Jack nodded and disappeared, as Violet snuck forward and gingerly peered in the two front windows. Both were covered in a thin veil of white lace. She couldn’t see clearly, but there didn’t appear to be any movement inside and she didn’t hear any either.
She crept back and was already standing at the front door when Jack returned.
“Someone is snoring in one of the rooms,” he panted, “but other than that, I heard nothing else. There’s a caravan attached to the back of the cottage too, Violet, like some sort of strange extension.”
“Do you think Boy is in there?” she asked.
“I tried to check it out,” he whispered, “but the door’s locked. I think we can get into it through the house though. But we have to be really quiet – we don’t want to wake up whoever is snoring.”
Violet gently turned the doorknob.
“It’s open,” she mouthed, slipping inside.
They were standing in a cream-painted hallway. Warm flickers of light soaked out into the narrow space from a room on the right, highlighting the burned-red and black tiles that chequered the floor. A stained-glass light-fitting hung from the low ceiling. It looked like something from a church.
There was another room a little further down on the left, and straight ahead at the end of the short hallway was a step leading up to shiny metal double-doors, like the ones in hospital operating rooms. The doors looked really out of place in the rest of the cosy space.
“They must lead to the caravan,” Jack mouthed.
Violet wasn’t listening, as she stepped into the room on the right. It was painted pale-blue, and wooden beams lined the ceiling. A cream stove set in the middle of the far wall warmed the space. Sitting in a semicircle around the stove was an unusual gathering of teddy bears and dolls. Just inside the door, which was propped open, was a low wooden table, the legs of which appeared to have been sawn short. The table was set with doll-sized cutlery, as if ready for breakfast, and plastic food sat on miniature plates, untouched.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Jack whispered, stepping back out into the hallway.
Violet trembled as she quickly followed behind him, eager to get away from the strange space. Her friend stopped outside the next room.
“This is where the person was snoring,” he whispered softly, before creeping inside.
Violet followed him as quietly as she could.
This room was pink with soft blue, ice-cream-cone patterned curtains. The dark wooden floor was filled with rows of tiny beds, covered in miniature matching yellow duvets and pillow sets. All the beds were occupied with either teddy bears or dolls, though the bears were in the majority. Oddly, each of the toys seemed to be damaged in some way. One ragged bear had a bandage round his arm, a doll a few beds from him was bald and wore a bandage round her head, while a stuffed rabbit lay flat on its back, connected to a tiny drip. It looked like some kind of weird toy hospital.
A loud snort rose from the far corner of the room, and Violet’s heart jumped.
She followed the sound and her eyes fell across a human-sized single bed, squashed against the far wall. A navy cape hung on a hook by the end of the bed, and Nurse Powick was soundly asleep under a large yellow duvet, a replica of the miniature sets that adorned the beds by Violet’s feet.
Violet pulled on Jack’s arm and gestured out to the hall with her eyes.
“We better go,” she whispered, when they were both standing back in the hallway. “I don’t think Boy’s here.”
Jack shook his head. “I want to get into the caravan. I’ve a feeling about it,” he insisted.
He moved forward, towards the silver operating-room doors. Violet nervously followed behind. Each step she took, she imagined Powick watching her, and had to turn around to check the nurse hadn’t woken up.
Jack pushed open one of the doors, and freezing air licked Violet’s skin. She shivered uncontrollably as she stepped round the cold metal.
They were now standing on a white-tiled floor in a stainless-steel walled room – a complete contrast to the rest of the cottage. Shiny steel workbenches ran around the edges of the space, their surfaces covered in lots of sharp metal instruments, like on a dentist’s table.
Small round magnets dotted the metal-clad walls, securing hundreds of drawings and images to its surface. Violet stepped closer for a look. Some of the pages looked to be torn from books and were of men in white coats sewing together the badly-wounded limbs of soldiers on the battlefield; others were detailed illustrations of the human body, showing every muscle.
