by Julia Jones
It was the old lady. She seemed to have sprung from nowhere. Short and round, wearing comfortable-looking clothes and a green felt beret. She was neither smiling nor scowling, merely considering the immediate problem from a practical perspective. Margery’s slatted floorboards would stop Donny sinking in.
“Would she mind?” Donny wasn’t sure whether the old lady thought the dinghy was her daughter or whether she meant the big-nosed lady who’d done the rowing and shouted “I say!”
“I’ve no idea. No need to enquire. As long as you put them back as they were and leave them clean. There’s a tap round the corner, with a hose. You might need it yourself.”
“Oh, okay,” said Donny. “Thanks.”
“Her name’s Mrs Everson. She even had a bit of towel in the dinghy. She told me to tell Gerald she’d be sending round some more plums soon. No further message. ‘What the eye doesn’t see, the heart won’t grieve over,’ she said.”
“Must have been Looked-After,” commented Anna, automatically.
There was a new ban on spending time in bedrooms so, while Gerald was enduring the nightly struggle to get Luke and Liam to bed, Anna and Donny had taken their homework into the living room. Wendy was out.
If it hadn’t been for Mr McMullen – and Donny apparently – Anna’s situation would have been much worse. It wasn’t the tools in her bedroom that had caused the storm; it was a computer, also marked ‘Gallister High School DT Department, Do Not Remove’.
“Of course they assumed I’d been stealing,” she told Donny. “But Mr Mac was really solid and said it was only borrowing and he’d allowed it anyway. The computer’s sort of mine. I assembled it last term, in Year Eight. I used an old casing that they were going to throw out from the DT department and re- built the inside during Mr Mac’s electronics club. It’s not high-tech but it works. I downloaded a whole lot of freeware for it. Too old to be wireless, obviously. But Wendy’s equipment isn’t exactly state of the art either.”
Donny stared at her. “You made a computer ...? That’s completely brilliant! Why didn’t you let Mr McMullen tell anyone? He said he’d wanted to give you a prize or something.”
“No way! That’s why I had to give up going to his club. I really liked it but he was getting too keen. He was going to make people notice me. You can’t operate like that in our situation.”
“But didn’t you want to keep it? If they’d known it was yours surely even Gerald and Wendy would’ve been okay?”
“Course I wanted to keep it. But, logically, it was better to let them waste time making a fuss about returning it than risk them taking it into their heads to have a look at what’s on it. They did ask me what it was for. So I showed them a few discs and he said I’d been doing a project. And he managed not to say that it was the computer that was the project – which was good of him.”
She hesitated, glanced at the door and bent her head close to her homework. “Because he probably still thinks that the computer is the project. But it isn’t.”
“Well, what is?” asked Donny. He felt sorry for Mr McMullen trying to keep up with Anna’s complicated mental manoeuvres with Gerald and Wendy sitting opposite, listening suspiciously.
“Finding my mother,” she whispered, not looking at him. “She can’t have gone for ever. Not unless ... something terrible’s happened. She loved me ... and them.”
Anna paused to steady herself. “I decided to use the Internet to look for her. I can’t do much at school because there’s never enough time and most of the sites I need to use are filtered out. They have a checking system too. So I’ve been doing it here. In my room at night. Or when I’m completely sure they’re out. Or busy.”
“And they don’t know,” Donny whispered back, in awe. “That’s why you needed me to hide that long cable. You’ve been linking your computer to the computer in Rev. Wendy’s study.”
“Not to her computer, just to her phone socket. I couldn’t risk my websites showing up on her activity list. I copied the ISP address one time when I was allowed to go on it for homework but I’ve fixed myself a separate user name and everything. The only way they’d find out is if they really, really checked their phone bills.”
She looked defiant. “It’s only the local access charge for logging on. I’m not taking much. If they were decent they’d let us use it anyway. They get paid for looking after us.”
“But if anyone looked in your computer’s memory they’d know straightaway.”
“Yes, they would.”
He could see why she’d been worried. “I heard them talk about Education Welfare. They’d didn’t get Toxic in, did they?”
