by Julia Jones
Luke suddenly came out of his trance. “We don’t dodge ’em no more: we fight ’em!” he pronounced, then gave a most enormous yawn and fell forward on the table as sound asleep as his brother and sister.
This seemed like a good decision and everyone relaxed a bit. Edward ordered another glass of champagne and asked Ai Qin whether she could find him a room in Lowestoft for the night. Other people sipped cups of jasmine tea or spooned up the last coatings of savoury sauce from their bowls.
“It’s time we took the children home,” said Rev. Wendy. She was frowning and looked unhappy. “Now that we have a means of communication, we will surely be able to pass money across in a way that will seem convincing.” She hesitated but carried on bravely. “I have a suggestion. If her situation is as we fear, if she is ... enslaved, no loan shark or gang master will believe that she could come by large amounts of money except through dishonesty. If they think that she has stolen the money they could threaten to report her to the police. Blackmail her for more.”
“Don’t!” said Donny. He knew whose hairy paws would be digging in there.
“Praise God the little ones are asleep.” She was speaking very fast now, gabbling her terrible suggestion. “There are areas ...” She couldn’t quite bring herself to spell it out. Her face went red. She looked only at June, the magistrate. “ ... that disgrace the Diocese! Our husbands can pose as ... clients. If Lottie can be persuaded to act a part, they can pass her all the cash she needs. Then get her out with them before there are any awkward questions asked.”
Had they really heard what they thought she’d said?
Then first Anna and Maggi, then Donny and Xanthe, began to giggle. The prospect of anxious, cardi-wearing Gerald and tall, grave Joshua posing as punters visiting Anna’s mum disguised as a back-street hooker seemed totally bizarre.
Ai Qin did not laugh. “It happens,” she said. “It’s not so funny.”
They were sorry at once. She was right. It wasn’t funny, it was horrible.
“But wouldn’t they still want more? A percentage?” asked Maggi.
“Then we give it – and we take her, swiftly, into sanctuary. To her children and to me, in the vicarage.” Rev. Wendy at that moment seemed sure and powerful.
Anna looked as if she was seeing her foster-carer for the first time in a different way. Everyone else began getting up from the table, paying for their food, picking up the younger ones and collecting possessions.
“Now Vicky and I are rich,” said Anna, handing Edward his wide-brimmed hat, “can we get a lawyer please to help Donny? There’s an Emergency Order against Gold Dragon for moving her boat which means the SS are trying to take him away to a Unit.”
“I’m sorry, my dear. Trustees can only disburse funds in the direct interests of the beneficiary. This case, however worthwhile, would not qualify. However,” he continued as Anna opened her mouth to argue, “I have also been an admirer of Miss Polly Lee for many years. I will be honoured to champion her cause – pro bono publico, for the public good. That’s Latin, you know.”
“I guessed that, thank you,” said Anna demurely, clutching the forged music folder close to her heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ben Gunn
Sunday 31 December 2006
It was the last day of the year. A grey and charcoal day with rain most of the morning and more expected later. The River Orwell was uncompromising pewter and the bare trees on the further shore stood dark against the building clouds. The barometer was dropping fast as Kingfisher and Spray went racing up to Ipswich.
Anna had said that she could not bear not to know whether the pile of Pura-Lilly containers on the empty building site was where her mother had been living all along. She struggled to accept that she could not go herself and that they must allow the adults time to carry out their crazy plan.
“Why can’t Edward just turn up and say that Vicky and I have inherited this money then hand it over to get Mum home?”
“Because if your mother was simply working to repay debts there’d have been no need for all this secrecy in the first place. Let alone leaving the four of you in foster-care at public expense. There’s a wider picture here that we haven’t got.”
June wasn’t to be argued with. She was making tray-loads of hors d’oeuvres for a New Year’s Eve party at the Royal Orwell and Ancient Yacht Club. There would be fireworks at midnight and she’d invited Donny and Anna to come as their guests and stay with them afterwards.
“In a bed? Awesome! And can I have a bath as well? With Radox or something?”