Violet stepped back slowly, shaking her head, and knocked against something behind her. She turned around quickly and struggled not to scream.
Lying flat on a long, steel table beside her was a body. Its clothes were ratty and torn, its hair caked and matted in dirt, and its half-eaten grey and yellow skin was patched together with blue-coloured fur in places. Resting on a smaller steel table beside the figure was a set of sewing needles, a blue teddy bear who was missing a leg, and two potted eye-plants. On the floor, under the bigger table, were a load of welded steel bars and a pile of electrical wires.
The body looked like a half-finished version of Hugo, and Violet shuddered as she stepped away from it.
“Is that nurse really making these zombie-monsters?” Jack whispered. “It’s crazy, Violet!”
“I think so,” she replied. “She told Tom that Hugo was her creation, and look at all of this.”
“But what does she want with them?” he asked in disbelief.
“I…I don’t know, Jack,” Violet stuttered. “Let’s just go. I don’t like it here!”
“Go that way.” Jack pointed to the far side of the room and another set of double hospital-doors. “I think that’s the way to the caravan.”
Eager to get out of the room, Violet shoved open the cold steel doors and rushed through.
She was now standing on a threadbare orange carpet, in a small space crammed right up to the low ceiling with cardboard boxes.
“We must be in the caravan now,” Jack said, elbowing through the pile-up.
One of the boxes fell down from its perch, and a load of teddy bears toppled out. Violet bent down and picked up a purple bear.
“Do you think Powick is using the teddies’ fur to patch up her zombies?” she asked, holding tight to her new furry friend. “There’s a blue bear in that room, and the monster in there is covered in blue patches.”
“I don’t really want to think about it, Violet,” Jack said, manoeuvring his way towards the exit.
He was just fiddling with the white plastic door lock, when Violet heard something.
“Shush,” she whispered. “Listen!”
Her heart pounded, and Jack stood still.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said. “We need to get out of here, Violet.”
“No, listen,” she insisted.
Then she heard it again. A dull thud, followed by a low mumble.
Jack stopped what he was doing and looked up. Another thud rattled the space, and the mumbling grew more frantic. Suddenly a cardboard box at the back of the caravan jumped into the air.
“There,” Violet said, pushing her way towards the sound.
The box was resting on a bench seat. She threw the cardboard aside and lifted up the top to reveal storage space beneath. A tartan blanket was wrapped round a large, wriggling bundle. Violet pulled it away.
“Boy!” she gasped.
Boy’s face was even paler than usual. His dark eyes were ringed in deep-purple circles, as if he badly needed some sleep, and his cheeks looked a little sunken too.
Violet pulled the yellow tea towel, being used as a gag, from his mouth.
“Y-you found me, you f-found me!” Boy stuttered, stumbling, as he tried to climb up from the storage space.
“Hang on, your legs are tied.” Violet grabbed his arm to stop him moving, as she leaned over and undid the knot of rope wound round Boy’s ankles.
Jack then helped
to lift him out of the cramped space.
“My legs are numb,” Boy muttered, struggling to stand.
The pair grabbed their friend and helped him shuffle him through the tight space towards the door.
“How…how…?”
“We have to get out of here. We’ll tell you everything when we get back to Town,” Jack insisted, when Boy tried to ask questions.
“Hold on,” Violet rushed back and quickly wrapped a pile of teddies in the tartan blanket.
She pushed the large bundle into the storage space, closed the lid and put the box back on top of the seat.
“In case Nurse Powick comes looking,” she explained, smiling at Boy. He half-smiled back, and they fell into an awkward silence. Violet’s cheeks flushed a little as Jack gently opened the caravan door and the trio eased down the metal steps outside.
“It’s so good to be in the air! I thought I was going to suffocate in there. My broth…that boy,” Boy said, as he hobbled behind the caravan, “gave me water and let me out to the toilet, but he hasn’t been here in hours. How did you find me?”
