangements hadn’t been made. One of them was Andy Mao’s pride and joy, Corporal Harris. The other was Brook’s mean old Cribbage partner, Eric Dyson, former foreman at the Cement Works. Daffodil Dyson (I’m being awkward, aren’t I?) was seeing her new boyfriend, and couldn’t possibly look after her dad this afternoon.
The sun was bright, and warm if you were in shelter, but there was a sharp breeze. The drivers unloaded the picnic and left. They’d be back at the end of the day. John, Cyril and Andy immediately flung open the hampers. No child went hungry, under the Empire. All over the Chinese-ruled world, every single child had enough calories and the right nourishment. Which was good to know: but the cost, if you were a growing teen, was hardly ever getting as much as you wanted to eat—
Food, rich and plentiful, was the whole point of this outing.
‘My old dear feeds me,’ confessed John, as they greedily surveyed the loot. ‘I get a proper sit down lunch every day. I eat, and I play Mario. It’s a terrible burden.’
‘What d’you get?’ asked Andy.
‘Elder’s allowances, but she only cooks microwave stuff. Kip nuggets, oven chips, vatty burger. Kip tikka masala, baked beans, creamed vat ham and sweet-corn pancakes—’
‘You jammy bugger. Excellent.’
‘Don’t tell my mum, that’s all. She’d go nuts.’
Kip, the ‘government chicken’ grown in a vat, tasted just like chicken. Vatty burger tasted nothing like real beef, but to many that wasn’t a disadvantage.
Corporal Harris trotted off down the shore, and become a dot in the distance.
‘Will he be okay?’ wondered Clancy.
‘He won’t go far when there’s food,’ said Andy. ‘He’s always hungry.’
Eric Dyson, confined to his wheelchair, grumbled bitterly about the bumpy shingle. ‘An’ I’m freezing. I’ll catch me death. It’s criminal, bringing me outdoors.’
‘Don’t blame me,’ said Brook. ‘It’s not my fault your Daffodil’s in love again.’
‘It won’t last. Never does. Take off yer hat. Let the sun get to yer baldie head.’
‘I don’t want to, thank you. Shame it’s too breezy to play cards.’
‘Yer can sit with me. Get one of them rugs, and sit down here by me.’
‘Later. Now I’m going to fetch you a nice hot mug of tea.’
‘It’ll taste ’er garlic!’ he snarled after her.
Clancy helped Sorrel with the Gazebo and the hot drinks. ‘George says Cinderella’s your girlfriend,’ remarked the tattooed girl, as they set up the tea urn. ‘Is that right?’
‘Heidi? Nah,’ said Clancy, slinging a crate of mugs, sugar and milk onto the folding table. ‘I just see her around, same as anyone does.’
Sorrel looked at the Hooded Boy with new interest. ‘Okay. I brought some blow, to combat the stress of this pathetic outing. Fancy a smoke?’
Clancy grinned. ‘Don’t mind if I do. Let’s find somewhere.’
Brook, Challon and Heidi converged on the tea urn, desperate for warmth. They watched as Sorrel and Clancy wandered off together: giggling and looking around furtively.
‘I wonder what that’s about,’ said Chall. ‘I thought Clancy couldn’t stand her.’
Heidi shrugged. ‘No idea. I was hoping I’d paddle.’ The steely sea, with its buckled, shifting rim of sour-cream foam, didn’t look inviting. ‘But maybe I won’t bother.’
‘It was fun when there were more of us,’ said Challon. ‘Before the Ag. Camps. We’d eat ourselves silly, play games, light driftwood fires, sing, and, well, maybe I was just younger.’
Brook was smiling secretively, and playing with the tassels of her rainbow knitted cap.
‘I want to show you guys something. Come over by the sea-defences.’
The sea defences were giant concrete knucklebones, piled in a long, wide heap at the foot of the cliffs. They took their mugs over there and found shelter, a spit of artificial boulders between them and the breeze. As soon as they were safely out of sight Brook pulled off her cap, and sat grinning at them. Her head was covered in a fine short growth, thick as fur and brown as a field mouse.
‘Oh my God!’ gasped Challon. ‘My God, and you never told me!’<
br />
‘Fantastic!’ said Heidi. ‘It looks great. When did it happen?’
‘I just woke up this morning . . .’ said Brook, and started laughing. ‘It’s been a couple of weeks. I didn’t want to show it off too soon. But I feel better too. Maybe it’s the joy of having hair, but it feels as if I’m getting stronger.’
‘Really good news—’
‘Yeah, but don’t tell anyone,’ said Brook, her grin fading. ‘Obviously my parents know, but nobody else, not just yet. Not to tempt fate.’ She put the cap back on. ‘The audience with Brooklyn’s Furry Head is over. Talk about something else, that’s an order.’