Donny loved living on board Strong Winds. There was nowhere better and a combination of bucket washes and school showers had so far kept him perfectly clean even through the coldest weather. But a bath – and maybe sheets!
They went upstairs to sit in Maggi’s room. Xanthe’s was piled with GCSE revision notes. She’d got mocks as soon as term began.
“Okay, okay,” Anna carried on. “I know your mother’s right. But adults are so slow. And we can’t even take the music book back to the DT cupboard until school re-opens. Please, couldn’t one of you just go and check it out?”
Donny and Xanthe looked at each other. The rain had stopped and there were hours before they had to get ready for the party.
“Time spent on reconnaissance ... ” His home was on the River Stour now but there was still so much to discover on the Orwell. “The issue with revision is whether it gives you an unfair advantage,” said Xanthe and he could almost see white sails dancing in her eyes. “I’ve done loads already and today’s a Sunday. It’s almost cheating to do more.”
“Mum,” she called downstairs, “you know you said you wanted to take some trays down early? Could Donny and I come too? We might mess about on the water for a bit. We’d take our clean clothes with us.”
Baths were over-rated anyway. Plenty of people did without them all their lives.
He’d never sailed anything like Maggi’s Kingfisher before. Xanthe’d looked at the conditions, checked the yacht club barometer and chosen the smallest of their range of sails. She’d lent him some thermals and a wetsuit and demonstrated how he should adjust the footstraps to lock himself into the boat.
“Steer with your whole body,” she said.
They were on a broad reach but it was gusty and he was fighting to keep Kingfisher upright. It would be worse on the way back. Xanthe was ahead of him of course. He guessed she wasn’t pushing Spray yet, was giving him time to get himself in tune with this new dinghy. Get excited, even.
He shifted his weight slightly aft and let his sheet out. Then he took a deep breath, braced his stomach muscles and arched his upper body backwards. Kingfisher’s hull flattened onto the water and she surged forward. Donny’s breathing quickened, his heart pounded: he was going to catch Xanthe – if he could.
The sail was great: the mission disappointing. Anna had borrowed Maggi’s laptop and printed out some pictures of Lottie taken a few years ago at a concert. In case there was some unknown woman there whom they wanted to identify. And, maybe, casually, speak to?
But the Pura-Lilly containers were almost abandoned. A bonfire had been built on the wasteland, ready for lighting later that night, the gaps in the mesh fence had been mended and new notices put up. There was some sort of PR operation in progress. The Mulciber Development Co was committed to enhancing 2007 for all and wished neighbouring communities a Bright Future. Spectators at tonight’s grand sponsored firework display were All Welcome but advised to remain beyond perimeter fence for Own Safety.
Donny and Xanthe took advantage of the fact that they were both wearing wetsuits and avoided the fence by scrambling round via the river’s edge. They climbed over the embankment and walked towards to the containers intending to take a look through the windows anyway.
They didn’t see the squat black terrier tied to a metal post. But it saw th
em and began to bark hysterically.
The three apprentice thugs inside were slow reacting. Probably because they were already halfway off their heads on whatever it was they were sniffing or drinking. There was plenty of time for Donny and Xanthe to retreat behind the river wall again, lie down, peer over and watch.
The dog got shouted at. Was used for target practice with a few spare cans and stones. They weren’t good shots, mostly.
The boys had lurched back into their den when a metallic-blue Mercedes drew up at the locked double gates. Two or three sharp bursts on the horn sent the dog manic but failed to summon the goons. The driver selected a silk headscarf patterned with leather and buckles to prevent her hair being inconvenienced by the wind. Then she swung her legs out onto the wet road, unlocked the gates with her personal key and a hideously familiar figure came mincing impatiently across the wasteland in a short Burberry mac and zebra-striped stiletto boots.
“Toxic!” Donny breathed to Xanthe, who hadn’t seen much of Education Welfare in her successful school career.
“Those boots are ... something ... Maggi would know. Something expensive.”
“Jimmy Choos?” Donny offered, remembering what Anna had said once.
