Itch

by Simon Mayo

  ‘Seven more. Just seven. That I know of. But that’s the thing, Cousin Jack, that’s the thing. There won’t only be seven or eight. There can’t be. There must be tons of the stuff somewhere. But presumably a long way underground – otherwise that radiation would have done its damage by now.’ Cake looked down at his bloody shirt. ‘And people would notice that.’ He closed his eyes again and was silent.

  Itch and Chloe arrived at the same time from different directions, Itch with the food and Chloe, more slowly, with a plastic box and a bucket of water. ‘Got this from the beach hut. Clean you up a bit.’ She produced a small first-aid kit, found some cotton wool and pulled off a swab-sized chunk. Dipping it in the water, she held it up to Cake.

  He shook his head. ‘You’re not touching me. Just leave it all there and I’ll sort myself out.’

  Chloe opened the kit and laid out a large piece of gauze, antiseptic cream, bandages and scissors. She cut the bandage into four lengths and rolled them up again.

  ‘Is that a Guides thing?’ asked Cake.

  ‘It’s a Scouts thing, actually,’ said Chloe.

  ‘Oh. Yeah, of course. Well, I’d rather do this when you’ve gone,’ he said. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Are you infectious, then?’ said Jack. When Cake nodded, she said, ‘Please let us call for an ambulance. You really—’

  Cake started to get agitated again. ‘No, no, no. I told you. We’ve done all that. You’ve done great, really. Soon as you’ve gone I’ll sort myself out …’ He paused. ‘Listen – thanks, guys. Really. I’m feeling better. There’ll be a bus soon and then I can go home.’ And through a mouthful of bread, ham and cheese, he said to Itch, ‘And you’re right, these sandwiches aren’t up to much.’

  By the time the three of them reached the house it was nearly six and they were starving. They found a note from Jude Lofte saying she would be back around nine and to have the lasagne that was in the fridge. Chloe heated it up in the microwave.

  They had left Cake in better shape than they had found him, but Chloe still felt they should tell someone about his condition. ‘It seems wrong to leave him like that.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Jack, ‘but you heard what he said. He doesn’t want a doctor or an ambulance.’

  ‘Where will he go?’ asked Chloe.

  ‘Don’t know – but we did what we could,’ said Itch, his mouth full of meat and pasta. ‘I always get the impression that there’s a group of mineral collectors who live near a big spoil heap. Or in it, maybe. Launceston way – St Haven, I think. And he knows all those guys out at the mining school. I bet they’d know what to do. Much better than us.’

  Chloe looked reassured at this mention of grown-ups, and they all cleared their plates.

  ‘German foreign policy time?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Guess so,’ said Itch, and they started to remove school books from their bags, putting them on the kitchen table. Chloe went to watch TV.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Flowerdew, Jack. Cake knew about him. He said, We all heard about him when he came here. It sounds as if he was famous or something …’ Itch fired up the laptop and waited for it to finish its opening routine. ‘And that he and Greencorps were the very worst people who could get hold of the rock.’

  ‘Yes, he seemed depressed about that,’ said Jack. ‘And Greencorps is one of the CA’s big sponsors – their name is all over Dr Dart’s notice board. I bet that’s how Flowerdew got his job.’

  ‘Unless Dart fancied him,’ said Itch. Chloe laughed loudest at that.

  He did a search for ‘Greencorps’ and ‘Dr Nathaniel Flowerdew’. ‘Wow. Have a look at this.’ He scrolled through a number of old articles about Flowerdew’s work at Greencorps and some academic papers he had written. ‘“The Principles of Stratigraphic Base Levels”,’ he read. ‘“The Oil/Water Interface”. Bet those were bestsellers.’

  ‘We should print off “Sedimentary Deposits: A Dynamic Correlation” and hand it in for our next homework,’ said Jack. ‘See what happens!’

  There was nothing from recent years apart from links to stories about the Greencorps oil spill off Nigeria. Flowerdew’s name did not appear in any of these articles, though a woman called Shivvi Tan Fook had gone to prison for manslaughter. Fifteen years. She was twenty-five and ‘a senior oil analyst’ with Greencorps, according to the report – though, in the photo supplied, she looked much younger.

