“Course not,” Fenn replied.
She nodded a “thank you”, then stood up and glumly hung up her empty catch bag. But Fenn grabbed it back and slipped in a bag of rice; enough so her rations weren’t docked. Amber flushed in confusion and tried to smile; for a second she almost looked pretty. Then without another word she disappeared into the main room.
At the table, Nile sat brooding while Mrs Leach cooked and fussed around, trying to make sure everything was perfect; anything to keep the peace. She was stirring a pot of sludgy green soup on the stove, her hand on her hip and a little garland of flowers set at a jaunty angle in her hair. She had a dreamy look in her eyes, as if she were somewhere else altogether, far, far away from the Shanties, but as Fenn passed by she noticed the long scratch down his cheek.
“You get a lash from a Whipper? We don’t want no trouble here,” she warned.
“N-no,” Fenn stuttered, thinking fast. “It was the mongoose. An accident.” Amber gave him another grateful look.
He took his place at the table and let the mongoose out of the rucksack. It was sleepy from being in the dark, and he laid it around Comfort’s neck as she sat down. As soon as everyone was seated, he proudly laid the eggs, coffee and rice on the table. Quick as a flash, Nile picked up one of the eggs and dropped it in a jam jar of water. The egg bobbed around on top. Fenn pulled a face – he knew what this meant. He’d been conned; someone had traded rotten eggs for his rats.
But before Nile could start, Mrs Leach plucked it out.
“Still protein!” she said pragmatically. “You’ll never taste it in a spiced dumpling.” She beamed proudly at Gulper and Fenn and ladled extra soup into their bowls. “A good day’s work deserves a good meal!”
“Goody! Sludge again,” Nile said sarcastically.
Mrs Leach’s smile faded and she twiddled her finger around in her hair in embarrassment while the rest of them gobbled down the dingy soup in silence. Fenn felt a sudden pang of pity for her and an equal pang of anger at Nile. He lifted the mongoose off Comfort’s neck where it had settled and began stroking it.
“Oh, that thing!” Mrs Leach shuddered. “It’s so slipperty! And vicious too by the looks of things.” She curled up like a cat against Nile who didn’t bother to hide his distaste at her closeness. It didn’t take them long to empty their bowls, licking them clean. Comfort cleared the table and wiped the bowls with a filthy rag, stacking them ready for the next meal. Water was too precious to waste on washing up.
“Who’s up for Sevens then?” Fathom asked. Mrs Leach nodded happily and he pulled out a deck of cards made from cardboard, each one delicately hand-drawn. Fenn stared, bemused, as Fathom explained the cards, and how a “Knave” could be a “Jack” and “Aces” could be “high” or “low”. Fenn blinked in confusion as Fathom flipped the cards on the table, trying to remember everything he’d just been told, feeling stupid compared to everyone else. The very second Fathom had dealt all the cards, Nile stood up abruptly, pushing away his unfinished bowl of soup.
“I’m done,” he said, glaring at Mrs Leach.
They all fell silent as he strolled towards the ladder leading to his room, barking instructions over his shoulder.
“Put the candles out. Keep the noise down. Don’t make a mess…”
With a final grumble he hitched up his kimono and slunk up the ladder, reminding Fenn of a large rat as he disappeared into the gloom.
Fathom gathered the cards back up and started dealing again, but a few minutes into the game Nile’s whiney voice slithered like a cobra down from the room above.
“My bed’s cold!”
Mrs Leach jumped up and scurried over to the oil drum, wrapped a rag around her hand and pulled a couple of large stones from the hot ashes underneath. She dropped them into a thick piece of sacking, which she swaddled up like a baby, and zig-zagged her way across the room, tottering up the ladder.
“Coming, honeykins,” she cooed.
“Does she always do exactly what Mr Leach tells her?” Fenn whispered. “It’s like she’s his servant.” Amber gave him a withering look.
“Wake up, Fenn. We’re all his servants!”
As soon as Mrs Leach had gone and the hatch to the top room had closed, they all relaxed. Fathom scooped up the cards and tucked them back in his pocket, smiling shiftily.
“It works every time! I only get them out to get rid of him,” he explained to Fenn. “He doesn’t like games he can’t cheat at.”