“Nah. Don’t think so anyway. It’s the red soles.”
“Oh yeah, I see them.”
He was beginning to see more than the crimson soles. He was beginning to see who it was with the crooked tongue who had stressed Skye out on that first disastrous morning in Shotley marina. Who it was his mother had meant by the Woman who makes Bad Worse.
“She treads in blood,” he muttered.
“Possibly bit extreme, Donny-man. It’s more of a fashion statement. Plenty of people say they’d kill for a pair of those. But only metaphorically.”
“Skye was talking metaphorically – but you begin to wonder. Oh, don’t worry Xanth, I’ll explain later.”
The dog was muzzled and pushed inside the container: the door was slammed, the boys marched across to the car and driven away.
“Welfare in action – rescuing the socially excluded from illicit substance abuse?”
“Or Toxic grabbing herself a posse?”
It didn’t feel like a brain-buster.
“I don’t want to sound paranoid, Donny-man, when we’re all going partying and that, but what does she want a posse for?”
“Must have other people to pick on. I mean, what can they do to us? Gold Dragon’s got a lawyer now and Edward’s already written to the SS demanding some sort of injunction to hold up their Emergency Order. So I can’t get snatched.”
“Even over the holiday?”
“They’re full-on this time of year, apparently.”
“So what are your lot doing tonight? Letting off lanterns from Strong Winds?”
“Nah. Chinese New Year’s different anyway. Gold Dragon and Skye are at the vicarage having a pirate party with the kids. Dressing-up and treasure hunts. Rev. Wendy’s on some vigil for world harmony and happiness so Gerald’s invited Mrs Everson and her daughter round to make whoopee. They haven’t seen Hawkins’s cage since Luke and Liam finished customising it.”
“Could be cool?”
“Yeah. By Erewhon Parva standards it’s a total rave.”
They’d started walking back to the dinghies when Xanthe stopped again. Turned back. “I’ll tell you who does want rescuing. But we won’t need Anna’s photo ... ”
“Who?”
“That dog. You read the notices. There’s going to be a grand firework display here later. Poor mutt’ll be terrified but it’s got that thing on, that muzzle. It won’t be able to bark so no-one’ll know that it’s in there.”
“That’s cruel. It’s a really vicious dog, though.” Donny had had several bad moments with the dog when his family was still living at Pin Mill.
“Should we ring the RSPCA or something? Police?”
“They’d have it put down. It is dangerous.”
“Yeah.”
They both thought of the abuse they’d seen the dog receiving.
“I don’t think it’s all that old, even ... ”
“The goons may be planning to come right back ...” Xanthe was already halfway to the containers when she said this. She looked pretty weird padding across the wasteland in her wet- suit and buoyancy aid but there was no-one about to see. Donny knew that what she was doing was right.
There were half a dozen metal containers with the pink Pura- Lilly logo, most of them locked. They circled round peering through tiny mesh windows. An office, a chemical store, then, when Xanthe climbed up to look in the second level, she found what they’d been expecting, spaces with mattresses on the floor, a few scattered clothes and blankets and an old TV. The washing line had been pulled in and dropped.
“They’d have moved people out over the holiday, I suppose. Especially if there’s going to be this PR display happening.”
“Where do you reckon they’d go to?”
“Must be loads of places, empty houses, offices, empty boats. ”
“Mmmm,” Donny was beginning to get a bad feeling about tonight. Empty boats?
The dog was in the container where the boys had been. There were empty cans and half-smoked roll-ups and a tatty stack of porn mags. No dog bed, water or food.
The animal hurled itself at Donny but there was nothing it could do. Couldn’t bark, couldn’t bite. It was surprisingly heavy though, for something quite small. Donny sat down with a thump before he got knocked over. Although the dog’s long, strong jaws were strapped shut, there were gaps at the corners of its mouth where its desperate efforts to snarl revealed pink gums, dribble and white teeth. It was lunging at him, tense and trembling and off its head with rage.
“Bit like Vicky throwing a tantrum.”
