by C. J. Skuse
‘God, you are being the biggest arsehole today!’
‘No, I just meant to relax you. I didn’t mean…’
As I barged past him, he threw me a look like I’d taken his Buddy Bear and given him a bundle of barbed wire to cuddle.
The descent through the long grasses stopped at thick walls of leaves, and the long grey road of the Strawberry Line. The trains that used to run along there had taken strawberries and cheese to Bristol, and beyond. Now the tracks were gone and all the way along was an overgrown archway of trees and hedges, broken up in one direction by a huge black arc – the tunnel. A jogger huffed past and two cyclists were mere dots on the horizon. Apart from a dog walker with four elderly shih-tzus, we four were alone. We started walking, Fallon and Corey chattering away like old friends. Max was swigging Acid Rain, and I was ignoring him.
‘Pete jogs down here,’ I said. There was a definite eye roll from Max but I didn’t draw attention to it. ‘I’ve done some sprints along here too, at West Brynstan where the bend is.’
‘Who’s faster, you or Pete?’ asked Corey,
‘Oh Pete of course,’ Max butted in. ‘Pete’s good at everything. You should see him curing lepers.’ He sniggered and swigged at his bottle. I gave him the stink eye but he was ignoring me this time.
The air became colder as we reached the mouth of the tunnel; the smell of the limestone took me straight back in time. The slimy feel of the walls at the darkest point – the drip of rock water on my hair – all gave me a familiar thrill.
A little way along, Corey called out ‘Oh my God’ and it echoed around us. He’d seen a group of cats, all crowded around the carcass of a dead rabbit. As soon as they saw the torch, they began to scatter; some running back the way we’d come, others straight on into the tunnel.
‘I told you there were cats down here,’ said Fallon. ‘Was any of them Mort, Corey?’
‘No,’ he called back, his voice sounding strangled.
‘You really love Mort, don’t you?’
Corey sniffed. ‘He means a lot to me. I found him in a skip. He was only a few days old. I took him home and stayed up all night, giving him milk, keeping him warm. Granddad said I could only keep him if I laid out for all his food. So I did. He was my reason.’
None of us asked what Corey meant by that. I think we all just knew.
All of a sudden, there was chaos behind us. We looked back into the darkness to see four figures on bikes, all hollering. As they got nearer, I realised they were just kids. But they were shouting abuse – mostly at Fallon.
I couldn’t make out all of what they were shouting, but the odd phrase was clear. All right, retard? How’s your goats doing, Fallon? Hey, ugly girl! Butterface! Two boys and two girls, all younger than us. The eldest boy, no more than twelve, waggled his tongue at her as his bike sailed past. It was all over in seconds.
‘Who were they?’ said Max as the whoops died away in the distance.
‘Oh, just the Shaws. The boys go to that posh private school over in the next village. They’re idiots. They shaved a couple of our goats over Easter. And they write things on the farmhouse walls sometimes. They think Mum’s a witch who kills and skins people. You must have heard the rumours.’
None of us could deny it. We’d all heard the things people in Brynstan said about Rosie. The things we had all said. Things we’d laughed at.
‘Can we go and see the Witch’s Pool?’ asked Corey. ‘Just for old time’s sake?’
‘Uh yeah, if you like,’ said Fallon. ‘I doubt there will be any cats up there though. Never seen any animals round there at all.’
We were all looking at Max, as though it was up to him to decide whether or not we should go. He shrugged. So we carried on walking.
What had seemed like miles when I was a kid, actually took about ten minutes. Fallon suddenly veered off to the left where there was a weather-beaten sign saying Wit Po and she mounted the bank where some makeshift steps had been carved in the red earth. Max glanced at me then followed on behind her and Corey picked up the rear.
‘Do people still come here?’ I asked, as Fallon parted the overhanging branches to reveal a large overgrown meadow.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘The car park’s just through those trees on the other side and it’s all overgrown and people just tend to use it to dump old mattresses and oil drums. I don’t even think the sign’s on the main road any more. It’s hardly a tourist attraction now.’