“No. I was scared about that. She’d have guessed that I wasn’t using the computer just to write essays. She’s such a hag.”
Anna fell silent for a while, skimming through her maths. Then she sighed, “This homework’s way too easy. I’d better make a few mistakes ... Donny, if you get to your Great Aunt Ellen and she lets you and your mum live with her, do you think I could keep my computer at your house? Otherwise I think I’m going to have to wipe its hard disc. The operating system’s too old to let me use a memory stick. I’ve saved some of my searches onto floppies so I’ve kept them separate but there’s so much more. So much work. I don’t feel safe – even leaving it with Mr Mac. It’s not only me ... ”
He could hardly hear her now, her voice was so quiet. “I’m worried. If the wrong people see it – it might even be dangerous for my mother.”
“Some time Anna, you’re going to have to tell me ...”
“No way. Think about it. You said you’re gutless. What if you get done over by Flint again? I can’t take that risk.”
“And you said ...”
“That he gives me the total shakes. My problem. Not yours. My mother. My secrets.”
He shut up then and carried on struggling with the maths. She’d said it was so simple; it didn’t feel that way to him. Gallister High started some GCSE courses well early.
And his hand still hurt.
“Use logic, Donny. If you’re out of here – if you’re living with your great aunt and your mum’s not in hospital, then they’ve got no hold on you. You’re not in the system any more. Then you could hide my computer for me – and I might decide to tell you stuff because they won’t be able to get to you. You’ll be like my personal safe house. That’s all.”
Now it was Donny’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, sorry. Of course I will. If it ever happens. Gold Dragon wants a lookout on the 25th, which is a Monday, and I know I’ve got to warn her about Flint and I can’t see how to do it. With school and everything. I can’t get to her at Felixstowe – everything’s too big and complicated – and I don’t see how I’m going to manage to be waiting at Shotley all the time. I can’t send her a text or an email, like anyone else would, and there’s only four days to go. And I can’t get out at night with the alarm system.”
“I can fix that.”
“Thanks ...”
There was another depressed silence. Donny got back to his maths; Anna flicked effortlessly through some science.
“I might have an idea,” she said after a while. “But I don’t know enough. We need to ask the others.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
T.E.A.M.
Thursday, September 21st, morning
“I need to stay for textile club this evening,” said Anna at breakfast. “Maggi Ribiero’s s taying as well. She says her mother will bring us home. And John’s got extra work. He probably didn’t tell you.”
She looked pale and poisonous, just as if she were, in her language, ‘dobbing him in’. Donny was getting used to Anna’s method. He stared at his plate, looking as sulky as he could.
“Is this true, John?” Rev. Wendy was getting ready to go out. She and Gerald exchanged anxious looks.
“Well, I missed some when I went to the hospital that afternoon. I don’t suppose it matters.”
This got a reaction.
“Of course it matters,” sai
d both adults in unison. “It’s your Education. If you miss lessons you have to make them up. You ought to know that by your age.”
Donny shrugged and carried on looking grumpy. “It was probably boring. Anyway, how would I get back afterwards? I don’t see why I should have to go with those girls. Could you maybe collect me?”
He was betting they wouldn’t want to and he was right.
“If Mrs Ribiero is collecting from school anyway I’ll certainly ask her if she can find a space in her car for you,” said Wendy firmly. “We must think very carefully before making any unnecessary journeys. We can all put our mite towards the Environment.” And she hurried off to her diocesan conference.
“Shall I ask Mrs Ribiero then,” Anna persisted, looking at Gerald. “So he has to stay at school and do his work?”
“Well, er, yes, thank you, Anna. It’s good to see you taking thought for someone other than yourself. T.E.A.M. remember. Together Everyone Achieves More.”
Anna looked smug; Donny almost spat out his muesli.
“I think you’re mean, Anna,” said Luke unexpectedly. “And so does Liam.”
It was obvious that Liam hadn’t a clue what they were talking about but he backed up his brother anyway.
“Yeah,” he said, pushing his sticker album out of sight, “And so does David Beckham. And Wayne Rooney. And Michael Owen. And ...”
