Ruby Tanya

by Robert Swindells

  She pulled a face. In my country are many broken houses, from the bombing. People must have shelter. This is the shelter they have.

  I shook my head. I suppose even a quarter of a hut with blankets for walls seems luxurious compared to that.

  Asra nodded. Yes it does, for a little while.

  She’d even thought to fill a plastic water bottle. We nibbled chocolate, sipped water and talked. This might sound crazy but I loved every minute of that long, long evening, huddled with my best friend in a broken-down barn in the middle of a field, talking by lantern-light. Our shelter might be crude but it kept the drizzle out, and the wind. We were snug as a bug in a rug.

  And in a couple of days’ time we were going to be sharing a space that’d make this seem like the penthouse suite of a five-star hotel.

  - Eighty-Three

  Ruby Tanya

  WE DID SLEEP. I suspect we were warmer snuggled together in that rough shelter than we would’ve been in the ruins. I’d had it in mind to spy on Feltwell, try to find out what Eagle’s Nest meant, but when it came to it we were too comfy, too lazy to leave our snug bivouac.

  Saturday morning we lay watching it get light. Half-light actually, because everything was shrouded in thick mist. Asra smiled. Just right, eh, Ruby Tanya? We can move our stuff back and nobody will see us.

  I’d been thinking about that. I looked at her. We can’t go back though, can we?

  Why not?

  Feltwell. He’s chosen the ruins for his Eagle’s Nest, whatever that means. And whatever it means, one thing’s for sure: he’s going to show up sooner or later with Cleaver and the rest. They’re up to something, with those bags they’ve been hiding in the outhouse. They could move in today. I shook my head. We’ve had it as far as the ruins’re concerned – have to think of somewhere else.

  Asra nodded. You are right but that’s OK, I can live here.

  Here? I shook my head. It’s all right for a night or two but you can’t stay here. There’s no water.

  You can bring water.

  What about when you want to … you know?

  She shrugged. Bombs break lavatories, Ruby Tanya, in my country. People manage.

  Yes, OK, but …

  What?

  Let’s face it, Asra, it’s Granny time. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, wanted us to manage by ourselves, but Feltwell’s screwed it up. When there’s a roof and a warm bed waiting, it doesn’t make sense to—

  Listen! Asra cocked her head on one side. I listened. Motors, more than one, some way off, getting closer. We kicked off the sleeping bag and scrambled to our feet. The sound was behind us, in the direction of the ruins. We left our corner and peered through a broken wall into the mist, ready to flee if necessary. The farmhouse was barely visible, a shadow on a field of pearly grey. It was cold; our breath rose in plumes round our heads.

  The motors were louder now, much closer. We thought it was Feltwell, but it wasn’t. A weird blue glow became visible, separating into four pulsating blobs. I gripped Asra’s arm. Police! I hissed. They must be looking for you. Come on.

  The cars stopped. Their fog lamps bathed the four walls of the house. Ghostly figures closed in on the yard as we left the barn and melted into the mist.

  - Eighty-Four

  Ruby Tanya

  WE DIDN’T GO far, and they didn’t stay long. A hawthorn shrub gave us something to hide behind, though we hardly needed it. My worry was that they’d notice the barn and come for a look. If that happened our stuff’d be lost and they’d know Asra wasn’t far away.

  They didn’t come. Maybe the mist saved us. We couldn’t see the barn or the ruins from our hiding place but we could hear voices, see that pulsating glow. I pictured them rooting through everything, looking for the smallest clue such as a matchstick or a hair but they couldn’t have: they weren’t there ten minutes.

  As the motors started up Asra whispered, I wonder if they found Cleaver’s bags?

  I shrugged. Dunno. They’d have to move the straw. I don’t think they were there long enough. We stayed close to our shrub as the cars lurched away and the blue glow dwindled to nothing. Tell you what, I murmured.

  What?

  They might’ve done us a favour.

  What favour, Ruby Tanya?

  Well, if Cleaver knows the police’ve been, maybe he’ll abandon this Eagle’s Nest idea, find somewhere else.

  Asra shook her head. I don’t think so he will know, Ruby Tanya. How will he know?

