Dad’s jaw wiggled, a sure sign he was mulling something over he was in two minds about. He closed the window, crossed the room and trod on Moonzy, who squeaked. He halted to see what had made the noise.
“Is that Tatty?” he asked, picking the squirrel up. He poked the squirrel’s stomach hard with his finger and it squeaked again, this time sounding much higher-pitched.
“Dad! Careful not to break it.”
“I thought your mum had carted this off to the charity shop?”
“I fished it out the bag.”
Dad’s face lit up. “Your gran made this and every night we had to put it by the door to guard you, otherwise you refused to go to sleep. One time, Gran took you on a trip to the fair at Girvenhall and you left Tatty on the bus. You were inconsolable and kept the entire household up all night with your wails, so your gran drove to the bus depot the next day where, luckily, someone had handed Tatty in. And we were all ecstatic because it meant we could get a proper night’s sleep again.” Dad handed me the toy, his smile fading.
Moonzy glared at me.
Dad rubbed his eyes, turning the whites of them In the Pink. “If Gran was here, she’d be cross with me for not letting you go. I know how important books were to her and how much she loved taking you there. Come home immediately, Coral. Don’t let me down this time.”
“I won’t.” I pulled back the covers and hurried over to the wardrobe before remembering I was still in my clothes.
Dad collected up my mug and plate. “Did you have your shoes on in bed?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to sound as though it was no big deal.
“I thought you were supposed to do crazy stuff when you were a teenager?” Dad balanced the mug on top of the plate.
“I’ll be one soon.” I shrugged.
“Oh, well then, that explains everything.” The cup rattled as Dad closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER
10
The library was five minutes away on Cough Street. Dad and I had named it this because the traffic lights were constantly at Ruby Starlet, the road snarled with cars and the air clogged with choking fumes.
The flap on my coat pocket rose and Moonzy popped her head out. I’d tucked Skaw into my scarf where I could keep a close eye on him. But he’d been warned if there was any nonsense, he’d be put straight back into the tear catcher and there would be no compost for dinner.
I hurried along Our Street, only stopping to check God’s poster.
“What happened to the other half of its tail?” asked Skaw, spitting stray hairs of scarf wool from his mouth.
I checked we were alone before I spoke. “We think he got into a fight with a fox. This is my gran’s cat, God, and he’s missing.” I ran my hand over the poster. Yesterday’s rain had wrinkled God’s face and his Midnight Oasis black coat bled Purple Grape at the edges. “Except I’m pretty sure I know where he is,” I said more to myself than to Moonzy or Skaw. I continued on down the road. Dad had allowed me to go to the library and I wanted to be quick, so he knew he could trust me again.
Moonzy gasped at everything. I suppose if you’d spent years stuck in a dark tunnel, this would be a riot of new sights, scents, sounds and colours. Skaw smacked his lips hungrily every time we passed a patch of earth.
I sped down Weed Lane and cut through Dumpers’ Paradise on to Cough Street. After crossing the road, I stood outside Saltbay Library. Its Desert Fawn sandstone walls had dark patches on them as if each block of stone had been dipped into soot. Everything from the smooth-as-sea-pebble steps to the brass name plate with the fingerprints on it was as familiar to me as my own home, except today it felt different. This was the first time I’d been here without Gran and even though the place was full of books, it was packed with memories too.
I leaned back, pulling the door open. It greeted me with a low whine and then a squeak as it closed behind me.
Long lines of sunlight broke in through the windows, shining spotlights on the sparkling dust that danced in the air. The smell of pages, book spines and shiny covers filled my nose. I could hear the rustle of newspapers being turned, the rattle-tap of computer keys and someone coughing. Gran always said a library wouldn’t be a library if it didn’t have people hacking or sneezing in it.
I walked over the Nectar of the Goddess, Candied Pumpkin and Slice of Heaven–coloured carpet. The pattern on it was so bold, I lifted my feet in case I tripped over the shapes.
