by Robin Jarvis
"Fetch it back!" shouted Peter. "Don't let it disappear down there again!" He ran for the controls but Mr Ornsley seized his arm and pulled him away.
"You leave that be!" he said firmly. "There's some things I'll not mess wi'. Leave what you don't understand well alone—leave it!"
Peter whirled round, just in time to see the immense scale fall into the water. It smacked the surface then vanished completely, twirling slowly down into the concealing darkness once more, spiralling back into the mud.
Bill Ornsley turned away from the ever-widening circle of ripples. "All right, Mike!" he called to the man in the cabin, "it's all right now. No harm done, but I think we ought to give her a rest for the day, I'd like to give the motor a seeing-to this afternoon."
The man at the wheel waved his agreement and the dredger began chugging towards the quayside.
"Now then," Bill said looking squarely at Peter, "if you don't want to be laughed at for the rest of your days I wouldn't mention any of what you just saw to no one."
The other man gazed back at the water where a shred of torn flesh still floated until a gull swooped down and snatched it away. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I didn't see nothing."
"Nor did I," affirmed Mr Ornsley and he manoeuvred the grabber into the water once more, to wash away any traces of what neither of them had just seen.
9 - Mischief Night
Ben slid another long plank from the heap at the side of the fence and dragged it over the grass. The main skeleton of the bonfire had, after many frustrating attempts, finally been constructed and seemed to be holding together. Before she had gone to London, Miss Boston had prepared a section of her garden especially for this, having dug up a large square in the middle, carefully laying aside the turves to be replaced afterwards. In her usual manner, she had merely shrugged off Ben's gratitude and said that the ashes would be good for the soil.
"Put that piece over there," said Jennet, "it needs the support on that side."
The boy bit his lip, his sister was being a real pain. Since he had returned from Mr Roper's she had done nothing but scold him for being rude to "Nathaniel", and when he had tried to escape her she had followed him into the garden—only to criticise all his attempts at bonfire building. There was no getting away from her and he thought ruefully of the fireworks the old man had given him—he hadn't even had a chance to open the tin yet!
In spite of this, a smirk spread over his face, for before he had entered the cottage he had tapped on the parlour window and waggled the guy in front of it. Even outside he had heard Miss Wethers shriek and the memory of her shrill yelps was the only thing that kept his mind off Mr Crozier and blotted out his sister's reprimands—she hadn't found the joke with the guy very funny either.
"Not there, stupid!" Jennet repeated. "Over here!"
Determined to ignore her advice, he placed the plank on the opposite side to the one she directed. At once the entire framework collapsed like a house of cards.
"Told you," she said infuriatingly.
In his annoyance, Ben gave the scattered timbers a sharp kick, to which his sister tutted, "Temper, temper."
"Give me a hand," he appealed to her, "instead of barking your orders—who do you think you are?"
"I'm not getting my hands dirty on all that old wood," said Jennet in a superior tone. "I don't want to get splinters in them or snag myself on a rusty nail—you could get tetanus from that." She spread her hands in front of her and examined them carefully, trying to picture what they would one day look like. Jennet had become enamoured with the thought of having beautifully long fingernails. So far, they were all coming along nicely and the last thing she wanted was to tear them on her brother's childish bonfire.
Ben watched in disgust as she scrutinised herself—Jennet was really changing. With a resigned groan he began gathering up the wood again and tried to rebuild the framework. What it really needed was some string tied around the top of the main supports, but unfortunately he was too short to reach—perhaps he ought to fetch a stool from the kitchen.
"Nathaniel's gone to the museum today," Jennet murmured, giving voice to her thoughts.
Ben did not want to talk about that man with his sister. It was obvious she would not listen to a word against him. The best course of action was to ignore her.
"He's going to trace his family roots," she continued, "apparently he came from round here originally—or rather his ancestors did. He's going through all the old parish records as far back as he can. Isn't that interesting? I told him that I wished we could do that, but I wouldn't know where to start. Then he said that I was too pretty to waste my time in dusty old books—wasn't that nice?"