Amber laughed, but Gulper looked mortified. “You shouldn’t speak bad of the boss.”
Fathom gave him a shove. “Don’t be such a suck-up. Let’s play Truth or Dare!” he said.
“Remember what happened last time?” Gulper warned. Amber burst out laughing.
“Fathom dared me to swap Mrs Leach’s teeth with a set he nicked from Waggit. She thought her head had shrunk! Seriously, it was hilarious!”
“It wasn’t,” said Gulper, pursing his lips.
“It was,” whispered Fathom to Fenn. He plucked Mrs Leach’s silk flower out of the bottle in the middle of the table and rested the bottle on its side.
“How do you play?” asked Fenn nervously. Fathom spun the bottle.
“Easy. If it points to you, you pick truth or dare.”
Amber suddenly put her hand on the bottle, stilling it.
“Count me out,” she said. “There’s no dare I can do, not without getting on the wrong side of Nile.”
Even though she had her head ducked down as she petted the mongoose, Fenn noticed her eyes had the same glassy brittleness to them he had seen earlier when she’d mentioned her dog. He suddenly felt defensive of her and decided to try and make everyone forget the stupid game she obviously didn’t want to play. He clucked the mongoose and let it sniff a little bit of rat meat that had fallen under the edge of the table. By dragging the little bit of meat up his arm and around his neck, he started to get the mongoose to run over his chest. Seeing this, Amber pulled out the loose cord from her jacket’s hood and tied it to another little scrap of meat and dangled it in front of the mongoose. The mongoose sat up on its back quarters and boxed the meat playfully with its paws, like a kitten with a ball of string. They all giggled, even Comfort, bashfully hiding her pleasure behind her cupped hand.
“So we’re not going to play?” Fathom said, obviously disappointed.
“Just one go then!” Fenn agreed reluctantly, spinning the bottle again. It finally came to a stop, pointing at Fathom.
“Truth,” Fathom said.
Fenn hesitated; he couldn’t think of anything. Then he remembered his question about Fathom that Amber had never answered.
“Are you Venetian?” he asked.
The others sighed. Fathom pointed mockingly at his coils of jet black hair.
“My mum and dad both came from New Venice, and their parents before them. So that’ll be a yes.” He laughed.
“Where’s the rest of your family?” Fenn asked.
Amber shot him a look.
“It’s s’posed to be just one go,” she said hurriedly.
“Not sure,” Fathom said quietly. “I’ve got a little sister. She’ll be seven next month.”
“Here?” asked Fenn. Fathom shook his head.
“We were trying to get to West Isle too. My parents had permits and ID cards for us all. We were on the convoy ships but there was a sea surge and I got separated from Neva and … ta-da! Here I am,” he finished with a sad flourish.
“Can I play?” asked Milk, edging out from the shadows. Fenn nodded.
“Let Fenn spin again,” Fathom said. “He wasted his last go.”
Fenn spun the bottle and it landed on Milk.
“Truth,” said Milk. He’d never asked for a dare once in all the times they’d played.
“How did you get here?”
“I was on a Show-Ship, with Nami.” Milk answered.
Fenn looked puzzled.
“It’s like a circus,” Fathom explained as Milk heaved a deep sig
h.
“But they dumped us,” he whispered, his huge pale eyes blinking with the indignant shock he’d never get over. “Set sail without us when there was a Sweep…”
Fenn frowned.
“A Terra Firma raid,” Amber said. “To fill the Labour-Ships and Missions.”
“To build the Walls?” Fenn asked.
“Everything. Walls, peat-cutting, mining. All to keep the Isles safe – so the Terra Firma keep power,” Fathom explained. “But the raids aren’t just about labour – it’s nearly always boys they take.”
“There’re always rumours about sightings…” Amber started.
“Sightings of what?” Fenn interrupted.
“You mean who,” Fathom said. “People won’t accept the Resistance has gone for good. There’s always talk about the Demari kid being saved or turning up after years of being hidden…”
“In an eel trap!” Amber scoffed. She licked her finger and dabbed it on the table for a few scraps of rat meat she’d missed.
“Or found living in luxury safe behind a Wall,” Milk said.
“That’s just TF propaganda,” Fathom countered. “To make the Demaris look bad.”