Mrs Shellycoat’s face brightened. Her spectacles always slipped down her nose when she spoke, but they never fell off. She plonked a pile of books on the reception desk. “Hello, dear.”
I concentrated on not glancing over at the leather chairs where Gran and I always sat when we were reading. They were as soft as marshmallows and air would whoosh out of them if you threw yourself down on one, which always made Gran and me snort.
Swallowing hard, I blinked away the memory and fished the book out from my rucksack. “I’m sorry, Mrs Shellycoat, it’s late.”
Mrs Shellycoat took it from me. Her nails were painted Tangerine Grove and she had a diamond ring on her finger. Sometimes, if it caught the light, you could see every single colour that existed in the world in it.
“Coral, after what you and your mum and dad are going through, it’s a wonder you remembered you’d borrowed the book in the first place.” She paused. “I noticed a poster on my way in this morning. Have you found God?”
My throat narrowed and I could feel tears one-more-sad-thought away from my eyes. The fact I said nothing told her everything.
“Do you have any going spare?” she asked.
I pulled one from my rucksack and gave it to her. Mrs Shellycoat smoothed it down flat on her desk to examine it.
“Oh my! He is a big fellow, isn’t he? That’ll stand in his favour as he’ll be all the easier to spot. If it’s OK with you, I’ll put this on our noticeboard?”
“Thank you, Mrs Shellycoat. I found some others abandoned on the street; would it be all right to put them up too?”
“Of course,” said Mrs Shellycoat. “I’ll show them to Morven Horseshire, the vet. She’s always in here.” Mrs Shellycoat leaned in and lowered her voice. “She has a liking for adventure stories full of danger, brooding heroes and unbridled passion.”
I wasn’t too sure what she meant. We’d taken God in to Morvern Horseshire’s clinic once. Her hair was curlier than mine and she was quieter than a sleeping cat.
Mrs Shellycoat straightened back up. “Loads of people will see it because the place is going like a county fair today. We’ve got a class of Primary Threes meeting an author. You wouldn’t believe the racket such tiny lungs can make.”
“Mrs Shellycoat, I was wondering if I could ask you for help … with my school project?”
Her face lit up as if she’d just been told she’d won a prize. “Of course, Coral.”
“I’m wanting to know if there are any books on … on…”
Moonzy prodded me from inside my pocket, making me twist awkwardly to the side.
“OnwitchescannibalsandwreckerbirdsinSaltbay?” I said it so fast it came out as one word.
Mrs Shellycoat didn’t bat an eyelid. “The projects you young ones work on are so wildly exciting compared to what we had to do in my day. Everything we have about witches usually flies off the shelves at this time of year with Halloween coming up. Did I hear you right? Did you say cannibals and wrecker birds?”
My blush matched the same shade of Vermillion Party as her jumper. Mrs Shellycoat pushed her glasses up her nose. “I’ll let you into a secret: inside every person is a reader just waiting to find the right book. You must always read what you’re interested in and not what others think you should be reading. I’ll need to do a search and fortunately I relish a good challenge; it keeps me youthful. Take a look in the nature section, which is halfway along the second aisle to the right. There may be information on wrecker birds there. I’ll come and find you when I have some suggestions.” Mrs Shellycoat’s g
lasses slid to the very tip of her nose.
I grinned at her, showing my teeth, because she hadn’t mentioned Gran and this made my first time back in the library a tiny bit easier.
“Coral?” Miss Shellycoat gazed at me.
“Uh-huh?”
“There is a worm on your shoulder.”
Skaw blinked at us both.
“Are worms not allowed in here?” I asked, cupping my hand over Skaw, who squirmed underneath my fingers.
Her mouth twitched. “Only bookworms.”
“Thank you, Mrs Shellycoat.” I sped off towards the shelves she’d pointed to and shot down the aisle. Away from prying eyes, I flattened myself against a wall of novels. The shelf shook and three hardbacks tumbled to the ground, their pages flapping.
“What are you doing drawing attention to yourself?” I hissed through my teeth.
“I agreed I’d help you find the objects, but that’s it. I don’t answer to you and can do exactly as I please.”