  I shrugged. If he had someone watching, saw the cars go up Long Lane. I dunno, it was just a thought.

  We made our way back to the barn, put a pan of water on the stove, nibbled biscuits while we waited. My feet were wet and I was frozen. I held up the plastic bottle, showed Asra the water-level. Litre at the most, I said. I daren’t use Long Lane today ’cos Feltwell and his guys’ll come that way, and this will all be gone by tonight. We can’t stay here, Asra.

  She looked at me. If we can’t use Long Lane to fetch water, she said, how can we use it to get to your gran’s house, with your bike and all this stuff? And don’t forget the police, they could be near. At least we’re safe from them here – they’ve searched.

  She had me there. I shook my head, staring into the pan. You’re right, we’re stuck. I looked up. I could go for water now, before the mist goes.

  She shook her head, smiling. No need, Ruby Tanya. Look. She pointed up at our binbag roof. There’s water.

  I stood on tiptoe to look. The roof sagged towards the middle, where there was no prop. A small puddle of rainwater had accumulated there. I looked at my friend. You’re Ray Mears in disguise, aren’t you? She’d never watched him so I had to explain, which spoilt it a bit.

  She made me hold the other pan while she guided the rainwater into it, and we didn’t lose a drop. There wasn’t much but, as the old lady said when she peed in the ocean, every little helps. Asra rearranged the roof so the same thing would happen next time it rained.

  And so we stayed. I didn’t want us to. Didn’t want her to, Sunday night by herself and all the nights after that, but she insisted. If she hadn’t, we’d have been spared a horrifying experience and half the people of Tipton Lacey would be dead.

  - Eighty-Five

  Ruby Tanya

  THE MIST LINGERED all day, which was good in a way because we didn’t have to worry about being seen by anybody who might come to the farm. We used the time to sort our equipment, stowing it in an organized way so we could find things, even in the dark. I helped Asra rig an extension to the bivouac using some spare binliners and lengths of wood. We kept our ears cocked for sounds from the ruins, but we didn’t hear anything. We kept our own noise down in case of sharper ears there.

  It was getting dark by three o’clock. We couldn’t do anything useful and we’d soon have got cold sitting around, so we retreated to our corner and got in the sleeping bag. It wasn’t designed for two but me and Asra aren’t big; we managed.

  Once we’d put a pan of our precious water on the stove for a suppertime drink, there was nothing to do but talk. We talked and talked; it was nice. Asra told me about her country, before the bombs and the bad men. I’d always thought hot countries had warm nights, but she said it was colder there at night than here. She talked about her parents, wondered what they were doing, whether the Star had got a message to them. I said I’d phone them Monday and ask.

  We talked about my parents too, especially Dad. Turned out the asylum seekers saw him as a cunning politician, the mastermind behind their persecution. I laughed. Dad’s not a mastermind, Asra, he’s a moron. The Moron of Tipton Lacey, I call him. He should wear a jester suit, and a chain of office. A lavatory chain’d be about right.

  I told her about the letter I’d found, the one from Feltwell. He’s the mastermind, I said. He wants the airfield, and he’s using my dad to help him get your people out. I think Dad’s in deeper than he intended, mind: Feltwell and his gang’re way out of his league. I bet he’ll back off once this speech
thing’s over.

  We discussed Feltwell, wondering why he needed an Eagle’s Nest in the ruins. What was he planning? Was it to do with the airfield, or something more sinister? We didn’t get anywhere, but it helped to pass the time. At eight we had our bedtime drink of cocoa and settled down for the night. I woke up once and heard rain pattering on our roof. Good, I thought dreamily, another precious puddle. Ray Mears was fast asleep so I wriggled into a new position and drifted off.

  Sunday dawned clear, bright and frosty. We had to leave our corner to take our morning pees, but apart from that we kept our heads down just in case, though we’d noticed no sign of life at the farm. The rain I’d heard in the night had left a bigger puddle than yesterday’s, and we used most of it to wash our faces and hands and brush our teeth.

  It got a bit boring as the morning wore on. It’d have been better if we could’ve walked on the airfield a bit to get warm, but we couldn’t assume nobody was at the farm, just because we hadn’t heard anything. At eleven o’clock Asra said, You don’t have to stay, you know. You could go home, have your Sunday dinner.