Her brother bit his lip, a week ago she would have been furious if someone had made such a sexist remark, but no—it seemed Mr Crozier could do no wrong. If only she knew...
Jennet watched Ben's clumsy efforts with the wood and took pity on him. "Really Ben," she said, "you're not practical at all, are you? Here, let me do it!"
"I can manage!"
"No you can't!" she grabbed the three main timbers and pushed each of them deep into the soft earth until the tepee structure was quite sturdy. "There," she grinned, "that's what should have been done in the first place."
Ben said nothing but stared truculently at the bonfire before leaving to fetch more wood. Jennet folded her arms and raised her eyebrows in the manner of Mrs Gregson. "Don't bother to thank me then!" she called after him.
Her brother returned bearing a piece of old wardrobe and laid it against the framework. "Is that it?" he asked Jennet. "Aren't you going to do any more?"
The girl grunted in exasperation and decided that her dream of elegant fingernails would just have to wait. "All right," she sighed, "but I'm not touching any bits that have woodlice crawling on them."
For the next couple of hours they forgot all quarrels and resentments. Jennet's enthusiasm grew alongside the pyramid of sticks and planks and she quickly stopped moaning once she became absorbed in the work. At times, it was quite like the old days again. When their parents had been alive their father had always loved November the fifth and made sure it was a special occasion for them too.
When Miss Wethers popped her head out of the kitchen to see how they were doing, she was pleased to see the children united at last. "Well, Edith," she squeaked to herself, "that is a pleasant sight—how industrious they've been. Why, it's nearly finished." A momentary spasm of concern seized her as she thought of the actual fire. "Oh dear," she wittered, "I'll have to make sure they stand well clear of the flames, and I suppose that means I shall have to light it—I do hope I shan't get smoke in my eyes."
Miss Wethers hated Guy Fawkes night; even as a child she had feared it, and now she was accustomed to remaining indoors like a timid pet—away from all the bangs and sulphurous flashes. The only part of it she was really looking forward to was the burning of that horrible effigy. Ben had almost frightened her to death with it earlier and she had forbidden him to leave it downstairs, for she had the disconcerting fancy that it would creep up behind and jump out at her.
"Don't be too much longer," she called out before returning to the delightfully soppy book she was reading in the parlour to soothe her strung-out nerves. "It's getting dark."
Jennet was busily stuffing the inside of the nearly complete bonfire with newspaper and she gave the postmistress a wave of acknowledgement. "Nearly done," she said, before standing back to admire her efforts.
"Is there enough paper in there, do you think?" Ben asked. "Perhaps we should put in some of Aunt Alice's fire lighters, just to make sure it'll burn well."
His sister gave him a warning glance. "You keep your hands off those," she said sternly. "You're not that dumb, are you? You'll be wanting to pour petrol on it next! Do you know how many people get horribly burned doing stupid stunts like that?"
"It was only a suggestion," he muttered.
"Well it was an idiotic one!"
Ben arranged the last of his sticks a
round the bonfire, only to find that his sister was still looking at him when he had finished. "All right," he cried, "I didn't mean it! There's no need to stare like that!"
But, when Jennet spoke, all her anger had gone, in its place her voice held a forced casualness. Ben had heard that tone many times before and knew that it meant she was after something—usually something of his.
"Ben," she drawled nonchalantly, "don't you think it would be nice if we had a big Guy Fawkes party? I mean instead of just you, me and Miss Wethers?"
"There's Mr Roper too," he butted in. "He's coming, don't forget."
Jennet idly twisted a lock of her hair. "Mmmm," she agreed, "but that's still quite a small number of people isn't it? And both he and Miss Wethers are very old. They haven't got much in common with us, have they? I think it'll be dull with just them here."
Ben wasn't sure where all this was leading. "I don't think Mr Roper's boring!" he declared loyally. "Besides, there isn't room for lots of others."
"I wasn't going to invite lots," she answered, "only one more."
"Who?" asked her brother, although by this time he had already guessed.