Heidi had been waiting for a chance like this, and now she didn’t know if she dared. She drew a breath. ‘Here’s something different. Can I ask you guys a couple of things, about the Garden House, and my Old Wrecks?’
‘What about them?’ asked Brook, immediately looking wary.
I’m scared , thought Heidi. You know as well as I do that George and Sorrel’s dad is a villain. Did you know he gets into the Garden House at night, and looks at me when he thinks I’m asleep? Well, he did it once. And I think he had my dad killed, and he got me here so he can deal with me, too—
But it would be useless to blurt out anything like that.
‘I wish somebody would explain what’s up with them, that’s all. Why they are the way they are. It’s like they’re in prison in that old house; like they’re shunned by everyone. But somebody supplies them with black market goods, and it’s not your Mum, Brook. Where does Tallis get her hooch? I know how much she gets through, I see the empty bottles. Who gave her a Chinese i-face? And another thing, why are the Gardens just going to rack and ruin? And there’s the cats. Who stuffed the cats?’
Brook and Challon stared blankly: as if fascinated by this mad outburst. Or as if they were trying hard not to give anything away.
‘Stuffs?’ Brook’s poker-face cracked. ‘Huh? Stuffs the cats—?’
‘The cats in the Grecian Temple,’ said Heidi. ‘Come on, you’ve got to know about that. You live here. I think they’re Tallis’s cats. The cats of a lifetime. There’s a Siamese, it’s the oldest, one of its eyes has fallen out. A ginger one, a black and white one: I don’t remember the rest. They’re stuffed. She keeps them in the Grecian Temple folly beside Swan Lake—’
‘You’re kidding! ’ yelped Challon. ‘A stuffed cat collection! I had no idea! That is so weird and cool. I’ve got to see that!’
‘But you haven’t,’ said Heidi, quickly. ‘You’re not allowed, are you?’
She looked from one friend’s face to the other, and both were closed against her. ‘I knew it. I should have known from the way you acted over coming to doctor the Bad Dream Cat, but I didn’t think You guys are totally forbidden to go near the Garden House.’
‘Well, yeah.’ Challon looked very uncomfortable. ‘I suppose we were. There’s no reason, really. It’s just a hangover from the past, because of—’
‘Because of what Tallis’s brother did,’ said Brook. ‘But it’s long ago, and we can’t tell you anything, you’d have to ask my mum. Hey, I’m starving. Chall, let’s go and eat?’
Challon jumped up, falsely bright. ‘Right! Let’s get over there! Who cares if it all smells of garlic! The lads have been alone with the feast too long!’
Heidi muttered that she wasn’t hungry and walked off alone, feeling confused and bitter. But she’d been walled up in her chores, in the closed world of the Gardens forever, and the shining sea lay before her. Despite herself, her mood lifted. Under these wide skies, in the briny tang of the breeze, she felt like a crumpled paper ball: tossed in the air and joyfully unfolding. Runnels of stone reached like fingers up the beach: the tide was filling them. Heidi stepped happily from bar to bar, crouching to peer into pools where shellfish crept, and red anemones waved their tentacles.
Finally she saw Jo Florence, sitting alone on a big rock, and went to join her. They watched three scrambling figures, coming down the cliffs.
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
‘Not really,’ said Jo. ‘You’re not supposed, but there’s practically a footpath if you know the way. I wouldn’t have told them, but they’re always hungry. I can’t keep up. I said I’d stash them leftovers, and they could come down and feed when we were gone. I should’ve known that was too much to expect. Want to see a picture of my boyfriend?’
She pulled out her wallet and flipped it open. Heidi saw the head and shoulders of a pretty girl with stylish, hacked-off strawberry blonde hair, and a lot of freckles—
‘She looks nice,’ said Heidi. ‘Cool haircut.’
Jo laughed. ‘No surprise, eh? She’s called Sonia. I would’ve been at the same Ag. Camp with her, but Mum was allowed to keep one of us to help with the pub. She chose me an’ I can’t say I blame her. Sony was supposed to come home at Easter: she didn’t. Too much work on, apparently. I haven’t seen her for ten months. Haven’t heard from her for a month, and anyway you can’t tell. The lovely “video messages” we get could just be faked. They can fake anything, no limit, these days.’
‘That’s tough, but I’m sure she’s okay.’
‘I’m not,’ said Jo gloomily. ‘Who am I going to ask? My idiot bone-head brother?’