“We’re gonna have to go, Donny-man, and we’ll have to take it with us. There’s a van turning in the gates. Spectacular Sensations. They must be about to set up the display. Toxic’s goons won’t be coming back now. We gotta take the mutt.”
“In our dinghies?”
“Trust me,” said Xanthe. “I’ll sort something.”
She rejected the length of chain left by the dog’s owner. Instead she pulled out a much longer piece of para-cord from one of her many zipped pockets. As she tied it, swiftly and securely, to the terrier’s harness Donny felt the animal relax. Xanthe felt it too. She stroked the dusty black fur, ran her capable hands over the dog’s face, around its ears and underneath its chest.
“We do need to go.” Donny still didn’t dare move.
“We do.” She held one hand experimentally a few inches in front of the terrier. “C’mon, mutt.” It moved forward cautiously to push its nose in her palm and let her stroke its head again. It made him think of Skye and Hawkins.
“Found your feminine side then,” he said, knowing that she couldn’t retaliate. “Could we maybe leave? Now?”
“Okay,” she said, as they jogged back to the New Cut where they’d left Kingfisher and Spray. “As it happens, I know that Dad knows the owner of this yard. I’m gonna call him up and ask him for his gate entry code so we can pull the dinghies in. I’ll tell him I’ve got a novice sailor with me and we’ve been caught out by the weather.”
“Oh ... okay,” said Donny. “S’pose so.” He could see that it was blowing even harder out on the river. But in a favourable direction. He’d been looking forward to the sail back. Ragged puffs of slate-grey cloud were beginning to race across the sky promising worse to follow. The wind-rain combination could have been exhilarating – given that they would be heading for the RO&A clubhouse with hot showers and clean dry clothes.
“You’re not the novice sailor,” she misinterpreted his reluctance. “You almost put Spray under pressure earlier. It’s the dog – Ben Gunn, here – that I’m talking about.”
“Obviously. But how will
we get back to the others for tonight?” Donny’s uneasy feelings were getting stronger. Gold Dragon and Skye would surely be okay in the vicarage. But what about Strong Winds, left at anchor and un-watched in the lonely Stour?
“I’ve got plastic, we’ll call a cab.” She was already tapping the boatyard number into her mobile phone.
“And then – I’m really sorry, Xanthe, but I need a change of plan.”
Beds with sheets were probably overrated too. Plenty of people didn’t have them either.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rule Britannia
Sunday 31 December, later
The first heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall as Donny scrabbled around in the earth near the vicarage woodshed looking for the key.
The taxi had dropped him outside the drive and Xanthe could have been under the impression that he was going straight indoors to talk to Great Aunt Ellen. She herself was taking Ben Gunn back to her house and was going to find him somewhere quiet to settle. She reckoned she’d be able to take his muzzle off okay as long as she’d got food waiting. She’d explain to her mother that Donny had got worried about not being with his family for the night.
“Except it’s not directly them I’m worried about, it’s Strong Winds. If anyone wants to get at Gold Dragon, that’s her weakest spot. Not me or Skye. If they trashed her boat she’d find it really hard to stay.”
“Yeah. But you’re not going to fend off the rabble single-handed?”
“Course not. I don’t even see how they’d get to her in these conditions. I know I’m being hyper. I can’t really explain. I only want to check with Great Aunt Ellen.”
“Take my mobile. It’s got full battery and Maggi’s number’s on speed dial. I’ll call her from the home phone. You gotta promise you’ll keep her and Anna in the loop. Allies, remember.”
Allies, great: confederates, a pain. Donny’s hands were smeared with mud and his fingernails gritty by the time he’d found the key and had unlocked the shed to retrieve his bike. He’d decided not to go indoors and risk spoiling the pirate party. Gold Dragon would be shivering Luke and Liam’s timbers by now and it wasn’t often the kids had fun. He’d done the bike ride to Gallister so often that it’d be a total cinch to cycle to the creek and make sure everything was okay. They’d left both the dinghies there. And if there was anything wrong with Strong Winds, he could use Xanthe’s phone to call for help.
