“Let’s count animals,” I said.
London was flying past. It felt like it would go on forever. There were streets and shops and flats and houses and parks and all of them had people in. We must have gone past millions and millions of people but the only animal we saw was an angry dog chewing a bit of wood.
“Boring,” said Zac, and he pressed his tongue against the window and began to lick down the glass.
“Zac, don’t do that,” Mrs Clanks said.
He didn’t hear her at first. He just kept licking. Then he realised she was watching and he put his tongue in. He looked annoyed.
“Please don’t do that sort of thing while you’re away,” Mrs Clanks said. “I’m sure Miss Freeman won’t appreciate it.”
There was a smear down the glass like a giant snail trail. Mrs Clanks gave Zac a tissue but it wouldn’t wipe away. I think you’d need soap to get it off.
I tried to change the subject so we could all stop thinking about it.
“What’s Miss Freeman like?” I said.
“I haven’t met her yet myself,” Mrs Clanks said, “but I understand she’s very nice. She used to be a headmistress so she’s had plenty of practice looking after children. She’ll be old-school so she won’t put up with any nonsense. You will have to behave yourselves.”
Then she looked at Zac.
“Zac?” she said.
She put a question mark after his name. She meant “You will behave yourself, won’t you, Zac?”
Zac didn’t answer. He just sighed. He didn’t even try to keep it inside. He went “Hhhhhhhh” for a really long time. He didn’t care what she thought.
I tried to smile because I didn’t want Mrs Clanks to think other kids might be more grateful and then take us back to London. But old-school made me think of Glenda getting the cane for not knowing her times tables. It didn’t sound fun at all.
Suddenly Zac shouted, “Cows!” and there was a field of cows, not just one, like at the city farm, but lots of them chewing and flicking their tails.
“And sheep,” he said, because then there was a field of sheep all walking in a long line like they were queuing up for the best bit of grass.
After that we looked out of the window for the rest of the journey. It was so nice. We just ignored the smear on the window. There were farms and fields and rivers and woods and people fishing and walking their dogs and little towns and villages. We saw a big bird fly through the sky and we argued about whether it was a crow or an eagle. Zac thought it was an eagle. Then it rained and the raindrops came sideways across the window so they looked like tadpoles racing each other. And when we ate our sandwiches the sun came out and there was a rainbow.
By the time we got off the train I felt all scrunched up like I’d been stuck in a little box. Zac felt the same. As we stood on the platform he swung his arms round like a windmill. Then he tried to do a cartwheel.
“Please, Zac,” Mrs Clanks said. “Do you want to come back to London with me?”
When everyone had gone the only person left on the platform was a funny-looking woman with her head pushed forward like a chicken, nodding and bobbing. When she saw us she hurried over. Her hand was stretched out.
“Mrs Clanks?” she said.
She smiled and looked serious all at the same time and her voice was soft and high like a child’s, even though she was quite old. Mrs Clanks shook her hand.
“Miss Freeman, pleased to meet you,” she said.
“Do call me Martha,” said the woman.
She had glasses with silver rims and a chain that went down from her glasses and all the way round her neck in case they fell off. Her hair was brown and speckly grey and it was tied up but bits were dropping out. She was wearing a yellow dress with no sleeves like a little girl’s and she was very tall and she had paint on her dress and she had big feet like a man’s and she was wearing red sandals. Zac nudged me. I knew he was smirking but I wouldn’t catch his eye.
The woman bent down to look at us. She was a mixture of old and young. She was wrinkly but she had bright shiny eyes like Ashani’s. Then I noticed something I’ve never seen in a grown-up before – she was shy! I’ve never met a grown-up who’s shy. I didn’t think grown-ups could be shy because they have to do so many grown-up things. But that’s how she looked – shy.
“You must be Miracle,” she said.
I nodded. Even though I hate that name I didn’t want to be rude.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said, and I gave a little curtsy, like I was meeting the queen. I felt stupid. I knew Zac would think I was an idiot. Martha bowed back.