But Luke cut him off before he could get the whole of that summer’s England squad ganging up on Anna. “And so does Vicky. Even Vicky won’t like you any more if you’re mean to Donny. I like Donny. He’s my dog-handler.”
Donny didn’t know whether to laugh or be touched by the little boy’s loyalty. But then he saw that Anna had flushed pink and her eyes were suddenly bright with tears.
“Actually, Luke,” he said, trying to sound man-to-man, “I think Vicky might be on Anna’s side. Anna moved Vicky’s cot back into her room with her last night so they’re sharing now. Maybe that’s why she hasn’t been crying so much.”
“Vicky’s a baby,” said Luke, moody again.
“No,” said Donny, with a flash of inspiration. “Vicky’s a treasure. She’s our treasure. Anna can take care of her at night but I’m leaving you on guard when we’re not here. Except when you’re at school of course,” he added, catching Gerald’s bewildered gaze.
“Grrrrrrrrr!” said Luke obediently. Then dropped his spoon on the floor and tried finishing the rest of his breakfast without using his front paws.
“Doh ... doh....” said Vicky, who had been quite silent until then.
“We’ll miss the bus if we don’t hurry,” said Anna whose eyes, Donny was relieved to see, were back to normal. “Bye everyone.”
“I can’t believe I said that,” she muttered as they ran down the road.
“Which?” panted Donny. “You said quite a lot.”
“I spoke to those boys. I said goodbye.”
“So?”
“They’re his kids. I don’t ever speak to them. I must be going soft.”
“So?” said Donny again. “They’re only kids and they’re in the same mess that we are.”
“So?” said Anna. But without quite the previous bitterness in her voice.
On the bus she showed him sketches of Chinese junks. Strong Winds was sturdy-looking and curvy with bamboo masts and a high stern.
“It – sorry I mean she – does look quite old fashioned compared with modern junks. But look at her flag. It’s a dragon! Double-headed! I’m so sure I’m right about her ...”
“Wow ... so’m I! I know you’re right, Anna. I dreamed about that boat. And it wasn’t a nightmare. I was with Xanthe. But someone else was steering. We were sailing through a whirlpool.”
“Sounds nightmarish to me ... Where are Maggi and Xanthe? We just passed their stop. Don’t say they’re going to be off sick ... not today! I need them to ring their mum for us.”
“Uh-oh. So you hadn’t arranged all that stuff about going to textile club with Maggi and Mrs Ribiero picking you up afterwards?” Anna was sometimes so convincing that he forgot how much she was capable of inventing as she went along. “We can always say it was cancelled and get the bus back. I don’t want to do that walk again.”
“No, of course I hadn’t arranged anything. How could I? There’s no such thing as textile club anyway. But it is one of Mr Mac’s DT open nights and Maggi does sometimes stay and I’ve got an idea that involves sewing as well as designing. I just need to talk to one of them about it.”
“And me ... possibly?” Whose problem was this?
“Of course, you! You’re the one who’s going to have to do it. But you need to finish getting that dinghy ready. That’s why I got you the extra time. You don’t stay. You catch the bus as usual but you get off early and you go down to the river, not to the vicarage. I thought Xanthe could help you get sorted ... oh where are they?”
That was the trouble with big schools. You could go all day and not see someone if you weren’t in the same sets and didn’t know their timetable. Even Anna wasn’t in the library at first break. Donny began to panic. It was Friday tomorrow. House Meeting. They’d not be allowed to stay late then. Only four more days.
But at lunchtime there were the sisters and Anna waiting, with their trays loaded and enough for him as well.
Xanthe led the way outside, to some shallow steps behind the PE changing rooms where they could sit and eat out of the wind. “Okay,” she said. “It’s a huddle. So what do we know, Donny-man?”
She didn’t wait for him to answer but began to tick off the points, bending her long supple fingers backwards as she went. “First, we know your great aunt’s not a myth. She’s arriving on Monday and wants you to keep a lookout and bang gongs. Second, the bloater on the shark-boat is lying in wait to clap her in irons and march her away to Execution Dock. Unless she maybe buys him off? So, third, we’ve got to warn her, keep her from his greasy clutches. And fourth, if he bellyflops overboard in the process, we’re not going to feel that bothered.”