"Well, what about Nathaniel?" Jennet said. "He must be awfully lonely staying with the Gregsons, they're about as cheerful as a couple of undertakers. I'm sure he'd love it—not only that, but it would be the perfect way to show him how sorry you were for being so rude this morning."
Ben was paying no attention to her and had walked off, back to the cottage.
"Well, I can ask him if I want to," she said to herself. "I don't need your permission, it's as much my garden as it is yours!"
The girl gazed up at the windows of the house next door; perhaps Nathaniel had finished at the museum and was back already. Maybe he was watching her from behind the net curtains. Jennet hugged herself and let out a great, devoted sigh. "I'll nip round after tea," she said, "and see if he's free tomorrow. I'm sure he'll want to come if I'm here."
For a while, she indulged in a delicious fantasy in which she and Nathaniel were standing close to one another. Orange firelight played over both their faces, dancing in their eyes and burning in their hearts as he took her hand in his and held it tenderly.
"Spare me! Spare me!"
Ben came out of the kitchen holding the guy before him as though leading it to a place of execution and, to help create the illusion, he was doing all the voices. "Spare him not!" he commanded, trying to speak in a deep voice. "To the stake with him! You must pay for your crimes." He shook the papier-mâché head then yowled, "No, no, I'll confess!"
"What've you brought that out for?" Jennet asked, ignoring the painted face which was nodding wildly at her. "It'll only get damp if it rains tonight."
"I want to see what he'll look like tomorrow," he explained. "I'll take him back indoors afterwards. See, I've put my old jumper on him too. Looks good, doesn't he? Mr Roper'll be pleased. Give me a hand sticking him up there, Jen, I can't reach."
Jennet lifted the guy and placed him at the pinnacle of the bonfire. "You'll have to put a pole up his back," she said, "he keeps falling over."
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Ben, "pass old Crozier down again then and I'll..."
"Ben!" snapped his sister. The boy gave an unrepentant laugh. "Well he looks a little bit like your boyfriend," he retorted.
Jennet gasped. "Nathaniel is not my boyfriend!" she shouted.
"Not yet!"
"Benjamin Laurenson!" she bawled, making a grab for him, "You come here!"
Afterwards, Ben could never remember if he heard the cries first, or saw the figures as they leapt into the garden. For, even as he darted aside to avoid his sister's hands, the air was filled by many voices and a series of jubilant whoops came clamouring all about them. The two children spun round and forgot everything else.
"Get them!" screeched a horribly familiar voice. "Get the Cret and his stinkin' sister!"
Over the back fence came Danny Turner, Mark Stribbit and a gang of four other boys. In a trice they vaulted over the raspberry bushes and flower borders, trampling the poor plants underfoot, and charged straight for the two children.
"What do you think you're doing?" cried Jennet in astonishment. "Get out of here!"
"Shut it, scabhead!" yelled Danny. "Mick, Terry—grab hold of her, Glen you take the Cret!"
Before they knew what was happening, both Jennet and Ben were seized by the wrists and had their arms twisted behind their backs until tears sprung from their eyes.
"Let go!" Ben cried, kicking back with his feet.
His sister struggled with the two boys who held her but it was no use. "What do you want?" she cried.
Danny swaggered up and sneered in her face. "Don't wet yer knickers," he jabbered, "us lads've only come a chumpin' fer firewood. We're gonna have a right blaze on the beach tomorrow." He pointed at the newly finished bonfire and called to Mark and the other boy. "Pull them matchsticks down, they'll do to light me ciggies wi'."
"No!" Ben protested as the yobs began kicking and smashing. "Stop it!"
Danny tittered and poked him in the ribs with a sharp piece of wood. "I'm sick of you, Cret!" he spat. "Yer always whingin' and whinin'. Well, here's summat to really skrike about!" Dragging Ben from the one called Terry, he threw him to the ground and kicked him savagely until the boy crumpled up with a pitiful wail.
"Leave him be!" screamed Jennet, but before she could call for help, a dirty hand was shoved over her mouth and it was all she could do to breathe properly. Then her head was pulled backwards so she could no longer see what was happening to Ben. The boys who held her were too strong and the more she struggled the more painfully they yanked on her arms.