I felt uneasy as we walked through those long grasses. I wasn’t actually scared – I guess it was a fear left over from childhood. A habit I hadn’t grown out of. I had no reason to be afraid of it now. And once we had reached it, I could see the place for what it was – an algae-covered, pear-shaped lake with a small broken bridge at one end. The rockery, over which used to flow the fastest little waterfall, was now just a pile of slimy green rocks. But for the midges clouding over the surface, all was still.
‘Is it really bottomless?’ asked Corey, peering over the edge to look into the murk.
‘Only one way to find out,’ said Max, nudging him forwards, making him stumble and grab for the ground. I pulled Corey back up, throwing Max eye-daggers.
‘No, it’s not bottomless,’ I said. ‘It was just a story.’
‘It’s based on truth, Ella,’ said Fallon. ‘Don’t you remember Jess telling us about it?’
‘I do,’ said Corey. ‘Well, some of it. I remember it was Halloween and we were sorting out all our sweets in the shed at Max’s.’
‘Ahem, you mean my compact private members club pirate den?’ Max corrected.
‘Yeah, and Jessica came to the window and yelled boo!’ said Fallon. ‘She couldn’t get inside with us because she was too tall. Oh and something about some guy in a black hat?’
‘I remember it,’ said Max.
‘So do I,’ I said. ‘Every word.’
*
BOO!
Jessica! Don’t do that!
Come on then, share out your spoils. Whatcha get? Ooh, Scream Eggs, my favourite.
Where have you been? Mum said you were staying in tonight.
Dad made me work late at the garden centre. Did you have fun trick or treating? I love the outfits. What are you supposed to be?
I’m a Pirate Zombie, Ella’s my Pirate Zombie Wife, Fallon’s the witch from Wizard of Oz, Zane’s Thor and Corey’s Hedwig.
Oh you are a very cute Hedwig, Corey. Look at those little cheeks!
Can you tell us a story, Jess? A spooky one.
Another spooky one? You still haven’t got over the last one, Zane. You just can’t handle the scandal, baby.
Aww, please! Please, I promise I won’t wet myself this time.
Yeah go on, Jess. Just a quick one. Tell us one about a witch!
A witch? Hmm, let me think. You live out near the Witch’s Pool don’t you, Fallon?
Yeah, but there aren’t real witches there.
Oh but there were. A long time ago. See in the old days, like the mid-1600s, there used to be a Witchfinder who stalked through these parts looking for witches to put to trial and death.
Why?
Well people just didn’t like witches. They thought they were evil. Any woman caught doing sorcery or something that couldn’t be explained, it meant they were probably a witch. And so people like the Witchfinder General who was this big tall man in a wide black hat and cloak, used to round up these supposed witches, put them into cages on the back of his wagon, and take them out to places like the Witch’s Pool at Cloud and test them in front of a crowd of witnesses, usually villagers and members of the church.
How did he test if they were witches?
He’d test their honesty. He’d tie a woman up inside a sack and attach a rope to it, then he’d throw her off the bridge into the water. If she bobbed back up to the surface, it meant she was a witch and so she was hauled out and burned alive or hanged. If she was struggling, he would realise she was telling the truth – she wasn’t a witc
h so she could go free.
Didn’t it just mean they were good swimmers if they came to the top?
Probably. Witchfinders didn’t really bother with little things like common sense.
Did any of them just drown accidentally?
Oh yes. Lots of them did. The Witch’s Pool is said to be bottomless, and many of the drowned ones were never found. That lake is said to be full of female skeletons. Their ghosts haunt it at night.
Zane’s scared.
I’m not, Fallon. You’re lying.
So if somebody’s lying, does that mean they float on water?
So the Witchfinder said, yeah. Why, Ella? You’re not lying about anything, are you?
No.
Are you sure?
Yeah. I always tell the truth.
Better not jump in the pool then or else we’ll find out, won’t we? Liars always float to the top.
*
It was a throwaway comment that hadn’t meant anything, I realise that now. But I remember my face went bright red. And, after that, I never went swimming again, just in case.