“Violet heard Edward and Nurse Powick talking about the Outskirts, and she thought you might be here,” Jack replied.
“We found your pic—”
“Edward?” Boy interrupted, surprised. “What’s he got to do with this?”
“So you haven’t seen him?” Violet asked.
Boy didn’t answer.
“So you don’t know everything that’s happened?” Jack continued. “Well, Edward’s back. But we’ll tell you later – we have to get out of here first. That nurse could wake up at any time.”
“The nurse? Is she the crazy woman with the navy cloak-thing, who’s working with the boy pretending to be me?” Boy asked.
Jack nodded.
“Tom’s your brother, Boy,” Violet said softly.
“I don’t have a brother,” he replied, his tone sharp.
Violet’s cheeks grew hot. Boy was annoyed with her.
She stayed silent, watching the rising sun as the three passed quietly across Powick’s back garden. They were almost rounding the side of the small house, when a door banged.
The nurse emerged from the front of the cottage, carrying a woven basket and some garden clippers. She walked to a large bed of roses, and whistled as she began to cut some flowers off, placing them in her basket.
Violet, Jack and Boy stood frozen. If the nurse turned round, they were all caught.
Boy pointed silently back to where they had come from, and the others nodded. Then they all turned and raced for cover. Jack was much quicker than the other two and had already made it round the caravan when Violet tripped over a stone and stumbled forward onto the grass. Pain seared through her damaged ankle.
“What do we have here? Is some nasty little creature interrupting my morning routine?” a voice cackled behind them.
Boy stopped just ahead of Violet. He waited for a moment, then turned and walked back to Violet’s side, placing a foot solidly on her back.
“Stop falling over, you lazy girl,” he snarled above her.
Violet froze, forgetting her throbbing foot. What was going on?
“Edward told me to bring her here,” he called, pointing to the caravan. “I was going to put her in there.”
“Is that the Brown girl?” the nurse asked, walking towards them.
Violet kept her head down, staring at the grass, her whole body tense.
“Yeah, it’s her. Edward said she was giving him trouble again, just like in Perfect. He’s sick of her already.”
“That’s strange, I thought he wasn’t going to do anything drastic until after he destroyed William. Let me take a look at you,” the nurse said, grabbing Violet by the hair and yanking her head back, so Violet was looking straight up the woman’s dark, hairy nostrils.
She could almost taste the nurse’s stinking breath.
“How could a little mite cause so much trouble? I know what I’d like to do to you,” Powick growled, pushing Violet’s head roughly back down, so she was almost eating the grass. “You’re right, put her in the caravan. Edward can decide what he wants to do with this one. Maybe she’ll be a plaything for Hugo!”
Boy nodded and pulled Violet up from the ground.
“Hold on,” Powick called, as the pair rounded the back of the caravan.
Violet stiffened.
“Yeah?” Boy replied. His voice was even, not nervous at all.
“Bring me a box of bears – Hugo needs some patching up this morning. I warned you about mistreating him, you little swine. If you weren’t so precious to the boss and his plans, I’d use you as spare parts – save my poor little teddies the torture. My hospital is full to capacity already.”
Boy nodded quickly, then continued on, dragging Violet – a little too roughly – up the steps of the caravan.
Jack was hidden inside behind a load of boxes, peering out the window.
“She’s gone back into the house,” he whispered, looking round.
“Give her a minute before we go again,” Boy said, picking up a box.
“What are you doing?” Violet asked.
“She told me to get her teddy bears. Don’t you think she’d be a little suspicious if I didn’t turn up with them, Violet?” His tone was cutting.
“Fine,” Violet said. “If you want to be angry with me, then be angry – see if I care. I only came the whole way to the Outskirts and risked my life to save you!”
“Save me? If you’d believed me in the first place, I wouldn’t be here, and neither would you!” Boy fumed.
“Hey, stop it,” Jack said, placing himself between the two of them. “I don’t care who’s to blame for anything – I just want to get out of here without being caught by that woman or one of her monsters.”