  ‘And soon after that we had a new head of science. Nice one, CA.’ Jack was reading over Itch’s shoulder. ‘He lives down on the cove, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, it’s the house just behind the shiny BMW. It kind of stands out. Why do you mention it?’

  Jack was thinking. ‘When’s your mother back?’

  ‘The note says nine, but that’s probably Mum being optimistic. I would imagine it’ll be nearer nine-thirty or ten.’

  ‘We’ve got almost three hours, then.’ Jack was smiling. ‘Why don’t we go spy on him? We could take the bikes. We’d easily be back in time.’

  ‘Spy on him?’ said Itch. ‘Are you mad? Peer at him through the curtains? We might see him in his pants. Or worse.’

  ‘No – think about it. We knew nothing about him really, apart from the fact that he’s a lousy teacher and everyone hates him. Now we know who he worked for and the kind of things they do. And he’s taken your rock, studied it and sent it to Switzerland. All from the cove. We don’t have to go near it – you could take your dad’s binoculars. We need to know more about him, Itch.’

  Itch hesitated. ‘What about homework?’

  ‘We’ll be back before your mum. Shouldn’t take long anyway – I can tell you all you need to know about Von Ribbentrop in twenty minutes.’

  ‘What about Chloe?’

  ‘Don’t think so. She’s great, but she’s not the speediest on her bike. She can go to a friend’s house, can’t she? We’ll need to hurry.’

  ‘That might be tougher than you think – the bikes aren’t up to much. Pretty ancient really. You can have mine; I’ll use Gabriel’s old one. Let me go talk to Chloe.’

  It had taken longer than expected to set off, as the bikes’ tyres all needed pumping up, and Chloe needed to spend some time telling them how stupid they were. But eventually they set off up the hill, pedalling hard. Itch felt a thrill of danger, but was also excited to be doing something himself rather than waiting for something to happen to him.

  It wasn’t such a steep climb up the cliffs, but both Itch and Jack were breathless long before they reached the top. They pulled over at a lay-by that had been built as a picnic spot. From here you could look south over the town and the beaches, west over the sea, and north down the hill to the cove, from where the road snaked its way up over the cliffs. It was still sunny and warm, and they would have light for at least the next hour.

  ‘How are your brakes?’ asked Itch.

  ‘Just what I was thinking. Let’s take this slowly.’

  They squeaked and squealed their way down the long hill into the cove, their brakes full on but not making much impact on their speed. Itch was glad they weren’t depending on a quiet approach just yet. They released their brakes at the bottom and pedalled slowly past the first two cottages, stopping when Flowerdew’s cottage came into view. His steel-grey BMW was in the drive. He was in!

  The butterflies really kicked in now.

  ‘Sure about this?’ asked Itch, knowing he wasn’t.

  ‘No, but let’s do it anyway.’ Jack pulled up her hood and Itch did the same.

  ‘Where to now?’

  ‘Follow me.’ Jack headed along a path that led off to the right, about a hundred metres from Flowerdew’s drive. They cycled part of the way, then dismounted and laid the bikes down behind a couple of old oaks.

  ‘From here we can walk up the hill, and then if we keep low we can get to those trees.’ Jack pointed at the small orchard at the top of Flowerdew’s field. ‘A perfect spying point, don’t you think?’

  They grinned at each other. This felt good. />
  They crouched low and started up the hill, keeping parallel with the edge of the field. Before they needed to cut left, Itch got out his dad’s binoculars and peered down at the cottage. ‘Can’t see much from here. The spying trees it is.’

  Crouching even lower among the stinging nettles and dandelions, they crept towards the apple trees that formed a barrier at the top of the field. Jack reached them first and Itch a few seconds later. They stood with their backs against the first two trees, panting and looking up at the sky. The clouds were a brilliant white, lit by the sun as it seemed to settle high above the horizon. The cousins’ shadows merged into those of the trees as they lengthened up the hill.

  They turned round and peered out from behind the tree trunks. They could see right down the slope and straight into the extension. The lights were on, and all the lab equipment was clearly visible. The door out onto the field was open but there was no sign of their chemistry teacher. They took it in turns to look through the binoculars. Itch’s goes lasted longer than Jack’s as he noted all the equipment, trying to identify each piece and what it did, giving the occasional low whistle or whispered ‘Wow!’ He lingered over the shelves of books and glass-fronted cupboards storing row upon row of what he assumed were various chemicals – though from the top of the field it was impossible to be certain.