“That’s right,” Gulper said, putting on a voice full of airs and graces. “Ai’ve personally met the son of the Demaris several taimes, don’t you know!” He reverted to his real voice. “An ’e looked differen’ every time. One time he was so differen’ he was a girl!”
“That was me!” Amber giggled. Gulper puffed in contempt.
“Gotta look a bit Venetian,” he said, gazing at her red hair.
“How did Chilstone know it was a boy?” Fenn asked. Fathom shrugged.
“Who knows? It’s all rumour anyway and the same rumour says it’s a boy Chilstone’s after.”
“But why would anyone pretend to be him?” Fenn asked.
“Meal ticket. Chilstone’s Sweep on East Marsh means there are always boys on the run, some end up on here.” Fathom stared at his lap, locking one thumb over the other. “Say you get here; no food, nowhere to stay – like you. Do you starve…? Or say you’re the last Demari? People will give you their last scrap of bread… You’re safe … until your story doesn’t add up or…” Only Fenn seemed to notice how Fathom ran dry.
“Or one of Chilstone’s spies gets to hear,” Amber butted in angrily. “Then there’s a Sweep and everyone pays. Makes me sick. Doesn’t matter how hungry you are, you don’t pretend to be him! If I ever met anyone who pulled that stunt I’d … I’d…” She stopped, her jaw too clenched in fury to make words. Fathom glanced at her uneasily.
“Honestly, I admire you for not trying that one. You even look the part!” she said to Fenn.
Fenn blanched, dizzied by the nearness of discovery, his neck and face suddenly clammy with sweat.
“Don’t worry,” Fathom said, misunderstanding Fenn’s pallor. “There hasn’t been a raid for ages. But when there is, we’re on our own. Nile won’t risk crossing the Terras. If he was found hiding boys they’d take him too.”
Fenn bit his lip as he listened. He wanted to get off the talk of the last Demari, but something didn’t add up.
“But why does he care about a kid? Why doesn’t he just go after the Resistance? It was them that bombed the ship wasn’t it?”
“Chilstone’s virtually crushed the Resistance,” Fathom answered. “But he wants revenge for another reason: his daughter. She was onboard the ship that day. It was his idea that she spend her birthday with him.”
“Four years old,” Amber added. “Enough to drive anyone mad.”
“Chilstone had a head start,” Gulper chimed in.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Amber said, shuddering.
“OK. Who was Nami?” asked Fenn. “There were more kids?”
Gulper nodded. “Nile and Mrs Leach have always taken in kids.” An awkward silence fell. Fenn glanced at Comfort.
“And Comfort?” he asked.
“Found her when she was a tiddler. Brought her back fer Mrs Leach to look after. Missus keeps her locked in here; pretty kids get stolen to work for Landborn families,” Gulper explained.
“Better than working on one of the Walls,” Fathom added.
“Or being here,” Amber said wistfully, giving Comfort’s hair a stroke.
“So where’s Nami now?”
Fenn looked at their faces uncertainly, but none of them would meet his eye or answer.
“Me and Coral was born on the Shanties,” Gulper suddenly blurted out. “I ended up here just after…” He scrunched up his face at an unwanted memory before carrying on. “A Gleaner came. I could’ve worked – I work ’ard – but they din’t want me, so I stowed away instead!” He stopped talking like that was the end of the story.
“What happened?” asked Fenn.
“Chucked me overboard! Had to swim fer it. A mile! Lucky it was summer and daytime!” He laughed; like nearly drowning was just a minor mishap.
Suddenly Nile banged on the roof above them and they heard his angry, muffled voice shouting at them to be quiet. They froze, but then Fathom started giggling and this set off a chain reaction. Even though everyone’s stories were so horrible, Fenn could feel laughter bubbling up in him, like something coming up to boil that he couldn’t stop. Seeing Fathom’s shoulders shaking made it infinitely worse. Amber and Comfort were struggling too. Fenn desperately held his breath, bursting with the enchantment of unexpected happiness. Gulper was hissing at them all to be quiet, but this only made them worse. Finally they erupted into spurts of loud laughter, unable to contain it any longer. Gulper was mortified.
“He’ll come down!”