It was magic hour by the time we’d walked the length and breadth of the old railway line, searching for Mort but there was no sign of him. We decided to head back to the farm and see if Rosie was home – our last hope was finding him in the day’s truck haul of stray animals. My legs were tired as we crossed the last paddock and arrived back at the field with the trolleys at the entrance. The scorch had gone out of the day, and there was a warm, peachy sweep across the sky. The four of us walked in a line. And though Max hadn’t reached for my hand all afternoon, I kind of didn’t need him to with Corey and Fallon there. It felt like it used to.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. ‘What time was the second bus?’
‘There isn’t one,’ said Corey.
Dread filled my chest. ‘What? You said there were two buses a day. One at lunch and one at tea-time.’
‘Yeah, but not on a Sunday. Reduced timetable.’
‘How are we supposed to get back?’ said Max. ‘And we still haven’t found his cat.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Fallon. ‘You can all stay at mine tonight.’
‘No, it’s OK,’ I said. ‘We’ll get a taxi back.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Fallon, flapping her hand. ‘There’s tons of sleeping bags and duvets. You don’t have anything to get back for, do you?’ She seemed slightly desperate.
We actually didn’t. Corey’s grandparents were still on holiday and my dad wouldn’t be back for another couple of days.
‘My parents will go spasmodic if they know I’m out here,’ said Max, all twisty-face. ‘I should get back.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘we don’t have any of our stuff. Toothbrushes. We need to go.’
‘Oh please stay,’ Fallon begged. ‘We’ve got spare toothbrushes somewhere. And blankets and sleeping bags. And more alcohol.’
‘I could text them and say I’m staying at your house, Ells,’ Max suggested.
‘Yeah!’ said Fallon. ‘And we could get a takeaway too. I think the pizza place delivers out here, though I’ve never tried it. We get the leaflet though. We could have a picnic in the lounge and play Monopoly like we used to, what do you say?’ Then she turned to me, all serious-faced for a moment. ‘I’m always the boot though.’
‘Very Famous Five,’ I said. ‘Apart from the booze.’
‘Yeah! Do you remember Jessica reading the stories to us? She gave me all her books the last… time I saw her.’
Max smiled. ‘She knew how much you loved them.’
‘I always thought we were just like them,’ she said with more than a note of sadness in her voice, ‘the five of us. Max was like Julian, the eldest and wisest.’
I snorted. ‘I didn’t know Julian was a pot head.’
‘Ella was George, the tomboy. Zane was Timmy the dog, strong and reliable. I was probably Anne.’
Max laughed. ‘Yeah, and Corey must be Dick.’
If Corey was offended by Max’s remark, he didn’t say. ‘Jessica called us the Fearless Five. That was our name.’
‘Hey, he’s right!’ said Max. ‘I’d forgotten that. Christ, that’s a blast from the past.’
‘Yeah well,’ I said, ‘we’ve all grown up a lot since then.’ I almost felt insulted by it. We weren’t little kids any more – we couldn’t play those kinds of games now. She was dangling memories before my eyes like gold stars I couldn’t reach.
‘We could be the Fearless Five again, now,’ said Fallon. ‘Only we’re four. We don’t have Zane.’ We looked at each other and smiled secretly, not knowing if she was joking.
‘I know!’ she cried. ‘The baby can be Timmy! Then there’s five of us again! Yay!’
‘What baby?’ said Corey.
‘My baby,’ she said. And that was the moment Fallon lifted up her vest to reveal a small, but definite, bump.
‘So that’s when you found out about Fallon being pregnant?’
8
Jolly Good Fun
‘What?’ we all cried. It was like in Scooby Doo when they see the monster for the first time; only we didn’t yell Zoinks! and drop our sandwiches.
Fallon looked around at all of us. ‘What?’ The stretchy band of her denim shorts was holding her in at the waist, hiding much of her neat belly like the sea hides an iceberg. But, even in the dimming light, we could see she was well pregnant. She even had silvery stretch marks across her belly to prove it.
‘Holy shit!’ cried Corey.
‘You’re pregnant?’ I said.
‘Yeah. That’s why I’ve got such a big tummy. I thought you all knew.’
‘We just thought you were fat,’ Max laughed.
I felt a rush of something weird – disgust? Jealousy? I didn’t know. ‘You’re our age!’