“And Zackery, lovely to meet you.”
Zac scowled.
“Come on then,” the woman said. “It’s a bit of a drive but it won’t take long. Let me take your cases.”
She hurried off, pulling my case and pushing Zac’s. Mrs Clanks followed her. Then she turned back to us and mouthed, “Come on!” Zac scuffed his feet. He was disappointed already.
“She’s just like a teacher,” he said.
Martha’s town is called Wellsbury. It’s not like London at all. The streets have trees on both sides and I only saw one NO POLL TAX sign and no people with placards. There are no sirens either and no traffic jams.
Martha’s house is at the end of a cul-de-sac, which is a street that stops so you can’t go any further. Her house blocks the road so if you kept on driving you’d crash right into it and it’s got sky around it instead of being squeezed into a gap like Skilly.
There’s a window above her door and it says Appleton House in gold writing. I thought only children’s homes and prisons had names. It’s nice for a normal person’s house to have a name too. It gives it personality. Martha said it’s called Appleton House because there used to be apple trees there.
At first I thought loads of people must live there because the coat rack’s covered in coats and hats and old-fashioned umbrellas that don’t fold up. But it’s only Martha. All the things are hers. There’s an old mirror in the hall, with silver coming off so it’s like looking into a frozen pond. And there’s a black and white photo of a man with a beard dressed like a vicar and wherever you stand it looks as though he’s staring right at you. It’s like he’s reminding you God’s always watching. You can’t get away from him.
Martha’s sitting room is the nicest room in the world. There’s a rocking chair with a torn cushion, a lumpy yellow sofa and a footstool covered in roses that have nearly faded away and a table with books and magazines on top. There’s a fireplace with dusty bits of coal in it and there are bookshelves all the way from the floor to the ceiling and everywhere that’s not covered in books is covered in plants and paintings. I was trying to work out why it looks nicer than Skilly even though everything’s scruffy and I think it’s because Martha loves it. Skilly looks like nobody ever loved it at all.
But Zac didn’t look at the room. He went straight to the window and stared at the garden. It’s got a lawn like a bowling green that no kids ever play on and there are no tall buildings all around. And there are flowers all down the sides of the grass and at the bottom there’s a tree with leaves that go all the way to the ground.
Martha said to Zac, “Do you like it?”
Zac shrugged, which gave the wrong impression. It was because he liked it too much.
“That tree,” Martha said, “is called a weeping willow because it looks like it’s weeping.”
And it did. Its leaves looked like they were tears falling to the ground.
“Why don’t you have a look,” Martha said.
She opened the windows and they weren’t windows at all. They were doors and you can walk right through them.
“Off you go,” she said.
Zac didn’t move. He was frozen.
“Can I go too?” I said.
“Of course,” said Martha.
I took Zac’s hand and pulled him and suddenly we were running on the grass under the big blue perfect sky.
“There
’s a stream at the bottom of the garden so take your shoes off,” Martha said.
But we weren’t paying attention. Zac was doing somersaults and I was spinning round and round because my dress was too tight to do anything else in. When we got to the weeping willow we stood underneath and looked up. Light was streaming through the leaves. It was like being in a church.
Behind the tree there’s a stream that goes under the fence at the bottom of the garden and out into some woods. Zac crouched on some stones across the stream and pulled a handful of mud out of the water. Then he rubbed it all over his face.
“Zac! You idiot!” I said.
He stuck out his tongue. “What do I look like?”
“Stig of the Dump.”
He grinned. It’s his favourite book.
“You do it,” he said. “Go on.”
I shook my head. “I’ll watch.”
“OK,” said Zac. “I’ll catch a fish and you can have it.”
He leaned out to where the water was deeper and then he began to wobble. I knew he’d fall in. That’s what he’s like. If he wants to do something he will, even if it means trouble later. He had a big smile on his face because he knew he was about to get wet and no one could stop him.