  Jack, by contrast, spotted three coffee mugs on the worktop in the middle of the room, and two bottles of water by the gym equipment. Clipboards and paper covered almost every surface. Outside, by a garden chair, lay a file of papers kept in place by another mug. The breeze lifted a sheet or two, but the mug was doing its job.

  It was during Jack’s third go with the binoculars that the door from the house into the lab opened and Flowerdew walked in.

  ‘Itch! He’s there! Look!’ She handed the glasses to Itch, who grabbed them and focused again on the lab, his heart beating fast.

  He gasped. ‘And you’ll never guess what he’s got with him!’ Itch’s voice was still a whisper, but was forceful enough to make Jack grab the binoculars back. It was a few seconds before she identified what had got him so excited. On the floor beside the work surface stood a solid grey box with an adjustable handle. It looked like a piece of carry-on luggage, but with steel corners.

  ‘Is that what I think it is?’ asked Itch as he looked over her shoulder. Even without the binoculars he could see his chemistry teacher moving around the lab.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Jack was alternating between following Flowerdew and studying the box.

  ‘A lead-lined box. The kind you’d use if you wanted to store a radioactive rock. That sort of thing.’

  Jack kept the binoculars a moment longer and then passed them to her cousin again. ‘You look.’

  Itch focused again. ‘He’s just picked it up. Looks heavy,’ he said. A sharp intake of breath. ‘And that’s the radioactive symbol on it! Jack, that’s our box!’ Itch handed the binoculars back to her; she could clearly make out the bright yellow triangle on the side.

  Itch sat back against his tree. ‘It has to be heavy with all that lead in it. But what if he hasn’t handed it over and my rock is still in there?’

  ‘Why would he lie about that?’ asked Jack, still not taking her eyes off the lab.

  ‘Why is he such a git?’ said Itch. ‘I don’t know. What’s he doing now?’

  ‘He’s walking around talking on the phone. Looks like he’s wearing washing-up gloves for some reason. He’s getting a big protective thing from behind the door to the house. Itch, it looks like a mask of some kind – it has a clear see-through panel! He’s wandering about, talking and waving the mask-thing around. Now he’s hung up and he’s … I think you should watch this bit.’

  Itch grabbed the binoculars in time to see Flowerdew approach the box, putting on the mask as he did so. His head, neck and shoulders were covered by the white, fitted fabric. Itch watched as he put the box on the work surface, undid four clips on the lid and lifted it off. He glanced in, then closed it all up again.

  Itch had said nothing and Jack was getting impatient. ‘Well? What’s happening?’

  He turned and looked straight at his cousin. Their trees’ shadows were longer now, stretching almost to the top of the hill. Sunset was only half an hour away at most.

  ‘He checked the box, Jack. He lifted the lid and looked inside. You don’t do that if it’s empty. My stone is still here. He lied to me, Jack! He’s a thief and he’s a liar.’

  ‘And a git,’ said Jack.

  ‘And a git!’ said Itch.

  10

  ALTHOUGH NEITHER ITCH nor Jack had mentioned stealing the stone back, each knew what the other was thinking. In the silence that followed Itch’s last words, they sat with their backs against their respective trees. The light had taken on that orangy hue that often occurred before sunset, and the grass around them was damp with dew.

  ‘What do you think?’ said Itch.

  ‘Same as you,’ said Jack.

  ‘That we would be stupid to try and take it back but we’re going to anyway?’

  ‘Pretty much, yes.’

  There was a silence, then Itch said, ‘I’m glad Chloe’s not here.’

  It seemed to Jack like an odd thing to say, but she said: ‘Me too,’ and knelt up again. She picked up the binoculars and trained them on the lab. ‘Flowerdew’s gone back into the house, though the box is still there. The outside door is still open, but if he closes it, that’s it. If we’re going to snatch it, we shouldn’t wait too long.’

  ‘Agreed. How shall we do it? Do we need a plan?’

  ‘How about grabbing it and running as fast as possible?’

  Itch smiled. ‘I was hoping for something a bit cleverer than that. But essentially that’s it.’

  They were about to leave the cover of the trees when Flowerdew re-entered the lab to pick up the phone. He walked back into the house with it, again leaving the door open.