But they couldn’t stop now. It was only when Nile hammered on the floor upstairs and yelled that they’d all be out if they didn’t stop that they sobered up. The fit of giggles subsided. Fenn’s ribs ached. He realised that was the first time since he had left home that he had felt happy.
“Spin it again!” whispered Milk.
“No,” hissed Gulper. But Fathom had already twisted the bottle so hard it spun for ages, winking in the candlelight. The mongoose’s nose started twitching as it got ready to pounce on it. Amber watched.
“Whoever lands on it, gets to name the mongoose,” she said, glancing at Fenn.
“OK, but nothing stupid,” Fenn agreed reluctantly.
Suddenly the mongoose leapt out of Fenn’s arms onto the bottle and tried to bite it. They all laughed. The bottle was pointing to Fathom. Fathom lifted the mongoose up and stroked it.
“You’re all mine now!” he hissed in the mongoose’s ear. “So what shall I call you? Honeykins? Twinkletoes?”
“No!” said Fenn earnestly, not realising he was being teased.
“Tiddles…?” Fathom laughed. At last Fenn smiled.
“What about Nipper?” Gulper suggested. Fenn laughed again.
“He’s nibbled me once or twice.”
Amber narrowed her eyes as she gazed at the mongoose, trying to recall a long lost memory.
“I know!” she said, banging the table with her hands. They all shushed her, pointing up at the ceiling. “How about … Tikki?” she whispered.
“Why Tikki?” asked Fenn, puzzled.
“I don’t know… Think my mum told me a story once…” She tailed off and stared at the mongoose. “I’m pretty sure it was called Tikki…?”
“I like it,” Fathom nodded.
“Me too,” said Milk. “Suits him.”
They all looked at Comfort, who was stroking the mongoose gently. She glanced up and smiled, before turning her attention back to it.
“Tikki it is then,” said Amber with a happy smile, putting Tikki into Fenn’s arms. Fathom stared at him thoughtfully.
“You know, you act like you don’t know your beam from your bilge, but you’re a lot smarter than you look.”
“What d’you mean?” asked Fenn.
“You asked all those questions about us, but didn’t tell us one single thing about you.”
&nbs
p; There was nothing to do but shrug it off; he didn’t want Fathom asking anything. Fenn guessed he’d be good at spotting lies, maybe good at telling them too.
“You all heard my interrogation when I arrived,” Fenn said lightly.
“Well, I was going to ask if you lied about your age but I already know the answer,” Amber said.
Fenn opened his mouth to protest, but Milk interrupted. “Nearly every boy lies about their age – rules them out of being the last Demari.”
“So, do you really believe you can get off the Shanties and get to West Isle?” Amber asked.
Fenn nodded.
“I knew it!” She shook her head. “You are insane! If Gulper can’t get a ride, how would you? At least Gulper and Fathom can handle a ship. Can you?”
“No, but I could learn. My grandad wouldn’t give up on me, I won’t on him,” said Fenn defiantly.
“Did the Gleaner you came on let anyone onboard?” Amber asked bluntly. Fenn shook his head bleakly. “Then there’s your answer.”
“Just think about surviving, Fenn; don’t waste energy cooking up escape plans,” said Fathom quietly, setting the bottle upright and dropping the flower back in.
Amber stretched, making a show of yawning. She picked up Comfort, who was already nodding off, and carried her to bed. Milk disappeared off to his corner like a wisp of pale smoke. Fathom raked the ashes over the fire to keep it going until morning, while Gulper nipped the candles out. Within a few minutes, they were all asleep. Only Fenn stayed awake, watching the faint glow under the stove’s ashes.
As he listened to the sound of the waves below he thought about his friends’ stories. So was this going to be his life? Dumped on the Shanties, working as a slave for the revolting Nile and always afraid he’d lose his place.
He wasn’t going to live like that and nor should his friends. As sleep crept up on him, he was still dreaming of how they could escape; whether there were any ships he could patch up and where he could get bitumen, nails and sail cloth. It wasn’t just to get back to Halflin or to East Marsh, it was what Fathom said about cooking up escape plans. He didn’t want to just escape the Terra Firma, he wanted to fight them.
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Fenn Halflin and the Fearzero Page 12