Heidi nodded vaguely. She wished she hadn’t tried to get Chall and Brook to open up. That had been so stupid. The only person to talk to was the Inspector, if she dared. If it would do any good. She was absolutely certain she hadn’t packed the rings. She was absolutely certain she had seen George’s dad peering into her room. But ‘absolutely certain’ isn’t evidence. Being scared isn’t evidence. Evidence has to be something you can touch and measure. That you can check for DNA; for fingerprints—
George landed with a thump on the sand beside their rock, and looked up at Heidi with his goofy, charming grin. ‘Hey, Jo! Hey, Cinderella Laureate—’
‘Excuse me,’ said Heidi. ‘I’m going to get something to eat.’ She walked away, but it was a useless attempt. Of course Jo stayed where she was and George followed Heidi.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. You can flirt with Mrs Florence’s little girl if you like, it doesn’t bother me. I just dropped by ’cos we haven’t had a chance for a chat since the Insanitude and there’s a naughtie mousie here who’s been missing you—’
Heidi couldn’t stop herself from looking round. George was making out there was something wriggling in his cupped hands, and doing it quite well. ‘Ooops! He’s trying to get away. He’s a magic mousie Heidi’s had since she was teeny weeny—’
‘Shut up and give me that!’
‘Oh yeah? And what do I get? What’s my reward?’
‘You pathetic pest—!’ Heidi grabbed the Rock Mouse and ran.
Highly delighted, George came gambolling after. He caught her at the edge of the sea, and playfully wrestled her arm behind her back. Heidi wasn’t feeling playful. She broke free, twisted his little finger, kicked his kneecap and stood back, Rock Mouse safe in her hand.
‘That was fun!’ crowed George. ‘Admit it! I can always get you going, Cinderella!’
Heidi glared. Overcome with helpless rage, she spun around and flung the Rock Mouse as far away as she could. He vanished into the sea.
‘Now I’ll always know where you are,’ she whispered.
She marched up the beach, her face hot as fire, George cackling right behind her. Big Joe and the smaller Tower Builders had joined the party. Sorrel and Clancy had returned from their private expedition. Everyone was staring.
‘Sorry about that, folks,’ said Heidi, furiously embarrassed. ‘I think George—’
A wild cry interrupted her. Corporal Harris came charging along the sands, waving his arms, pointing behind him and shouting something—
Clancy laughed: ‘Hey, look at that! It’s the pirates!’
A ship had appeared at the mouth of Maymere Bay. It was black, and strange looking. It had no masts, and no sails. Not the old-fashioned kind, or modern vane array
s either. It seemed to be leaning to one side. The hull was all black except where it was red with rust, and there was no name or number on its bows. Nobody cared about Heidi’s scuffle with George. Everyone was riveted by this black ship; which Heidi hadn’t even noticed. When Heidi and George reached the others an angry argument broke out. Sorrel wanted to call their dad, George thought that was a really bad idea. Some of the other Exempt Teens wanted to warn the village. The Tower Builders said warning the village was playing into the pirates’ hands. Heidi didn’t understand any of it. The ship was just passing by: ships must do that all the time. She looked for Clancy, to see what he thought, but the Hooded Boy had moved away from the group. Withdrawn inside his hood he was watching, listening—
The arguments were still going strong when a group of men in seamen’s clothes appeared, coming over the sea defences, and quickly, silently, surrounded the Exempt Teens. The men just stood there, without a word. No one knew what to make of this, until the Tower Builders decided to try a break-out. Big Joe, roaring that he would fight any of three of the villains, flung himself on the nearest of them. He was swiftly overwhelmed and knocked down, but the two kids, Bryan and Samedi, took their chance and bolted for the cliffs. One of the seamen levelled a bulky gun and fired.
A small figure crumpled on the sand. And that changed everything.
Maymere Sands
As I went by on Maymere Sands
I met a winkle walking
The sun was falling from the sky,
The small sea waves were talking
The cliff stood up like Indian Cheese
And I stood down below it
I broke a piece to show the snail
But cheese was not his favourite.
The sun not high, the sea not low
The waves so softly talking
Saw me, the pool, and Maymere Sands
And the winkle, went on, walking
19. Pirates!
No one moved, no one spoke. The men’s eyes glittered; their weathered faces tense and pitiless. Jo gripped the Coutance shooter, which was stuck in the waist of her jeans. That evil old moll, Bev Coutance, had noticed that the gun was gone, who could ever have expected that? She’d been round to the Blue Anchor, asking awkward questions: forcing Jo to carry a loaded firearm around with her, until she thought of a hiding place that was safe from Mum. Jo broke out in a sweat, drops running down her back. She’d taken the famous Coutance pistol to stop her crazy brother getting hold of it, and now she was going to be the one who—
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