  No way! I cried. I like being with you, you div. I’m here till dusk at least. I’ll phone home though, I promised Mum.

  It was a weird call.

  Hi, Mum, it’s me.

  Ruby Tanya, I expected to hear from you yesterday.

  Sorry, Mum, we got a bit busy, I forgot.

  Are you all right?

  Sure.

  And what about your—?

  She’s fine too.

  Good. What are the two of you up to this morning?

  Oh, lazing around, you know. Sunday.

  Don’t blame you. Your father and I are off to the garden centre, border plants.

  Wow, lucky you.

  There’s no need to be sarky, young woman. What time are you thinking of coming home?

  Oh, half-four, five.

  It’ll be dark by then.

  Yes, Mum, that’s because it’s winter.

  I know … oh, all right. We’ll expect you around half-four then. Give our love to …

  I will, Mum. She sends you hers.

  Thank you, darling. ’Bye.

  ’Bye, Mum.

  Both pretending I’m at Gran’s.

  - Eighty-Six

  Ruby Tanya

  IT WAS TEN to five when I got home. Dad was up in his office, practising the speech he’d deliver tomorrow at the village hall. Saved some possible hassle. Mum told me I smelled, but you can’t have everything, can you? She ran me a hot bath, and I luxuriated in it for an hour and a quarter while she cooked me a meal. To avoid conversations, I pretended I needed a really early night and Mum pretended to believe me. I lay in my nice warm bed, wondering what Asra was doing, wishing she were here. I hadn’t said anything to Mum about Feltwell’s pals, bags in the outhouse, Eagle’s Nest and all that. It would have been too awkward: she assumed I’d slept there the last two nights. I couldn’t be bothered explaining about the barn. And anyway, we were still pretending I’d spent the weekend at Gran’s.

  Asif and Keith showed up at school Monday morning and actually talked to each other in the yard. Maybe we should all spend a few days lying next to one another in hospital. That was the upside. The downside was, loads of kids came up to me and said their folks were off to the village hall tonight to listen to Dad. They thought I’d be pleased by the support he had in the village.

  One lad asked me what BF stood for. I told him Basil Fawlty.

  Ramsden had us pray for Asra’s safety in assembly. Her mum and dad’s safety would’ve been more to the point in my opinion, but there you go. At least it reminded me I was supposed to phone the Star.

  I did it at morning break, in the toilets.

  Tipton Lacey Star, Tracey speaking, how may I help you?

  Oh, hi, newsroom please, it’s urgent.

  May I have your name, caller?

  No name. I called last Thursday.

  Oh yes. One moment.

  Newsroom.

  Oh, hi, are you the man I spoke to last week, about Asra Saber?

  Ye-es.

  I asked if you could get a message to her parents?

  Yes, I remember.

  Well did you?

  Not personally, but I gather my editor managed something through a radio station out there, a brief message. Of course there’s no guarantee they heard it.

  Course not, but hey, thanks. Thanks a lot.

  Could I have your name please?

  No, sorry. ’Bye.

  A message on radio! I couldn’t wait to tell Asra, so of course the day dragged on for ever. We had rehearsals, then there were some rehearsals, and after that, just for a change, they stuck in a few rehearsals before we got down to rehearsing.

  Tea time, Dad was hyper. He’d taped his speech, all of it. He kept pressing play, stop, rewind, play. Listening to this bit and that bit, over and over. We’re supposed to be eating a meal and he’s like, does that sound OK love?

  Fine, goes mum, who’s despising the whole thing. You’ll have them eating out of your hand. She’s being ironic but Dad doesn’t notice; he’s too hooked on this Councillor Redwood trip.

  The upside was, he didn’t object when I mentioned I was off to Millie’s. If I’d said I was off to Sirius it wouldn’t have got through. Mum knew exactly where I was going, of course. She wasn’t happy about it, but she played along.

  - Eighty-Seven

  Ruby Tanya

  I CALLED OUT softly as I approached the barn. Asra? It was one of those clear, starry evenings that promises a cold night. She was standing by the broken wall, wrapped in a blanket. We hugged.