“Er,no...Imean,yes...both...allofthem.”
“Donny, how well do you know your great aunt?” Maggi was chewing the end of her baguette. She didn’t look directly at him as she spoke.
“Not at all, that’s my major problem.”
“I mean ... could she be a member of a Triad or something? All this Gold Dragon talk ... well, it’s a bit thriller-ish. And, if she is ... like, a Triad member ... well, they’re not exactly very nice ... and I know we don’t rate the fat man, but he is a policeman and ... maybe he might be right? Please don’t be cross ... it’s quite an odd message?”
“Actually, that’s the only bit I don’t have a problem with. ‘Gongs for Gold Dragon’ ... well, it’s the sort of way that Granny and Mum and I talked sometimes – pretending to be in a story when we weren’t really. Using names out of books. Her giving herself a name like that makes her sound more like family – except I don’t know any stories with a gold dragon in them,” he added lamely. “But there must be Chinese ones.”
“You said your mum said that she might be a pirate ...?” Maggi was still frowning. She wasn’t convinced yet.
“Or a fighter. I’m truly not sure I got that right but, even if I did, Skye’d only have meant something else out of a story. Jack Sparrow or Captain Hook. Not a drug smuggler or a human trafficker. My mum doesn’t know about things like that.”
“Little sis,” said Xanthe, “that’s such a no-brainer. On the one hand we have Donny’s Rescue Myth thundering home – because her dying sister asked her, yeah? You’re okay with that? And on the other we have that racist bloater and his totally chav boat. Which is puke-making but probably cost the best part of a million. I had a look at it. It’s stuffed with gear and he can’t even tie his mooring ropes properly.”
“Xanth ... you didn’t ...?”
“No I didn’t – but I was soooo tempted. That man’s as crooked as a fine-net fisherman. What’s he doing trying to join a sailing club? Even you can’t think
the best of him because there isn’t any best to be thought.”
She took a long swig of her apple juice and began to eat. Maggi looked a bit crushed.
“I might know why Donny’s great aunt calls herself Gold Dragon,” said Anna. “It’s because she’s bought this very old boat called Strong Winds. Look, here’s a picture I found on the Internet. I think that’s a dragon with two heads on the flag.”
“Strong Winds!” said Maggi, in a tone of amazement.
“What’s your great aunt’s name?” said Xanthe, swallowing her food with a gulp.
“Ellen Walker. She’s my Granny’s youngest sister. I think there were others but they’re all dead.”
“No, no, no! Strong Winds’s owner is POLLY LEE!!” Xanthe and Maggi looked at each other, their eyes wide, their mouths open. “Donny-man – your great aunt’s not a Myth! She’s a maritime Legend!!”
Then they were at him with a babble of stories about this amazing woman called Polly Lee who’d done round the world voyages single-handed in a Chinese junk. “She’d never come to England, so the British press never wrote about her. She saw her on TV once. It was such a story. She’d been born in England but she’d renounced her citizenship and gone to Australia and then to China. Everyone knew Polly Lee wasn’t her real name – everyone who knew about sailing, that is. But there was some sort of mystery, something political ... I didn’t get that bit.”
“Xanthe and I used to fight about which of us would be her. She was really famous in Canada.” Maggi turned to her sister. “Polly Lee did come back to England once, Xanth. She stopped at St Mawes in Cornwall.”
“That was because she was sailing in the wake of the first Miss Lee, the real one, Shining Moon’s owner. Shining Moon was even more famous. She was Strong Winds’s sister ship. But Polly Lee wasn’t publicity-seeking. It was a sort of homage. When the TV crew tried to come on board she threw Chinese firecrackers at them and sailed off again. They filmed it!”
No wonder Granny hadn’t bought them a TV.
“But Xanth, she must be dead now ... Didn’t she have some awful accident, with her hand?”