  ‘Hell. Do we still go?’ said Jack.

  Itch nodded and set off diagonally down the hill at a crouching run, Jack a few metres behind. They couldn’t run straight to the door as the lights from the lab lit up the first thirty metres of the field. If Flowerdew looked up from wherever he was in the house, he would see them clearly.

  It took about twenty seconds for them to reach a pool of shadow formed between the cottage’s back wall and the side of the lab. It was only a short run but felt to both Itch and Jack like the longest they had ever attempted. They huddled down and caught their breath. Itch started to get up, but Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him down again.

  ‘What are we taking?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The box or just the stone? The rock is yours but the box is his.’

  Itch frowned. ‘Hadn’t thought of that. But we need the box for protection – remember the Geiger counter?’

  ‘But,’ said Jack, ‘he’ll notice within seconds if the box has gone. We’ll never get away. If he doesn’t know the rock is missing, we might have a chance.’

  Itch nodded. She was right.

  ‘Here, take this …’ Jack handed him her satchel-style shoulder bag. He hooked the strap over his head and arranged it so that the bag rested against his back. He peered round the wall into the glass-fronted lab. Up close it was even more impressive. He was momentarily distracted from his task by the array of neatly labelled substances in the glass cabinets. It would take him a long, long time to acquire such a collection – his own seemed embarrassing in comparison.

  Flowerdew’s voice drifted through the door, and now Itch focused on the box sitting on the central work surface. From the door to the box was about ten metres. He would have to take a zigzag course because of all the equipment that blocked his path. Would they have time to open the box and remove the rock?

  The lab door was half open. As Itch edged his way towards it, he heard Jack following right behind him. He could feel cold air from the lab on his face – the air conditioning felt fierce for a
n early summer evening. His heart was thumping in his chest and his hands were clammy with sweat.

  Jack whispered, ‘Come on!’ just as they both heard a powerful motorbike approaching along the cove road and then slowing down. It idled for a moment before starting off again, the crunching gravel indicating its approach up Flowerdew’s drive. Jack grabbed Itch’s sleeve. ‘Sounds like a courier! I bet he’s come for the rock! Go!’

  Itch and Jack reached the doorway of the lab just as Flowerdew, in the next room, looked up, hearing the approaching motorbike. On a still evening he had heard the roar from the bike half a mile away. It sounded familiar to him. He had once owned a Ducati Monster and thought he could recognize the sound now, even from this distance. He smiled: the couriers used by Greencorps always had the most powerful bikes on the market. He had forgotten how good the sound was. It was a sound that said: You’re back in the game.

  Through the window of his front room he watched as the driver checked the house from the road and made the left turn into his drive. It was indeed a Ducati Monster, all black and chrome, and even at five mph it made a beautiful, rumbling, controlled noise that seemed to fill the cove. He went to the front door and opened it just as Itch reached the lead-lined box sitting on the workbench.

  As the sound of the superbike filled the house, Itch started on the first of the clips. He was relieved to find there was no lock, but the clips were tight-fitting and he had only seconds to get them open. Jack had positioned herself behind the now partly closed door into the house and peered through the crack. She waved a hand in a circular motion, indicating that Itch should hurry up. Itch didn’t even see it. He had two clips undone and had started to prise open the third.

  ‘He’s outside looking at the bike,’ said Jack in a shouted whisper, hopping from foot to foot, ‘but he’ll be back any second! Faster, Itch, you have to go faster!’

  The last clip was open now and Itch looked around. Seeing a towel hanging over the rowing machine, he ran over and grabbed it. Back at the bench, he opened the lid. Inside was a small polystyrene packing box. He shook it and felt the stone rattling around inside. He remembered what Flowerdew had been wearing when he was checking the rock and looked around again. He felt exposed, scared and thrilled, all at the same time. Spotting the shiny grey gloves, he grabbed the nearest one and slipped it on. It looked like a washing-up glove, but it was very heavy – Itch guessed that it was lead-lined. He opened the polystyrene box with his bare hand and reached in with the glove. He’d forgotten how heavy the stone was – it rolled to the edge of his gloved palm. Recovering quickly, he closed his fist on it. The polystyrene went back into the lead box, then he wrapped the rock in the towel and shoved them both into Jack’s bag.