  Long day, she whispered.

  I nodded. I bet. Let’s get the stove going, have a brew. We headed for the bivouac. I’ve a bit of good news.

  What? She found a matchbox, squatted at the stove.

  The Star got a message for your parents on the radio. They’ll know you’re safe, Asra.

  The gas ignited with a plop.

  They have no radio, Ruby Tanya.

  I hadn’t thought of that. What a bummer. I’d pictured making her day.

  She poured water into a pan and set it carefully on the stove. There is always a radio somewhere, she murmured. Perhaps somebody heard the message and told Father.

  I hope so. I was arranging the sleeping bag, thought we’d get in, warm up.

  Asra looked at me. Nobody came to the farm, she said. I think so I will move back if you help me.

  Course I’ll help, but are you sure nobody’s there?

  She shrugged. We didn’t see anybody, only police. I think so police scared those bad men so they didn’t come.

  Fine. I smiled. At least you’ll have a roof.

  She nodded. And the chest to sleep in. I will be snug, but we will have tea before.

  First, I corrected. We will have tea first.

  We drank it scalding, our hands wrapped round Gran’s mugs. I think we better go empty-handed first trip, I said, make sure nobody’s about.

  We will look first, grinned Asra. She’s a quick learner.

  We finished our tea, extinguished the flame. I put the torch in my pocket and we set off towards the starlit farm. We didn’t know it, but we wouldn’t be back for our stuff.

  - Eighty-Eight

  Ruby Tanya

  THE YARD WAS silent, full of angular shadows. The outhouse doors were closed. The farmhouse windows were black rectangles, no light behind them. Clearly the place was unoccupied.

  We stood in the gateway. It’s all right, isn’t it? whispered Asra. Her breath drifted like smoke.

  I nodded. Think so, yeah. Feels spooky though. I’ll just take a peek through the window.

  I crossed the yard, cupped my hands and peered into the kitchen. I wondered if the police had left evidence of their visit, but it was too dark to see anything. Asra was at my elbow. I whispered, hang on a sec, and stepped into the porch. I switched on the torch and made a quick sweep of the kitchen. My heart kicked. The chest li
d was up – it seemed to be full of stuff. In a corner was a stack of inflatable mattresses, and some cardboard boxes. They’ve been here, I cried, and they’ll be back. Let’s go.

  We were crossing the porch when we heard a motor. I grabbed Asra’s elbow. Come on!

  No. She held back. Look! A beam of light swung down the sky and lit up the gateway like the angel appearing to the shepherds. A mouse couldn’t have crossed that glare unseen. As we stood paralysed, doors slammed. The motor died but the light didn’t. Two figures appeared in it, coming this way. One was Cave-Troll Cleaver.

  Asra whimpered. I was still holding her elbow. I jerked it. Come on, out the back. I’d switched off the torch but there was light enough. We pelted along a passage to the back door. It was locked or bolted or something. We hadn’t time to mess around, Cleaver’d be halfway across the yard.

  Upstairs! cried Asra. The wardrobe. We turned, dashed across the kitchen to the stairs and up like mountain goats. We’d just crossed the bedroom floor when Cave-Troll’s footfalls sounded below. The wardrobe door had a creak on it that damn near got us caught, but the thug was talking to his mate and didn’t hear. We squashed into the wardrobe and pulled the door to.

  Heavy boots began to mount the stairs.

  - Eighty-Nine

  Ruby Tanya

  WE DAREN’T BREATHE. The thought of Cleaver wrenching open the wardrobe door melted my muscles. I almost collapsed. We listened as he clumped along the landing, looking in rooms. He must have spotted us crossing the kitchen: he knew we were up here somewhere.

  The footfalls were close; he was in the doorway. Ah! He’d seen something, was coming, we felt the vibration through our feet. A second or two and he’d have us. I cowered, staring at the crack where the door didn’t fit.

  They’re up here, he called. He was by the window. We heard a metallic scrape, a rattle as he carried something past our hiding place and stumped out to the landing. Dunno why they put ’em up here. He went downstairs grumbling to himself.