When he fell it was like slow motion. Even the splashes looked like they came up slowly. Then he got on his hands and knees and began to bark like a dog and then he dipped his head in the water and shook it. He’s good at being a dog. He’s always wanted one and he’s always pretending to be one. He’s had lots of practice.
But even though I was laughing on the outside a bit of me was thinking, what if Mrs Clanks and Martha come? Because Zac didn’t look like the boy who got off the train. He looked like a different boy. He was covered in mud and his curls were stuck to his head and his shirt wasn’t white any more. Martha might be shocked to see him.
“Zac, get out,” I said.
He shook his head. “Nah nah na na nah.”
But then his face went tight and he wasn’t looking at me any more. He was looking behind me and when I turned round I saw Mrs Clanks and Martha coming through the willow. The lines between Mrs Clanks’s eyes were really deep and she was shaking her head and her spotty ribbon was bobbing from side to side.
“Get out, Zac,” she said.
Her voice was extra calm. She must have been really angry.
Zac tried to get out but he kept slipping. In the end I had to pull him. Then he just stood very still and squeezed his eyes shut. Water was dribbling out of his shoes. Martha was staring at him through her silver glasses. She was probably wondering what happened to the nice boy in the white shirt. I crossed my fingers and wished she wouldn’t send us home.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Mrs Clanks said. “He’s full of beans.”
Martha made a little “um” noise.
Then she said, “Why don’t you take off your shoes and socks, Zackery, and your nice shirt, and have a play.”
Zac didn’t even open his eyes to take off his socks and shoes. He did it with his eyes shut. It took ages. It was embarrassing. I picked three bits of grass and plaited them together so I wouldn’t have to watch.
When they walked back to the house Martha was holding Zac’s shoes by the laces and her hand was stretched out like when she met us at the station only this time it was because she didn’t want to get mud on her clothes. Mrs Clanks was carrying Zac’s shirt and her hand was stretched out too and her other hand was flapping at flies.
Me and Zac stayed by the stream for ages but it was no fun. I kept thinking Mrs Clanks would take us back to Skilly. I was trying to imagine what expression I could have on my face when we got there to make it less awful. I decided to look like I was pleased to be back and a bit annoyed about the whole experience.
But then Mrs Clanks came to tell us she was getting a taxi back to the station. She gave us a look and said, “Behave yourselves,” and then she went. I took such a deep breath I felt dizzy.
After that Martha came to get us in for tea. She made us wash our hands under a tap in the garden. The water was so cold I thought my fingers would drop off. It probably turns to ice in winter. Then she took us up to our room. It was only fourteen steps.
“I’m told you like to share,” she said, “but there’s a room each if you’d like.”
Zac shook his head.
“We’ll share,” I said.
“Very well,” said Martha. “Then this is your room. I hope you like it. Come down to the dining room when you’ve cleaned up.”
Our bedroom looks like it hasn’t changed for fifty years or maybe a hundred. It’s got two beds with metal frames and a dressing table with drawers and a mirror shaped like a heart. There’s a sink with “hot” and “cold” written on the taps and a wooden desk with a lid that lifts up and an inkwell where people used to put ink when they used pens made of feathers. There’s faded wallpaper with leaves on it and they’re all lined up and there’s a wardrobe that’s got the same wallpaper inside only it isn’t faded. I’m going to keep the wardrobe open the whole time we’re here so it matches the walls.
Zac put on his shorts and Arsenal shirt and I put on my jeans and T-shirt. I’m not going to wear the dress again. Not if I can help it. I’m going to leave it here and pretend I forgot it. Before we went downstairs I tried to wash Zac’s face and his hair because it still had loads of mud in it. The mud got stuck to the sink though at least he looked better.