“I vote we feed him to the next pigeon.” Moonzy’s head poked out from my pocket.
“Enough!” I said, stamping my foot, which sent a further two books crashing to the floor. I plucked Skaw off my shoulder. “If we don’t stop bickering amongst ourselves, Moonzy won’t have a hope of rescuing Lyart, I’ll never see my gran again and you won’t be able to travel across the world with your pal.”
Just at that moment a small boy zoomed around the corner, making the vrooming noises of a car engine. Moonzy ducked out of sight.
The boy squealed to a halt as soon as he spotted the worm dangling in front of him.
Skaw glowered at the child. “What you staring at, snot nose?”
The boy’s face scrunched up as he wailed louder than an ambulance. I whipped Skaw behind my back.
A woman in a Lost Blue and Snow White polka dot dress appeared.
“That worm spoke to me,” said the boy, pointing in my direction.
“Patrick Logan! We never call girls names or we end up in trouble,” scolded the lady.
The boy started to cry again, forcing a fresh trail of thick Pistachio Haze gunk out of his nose. The lady gave me an apologetic glance and led him away at arm’s length.
When the coast was clear, I fixed Skaw with a stare that could have withered freshly picked flowers. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were deliberately trying to cause trouble.”
Moonzy piped up, “We don’t need him, Coral. He’s bad news.”
Skaw’s eyes darkened. “I’m here because you two couldn’t figure your way out of a one-way street with signposts.”
“We only have three days to find the objects and the pair of you are more interested in arguing the whole time. Why are we even bothering?” My shoulders drooped as the energy drained from me the way water does from a bath that’s just had the plug pulled. My head ached and my thoughts scrambled. I bent to scoop up the pile of books on the floor. As I returned them to the shelf, two small Time-Worn Stone eyes peered at me through the gap.
I dropped the books, wincing as my foot broke their fall.
“Wherever I go, there you are, and I ask myself if it is a coincidence or if you are following me?” It was hard to hear Miss Mirk over the sound of chattering children. She had a fox stole draped over her shoulder. It had always upset Gran if she saw Miss Mirk wearing furs. She used to say: It takes up to forty dumb animals to make a coat, but only one to wear it. The fox’s glass eyes pleaded with me.
I shifted from one leg to the other, the bones in my foot throbbing.
“Stay away, Coral Glen, otherwise I won’t be held responsible for my actions. This is your very last warning.” And with that, Miss Mirk and fox vanished.
What actions was she talking about? Telling Mum and Dad what I’d done? Or was she meaning she’d harm God?
I gripped the bookcase to steady myself.
“Who was that?” asked Moonzy.
“My neighbour: Miss Mirk.”
The radiator-hot air thickened, making it hard to breathe. I stumbled towards a seat at the end of the aisle. It was wooden and uncomfortable, reminding me of the pew in the church.
I stared over at Gran’s favourite chair, where she would keep one eye on what she was reading and the other on the comings and goings of the library. The first day she had brought me here, she took me around as though we were in a museum full of priceless treasures. I remember Gran had beamed, just as proud of introducing me to the people she knew as she was of showing me the books.
“Coral,” she had said. “Saltbay Library is better than any airport because all these books will transport you to anywhere you want to go in the world and places far beyond for free. Plus, the people-watching is way better here because nobody is in so much of a rush.”
The heavy ache in my chest ground the already broken pieces of my heart into Cut Ruby dust. Warm tears raced each other over my cheeks.
It’s your fault Gran is dead. You don’t deserve to see her again. You might as well give up now because you’re useless.
I buried my face in my hands.
Moonzy crawled on to my lap and reached up to squeeze my fingers with a velvety paw. “Coral, please don’t stop fighting for the chance to be with your gran again. Often when things seem impossible, something miraculous will happen and it’s as if the whole universe is listening to your thoughts and sending you help, just when you need it the most.”
Skaw pulled a face. “What a pile of—”
“There you are, Coral. I’ve found something that might be of interest to you.” Mrs Shellycoat ignored the stuffed squirrel on my lap and the scowling worm on my shoulder.