“It’s his fault.”
“Oh, very mature, Violet,” Boy sniped.
“Stop!” Jack snapped again, glaring at Boy. “Give the nurse the box, then get to the twisted tree. You’ll see it just across the road from the cottage. We’ll meet you there.”
Boy nodded, a little red-faced. Then he slipped down the metal steps and across the neat garden, disappearing round the side of the whitewashed cottage.
Violet and Jack sprinted for a gap between the roses, jumped the wooden fence and crossed the road to the twisted tree, crouching down behind it.
A few nervous minutes passed, then Boy appeared round the side of the house, heading straight for them.
A thought hit Violet, one she didn’t want to have. What if it was a trick and this boy wasn’t her friend? What if he was Tom after all?
Her heart pounded as she tried to shake the thought from her head. She couldn’t doubt him again, could she?
As Boy neared them, Jack grabbed her hand, jumped out from hiding and raced to the well.
“Here.” He beckoned to Boy.
Their friend sped up and jumped onto the stone platform beside them.
Violet muttered to herself, trying to think quickly. “Up, we used up to get up, so…so…down, DOWN!” she gasped.
She plunged her hands onto the D, then O, W and finally the N, and breathed a sigh of relief as the platform shifted beneath them, moving back down the well shaft. The Outskirts began to disappear, as the children were carried into the earth.
The platform came to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the shaft, and Jack was the first to stand up, pulling Boy with him. Violet scrambled to her feet behind them. The three then sprinted through the tunnel, past the cell where Conor, Beatrice and Violet had been imprisoned, then past the canister room, until they reached the steps leading up to the graveyard.
Boy was leaning against the wall now as if feeling a little weak. Violet imagined he hadn’t eaten for a while.
Jack raced up the steps and felt around in the darkness. Suddenly everything shook, and the front stone of the tomb moved into the ground, allowing the morning light to trickle down the tunnel.
It was still raining outs
ide – heavier now – even though the sky had been cloudless in the Outskirts.
Violet sprinted up the steps after Jack, then turned to see if Boy needed a hand. He looked away as he climbed up, ignoring her offer. Jack closed the tomb and no one spoke as they moved steadily down the hill and through the estate. When they mounted the footbridge, Violet stopped for a moment.
“Do you hear that?” she said, a little breathless.
“What?” Jack asked, looking back at her.
“It sounds like there’s something going on in Town.” She was sure she could hear people shouting.
“Let’s just get to Macula’s,” Jack said.
The three snuck over the bridge and turned left onto Wickham Terrace, continuing until they reached number 135. Boy knocked on the door, but nobody answered. He tried the handle and it was locked.
“Wait here,” he said, disappearing round the side of his house.
A few moments later, the door opened.
“Mam always leaves a spare key out the back. She’s not here!”
“We should find her,” Violet said, walking inside.
Boy ignored her again, as he rooted through the kitchen cupboards looking for food. Violet and Jack sat down at the table. An emergency edition of the Town Tribune had been delivered and was sitting in front of them. Robert Blot had obviously been very busy working right through the night. Violet stopped dead when she saw the headline.
TRIAL OF THE CENTURY
WILLIAM ARCHER TO PAY A PERFECT PRICE
FOR HIS PERILOUS PERFORMANCE
The article, which was full of lies, went into detail about how William, Boy, Eugene, Madeleine and Merrill were to be publicly tried on the steps of the Town Hall at nine the following morning. Violet tried not to panic; they only had a day to save her dad and everybody else.
She turned the page.
FAMILY LIES: ARCHER TWINS SAVE TOWN
FROM BROTHER WILLIAM’S WRATH
This story went into great detail about William’s plot to take revenge on the Perfectionists, and how his plans to take over Town for himself and the clinically crazy No-Man’s-Landers, were thwarted by his heroic brothers.
The Trouble with Perfect Page 17