You can tell which is the dining room because there’s a table and chairs in the middle. There are books and boxes and plants all over the floor but if you saw the table on its own you’d think you were in a restaurant. There was a tablecloth and there was a teapot covered in purple flowers and matching cups and saucers. The teapot was chipped so I think the tea set was really old but Martha loved it too much to get rid of it. There were even little glass pots with silver lids with salt and pepper in, like you get in cafés. There were napkins too, and sandwiches and sausage rolls and crisps and small tomatoes and chocolate biscuits. It was like a birthday party where there were hardly any guests and someone had forgotten the cake.
Martha was sitting at the table when we went in. She hadn’t eaten anything. She was just waiting for us. She’s very polite. She said, “Please tuck in.” She looked a bit worried as if the tea wasn’t good enough for us. Or maybe it was too good or maybe she was worried in case we’d left mud in the sink.
Zac ate a sandwich so fast it made his eyes water. He just stuffed it in. Then he took another.
“Miracle, help yourself,” Martha said. “And drink your tea. It’s not too hot.”
I didn’t want to say we don’t drink tea and we’ve never drunk out of a cup and saucer either, so I put my finger through the handle and lifted the cup really carefully. I pretended I was in an old film and the waitress was waiting to see if I liked it. If I did she would top up my cup with some more. But the tea tasted like warm water. Maybe it’s better with sugar like Silas has it. I told the imaginary waitress not to worry. When I put the cup back in the saucer it made a little clink.
After that we didn’t talk. We just ate. Zac made a mess like he always does. Hortense says she needs a dog to eat the food he drops on the floor. Crumbs kept falling out of his mouth on to the tablecloth. I had to be extra tidy to make up for him, so Martha might think the mess came from two kids. Martha looked very serious. She was cutting bits off her sausage roll and putting them in her mouth with all different expressions on her face like she didn’t know what to think.
“I do hope you’ll be happy here,” she said at last.
“It’s a lovely garden,” I said.
“It’s so big,” said Zac.
“We have a garden at Skilly,” I said, “but we have to share it with lots of other kids.”
Then Zac said, “How long have you lived here?” and Martha made a little cough and said, “All my life.”
Zac’s mouth fell open. It was embarrassing. It was full of food and he didn’t shut it. He just
kept staring at her. I tried not to stare but I was shocked too.
“I was born in this house,” Martha said. “I lived here with my parents and brother. My father was a vicar. My parents are dead now and my brother lives in Australia. This has always been my home.”
It was hard to understand what she meant. I didn’t know someone could live in the same place all their life, right from being a baby to an old person. I never even thought of it.
Martha’s cheeks went red and then the red went all the way down her neck.
“Please don’t worry,” she said. “There may be old things here but there’s nothing valuable.”
After that everything felt funny in a bad way. I don’t even know why. I just felt really bad. Like we’d come to a different planet that we didn’t even know existed.
Martha pushed Zac’s cup of tea towards him.
“Have a little drink, Zackery,” she said.
He shrugged, then he picked up the saucer with both hands, balancing the cup on top. It was fine at first but when he tried to drink the cup slid off the saucer and fell down his front. Tea poured down his Arsenal shirt and on to the floor.
Martha jumped up.
“Oh dear me. Are you burnt?”
Zac shook his head. He was looking at his shirt. It was stuck to his chest.
“We don’t normally drink out of this sort of cup,” I said.
“Of course not,” Martha said. “Silly me.”
She ran out and came back with some towels.
“There you go, Zackery. Dry yourself down.”
Zac looked so sad. He loves his shirt so much he even sleeps in it. Martha began to mop the floor.
“Can I help?” I said.
“No, no, no, Miracle,” she said. “Please don’t worry.”
She was kneeling under the table.
Zac was nearly crying.
“I think we’ll go upstairs now,” I said.
“Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?” she said.
“Yes thank you. We’re full, aren’t we, Zac?”
Zac nodded.
“Very well,” she said. “Goodnight.”
Little Bits of Sky Page 5