I dabbed at my eyes with my coat sleeves.
Mrs Shellycoat knelt beside me, her knees cracking like whips. She fished a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to me.
I blew my nose.
She removed her glasses and polished the lenses on her jumper. “One day you’ll realize the memories making you sad right now will be the very same ones you’ll hold dear to your heart when you’re older and this place – if it’s not closed due to council cuts – will become precious to you.”
I sniffed, trying not to picture Gran again in my mind, because paper and water weren’t a good combination.
Mrs Shellycoat handed me the kind of book you’d expect to blow dust off before you opened it. The cover was Lost Valley green and its pages mottled and wrinkled as though they’d been accidentally splashed with tea. The Folklore of Saltbay was written in squiggly lettering in the same colour as Pharaoh’s Gold.
“It was donated to the library by the Saltbay Historical Society. There’s a section on witches and what’s interesting is, all the stories are local.” Mrs Shellycoat put her glasses on and grimaced as though crouching wasn’t comfortable. “I do remember reading about a series of deaths in Saltbay, back in the early eighteenth century. It was said to be the work of witches and many people were rounded up and tried for it, which won’t have ended well for them.”
That must have been what Lyart was talking about, except he said it was Muckle Red and not the witches at all!
Mrs Shellycoat tutted. “There were some dark times in Saltbay. If you healed the sick with herbs from the forest, it could be enough for people to brand you a witch.”
I licked the salt from my lips.
“I can’t let you take the book home; it’s for reference only. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, any information on cannibals has drawn a blank. I’ll away and see if I can find anything on the bird,” said Mrs Shellycoat, getting to her feet with a groan.
“You’ve been brilliant, Mrs Shellycoat.” I held up her tissue.
“Oh, you can keep it, it’s on the house.” She smiled and then rolled her eyes at the growing squeals of excited children. “I think the author has arrived.” Mrs Shellycoat patted the squirrel’s head. “Quite the menagerie with you today, Coral.”
Mrs Shellycoat didn’t wait for my reply. She strode down th
e aisle, tidying books as she went.
Moonzy had been right; just when I thought everything seemed hopeless, Mrs Shellycoat had given me a book on witches. And if we could somehow figure out a way to get the tears, we’d only have two other objects to find for Lyart to be released and me to talk to Gran.
The book’s spine grumbled as it opened and I leafed through the pages. I scanned the section on witches, my fingers tracing the lines as I read.
“You found something?” Skaw wriggled on to my shoulder.
“A horrible worm. Came from the graveyard,” Moonzy said under her breath.
“Listen to this. In 1762, Carline Deedclathes from Halloway stood trial for several murders in Saltbay. Accused of being a witch, she cursed the town, saying she would reap revenge for the deaths of her sisters, who were burned at the stake. As punishment, she was buried alive on Guiltree Hill and a giant boulder placed over the grave to prevent her from escaping. It was recorded there were no more killings in Saltbay after this time.”
Both of Moonzy’s ears flattened and she threw Skaw a look sharper than razors. “Can’t believe Carline Deedclathes took the blame for those deaths.” She hopped over from the arm of the chair on to a shelf.
“Muckle Red’s no’ proud of his past, but he’s worked hard to change his character – you couldn’t find a more thoughtful person or gentle soul.”
Moonzy’s face wrinkled up in disgust. “So how come he still wears his victims’ hearts on a chain?”
“They serve as a reminder of his past wrongdoings and are the burden he must carry with him wherever he goes.” Skaw wriggled off my shoulder, plopped on to my lap and slid to the floor. “Muckle Red wouldn’t so much as glance in the direction of another child – end of.”
I recalled Muckle Red ogling me in the graveyard. There was no way he was as trustworthy as Skaw was making out. I raised my voice to put a stop to their arguing. “We now have evidence Carline Deedclathes is buried on the hill. Thing is, we need her tears, and dead witches don’t cry, so how do we bring one back to life?”
The True Colours of Coral Glen Page 8