‘How far gone are you?’ asked Max. ‘I mean, how long till it comes out?’
‘Four weeks yesterday, the doctor said.’ We looked at each other in silence. ‘It’s all going well though, so don’t worry. Mum’s been to all my antenatal classes with me and got the nursery ready and everything. The heartbeat’s been really strong on all my scans.’
‘Whose is it?’ asked Max.
‘It’s mine,’ she said, wonderingly.
‘No, I mean, who’s its dad?’
‘Oh!’ She laughed, so much that we all laughed too. ‘You don’t know him. Come on, help me find the Monopoly board. I think I’ve still got all the pieces.’
Rosie wasn’t home yet but she called while we were there. Fallon grabbed us some spare sleeping bags and duvets from the airing cupboard and told us her mum was going to be late – a baby giraffe had died suddenly at a zoo on the outskirts of Bristol. We wouldn’t see her until nine at least. There were no cats on the lorry either.
Fallon brought down the light display from the nursery and put it in the middle of the lounge floor, to ‘create an ambulance’. We all sat round it as it chirruped ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ while suns and moons danced around the dingy ceiling. Max fetched out his packet of weed, showing off now he didn’t have to hide it from me any more. Mixing it up with his Golden Virginia, he showed Corey how to roll a spliff, and then offered it around. I refused, pointedly.
Eventually, fed up of being left out, I tried the Acid Rain. It was like strong lemonade tinged with spice and, as I drank, I started to feel warmer from the inside out. Soon we were all giggling.
Fallon wasn’t drinking or smoking, but if she felt left out she didn’t show it. Soon, Max, Corey and I were all in various states of undress from Strip Monopoly, and so pissed or stoned that none of us cared about anything. Corey had been to jail six times already, so he was sitting in just his pants. We’d eaten a feast of triangular cheese sandwiches, Wotsits, yoghurts, Cheesestrings, Maoams and Penguins on the rug in front of the fireplace.
Max shuffled up beside me on the carpet and put his chin on my shoulder. ‘I’ve been a cock today, haven’t I?’
I smelled the familiar scent of fu
zzy peach shampoo on his hair. ‘I guess that makes me Mrs Cock.’ He laughed, toothy and exaggerated; the Acid Rain was beginning to reveal its full effects.
‘I’ve never seen you this out of it,’ I said, stroking his cheek.
He burped into my neck. Then he grasped my hand and put on an announcement voice. ‘Fallon, Corneliusz, I want you both to know that I love this girl. I love this girl to Pluto and back again.’
‘Oh God, here comes the speech,’ I sighed.
‘No, hear me out, I want everyone to know that one day, me and this beautiful girl are going to get married and live eppily aver rafter.’ He burped again.
I chuckled. ‘Don’t give him any more alcohol, Fallon, for God’s sake.’
She laughed. ‘I didn’t give him that lot! He helped himself.’ Some sort of rat thing scurried across the carpet, into one of her discarded moon boots.
‘It’s true,’ Max went on. ‘I’d die for this girl. And we’re going to make twenty babies together one day. Just got to work out all the sex stuff, and then we’ll be off.’ He started stroking my thigh, which felt suddenly sleazy. I felt myself sobering.
‘Stop it!’ I slapped him away. ‘You’re being embarrassing.’
‘Aww, I think it’s nice,’ said Fallon, dreamily. ‘It must be nice to be loved.’
I smiled. ‘Sometimes.’
‘I need a slash,’ Max announced, staggering out to the lean-to.
‘Whose go is it?’ said Fallon, reaching across for the dice. ‘Is it mine?’
‘No, it’s mine now,’ said Corey, probably a lot louder than he meant to, and launching his dice across the board. He’d only thrown a three, but he leaned across and stamped his thimble twenty places to Pall Mall. Then he couldn’t work out how to let the thimble go. Suddenly, his whole body dropped onto the board, scattering cards and houses all over the floor like confetti.
‘Oh, Corey!’ Fallon cried.
I couldn’t see for laughing. ‘Guess that’s Monopoly over with then.’ I began to tidy it all away, even though I could barely focus on what I was doing and my head was starting to go heavy.