Danny left Ben clutching at his stomach and gasping into the damp grass. "That's right, Glen," he sniggered, "keep her snotty ladyship quiet, can't have her bawlin' her head off can we?" He came swaggering up to her, "Not so tough now are yer?" he snarled. "Well, you was lucky the other day that's all." He kicked her shin but her cry was muffled by the dirty hand still smothering her. Danny hooted and pranced before her like a lunatic. "Look at the smelly Laurensons!" he laughed, waving his arms above his head. "One's barmy, the other's a stinking cow! And the only person who'll have them is nuts too—ha, ha!"
Jennet managed to tug her head forward, and the eyes that she turned on the Turner boy were filled with hatred. Using all her breath, she sucked at the hand that stifled her and bit down hard. Behind her Glen let out a shocked squeal.
"Ruddy Nora!" he howled, blowing on his palm. "She bit me—the cow bit me!"
Jennet seized her chance and squirmed round to free herself, pushing the other boy away as forcefully as she could. He went tumbling backwards like a skittle, and then she turned her blazing anger on the ringleader.
Danny stopped his capering, dismayed to see his mates so easily overcome. He stared at the girl and his nerve wavered for a moment as he saw a peculiar glint shine in her eyes. Was it his imagination or was that insane gleam really a fiery red? Then Danny rallied, remembering that he was not alone, Mark and the other boy were still with him. He signalled for them to stop destroying the bonfire and they sidled up, large sticks in each of their hands.
"Come on then, Laurenson," taunted Danny, "come an' get me—I dares yer."
Jennet was breathing strangely, for a while her mind had become so flooded with hatred that she had forgotten all else—even Ben. Her one intention was to rush at that hideous boy with her claws ready to tear his face off. Now she recoiled from that awful emotion—bewildered and appalled. Her face turned pale at the memory of the all-consuming rage that had taken hold of her, and at the evil thoughts that had come unbidden to her mind.
"Nathaniel," she whispered forlornly, "where are you? Help me please."
Now that all traces of fight had left her Danny jumped forward and raised his hand. "Yer as mad as yer brother!" he guffawed. "Go back to the funny farm!" And his hand whipped down to deliver a resounding slap across the girl's face.
; Jennet staggered under the blow and had to clench her teeth to stop the inevitable cry.
Danny snorted and shot an expert missile of green phlegm into her hair. "Right," he called to the others," let's clear off. Don't take the wood—it's too crappy to bother wi'."
"'Ere!" shouted Mark. "What about this?"
Danny giggled gleefully. "Yeah!" he snorted. "We'll have that!"
One by one, the gang leapt back over the fence and ran off up the grassy slope of the cliff. Held aloft, like a trophy of war, the boys carried the guy.
Ben lifted his head, his stomach felt cramped and bruised, but that was nothing when he discovered what they had stolen. He thought of all the hard work he and Mr Roper had put into making it, but no tears trickled down his face at its loss—for at the same time he remembered that there were other, more important concerns to worry about.
"Jen," he said croakily, "are you hurt?"
His sister was kneeling on the grass where she had fallen after that cruel smack. When she turned her face to him, Ben saw an ugly, livid mark burning across her cheek. She stared blankly up at him when he came over and, as he held her, he discovered that she was shaking.
"Don't worry, Jen," he tried to reassure her, "they've gone now."
The girl closed her eyes and shuddered, "It's not that," she mumbled, "but back then, something took hold of me—I lost control. I wanted to kill them all, and would have done too..."
"I would have," Ben said, "if I were bigger. They're horrible bullies and deserve whatever they get."
Jennet was looking almost white. "No, it was more than that," she told him, "it frightened me. I mean it."
Ben stared at her. He had never seen her so affected by anything before—except of course the accident. Frowning, a more sinister thought came to him; could this be another result of the third guardian's destruction? Were the evil forces already leaking out so strongly that they had infected his sister? Or was it another power that possessed her? "Well it's all over now," he said consolingly. "Come on, let's go inside."
